#cadenzlie

[nvvermore]

Take My Hands

Cadenza helps calm Ophélie’s nerves [featuring @arcanecadenza’s Cadenza]

words: 1.3k

NSFW 🍋: for day one of @midsummer-masquerade: shibari / marking (+ strap-ons, cock warming, orgasm denial, praise)

accompaniment

The first time Ophélie attended the normal masquerade had been nerve-wracking enough, but this one was on a whole different level of anxiety inducing. Leading up to tonight, her thoughts had been centered around the fear that no one would dare approach her.

But reality was just the opposite—she never realized just how many people would be eager to approach her. Her identity was hardly a secret, the lace of her “mask” barely obscuring her face. The thought that the very same people who sought out her affections each night after the curtain was lowered would also be in attendance hadn't crossed her mind at all.

But Ophélie wasn't interested in any of them. Not until she'd seen a figure of violet organza and wild curls cut through the crowd several feet away. She'd almost called out Cadenza’s name as she began to follow after her, but caught herself last-second.

The lightest brush of her hand against Cadenza's arm alerts the other woman of her presence.

"I didn't know you'd be here!" Ophélie greets, feeling giddy when she sees the way Cadenza's face lights up behind her mask.

"That is the point, is it not? Secret invitations." Cadenza’s smile is bright, her eyes slowly dragging over Ophélie’s body. "I was hoping I'd find you. But it seems you've found me instead."

Ophélie takes in Cadenza’s own hardly-there outfit. It really wasn't all that different from what she wore on a normal day—except for her gown itself had been crafted out of completely sheer fabric.

"You look beautiful!" Ophélie complements. She thinks Cadenza looks much more than just beautiful, of course, but she’d like to save those for when they’re alone.

"You look nervous."

“That easy to tell?” Ophélie giggles, eyes darting around the room momentarily before returning to look up at her.

Cadenza is still smiling as she takes Ophélie's hand. "Let me help you relax?"

———

"I'm already wearing a harness." Ophélie says half-heartedly, as Cadenza begins to work the silken lilac rope over and around her chest. It’s caging in her breasts more than the harness that’s practically her entire outfit is, weaving under them and over them.

"And the rope complements it, don't you think?" She circles Ophélie, drawing the rope down between her shoulder blades, so that she can begin to wind it around her forearms.

“It is very pretty. I love the purple,” she tilts her head down to examine the design the best she can.

“Not as pretty as you look, especially how pretty you’ll look after I’m done with you.” Ophélie feels her face heat at the words, at the way the rope tightens around her chest. “And the marks this leave will also complement these quite nicely.”

Before Ophélie can ask what Cadenza means, she leans forward and bites down onto the bare skin of her shoulder. Ophélie moans out in surprise, but Cadenza quickly pulls away, resuming carefully knotting the restraints.

Ophélie waits patiently as she can as Cadenza works, the tightness of the rope and Cadenza’s presence sooth her nerves—while simultaneously riling her up in a different manner.

After a few more minutes Cadenza steps back, examining her work for a moment, her eyes dark. Without another word she leaves Ophélie on the bed to retrieve something else from a chest across the room.

Ophélie watches Cadenza shed her gown, trading it for a harness of her own that fastens around her hips.

“I can’t wait to see you take this.” Cadenza turns to face the bed again, revealing the carefully crafted glass cock that’s been secured to the harness.

Ophélie practically feels her mouth water. Her eyes follow Cadenza as she climbs back up onto the bed, leaning back against the surplus of pillows at the head. She beckons Ophélie closer with a single finger, lightly patting the freckled skin of her upper thighs.

She’s quick to follow orders, and shuffles up after her, sliding over Cadenza’s lap. Cadenza’s hand goes between Ophélie’s legs, fingers ghosting over the well-soaked lace between them, letting out a soft moan of her own as she pushes the lingerie to the side.

“Already so wet… Is this all for me, or did someone else get to you before I did?”

“It’s all for you,” Ophélie murmurs, struggling to keep herself from grinding down onto Cadenza’s fingers.

“I bet that I could slide inside of you just like this, hm?”

“Yes, please, Cadenza—“ Ophélie whines when Cadenza pulls her hand away.

“Already begging, too? You’re such an eager girl.”

