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@vampcina
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐔
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 〝 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑳𝑫, ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆. 〞
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀——
𝐈𝐍𝐃. 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕. 𝐒𝐄𝐋. a descriptive and independent portrayal of Lady Dimitrescu from the resident evil verse. written by loba.
𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑, starter for @servitoae
It is early morning, dawn has yet to break over the horizon. It was simply how she operates, she hardly sleep and when she does, it isn’t for long. Alcina is never really relaxed, never really at ease even in her own home. There is often all of these worries upon her shoulders which weight her down.
The vampire lets out a soft exhale, rising from her bed and slipping on her robe. Her maiden will be here soon to prepare her bath and help her wash. Oh sweet Caitriona, so lovely and gentle, so beautiful. The lady of the castle being her usual self had been unable not to indulge herself. She had made the maiden hers. It had been slow seduction, little touched and praises which builded up to a kiss. Lady Dimitrescu may be a monster for many reasons but she always gave her ladies a choice when it came to their intimacy with her.
Cautriona had given herself willingly.
At first it was purely physical, way for Alcina to satisfy her sexual hunger — not so much her actual hunger. She cared for Caitriona in a way she didn’t got other maidens even before the physical part was added. She was special, knew how to handle her girls so the vampire didn’t feed on her.
She is drawn out of her thoughts when she hears the door open and turns away from the window. “Good morning, comoara mea.”
Caitriona had rose close to an hour previous to that of Lady Dimitrescu, requiring to bathe, as all servants in the employ of House of Dimitrescu were commanded, however short, and to fill her belly with breakfast before her day started officially with the preparation of Lady Dimitescu’s own bath. Once, Dimitrescu Castle had been frightening, the pit of hell that women were sold into and never seen and in time, heard from again. Now, it was simply considered as her home, dangerous or not.
Simply put, Caitriona’s arrival upon the steps of Dimitrescu Castle had been met with silent trepidation. It was no secret to the village that once women entered those elegant, towering doors, they would inevitably disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. She had cursed the man that had once been her father for selling her off in means of gaining fortune, to send her into the arms of certain death.
Those in the village spoke often of the rumours and tales that had circulated the Castle and it’s the Lady that stalked within it since the days that saw the Cult of the Black God settled and Mother Miranda begun sinking her poisonous talons within their beloved mountainside community. Spoke of those that had either been sent or made the unfortunate, drunken mistake to approach the property and never been seen again. Spoke of the tales whispered by disloyal servants that were sent to the village to purchase needed assets and spoke of acts of violence and cannibalism that served to only support the rumours spoken by the elders.
Lady Dimitrescu was frightening, swift to anger and violent in her punishments, her unforgiving personality strengthened by an towering 9′6 stature and yet, Caitriona had found it impossible to resist, impossible to ignore her beauty even when in rage. Weeks, no, months of slow burn, of gentle but purposeful touches had worn her down and had given herself willingly when the topic of intimacy rose.
“Doamna mea.” She spoke softly, strands of obsidian locks wiggling free from her bun as the Maiden willingly bowed in official greetings to her Lady before soft feet carried her into the bathroom, beginning the monstrously sized bath. “I hope that your rest has left you feeling in good health.” Whilst her relationship with Alcina was, to a small degree, different to the other maidens, the expectation to treat Lady Dimitrescu as taught during her arrival never changed, remaining as a servant and nothing more, only acting on her desire to touch and approach when prompted by the Lady herself.
Golden hues watch the small human head towards the bathroom. She hears the tub being filled and the words which come with the sound. Alcina hums in response, “I did not sleep much” she says and walks towards the bathroom. When she is within it, the tall creature bends down to be more at eye level with her maid. Slender, long digits that are free from their usual gloves whip the free strands that escape Caitriona’s bun away. She lets them touch soft, warm skin, “did you sleep well?” She asks softly, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Caitriona’s neck.
Her nose nuzzles beneath her ear and then she grabs the woman’s chin, gently turning her face. Only then does she kiss her on the lips, soft but sensual. This is the kind of greeting she liked from her beautiful maiden. By the grace of mother Miranda, she could just take the raven haired beauty here and now against the tub. It was so easy for her desires for the woman to hit her with such ferocity.
It is always like that. Every emotion that Alcina feels is just ten times more intense than anyone else could ever feel. Her love is fierce, her desire is shameless and her anger destructive.
The lady of the castle lets her hand drop down, beginning to slowly pull the skirts of Cait’s uniform up. She makes sure the movement makes the fabric caress the soft, alabaster skin of her legs and when they reach above her knees, long fingers glide along the inner thigh of them.
