𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗟𝗘𝗧 | r18
mrs rosehearts x f! reader
warnings: older woman x younger woman, spanking, mistress/pet dynamic, overstimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, idk riddle's mom is a warning by herself
"i'm going to quit writing to focus on school!" me before comitting the sin of lying... i wrote some of this DURING school ??? @lady-father encouraged me to do ts,, i'm studious i swear i swear i swear!!!!!
(wc: 2.8k)
UP THE HILL LIVES AN older woman with a reputation that exceeds far beyond her years. There are rumours, you’ve heard, of the time she scolded the entire Clover family for five hours straight, stripping them down to the bone with her words until they were all red-faced and fumbling, the echoes of her fury spilling through the bakery door and into the street. They say her tongue could flay flesh if she willed it, that her wrath alone could turn a man to a column of salt. Mothers warn their children not to loiter near her iron gates, yet those same mothers will lean close, whispering jealousy of her beauty; the way her back never bends, the way her head never bows, the quiet magnificence of a woman who will not be moved.
Indeed, she is a beautiful woman— devastatingly so. A magic doctor of rare talent, she returns from her work cloaked in severity, vanishing into her home as though the world outside were unworthy of her company. Days may pass without a glimpse of her, and then suddenly she appears, striding down the street in a fine coat, or gliding past in her polished car, leaving only the scent of her perfume in her wake. Divorced, untouchable, spoken of in fear and envy alike, she remains the unreachable pinnacle of the town’s gossip.
You yourself are not immune. You, too, have watched her from the bottom of the hill, feeling the strange gravity of her presence, the allure that clings to her just as sweet, unforgettable perfume does. You admire her, even— the precision of her work, the unshakable poise, the way she commands respect in a world that rarely gives it freely to women like yourselves. And as a struggling college student, you tell yourself it is only that; admiration, the kind a younger girl might feel while dreaming of her own future, studying to follow the same path of healing and mastery.
But fascination always has a way of twisting into something that was never meant to be. And maybe that’s why, when she turned her gaze on you, you couldn’t look away, even when she reared the ugliest parts of her beauty to you.
“Aah—!”
Her lips crash against yours before you can even draw a full breath, teeth grazing, tongue plunging with sharp insistence. You gasp as her fingers thread through your hair, tugging with force, tilting your head, dragging you across the hall. You’re so caught up in wanting more that you fail to realise where she’s taking you— until the door slams behind you with a thunk! and your back hits a familiar place— her bed.
Oh… Even in this violence, she is stunning. Perfect red hair spills over her shoulders, catching the light like shining rubies. Every curve, every line of her body radiates control. Her eyes, sharp and commanding, glint with a cruel delight that makes your heart stutter. She is beauty and brutality entwined, elegance and danger folded into a single, irresistible force.
“Mm…” You moan, pinned beneath her sudden weight. Had reality been a touch more absurd, you’re sure your pupils would have been two, vulnerable hearts, bright and beating only for the woman you call your mistress.
Her firm hands roam with expertise, stripping, tugging, pressing you flat against the mattress. Then, with the fluidity of the excellent doctor you know she is— she spins you around, straddling your thighs at the edge of the bed.
“Over my knee.”
Her voice is honeyed and sharp, dripping with a warmth that makes your core tighten in excitement. Syrupy like the heat pooling low in your belly. Before you can even protest— though you’d never dare— she bends you down, your bare bottom rising into the air, the curve of your ass exposed and vulnerable. Smack! Her palm lands hard, fire blooming across your flesh. The delicate features of her face twist into something cruel, almost skeletal in its intensity, yet that same precision, that perfect control, makes your body ache and thrum with want.
“Wasting my time,” she scolds, scowling yet sweetly to your ears, and you melt beneath her touch— before the next smack! comes down, the sting chasing a slow heat through your nerves, “is intolerable. Did you even review any of the work I sent you? What were you doing this entire week?”
“I wasn’t… in the mood to work— I just couldn’t do it— I’m sorry…!” A familiar warmth builds deep inside you— the pressure in your belly that always flares when you want your mistress, and your mistress alone.
“Oh? You just couldn’t do it?” Her head tilts, eyes narrowing as the slightest smile tugs at her lips. “You’re… sorry…?” Her voice dips, deliberately soft. Her grip loosens… but you know better than to relax. Muscles tightening, you brace, just in time for—
Smack!
“Just who do you think you’re talking to?! It couldn’t possibly be me. Who are you saying sorry to—?”
Nimble fingers curl around your neck, lifting you just enough that her lips hover against your ear, the warm, wet press of her breath sending shivers straight down your spine. You manage a feeble ‘you, mistress!’ and the instant she feels it, her grip tightens around your throat, making your head spin with dizzying heat and longing.
“What is the point in these lessons,” she sighs, teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “if you will not listen to me? What is the point in sending you materials when you don’t review them? Damned ungrateful girl!”
