Pretty Little Flower

Masochist Submissive Human

[clarabowlover]

Imogen Poots

[flora-donne]

thinblooded‌:

“Someone actually using my nickname? That’s something I haven’t heard in a while.” He watched her pet the mouse in the puddle of her own blood. “Drawing you and some other things. Enjoyed your time as a drink, did you?”

“It’s good to serve,” she replies, holding the mouse against her chest. “I want to be good.” With her free hand, she manages to break some cracker and pops it into her mouth. Eyes widening as she looks at him, she dares to ask, “Please could I see your drawings?”

[flora-donne]

israelskelton‌:

Sad. That was one of the words that came to mind as Israel watched the dainty female, examining her much like an animal would regard such a sight. However, she was no one that he knew of. She wasn’t even an acquaintance. She was just some poor unfortunate soul that Israel had happened upon. Either way, Israel was amused, especially by the woman’s attire. I didn’t know they arrested Cinderella? He grinned at his own question, hazel eyes narrowing as they searching the other’s face, seeking a reaction to his silent words. She’s drowning in that dress and he wonders what kind of sick fuck would do this to someone. Then again, he, unfortunately, knew a lot of sick fucks that would do just this that. He cocks his head, the coppery scent of blood hitting his nose. That was a lot of blood. Setting the mop aside he walks closer to her cell. The lilt in her voice he either guessed she was high from the bite or possibly suffering from major blood loss. Cocking his head, he watched cautiously. Are you dying?

The young man goes unnoticed until he steps forward and approaches the bars of her pretty metal cage. Glossy eyes turning to face him, she stands and splashes over the stained ground. She is intent on him, that is until a mouse crosses her path and she bends to scoop it up. “Softly...” She wouldn’t want to break it. So she trails a finger over its spine, gentle and light. “You live here, too,” she says to the man. She’s seen him before. A creature of the Chateau, just like her.

[flora-donne]

maximusxcallas‌:

Maximus’ frown deepened with his annoyance. “It’s a yes or no question kid. Do you like the dress, yes or no. I don’t care about whoever told you what. I’m the one with you now.” Max listened to her explanation, calming down. She was one of those. It wasn’t a bad thing, but he’ll take it into consideration while talking to her. The beta was usually a tiny bit nicer with prisoners, but not by much.

It’s far easier to respond when given such a limited choice, and when reminded to focus her attention on the man in front of her. “Yes,” she says. But the feeling is wrong, so her answer is more an admission of guilt than a statement of truth. She says nothing more, knowing he doesn’t want her to speak.  

[flora-donne]

alexandermoreau‌:

“Good girl.” Alexander’s smile grew and he nodded. “Its dark outside Flora, there is nothing to worry about.” He motioned over one of the nearby guards and handed over a check for her rental. He stepped back as the door was opened before stepping forward once more, his hand sliding around her waist to usher her out of her cell and down the corridor. “Have you ate recently?”

His praise seeps through her skin like molten honey, sweetening her wilted soul. She breaks a smile, a weak glimmer of joy on plump and well-used lips. And relief washes her to know that the sparkling sun has died. It won’t trouble her, today. She moves like a puppet in his grip, a single masterful hand all it takes to press her into life, her feet padding away from the Chateau. “I had food in the morning, Sir.” It doesn’t matter, though. It’s not food that she needs to exist. 

[flora-donne]

deaconxalbright‌:

“Umm– no thank you. That isn’t necessary. I’m just here to collect your– dress?” He looked down at the note he’d been given. And then back up to the girl. She was wearing a dress but he couldn’t tell if she had anything to change into. 

She is unconcerned by such trifling matters, hearing only his intention and wanting only to fulfil it. The dress is removed without ceremony or affect and handed over without question. Silence ensuing, she is like a patient pet, awaiting further instruction.

[lipat]

[flora-donne]

Pink taffeta swallows her whole, a sea surrounding the island of her fragile frame. 

She is seated in her cell, perched delicately on the edge of her bed. The walls and filthy stone are at least a comfort, but she is not comfortable like this – clothed in a lovely dress that lends her appearance a doll-like sheen. That had been what her last visitor had desired. But it is wrong. Slaves do not deserve fine things. 

They deserve nothing.

She almost fills the whole space, so large is the skirt that circles her waist. It would have been an almost pretty scene, were it not for the red pool of blood on the ground, swallowing her ankles. The vampire had enjoyed his meal.

“One, two, three … little mice, come closer.” 

There are mice at the Chateau. She can see them. If they come close enough, she will keep them.