One would think that Lady Dimitrescu’s steps would be heavy, heard easily and in spite of being a woman of both frightening and intriguing stature, her steps were silent like that of a predator observing it’s prey. Even now, after living within the woman’s presence, Caitriona hadn’t yet gotten used to such a fact and was easily left spooked by a sudden turn of her head to find the Countess in her surroundings. She had learnt, with time, to rely on her instincts, the feeling of presences. Her mother, without a doubt, would be ashamed to know that the mere lean of her employer had left a sinful thought to surface in her mind of supple cleavage that she willingly and ever so happily worshipped whenever prompted, requiring the call of her strength to guide her vision upwards to pale, beautiful features. “I did.”
She practically sunk against the kiss that was applied to the soft, currently unbruised neck, patience for finally receiving her Lady’s affection from, however small or significant, getting slimmer and slimmer by the seconds. Caitriona was positive that Lady Dimitrescu’s bath scents were seconds away from exploding out of it’s bottle as the anticipation grew overwhelming and a soft gasp tore from her lips as they were located by the Countess’s ever so talented ones. “I missed you, though.” It was a risk, and one that she willingly took before their lips had met and the Maiden was eager to return the tender kiss, her lips soft and obedient as they followed along.
Her body was trembling in anticipation as the Lord begun to slowly pull Caitriona’s clothing upwards, exposing ivory flesh beneath her purposely-driven motions, excitement pouring through her veins in unforgiving waves at the aspect of being touched and especially by her mistress. Caitriona was always willing, always so very eager and her thighs parted as a long finger glided between them. Her eagerness showing in that simple, single move. “Touch me, please. . .”
Her lips quirk momentarily in a smirk when she notices where green eyes had been focused upon. Oh she loves to be gazed upon like that by her sweet maiden, made her feel desirable. Which she did not often felt despite her facade. A gentle hum reverberates within her chest. “Good. I wish you always to be well rest draga mea” she whispers tenderly, care laced within her tone.
It was so delightful how Caitriona reacted to every touch and kiss. It was addictive. Dare the lady of the castle even believe that it was far more addictive than the blood she often had to consume. Her free arm wraps delicately around the small frame of her maid, keep her steady as the raven haired beauty leans against her and sinks into her kisses.
𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵.
Oh how this precious human could make her body sing. She could make her heart race and her clit pulse as fast and hard as the very heart mentioned. She made her feel so alive in ways Alcina have not felt in so long. Just with simple words or reactions she has to the tall creature’s nearness, touches, kisses.
Always to eager, so ready. Already the lady of castle Dimitrescu can smell the woman’s desires. Cait parts her legs and Alcina lets out a soft little sound of approval.
𝗧𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗲, 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲. . .
“Oh my sweet pet” she whispers, finger finally making contact with the maid’s centre through her underwear. “I missed you as well” she finally says, putting pressure on Caitriona’s clit. She begins tight, slow circles over the soft material of her panties.
Gods. . .
She was already whimpering pathetically, pale thighs trembling as her bundle of nerves throbbed painfully, begging for attention as het arousal already begun to cling desperately to her body and a broken whine had escaped her from her lips as capable fingers located her clit and applied pressure in tight, slow circles. Her hips rose, searching for more as the pit of Caitriona’s stomach was already tightening, bursting with white hot pleasure that her Mistress had only ever seemed to pull forth.
It was simply out of her control, unable to be altered. Caitriona’s body was not her own whenever Lady Dimitrescu was near, pathetically eager and reacted swiftly, without the need to be truly prompted by her Mistress. However it came, soft or rough, made cum by kitten touches that left her feeling enlightened or fucked into the furniture that’d leave her thoroughly bruised. She took it, without complaint and ever so eagerly, greedy for more even after a bone-crushing orgasm.
Her heart was pounding, set at a thunderous pace and not only due because of her Lady’s touch but also due to the emotions that coursed through her. “Can you feel it? Can you feel how much I missed you, hear how much I missed you?” Caitriona had noticed once how Lady Dimitrescu reacted to her words, and often showed the woman appreciation, spoke of her beauty and the desires she felt for the towering creature. It was always a chance to speak, to say something that she wasn’t usually allowed as Alcina’s moods could change rapidly, one moment content and the next frightening.
Caitriona’s hips remained gentle in their rocking, a symphony of breathless moans falling from her lips as that delicious friction was increased with every rise but knew to restrain her greed, knowing that it could end in punishment if she was to search for more before being granted. “I’m yours, Mistress.”