Smack! goes her hand once more, hot and punishing, leaving your ass burning and sending a bout of arousal straight to the delicate bundle of nerves she knows so well. Her own breaths hitch slightly, a small, almost imperceptible sign of desire, betraying how much the act of punishing you excites her.
“‘m sorry mistress…” you mewled, “I just missed you.” A pout pulls at your lips, the kind that would normally be innocent… if it weren’t so transparently false.
Pools of grey narrow, and for a moment you see the fire flicker across her face. Her cheeks flush crimson, lips pressing into a tight line of fury. “Missed me?” She hisses, voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Do not dare feed me such nonsense, little brat!”
If the next smack! weren’t so painful, you’d have let out a laugh. Sometimes you really made yourself crack up… a feeling your mistress did not share. Her hand lands hard across your bottom, heat and pain dancing together, making your body tremble uncontrollably. “Do you think a pout and a lie can excuse your laziness?” She snaps, the cruel curve of her mouth making it clear she’s both irritated and enjoying the control.
Before you can even react, she grabs your arms, tossing you back onto the bed with a practiced ease. Her weight presses down on your bare hips, straddling you fully, a single knee pinning your thighs apart. It takes everything in you not to grind yourself against her— but you know you’ll be doing that later, regardless.
Her hands move to your wrists, holding them firmly above your head. “No more excuses.” She breathes, lips trailing just above your jaw. “It seems I haven’t disciplined you properly at all. You won’t be leaving this room until you can properly reply with a ‘yes, mistress’!”
You force yourself to suppress the lovesick smile tugging at your lips. If she were to see even a flicker of your pleasure… you know she would exact her punishment in full, denying you any orgasm until much later— her timing always cruelly impeccable, striking at the exact moment your desire peaks. So instead, you settle for a fond sigh, arching your back ‘til your chest presses against hers. A string of kisses follow, brushing the sensitive skin along your collarbone, down to the valley of your chest, teasing, barely grazing, making your nipples tighten into small peaks under her gaze.
Her lips pause at the swell of your breasts, trailing over each nipple in slow, deliberate circles, the faintest pressure from her tongue making your chest rise higher, pressing yourself closer to her. Her hands release your wrists— for it seemed your mistress could never keep herself away from exploring your body for long. They roam over your sides, slipping lower to cup the curve of your hips, fingers grazing the soft skin above your thighs.
Her eyes flicker down, a sharp glint of mischief and possession, and your stomach twists with anticipation.
Her lips descend further, brushing against the soft hollow of your stomach, leaving feather-light kisses that trail lower and lower, each one a delicate, tantalising promise. Your thighs part slightly on their own, and her hands follow, teasing the sensitive juncture between your legs with fingers that linger just out of reach, drawing sighs and shivers from your lips.
Her lips press against the sensitive skin between your thighs, warm and wet, tracing a slow, deliberate path from the crease where your leg meets your hip down to the soft, quivering bud of your desire. She parts your lips with her fingers, spreading you wide, and you can feel the slick press of her tongue flicking across your folds, teasing, tasting, exploring.
A thin string of saliva connects her mouth to you as she lifts her head just long enough to smirk, then dives back in, plunging her tongue deep, swirling, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves that releases an obscene moan from your throat— all dry from endless gasps and sighs.
“Mistress—!” You yelp, fingers grasping instinctively at the sheets, body twisting of its own accord. Oh, how you long to bury your hand into her soft hair… and you would’ve— if not for your fear of disrupting her work and angering her.
Her hands roam with a greedy exploration, unbecoming for someone of her poise— one palm presses into your lower stomach, holding you flush against the mattress, while her other hand curls around your hip, gripping, kneading, adjusting your angle to maximise the pleasure she’s giving to you. Then her fingers dip lightly into the soft hollow of your thigh, brushing against your slick folds, teasing the sensitive opening, and you whine, hips bucking involuntarily.
“Ah… look at you…” She murmurs, lips brushing against the sensitive nub, sucking and flicking with cruel, meticulous skill. She tilts her head, letting her red hair fall over her shoulder, brushing against your skin as she traces lazy circles with her tongue, pressing, flicking, plunging in a rhythm that makes your body vibrate, quake, and curve helplessly.
Her lipstick-stained lips press against the swell of your clit, dragging a thin smear of crimson across your skin as her teeth graze it lightly, sharp and teasing. One hand moves to pin your hips down, the other spreading you wider, pressing your legs apart so nothing is hidden from her. She hums low, a wicked vibration against your flesh, and you gasp, fingers clutching at her shoulders as your chest rises and falls.
She leans down further, pressing her cheek against your inner-thigh as her lips trail kisses along the slick flesh, dragging you to the edge with every lick, every press, every precise flick of her tongue. Her fingers probe lightly, teasing the entrance, sliding just inside for a moment before pulling back, savoring your trembling, wet reactions.