Ophélie does start to move when she feels the cool tip of the glass against her cunt. Cadenza brings a hand to her hip to keep her still, nails digging into Ophélie’s skin through the layers and layers of tulle.

“No moving, even when I’m inside, understand?”

Ophélie opens her mouth to speak, just as the tip brushes her entrance, but all that comes out is a whine. She tries again. “Yes, yes, I won’t move.”

Her nails grasp at her own arms as Cadenza pulls her down onto her cock, going far slower than Ophélie needs to go.

“I think,” Ophélie giggles nervously, “this is just winding me up more—”

She's cut off by her own gasp, as Cadenza bites down on her neck, tongue laving over the mark she’s left.

“Not if I wear you out…” Cadenza grins, her lips grazing over Ophélie’s chest to suck more marks into her skin. “Then you just won't have the energy to worry.”

Ophélie holds as still as she can, mind already completely preoccupied with the desire to be a good girl for Cadenza. She doesn’t hold any of her sounds back though, all of her soft moans and high-pitched gasps freely tumbling past her lips as Cadenza busies herself with marking her up. She takes her sweet time, doing a thorough job of biting, kissing, and sucking every bit of pale skin for what feels like hours to Ophélie. All while the cock is buried deep inside of her and she isn’t allowed to do a single thing about it.

Cadenza weaves a hand into Ophélie’s short waves, tugging back to better access her neck. “I can feel how hard you’re trying to keep still, you’re doing so well,” her lips graze Ophélie’s skin as she speaks. Cadenza tugs her head back down and leans forward to finally capture Ophélie’s lips, not neglecting to bite at them either, smearing her lipstick in the process.

“Please, ‘Denza, will you fuck me now? Please?” Ophélie begs in between kisses and nips. She feels Cadenza’s lips quirk into a grin against hers, and when both of her hands return to her hips, Ophélie thinks she’s finally going to get some friction.

But instead of fucking her properly, Cadenza slowly lifts her up and off of her strap completely. Ophélie wines in disappointment, but a sharp look from Cadenza silences her complaints.

“I think it’s time for you to go back out and enjoy the party, you’re due on stage soon, aren’t you?” Cadenza says innocently, like she hadn’t just spent the better part of an hour working Ophélie up to no release. She loosens the silk knots behind her back and around her wrists.

Once she’s loose, Cadenza pulls Ophélie from the bed, guiding her across the room towards a mirror against the wall, giving her a chance to appreciate Cadenza’s marks all over her skin.

“I think the crowd will just love these additions to your outfit.” Cadenza spins Ophélie around to face her, and since her hands have been tied up for most of their time together, Ophélie takes the opportunity to run them up Cadenza’s thighs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you, after. But you aren’t allowed to come from any touch that isn’t mine. You make sure anyone else so lucky to end up with you knows that.”

[nvvermore]

Ten Minutes Ago

An unexpected meeting backstage takes Ophélie by complete surprise [featuring @arcanecadenza's Cadenza ]

words: 2k

cw: none

accompaniment

—

With a final bow and one last dazzling smile, Ophélie turns and walks gracefully off stage. It’s only once she’s sure she’s safely behind the curtain and out of sight from the audience she picks up the pace, eager to return to the safety of her dressing room. 

Despite how comfortable she’s become at the opera house and the cast and crew that came with it, the worst part of her night is when, without fail, she gets bombarded by those lucky enough (read: rich enough) to persuade someone to let them backstage here to seek the attention of the performers. And especially her. Perks of being a leading lady.

Of course, her legs are only so long and she can only walk so fast— especially in these damned heeled shoes— and she ends up getting caught by the crowd. It really isn’t a crowd, but it is quite a few people, all talking at once as they shower her with all sorts of empty complements and ask her all sorts of borderline invasive questions. Ophélie only manages to sneak away when another principle actor joins the group and with a tilt of his head lets her know it’s alright to run while she can.

And she does, making a mental note to thank him later.

Ophélie is grateful for her role here, not only because she’s living out her dream of course, but because that means she gets a personal dressing room with a locking door. A true blessing. She’s not quite as comfortable here as she is in her own flat, but after having been here for close to a year now, it’s a close second. She’s just got her hand on the doorknob when a new voice calls out from behind her.