A growl reverberates deep within her chest at the words. Oh if there was a hunger before, now it has been turn to purse starvation. “Yes” she hisses lowly, tracing the shell of Caitriona’s ear with her tongue and moving the woman’s panties aside. A moan of delight, low and deep escapes her as she feels wetness against her fingers without the material of the maid’s underwear. Alcina explores, teases for a few moments and spreads the young woman’s wetness. “That’s right” she growls at the words and slips her middle finger all the way deep inside of her maiden without warning.
“𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗲.”
Her other hand which is wrapped around the petite frame tightens securely around Cait. With said hold upon the raven haired beauty, Alcina moves to sit in a nearby chair she keeps in the bathroom, the maiden on her lap. She begins to thrust that single digit in and out, from the tip until it is knuckle deep. “Say it again” she commands, kissing along the back of a pale neck. She is warm, tight, greedy muscles clench around her finger as if trying to keep it trapped deep within.
The hand that had been keeping Caitriona straight before when they women were standing — bent down in Alcina’s situation, it slides up to knead at one of her breasts, pinch at her nipple through the material of the uniform. “Absolutely divine, comoara mea” she purrs, “so wet and so tight.” The tall creature begins to speed up her thrust.
Gods. . . It was so simple, that of a possessive growl that resonates deeply from the depths of Alcina’s chest and surging ruthlessly through the pale-skinned woman’s flushed, panting stature but it was truthfully so very complex, yielding Lady Dimitrescu a gift in the form of wetness that surged forth, serving to worsen the ruins of her panties. “Mistress!” She had barely managed to gasp out as her head tumble back and a guttural moan tore from her lips and her arms draped across impenetrable shoulders, nails gliding over pale flesh as a single finger impaled Caitriona deeply without warning. Her body sung with pleasure, flushed flesh both burning and trembling with rapture as warm, drenched walls gripped, fluttered around an invading finger. “Yours, Mistress Dimitrescu, yours.” There was such dedication in her words, such devotion as they fell from trembling brims that one, once heard, was positive that it was the utter truth and nothing less.
Had they moved? Caitriona wasn’t positive, her concentration dedicated to one thing and one thing only, that talented finger that was enveloping her body in warm, ruthless pleasure. “Mistress.” Her chest fluttered with each quivering breath that was taken and returned as a breathless, burning pant, the pale flesh of her forehead not only covered in a light sheen of sweat but furrowing, brows following as her complexion tells a tale of the tightening band in the pit of her stomach, the desperate throbs of her clit and the clinging of her walls. Guttural moans, broken whimpers and desperate whines fell in a beautiful symphony with each flick of Alcina’s powerful wrist.
If her nipples hadn’t already hardened, the pinch of efficient fingers finished the job. Soft cries fell, surged forth with each pinch, tug and twist, her sensitive nipples easily worked beneath the Lady of Dimitrescu Castle’s motions. “For you, unicul meu, only ever for you.” She had whispered around broken pants and sounds of pleasure, hands gripping with desperation and devotion upon broad shoulders as Caitriona begun to rise, riding that single digit with such fidelity, willingly impaling herself as her walls clung, gripping unforgivingly in persistent attempts to keep Alcina’s finger deep inside of her. “Harder, please, prove to everyone that I’m yours, that only you can fuck me and pull these sounds.”
Oh what sweet sounds her little maid creates. Melodious and angelic much like herself. Alcina was addicted to her beloved little human and her eagerness, her need to please her mistress only made it that much better. Golden, glowing hues zero in on the wildly beating pulse point when Caitriona tilts her head back. Oh how she wished to sink her sharp canines into soft flesh and drink some of that sweet blood. Cait was perhaps one of the most sweetest, most delicious she has ever tasted, especially when her sweet darling was releasing endorphins.
Golden hues take every inch of her darling in, they way her body flushed, the way her chest rose and fell with each panting breath. She observed the way her body reacted, the way she rode her with no shame and — a growl of satisfaction falls from her lips at hearing Caitriona declare herself as hers. “Damn right you are.” The lady of castle Dimitrescu leans back in her chair, hand on slender waists, she observes as the maid rides her and smirks, “my little slut, so eager” she hums. Her glowing eyes snap up to that lovely face crafted by gods as the woman begs her. She begs to be fucked, to be claimed.
Alcina slips out of her, slapping her sweet, slick little cunt harshly. “Beg. Beg again, draga mea” she hiss, sucking her middle finger clean and moaning at the tanginess. Lady Dimitrescu gives her a mischievous and dark smile and with her powers of shape-shifting sprouts a nice, thick cock between her unnaturally pale thighs. “Beg for me to enter you and fuck you. Beg to have me inside of you, splitting your little human cunt in half. Beg for me.”