[templeboxers-blog]

Dexter was in the Chateau hoping to get someone to help him with some work at the gym. He didn’t like the thought of the prisoners being stuck in those tiny cells all the time, and he wasn’t sure Covaire’s sense of justice was the same as his. He’d seen people be beaten for talking too loud, or using the wrong tone and while he understood the motive, he often found the punishments in this city a little excessive.

He never asked why a prisoner was in there, if they were friendly, and if they looked like they needed help, he would take them from the cells for a few hours. Which is why he stopped at the girls cell.

“Are you okay?” She didn’t look okay, but he wasn’t going to presume anything. He knelt at the bars and smiled to her the best he could, though his concern shone through the expression. 

[flora-donne]

It takes a second to abandon her reverie, but then she turns to look at the new man. His question, then, is the only thing on her mind. “Yes, Sir.” She lies, because it is not correct for a slave to object. However, in truth she’s well; it’s only the dress that makes her uncomfortable.

He looks strange kneeling there. That should be her position, so she mimics it, sinking softly to her knees, little bones pressing against the comforting cold floor. The mice are ignored now. She no longer cares for them.

“What can I do for you today?”

[flora-donne]

alexandermoreaualexandermoreau liked your photoset @alexandermoreau

chainednatchainednat liked your photoset @chainednat

“Hello, there. Would you like me to serve you?”

[hotshotxtheus]

                          “ — I’m sorry— what? I’m not sure how you want to go about that.

[flora-donne]

“However you wish, Sir. My wants don’t matter.”

[flora-donne]

Pink taffeta swallows her whole, a sea surrounding the island of her fragile frame. 

She is seated in her cell, perched delicately on the edge of her bed. The walls and filthy stone are at least a comfort, but she is not comfortable like this – clothed in a lovely dress that lends her appearance a doll-like sheen. That had been what her last visitor had desired. But it is wrong. Slaves do not deserve fine things. 

They deserve nothing.

She almost fills the whole space, so large is the skirt that circles her waist. It would have been an almost pretty scene, were it not for the red pool of blood on the ground, swallowing her ankles. The vampire had enjoyed his meal.

“One, two, three … little mice, come closer.” 

There are mice at the Chateau. She can see them. If they come close enough, she will keep them.

[thinblooded]

The sound of pencils to paper could be heard just down the hall. The human escort was usually nice to Flora since she understood her role unlike many, but the veil of concern was not up right now as he watched Flora talk to the rodents.

He tossed her a small package of crackers. “If you want those mice, maybe you should entice them with something they want. Or you can keep creepily calling for them. Your choice Flora.”

[flora-donne]

Catching the packet, she opens it and throws a few crumbs towards the bars. “Thank you,” she says, and a smile lifts across her lips. She laughs gently a moment later, a thought amusing her. “From Mouse to the mice... What are you drawing today?” Getting to her feet, she walks softly towards the nearest mouse and catches it. She knows she has to be gentle. She’d petted them roughly in the past - in the way she likes best - but that hadn’t ended well.

[maximusxcallas]

flora-donne·:

“Yes, Sir.” She lies. Who is she to feel discomfort? That is not her privilege. So she strives to ignore it, setting her mind onto the fact that someone will surely soon tell her to discard the dress. “I’m watching the mice.” Pointing, as one patters through the bloody puddle. 

Maximus frowned, something inside him suddenly no sitting well with her answer. “Did you just lie to me? Why would you lie about a sample question?” He couldn’t understand why. “And that dress, do you like it?” He looked down at the blood, deciding she might be a bit insane. It didn’t bother him.

[flora-donne]

She’s been caught out and instantly feels anxious guilt. Still, she’s been asked a question and therefore has to answer, honestly this time. “I was told to wear it, so I should be happy.” She presses a small palm against the material, smoothing it down and watching as it springs back up. “It’s wrong to not want what a master has given, but I shouldn’t have nice things.”

[chainednat]

flora-donne‌:

alexandermoreaualexandermoreau liked your photoset @alexandermoreau

chainednatchainednat liked your photoset @chainednat

“Hello, there. Would you like me to serve you?”

Natalie had been visiting some old friends and was heading back to Erebus’ when she heard the voice, turning she saw the girl sitting there and shook her head. “I’m an escort, you don’t need to serve me.”

[flora-donne]

Slave, she instantly thought, her mind quickly translating the new word. Coping with the changes is easy when safe at the Chateau, but harder when in the bustling city. But she has been constructed to serve and therefore will serve anyone regardless of rank, even if she does prefer the rough commands of a master. “As you wish.” Looking more closely she tries to see a bracelet or a collar, even though slaves no longer always wear them. “You have nice clothes.”