“Excuse me, Miss Rozaliya.” Ophélie spins around, a little too quickly, to see a tall woman with dark curls standing a few feet away. She gets a good look at her, to make sure she’s not someone who works here, but she quickly decides that she's never seen her before, because she’d definitely remember seeing her. And she can’t help but get a good look at the very low neckline of the woman’s dress, and how said fabric hugs her hips.

Ophélie snaps her eyes up to the woman’s face before she can be considered to be staring. “Hello, I’m sorry, but I’m not seeing any more patrons tonight. But I appreciate you coming down for the show,” she explains, in her best dealing-with-pushy-guests voice.

“Ah, Amaryllis told me to tell you that they sent me,” she explains, “I’m Cadenza.” She holds out her hand in greeting. It wasn't often, but when Amaryllis sent someone to see her, it was usually important. And it wasn’t often they sent someone so pretty either.

She takes Cadenza’s outstretched hand, briefly feeling the calluses on her fingertips brush over her own. “Cadenza,” she echoes, “please, just call me Ophélie.” She glances back and forth down the hallway. Ophélie isn’t very thrilled about having any meet and greet out in the open. “Would you like to step inside with me?” She pushes open the door to her dressing room, gesturing for Cadenza to enter.

Ophélie makes a beeline for the fresh pitcher of water that’s been left at her vanity. “So what brings you backstage?” she asks, pouring herself a glass and hoping Cadenza is, well, normal, if Amaryllis is the one who sent her. She brings it up to her lips and takes a much needed drink. Cadenza still stands by the door a few feet away, her intense gaze still settled on Ophélie.

“Tonight was my first time seeing the show, and I was absolutely moved by your performance.” Cadenza smiles, and clasps her hands behind her back. She seems completely genuine, her words not at all like any of the others Ophélie has received tonight. She was expecting a director or composer or some other industry contact, not someone who enjoyed her performance for what it was.

Ophélie shuts her eyes and waves a dismissive hand in Cadenza's direction. “Oh please, when you’re on stage six days a week, it’s second nature. It’s practically a part of you.”

Just as she’s finishing up her deflection, Ophélie suddenly feels a presence before her. Then she feels those callused fingertips on her chin, gently nudging her face up. She almost wants to keep her eyes shut, but curiosity convinces her to do the opposite, lashes fluttering open to peer up at Cadenza.

“Second nature or not, your voice is breathtaking,” she asserts, and her face is close enough to render Ophélie speechless. She doesn’t bother to hide the way her gaze flickers across Cadenza’s face, so that she can take in all of the pretty freckles that span across her cheeks and how the brown of eyes turns to honey in the candlelight.

 It takes Ophélie a moment to find her voice, but once she does she certainly doesn’t have the mind to deflect again. “Thank you,” her voice comes out soft, mousy, compared to the way she typically conducts herself. “That means a lot to hear.” And it does, somehow. Somehow, Ophélie knows Cadenza isn’t just another socialite dishing out empty compliments just to flatter her. Somehow she knows that Cadenza is the type of audience member that she gets on stage every night for, the ones who aren’t there just to say they were but to be moved by the story she and her fellow cast members tell.

Cadenza starts to run her thumb along her jaw, and Ophélie isn’t trying to hide how she’s staring down her lips. But then— much to Ophélie’s disappointment— a sharp knock at the door has Cadenza pulling away.

“Lie! Hurry up with your costumes! They’re off to the cleaners tonight!” A huffy voice calls from the other side of the door.

“I’m going, I'm going!” Ophélie brushes past Cadenza to get to positioning herself in front of the large mirror on the wall. She remembers her manners— only somewhat— and glances back to Cadenza as she reaches for the laces cinching the back of her costume together. “Ah, don’t mind me. I’ve got more on underneath, promise.”

Ophélie tries not to look so eager to strip down, but of course, she’s struggling to untie the damn thing. In front of the very beautiful stranger who just called her breathtaking, no less. She fumbles with the knot for a few more moments, all too aware of Cadenza and the stagehand waiting on the other side of the door. She's certain she’s just about to get it loose, but then suddenly Cadenza is murmuring into her ear and the pretty hands that she’s already thought far too much about in the last ten minutes are slipping the laces from her fingers.