She lingered, delicate feet rocking back and forth as fingertips were captured in the midst of a desperate dance, her gaze unusually determined but in the very same moment uncertain, attempting to burn down the door that held the beloved @vampcina behind it to solve her current issue.
To say such an observation that the time of night is late was simply useless, the darkened hallways of Dimitrescu Castle a telling tale that Beneviento was lingering in the hours that belonged rightfully to the witches and ghouls.
Finally, after a period of time that the dollmaker had spent standing in the midst of the hallway, her tiny fist extended to rasp carefully, almost silently against the door. If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t have been heard but for someone such as Lady Dimitrescu it would have sounded just as loud as a simple knock.
The tall woman resides in her chamber, a few candles lit to illuminate the room. She sat on the bed, back against the board and a book within a large hand. Small glasses were perched upon her nose as she read, golden hues running along each word that laid upon the pages before a knock interrupted her quiet night. She frowns, looking in the direction of the door. Who the hell could be at her door at this hour?
The vampire rises, setting the open book upon her nightstand. She wears a white nightgown, silk and loose around her tall frame. The woman begins to make her way to the main door and it is surprise when she sees Donna on the other side of it.
“Donna!” She takes a second, blinking before stepping back and letting the small woman inside. “Are you okay? It is late. . .” Not that she minded but Donna never visited this late.
In spite of her delicate features being unseen, hidden behind the protection of her veil, the woman had simply offered the softest of simpers, fingers fleeting in their notions as they danced across worn palms that had been caused by seemingly endless years of persistent, heavy work. “I. . . I offer my apologies for the inconvenience my visits might have brought. . . I simply wished. . .” Her words tumbled to a breathless stop, her delicate lower lip captured by pristine teeth as the Puppeteer attempted ferociously to fight back those voices that rose, challenging the feelings that lingered in the depths of heart. “I simply wished that I could see you, Lady Dimitrescu. . .” It was late, yes, but the need, the desperation had overruled thought and lead the women here, lingering at the steps of Castle Dimitrescu just as they once done when they first met all those decades ago, when their respective families came together to introduce the newest heirs. One could say it had been love at first sight, each of the women left silently captivated by the opposite. The once shy but ever so politely confident Donna Beneviento had been immediately entrapped, utterly enthralled by the beauty and grace that ever so effortlessly tumbled from the bold and daring Alcina Dimitrescu. “I. . . I can return, if you desire.” It fell ever so quietly, barely tumbling from her lips as her stomach was suddenly overwhelmed with seemingly endless nerves, her boot-covered feet tapping together lightly.
The smaller woman hovers by the door, doesn’t come in even though Alcina had granted her silent permission. The vampire is quick to dismiss the apology, obviously finding no inconvenience in the woman’s visit however late it may be. Though she sort of froze at the words that followed.
Oh be still her heart. Such simple words would have the towering creature that reigned terror upon anyone that laid eyes upon her a complete mess.
𝗜 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗰𝘂.
The tall woman is quick to extend her hand and grab Donna’s as if to prevent her from physically taking any steps to leave. “Don’t you dare” she says with a soft smile and pulls the small woman inside, closing the door behind them. “Come” she says quietly, leading them to her chambers.
She was left thoroughly surprised by Lady Dimitrescu’s hand upon her delicate wrist, gripping as if to prevent her from physically leaving the grounds of Castle Dimitrescu and caused her gaze to ascend, settling tentatively on the towering lord’s utterly breathtaking features. “Oh. . .” It tumbled forth in that of a startled gasp, the words causing the beat of her heart to rise, thundering swiftly as the Puppeteer found herself being swept inside. If one was fortunate enough to peak beneath the woman’s veil, they’d likely find Donna’s blushing cheeks as Alcina’s very actions left the woman feeling breathless.
Golden hues cast sideways to look down at the doll maker at such a startled sound. Was it truly so unexpected? Alcina found all sorts of excuses often to touch Donna. She looks away once again, focusing on the path within the dark castle. There were few candles lit here and there but other than that, it was all darkness. They arrive at the vampire’s chambers and only then she releases the smaller woman’s wrist. Not before she lets her thumb stroke her inner wrist. The bed was almost impeccably made aside from where she had been beneath the covers, reading.
It was so silly, the way her slow beating heart starts to race so erratically.
“Make yourself confortable, dragă.”