[frederickwilhelmsson-blog]

flora-donne‌:

She has no idea what she’s ordered. Having been told to fetch a drink, that is what she’s done. It had taken a good deal of concentration on her part to remember the command, but she had been determined to succeed, and so she had, despite the anxiety that is almost consuming her whole. 

She doesn’t like it in the light.

             She doesn’t like it outside the Chateau’s strong stone walls.

The man’s comment makes her falter, uncertainty a noose around her porcelain neck. Perhaps she’d failed, after all. It wouldn’t surprise her.

Slaves were doomed to fail.

“Thank you,” she replies, because he’d told her to say it. “Yes, I ordered it. But… I must have got it wrong.”      

He opened his mouth, before closing it again. He eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “What makes you say that?” He asked, forever the psychologist. “I’m sure it’s not wrong, I’ve just got no sense of taste.”

Fred smiled kindly at the small woman. He took a note of her posture and expressions, cataloguing them away for later. “Is the drink for you? Let me get you a new one. You don’t want one that I’ve spread my germs on.”

[flora-donne]

She’s not sure how to answer his first question; it had surely been wrong because he didn’t like it, but on his explanation she’s no longer certain. Still, he requires an answer. So after standing in silent uncertainty for a moment, she grapples to the secondary fact that had tainted her initial conclusion, and says, “Because it was hard to remember and I’m not always a good girl.” No matter how so very hard she tries.

Kind glances go unrecognised, the little woman too well-conditioned to value stark violence above all else. She looks towards the window, at the master who is still deeply stressed and engrossed in whatever-it-is that he’s doing with his motorbike. “It’s for the master with the red face, Sir.” She hadn’t liked that motorbike. It had been too loud.

[alexandermoreau-deactivated2020]

flora-donne‌:

“I’ve been down, down, down the stairs, Sir. In the dark room with no windows.”

“Ah they’ve been keeping you hidden away from the rest of us, such a shame. Would you like to come home with me tonight Flora?”

[flora-donne]

“I would like to serve you. I will go wherever you command.” It’s true, but the knowledge that she’ll leave the Chateau’s stronghold presses on her bones, so she asks, “Has the sunshine gone away now, Sir?”

[flora-donne]

maximusxcallas‌:

Maximus had no intention of stopping even with the smell of blood, but that pink dress just stood out too much to ignore. It looked so wrong in the Chateau, but was effectively drawing attention to the human. But the dress was ugly, there was no way of putting it nicely. She looked a bit out of it. “Hey, you’re alright in there?”

“Yes, Sir.” She lies. Who is she to feel discomfort? That is not her privilege. So she strives to ignore it, setting her mind onto the fact that someone will surely soon tell her to discard the dress. “I’m watching the mice.” Pointing, as one patters through the bloody puddle. 

[flora-donne]

alexandermoreau‌:

“Flora. Beautiful as always and so willing to please. It’s been a while.” 

“I’ve been down, down, down the stairs, Sir. In the dark room with no windows.”

[frederickwilhelmsson-blog]

Fred fiddled with the watch on his wrist as he waited in line for his morning coffee. Normally he would send his assistant out to get the coffee, but today he had felt like a walk. His phone buzzed with reminders that she had set for his early appointments causing him to sigh. He hated hearing about people’s problems in the morning, but it paid the bills so he wasn’t allowed to complain. He walked up to the counter and placed his order, giving his name to the person on the register.

He stood off to the side as he scrolled through the notifications on his phone. There were way too many appointments this morning, he would need to bring that up with her. But he had been considering replacing her anyway, she had run her course. When he heard something that sounded vaguely like his name, he wasn’t really listening to begin with, Fred walked over to the counter and grabbed the cup. He took a sip before he realised that it wasn’t his drink. He looked up from his phone to the real owner of the drink in his hand.

“I would say sorry, but I just saved you from a terrible drink, so really you should be thanking me.” He half smiled at them. “Did you actually order this? It’s disgusting.”

[flora-donne]

She has no idea what she’s ordered. Having been told to fetch a drink, that is what she’s done. It had taken a good deal of concentration on her part to remember the command, but she had been determined to succeed, and so she had, despite the anxiety that is almost consuming her whole. 

She doesn’t like it in the light.

             She doesn’t like it outside the Chateau’s strong stone walls.

The man’s comment makes her falter, uncertainty a noose around her porcelain neck. Perhaps she’d failed, after all. It wouldn’t surprise her.

Slaves were doomed to fail.

“Thank you,” she replies, because he’d told her to say it. “Yes, I ordered it. But... I must have got it wrong.”