“Oh, such a pretty little cunt…” She dotes, teeth grazing gently as she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, the red glow of her lipstick smudged across your folds, glistening with her spit. “All mine, little one. Only mine. Is that clear?”
Before you can respond, her fingers slip inside you with deliberate precision, curling just so, pressing against the spot that makes your back arch and your thighs tremble. She sculpts each stroke with expert cruelty, drawing whimpers and gasps from your lips, her other hand pressing firmly into your hips to hold you exactly where she wants.
“Such a sweet little quiver. You’re so cute when you’re not moving.” She laughs, lips grazing yours as her fingers scissor and curl inside you, sliding in an erratic rhythm that produces a lewd squelching sound through the entire room. Every stroke drives a wave of heat straight through you, and your body betrays itself, itching, desperate for release.
Your hips jerk uncontrollably as she draws you closer, closer— until a sharp gasp rips from your throat.
“Ah~! Oh fuck… I—!” Your body shudders violently as she pulls a desperate, shaking orgasm from you, your chest heaving, legs quivering, back pressed flat against the bed. “Shit…” You breathe out weakly, tilting your head back against the sheets as you clench down on her fingers, letting yourself come down from it all.
Your chest heaves as you ride the aftershocks, eyes fluttering half-shut— but she doesn’t give you time to breathe. Her lips capture yours in a slow, obscene kiss, her tongue coaxing yours open, smearing your own taste across your mouth. The flavor is unmistakable, filthy, and the sweetness of her kiss only makes it worse, makes it better. You moan into her mouth, dizzy from the indulgence, from the wrongness of it all.
It feels almost tender— until she plunges her fingers back inside you.
“—Ah!” The scream tears from your throat, sharp and unbidden, breaking against her mouth. She swallows it like nectar, her smile curving against your lips as she thrusts into you, merciless and unrelenting.
Your legs twitch, tongue lolling out of your mouth, tears welling until they glisten like jewels at the cusp of your lashes. She drinks in the sight of you unraveling— your face wet, your voice broken, your body nothing more than a plaything shaking beneath her.
“Oh, oh…” She teases, her breath hot against your cheek as her thumb brushes away a tear, only to smear the saltiness across your lip. “Did you forget why I was doing this in the first place? My sweet, dumb little pet. You’ve always been so sensitive—” her fingers curl cruelly, pulling another gasp from you, “which is why it confuses me so, when you defy me.”
She leans close, lips grazing your ear as her thrusts quicken, her grip on your jaw bruising. “You brought this on yourself, little girl.”
“W-wait—! ’m sorry! ’m sorry!” You babble your words spilling broken and desperate, as if they might earn you mercy for your foolishness.
Her laugh is low, curling cruelly in your ear. “Sorry? Is that all you have to offer me, pet?” Her thumb presses under your chin, forcing your glazed eyes to meet hers. “No, no… You’ve forgotten your lessons already. What do you call me?”
You bite your lip, shaking your head, suddenly ashamed to say it.
Her fingers curl hard inside you, stroking that raw, tender spot that rips another cry from your throat. “Say it.”
“I-I… please…”
“Say it?”
“…Mistress. I’m supposed to… to call you mistress…”
“Good girl.” She praises, but she doesn’t stop. Her fingers piston deeper, faster, forcing you to sob and shudder. “Will you be an obedient pet?”
“Yes, Mistress!”
“Louder.”
“Y-Yes, Mistress!”
“Do you belong to me?”
“Y-Yes, Mistress!”
“Will you ever disobey me again?”
“N-No! No, Mistress!”
“Louder.”
“No mistress—!”
She smiles, satisfied at last, and just as your body begins to tighten, trembling at the edge of release, her fingers slip free. The sudden emptiness makes you choke on a sob, your hips clenching uselessly on nothing, slick dripping down your thighs.
“Ahh—! W-wait… please, please—!” You whimper, rolling your hips helplessly against the sheets, chasing friction that isn’t there. But before you can crawl away like the pathetic whelp you are and take care of it yourself, her hands clamp around your calves, iron-strong, dragging you back until your hips slam harshly against hers. You gasp at the force, trembling, your bare skin sticky against her clothing. She’s still fully dressed, not a hair out of place, while you lie sprawled before her— naked, messy, and ruined.
Her smile is serene, eyes darkened with an insatiable lust, honed purely onto you. You don’t see her like this often when she's with you.
“Look at you. My sweet little mess. Did you really think I’d let you run from me?”
She lifts herself, perching atop your lap as her hand trails past the hem of her own pencil skirt. You can see the outline of her hand dipping into her panties— and hear the wet sound that follows. You’ve never seen your mistress so aroused before.
“We’re not done here. I’ve decided… It’s time I teach you how to please your mistress properly.”
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