It was, in fact, ever so expected, the touch that was often received from by Lady Dimitrescu occurring more often than not and yet, in spite of the frequency, the Lord of the Valley’s lack of physical affection with everyone else that existed around her still left her completely and utterly at shock whenever touches were received.
Perhaps, the sight of the women appeared somewhat ridiculous as Donna, tiny in her stature remained closer than one would deem usual as they travelled the darkened paths of the Castle. Her eyesight, whilst perfect, was limited not only by the loss of her left eye but the darkened fabric of her funeral garb that left what was left of her eyesight heavily obscured. And not to mention, Lady Dimitrescu’s presence left Donna feeling unusually at ease, without the usual stress that so often plagued her, weighed her down and returned her to a time where their village lived without Mother Miranda.
She hadn’t been within Alcina’s bedroom for centuries, from the time that had existed before Mother Miranda and it had, for the majority, remained the same with, of course, an exception for her furniture that had been reciprocated and made bigger. “Grazie, amore mio.”
Now that they were within their bedroom and Alcina had nothing else to keep her busy, she lets the knowledge crash into her. This is the first time in centuries that Donna has been into her chambers and the knowledge makes her — well nervous. Yes, Lady Alcina of castle Dimitrescu is nervous. Here she is with the woman who haunts her every thought and has done so ever since first meeting all those years ago.
The perfect Italian which falls from those sweet lips could’ve nade her heart burst through her chest. Oh how very alive did Donna make her feel with only her presences and a few spoken words. Damn mother Miranda. Damn her for taking this away from her.
Alcina smiles and nods gently, drifting back to the bed and to her previous spot.
Donna had, for the merest of seconds, contemplated perching herself on the foot of the bed in means of being near pale-skinned beauty but far enough away to be deemed as respectful but the height was proving to be a source of worry. It was a climb that she’d be able to accomplish but the thought of Alcina seeing her struggle, even for a short moment, left the Lord of the Valley perturbed.
And well. . . There was also the other fact that it was Alcina’s personal bed.
She had chosen to remain lingering by the entrance, fingers toying together as her gaze travelled around the room strictly in search for that of a suitable seat and discovered one that is possibly used by her daughters considering the somewhat normal size of the elegantly-carved chair. Steps were soft, cautious of her surroundings not out of fear but worry. Alcina’s belongings were not only costly but a rarity, acquired through the passing time periods they had lived in.
Golden hues settle on Donna who still hovers by the entrance. It makes frown slightly and she is ready to beckon the woman closer, closer to her and just about ready to lift her onto the bed. However the remaining Beneviento woman makes her way over to a smaller chair considering the size of the rest of the furniture. The tall woman feels disappointment settle within her as space is chosen. She is aware that Donna tries to be respectful, that she worries about crossing certain lines.
“You don’t have to sit so far, draga mea” her voice is gentle. It was also quite obvious that Donna will be staying through the night as she was not about to have the small woman trek back to her own home. “Besides, we can’t have you sleeping in a chair. Come here” she says, gesturing gently with her hand for the doll maker to come closer.
She did not worry of crossing lines, per say. She was worried of crossing lines in both the wrong time and in the wrong place and bringing punishments upon the woman that holds her very heart. Miranda hadn’t known of their previous romance before their trials, discovering them at random and setting harsh lines that injured persistently, was one of the reasons that Donna felt so very vacant, so very defeated and had chosen her mourning garb as her outfit. She was mourning their delicate, blossoming love that had been snuffed out.
She hates those lines. Such lines that brought them both agony that remained unknown to those in their lives. Such lines that had been created by the tyrant that ruined their lives repeatedly and without regret. Mother Miranda had seen and continued to see their love as a sign of mutiny, and betrayal, a weak link in her little army. She missed Alcina, her charm and daring boldness, her touch and the way her kisses had felt, the way that her skin ached in desperation to be close and was never satisfied until they were cradled as one, pressed so close that one couldn’t figure out where one of them begun and the other ended.
She’d merely nodded and begun the short distance to the bed, clambering up the sides with surprising ease and agility, knowing that if she did not come by her own volition that Lady Dimitrescu would’ve soon come and moved the woman herself and not taken a no as an answer. “Better?”
To be near Donna but not be as close as they once had been was always torture. She lives with the ghost of her kisses and caressed, the feel of Donna’s petite frame pressed against her slightly taller one. Not as towering as she is now but she had still been much too tall. They used to be so close together that they became one and now — now the distance was great. Now even if they were mere inches apart, or even feet, it felt like a whole ocean was between them.
