So sweet and polite, you didn’t belong in a place like this.
Everyone around you was a scum, a lying piece of filth that would only use that innocence to their own benefit.
You knew this, you weren’t ignorant, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to treat them as they did you, as low as it made you feel.
Fear kept you quiet and respectful as well. All it took was one slip up, and no matter how little you’d be begging for your life.
You’re the newest addition to the Harkonnen’s house, a servant for the Na-Baron, Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. They never enlightened you on what happened to the previous chambermaid, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know.
Some things were best kept unheard of, especially in this treacherous place.
You kept your head down, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the perfect women around you. They all were beautiful, delicate with a smooth complexion.
Much like their shared appearance, their lack of joy was all the same. At times they seemed almost lifeless, their souls worn down and stripped of any hope for a better life.
Sadness for them bit at your chest, this was no way to live.
Feyd watched you with an unreadable gaze, and though he paid you little regard, his eyes were always searching for yours.
He observed the way you shifted in your stance, fingers intertwining behind your back as you grew nervous. How easy it was to make you squirm.
You hadn’t thrown yourself at him like the others, offering your body as means to please him. They all were so eager, but you- you shied away from him.
In the halls you always pay notice to him with a small smile before bowing your head down, eyes glued to the floor as you passed by.
It drove him insane that such a meek little being could push him to madness.
His eyes hardened and grew dark, he wanted to ruin you, to corrupt you entirely, to own your very existence. Then, perhaps he would see you as he does every other woman in this house.
The day passed slowly and before you knew it you were rounding the corner to the Na-Barons chamber.
You moved quickly, knocking a couple of times before entering when you heard no reply. His room was always clean, pristine even.
It was his training quarters that constantly seemed to be splattered with blood and laden with needle sharp weapons.
You clean the knives first, washing the somewhat fresh crimson off with a worrisome mind.
You always wondered whose blood was spilled. The rational part of your brain knew they were discarded in a bag somewhere, but you could only hope that they didn’t face their end at his hands.
Feyd watched in the doorway as your hands halted their cleaning, your mind was elsewhere, eyes staring distantly as a familiar red swirled down the drain.
“Careful,” his coarse voice insincerely warned.
You jumped, finger sliding against the edge of the knife, skin splitting like butter on the blade. You gasped and pulled your hand back, a loud clink meeting your ears as it fell into the sink.
With a tsk, he moved toward you, holding back a smirk at your wide eyes. “I told you to be careful.”
You gulped, “Forgive me, Na-Baron- you startled me..”
He now stood in front of you, his hand reached for your wounded one. It took every fiber in your body to not fight against him.
Dark, sullen irises stared into your own as he let your blood flow from your finger to his. There was a malicious glint in his eye that made you want to cower away.
“Na-Baron, wha-“ your words halted in your throat as he stuck your finger in his mouth.
His tongue swirled against your lacerated flesh, sucking gently as he coaxed more irony syrup from the cut.
Your skin burned where his hand held your wrist, his long digits wrapping around it so effortlessly. He was enjoying this, his eyes shut as he hummed at the taste.
Your insides twisted at his unhygienic yet somehow intimate behavior. You liked it.
You nearly crumpled at the realization, burning shame coursing through you.
He only drew closer when you tried to pull away, his lean body pressing you against the sink. Your heartbeat was hammering in your ears, mind hazy at his sudden proximity.
His mouth released its hold on your index finger, black tongue darting out to lick his lips.
“There’s something about you,” he said, voice laced with slight irritation, eyes sharp and piercing.
He was enjoying this too much, playing around with you. He wanted to wrap his hands around your pretty neck and choke you until you told him why.
But he didn’t. No- he rather pressed closer, knee sliding between your thighs, lips skimming along your cheek.
Your breath hitched, body tense as you couldn’t possibly lean back anymore. Your brain was screaming for you to run, but you couldn’t.
His hand gripped your jaw, and lips moved to yours, ghosting over the warm skin. His eyes locked onto yours, “Tell me,” he purred against your mouth, “are you scared?”
“Yes,” you responded, voice hushed and small.
At this, he grinned. Black teeth shining at you as he chuckled, the sound low and disgustingly attractive.
He was pleased with your response, and before you could so much as blink, had the knife you’d been cleaning pressed at your abdomen.
“Good,” he said lowly, “always be afraid.”
Your brows slightly knit together in both conflict and confusion.
His lips pressed against yours, tongue forcing itself into your mouth as he kissed you. You moaned against his mouth, leaning up for more when he pulled away.
“Do as you were,” he ordered, twirling the blade between his fingers as he left the room.
Your lips were puffy and mind in disarray, what cruel game he was playing at?