“Here, let me.” Ophélie is completely frozen to her spot, too surprised to object even if she wanted to. And she doesn’t really want to tell Cadenza to stop undressing her. If anything, she’d hope for her to keep going. She swears Cadenza is taking her sweet time with the laces, being far more gentle and precise than she really needs to be. There’s no way she wouldn’t notice the goosebumps on her neck from where her breath ghosts over her skin.

“Shouldn’t you have an assistant that does this for you?” Cadenza asks, looking up into the mirror to address Ophélie more directly.

“I have a dresser before and during the show, but afterwards I’m just more comfortable doing it myself.” It would always be weird to have people help her with things like dressing, even if it was their job to do so.

“Should I stop then?”

“No,” she says, a little too quickly, and Cadenza’s breath tickles her bare shoulder as she chuckles.

Ophélie feels the dress is more than loose enough for her to slip out of now, but she doesn’t dare move until Cadenza tells her so. “There you go.” She lays a hand on Ophélie’s shoulder, and the goosebumps from her neck travel there.

Quickly, she steps forward to shimmy her way out of the costume, treating it with a little less care than she normally does. Certainly not enough to damage it, but she lets it drop all the way to the floor before stepping out of it. She may or may not put a little bit extra into the way she bends over to pick it up.

She is wearing a slip, petticoat, and stays, garments that are hardly any different from the ones she wears day-to-day. But she feels so very on display with the way Cadenza looks at her. Part of her wants to stay in just this— or to take off a little more— so Cadenza keeps looking at her that way. But she scolds herself, they were still basically complete strangers.

So Ophélie does the normal thing, snatching up her dressing gown from it’s hook and tying it tight. Maybe later she’ll let her mind wander on just how Cadenza would assist her further.

Another knock on the door pulls her out of her trance, again, and she scoops up the costume. It’s placed on a rack with her other ensembles for the night, and she pushes it out to the stagehand who, much to her relief, doesn’t look as annoyed as they had sounded. With a nod they roll away and Ophélie goes to turn back to Cadenza, but a hand on her arm stops her from shutting the door.

“I think I’ll take my leave now, but...” She reaches forward to take Ophélie’s hand in hers, bringing it to her lips. Ophélie is enraptured by the feeling of how they ghost across her knuckles as Cadenza speaks. “Once more, you were absolutely mesmerizing. Until we meet again, little nightingale.” She kisses the back of her hand, leaving behind a faint mark from her lipstick.

She’s gone down the hall before Ophélie can even find the words for a farewell.

—

Cadenza’s visits very quickly become regular post show affairs, and Ophélie becomes more and more prepared for them. 

Ophélie starts looking for her from the stage, pleased each night she does spot her watching the show from Amaryllis’s private box. And sure enough, after the curtain is down she always finds Cadenza at her door.

Ophélie’s awkwardness subsides, thankfully, but as far as she’s concerned the tension between them only grows.

Cadenza asks all about her career, how she came to be at the opera house and her experience, and always listens attentively and always wants to hear more. Ophélie learns that the calluses on her fingertips aren’t just from the violin but from magic too, and begs her to tell her all about being a magician.

Tonight, the two of them had already been chatting and giggling away for close to an hour, each nestled onto the sofa and sipping on the tea Cadenza had brought as a gift.

“...So, I’m lucky to have landed such a role at all!” Ophélie takes a sip of her tea, just finishing up telling her all about her arduous audition process. She nudges Cadenza’s knee with her foot, teasing glint in her eyes. “But what about you? What's made you such a dedicated patron of the arts?” She’s confident she knows the answer by now.

Cadenza’s cheeks turn red, and she tries to hide by taking a sip of her tea. “Well, I've hardly been secretive about how much I enjoy your performances.”

“Aww, Cadenza,” Ophélie sits up, setting her teacup aside to scoot a little closer. “Don’t tell me you’ve been coming all this way just to see me.”

Cadenza chews on her lip. “Well, it didn’t start out that way.” 

“But it turned out that way?” Ophélie grins.

“Shouldn’t you be on vocal rest after a show, usignolo?”

“It’s not my fault you’ve kept me busy.” Ophélie is on her knees, hovering over Cadenza, eyes flitting down to her lips. “Perhaps you ought to help me be quiet.”