Curse Mother Miranda. She will live the rest of her immortal life cursing and damning her.
The doll maker comes forward and climbs onto the tall, large bed. She smiles softly, mostly to herself.
𝗕𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿?
Not quite. “Hmm” she says simply, giving a single nod. “A bit” she murmurs and reaches out to squeeze Donna’s thigh. The contact is brief but it leaves her instantly aching for more.
She had managed to suppress the sounds that had threatened to burst forth, gaze heavy and pensive while remaining, focusing on her thigh that had just been briefly gripped by the Countess and letting the burn settle in, relishing in the sparks that remained, flickering with life that Alcina only ever seemed to bring to her body. Lady Dimitrescu had always found reasons to touch, to be in her presence and yet, her touch was simple, restrained and never straying from ones that were considered acts of friendship and not a single thing else.
Donna was slow in her movements, the funeral garb that was consistently perched upon her head slowly taken off and placed in her lap, delicate skin that had once been touched by sunshine now paled but was still beautiful, nonetheless. She rarely ever took it off, only when within her own home and not a soul was near and the rare moments that saw her here, in the Castle surrounded by Alcina and her daughters.
She hated her appearance, cursed the way that her eye was taken and replaced with a mass of flesh, an horrendous scar given my Mother Miranda that was able to move if so desired. In her youth, Donna had been beautiful, sun-kissed and content in her life, still shy but had her moments of daring flashes but whenever she was in the presence of Alcina Dimitrescu, there was nothing else she considered more beautiful, not even the vineyards of her home within the hills of Italy or the waterfall that rushed behind her home here, in Romania and she had remained just as beautiful, simply on a bigger scale.
“Kiss me?” She wasn’t sure how it came out, when or why but it had and Donna refused to take those words back. Greed had begun to settle into her soul. She wanted this moment, the first in centuries.
Donna removes her garb and Alcina silently watches. Each time that the doll maker did so, the vampire could not help but looks. She was often denied the beauty of the opposing woman for the cadou had taken away an eye and had caused for Donna to hide away. Lady Dimitrescu still found her to be every so beautiful but it too a long time for the Beneviento to have grown comfortable enough to show her face again. At least to Alcina. When she had, the tall woman had cupped her cheek and kiss the risen flesh that had taken over her right eye. ‘Beautiful’ she had murmured quietly and that had been that.
They never really spoke about, at think at the time they both had been so acutely aware of how dangerous that single action had been.
𝗞𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲?
She is broken out of her thoughts by those soft spoken words. Oh by the gods and all things unholy. Her heart stops then, she is certain of it. What hdd has promoted this? Does it matter? No. No it does not. This is what she has wanted to do for centuries and Donna, sweet and now extremely shy Donna has taken the initiative. A large hand comes to cup a pale cheek, stroking with her thumb along the bottom of the doll maker’s bottom lip. Golden hues flicker between soft lips and a green eye.
Alcina leans in and captures her lips in a soft kiss.
Donna was tricked, forced into a life that was not her own and held hostage. She’d been unwillingly forced from those she had loved, each of them taken and ruthlessly destroyed without a single care by Mother Miranda and her poisonous talons. Alcina Dimitrescu was all that she had left, and in time, she was forced from the woman she loves by the same hand. Her scars were simply not held on the exterior but within and the pain, the constant loss had broken her, left her fragile and damaged in the eyes of those that had been left to surround her.
Donna Beneviento had been coerced into a life that held solidarity and torment. It was painful, forced to spend the eternity of her unnatural life experiencing the motions of the past, the ghost touches of the moments, the touches that she had once shared with Alcina and constantly reminded of everything that they’d lost with every glance towards the Lady of Dimitrescu Castle. She was forced to an eternity sharing wishful glances, wishful thoughts with and about about the woman she once and still loved, who had once existed as her beloved and not a partner of a twisted business.
How long has it already been? How many centuries had passed by? How long had Donna watched Lady Dimitrescu from afar, experiencing the ghost touch of their lips as they shared a passionate kiss and the weight of her larger hand encompassing her own? She simply couldn’t go on, couldn’t proceed without having it just once more, needing it to mimic another however many centuries they wet condemned too.
Alcina’s palm and it’s warmth was so very familiar and yet so very unfamiliar. It felt the same but was simply bigger. She sighed as if a weight was lifted, her breathing increasing out of anticipation as a thumb traced her lips, kissed tenderly as Donna’s remaining eye watched, studying Alcina’s ever so beautiful complexion.
Her hand had seemed small upon Alcina’s cheek in their youth, Donna always being petite and Alcina always towering but it felt even smaller as it cradle the curve of a soft cheek, the Lady of the Valley’s kiss soft and tender once her gasp had fallen and was pushed out of the way.
Oh she felt alive once more. So truly and unrestrictedly alive in a way she has not been in centuries. A single kiss has sparked every bit of nerve ending on fire. This is what she had been missing for years, what she had yearned for and closed her eyes to imagine, only having the memory, the ghosts of touches which she tried so hard to recreate with her maidens but was never like this. Nothing will ever be like this and she knows, she knows they shouldn’t. She knows they should break apart and try to sleep away the hours of the early morning that remain before the castle came awake.
But she simply couldn’t. She could not tear herself apart. Not when she was finally getting to touch Donna in the way she has craved for years after mother Miranda had prohibited they continued what they had. She had been enraged, devastated and had destroyed too much furniture that day.
Both hands are now cradling small cheeks within them, thumbs stroking as she kisses the doll marker with reverence, longing, desire that had been tucked away for so long, with love. The love that had always remained, had never withered. Daringly she traces soft lips with her tongue, asking for entrance.
She had, at first, worried about her choice. It was an unfair request, one that could release emotions that were dangerous and long put to bed. If they were to be hidden once more, pain was inevitable for them both. How she loathed that. How she hated the very thought of, once more, being the centre of Lady Dimitrescu’s pain. Was this going to lead them down a road of agony? Condemn them, for a second time, to a life that drained them of life as that missing link left them unfulfilled.
It was complete and utter bliss to feel supple brims cradling her own once more, and dancing as they’d once done, falling back into old habits with such surprising ease that had, admittedly, caught her off guard. Their love, after centuries, had remained, never withered even as it remained untended, lying forgotten as the lover’s were forced apart. She had pressed forth, almost desperate as an element of firmness was applied and a silent plea to remain here was silently delivered.
Her first touch was tentative, cautious as her palm settled against the sharp curve of a pale jawline. It was just the same. . . Alcina had not changed, still felt as she had in last the moment they had shared. Donna felt as if that of a broken sob could burst forth, this very moment overwhelming as her heart pounded ruthlessly within her chest and the entire realm of her body burned, ached with excitement, with life. Who could have thought? One unforeseen and spontaneous kiss returning life to both women.
Donna finally felt alive, without the weight that clung ever so desperately upon her and the stale breath that stained her lungs, feeling weightless and as if her lungs were being flooded with fresh air, given a new lease on life. She had lived without life for centuries, weighed down ruthlessly and previously, was convinced that it would never changed, stuck in the same cycle was as unforgiving as it was vicious. She loathed it, cursed on Mother Miranda for the life Donna had been tricked in to.
Her fingers traced supple and sharp features that the Lord of the Valley already knew off by heart, falling as a victim to her greed and taking as much as she could, her desire rising it’s head and shattering her control to allow this path to be taken, letting their lips to rock together, to dance as one once more.
The kiss has opened a door that has been long locked and now Alcina was not sure if she could close it once more. Obviously she did not wish to and that certainly did not help but she knew and knows that Donna knows this cannot be. Not if the wished you escape the wrath of Mother Miranda. Yet she did not care, not in this moment at least of what the consequences may be. Not when the doll maker was kissing her like that, touching her like that. No, she did not care.
Lady Dimitrescu is unable to hold back the moan which bubbles up when she feels Donna’s tongue. Her own begins a gentle dance with that of the petite woman and she pulls her closer. She pulls her as close as possible, wanting to feel as much of the doll maker as she could. It was everything and yet not enough. How could she have gone so long without this? How could she have allowed herself to go on for centuries as half a woman? She was like a flower and Donna was water and sunlight.
“Oh draga mea” she says softly, in a held back sob against those lips. “I have missed you” she whispers that admission. Without much thought, she pulls Donna into her lap, clinging to the woman as she resumes the kiss.
It was agonising to face reality, to acknowledge that in spite of how desperately they wanted to be, it was nothing more than a broken dream, wishes that shall never be fulfilled. It just couldn’t be. They couldn’t ever be more than memories that haunted their hearts with what had been stolen from them. It would be seen as nothing more than an act of mutiny, proving disloyalty against Mother Miranda and the ‘gifts’ she had bestowed upon them and would earn drastic, excruciating repercussions that would, in due time, end in painful death.
Lady Dimitrescu had remained supple, tender beneath her curious palms that explored without restraint, taking as much of this moment before it disappeared, and they were expected to return the ways they were forced to live by. She finally felt complete, that hole that ached, burned in agony in the darkened depths of the night finally smoothed over. How could she have lived without this? To kiss Alcina felt as if the Lord of the Valley could breathe once more. How had they managed these centuries?
“La mia luce. . .” She was utterly petrified, worried that in any given moment her heart was going to give out as it was pounding with such velocity, attempting to burst forth and end up in Alcina’s hands. “I have missed you so.” Her tongue danced, stroked sensually over the opposing woman’s as their new position was used to her advantage, and she pressed close, refusing to allow even the smallest inch between them.
She could never quite understand the reasons behind Mother Miranda’s decision. All she knows is that the mere act cause the vampire to despise the woman even more. It makes her want to truly go against her, stand up to her for what she believes, for what she wants. Mother Miranda has taken so much from her and Alcina has simply allowed it. Why? She does not know. The woman is certain that just herself and Donna could take the woman on. Yet they fear her and what she can do. They fear because where as Mother Miranda has so little to loose, they have plenty still, at the very least a lot more than them.
The vampire wraps the petite woman in her strong arms, keeping her there right where she was. In her arms, where Lady Dimitrescu believes she has always belonged. The tall creature kisses her with fervor, desperation, tongue waltzing the familiar eyes of this song. It felt as though in the cover of darkness within her chambers could hide away all their secrets. Alcina’s movements were gentle which she never was if it was not with her daughters or a maid which has particularly peaked her interest. The vampire lays the woman on her large bed and hovers over her, golden hues glowing in the darkness of the room not taken away by the candle.
“We shouldn’t” she says quietly, tracing the woman’s jaw softly before grabbing delicately at her chin. “She will crucify us if she found out” and there was no need to state names, they both knew who. “Is it wrong that despite the fear, I do not care?”
She lingered, delicate feet rocking back and forth as fingertips were captured in the midst of a desperate dance, her gaze unusually determined but in the very same moment uncertain, attempting to burn down the door that held the beloved @vampcina behind it to solve her current issue.
To say such an observation that the time of night is late was simply useless, the darkened hallways of Dimitrescu Castle a telling tale that Beneviento was lingering in the hours that belonged rightfully to the witches and ghouls.
Finally, after a period of time that the dollmaker had spent standing in the midst of the hallway, her tiny fist extended to rasp carefully, almost silently against the door. If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t have been heard but for someone such as Lady Dimitrescu it would have sounded just as loud as a simple knock.
The tall woman resides in her chamber, a few candles lit to illuminate the room. She sat on the bed, back against the board and a book within a large hand. Small glasses were perched upon her nose as she read, golden hues running along each word that laid upon the pages before a knock interrupted her quiet night. She frowns, looking in the direction of the door. Who the hell could be at her door at this hour?
The vampire rises, setting the open book upon her nightstand. She wears a white nightgown, silk and loose around her tall frame. The woman begins to make her way to the main door and it is surprise when she sees Donna on the other side of it.
“Donna!” She takes a second, blinking before stepping back and letting the small woman inside. “Are you okay? It is late. . .” Not that she minded but Donna never visited this late.
In spite of her delicate features being unseen, hidden behind the protection of her veil, the woman had simply offered the softest of simpers, fingers fleeting in their notions as they danced across worn palms that had been caused by seemingly endless years of persistent, heavy work. “I. . . I offer my apologies for the inconvenience my visits might have brought. . . I simply wished. . .” Her words tumbled to a breathless stop, her delicate lower lip captured by pristine teeth as the Puppeteer attempted ferociously to fight back those voices that rose, challenging the feelings that lingered in the depths of heart. “I simply wished that I could see you, Lady Dimitrescu. . .” It was late, yes, but the need, the desperation had overruled thought and lead the women here, lingering at the steps of Castle Dimitrescu just as they once done when they first met all those decades ago, when their respective families came together to introduce the newest heirs. One could say it had been love at first sight, each of the women left silently captivated by the opposite. The once shy but ever so politely confident Donna Beneviento had been immediately entrapped, utterly enthralled by the beauty and grace that ever so effortlessly tumbled from the bold and daring Alcina Dimitrescu. “I. . . I can return, if you desire.” It fell ever so quietly, barely tumbling from her lips as her stomach was suddenly overwhelmed with seemingly endless nerves, her boot-covered feet tapping together lightly.
The smaller woman hovers by the door, doesn’t come in even though Alcina had granted her silent permission. The vampire is quick to dismiss the apology, obviously finding no inconvenience in the woman’s visit however late it may be. Though she sort of froze at the words that followed.
Oh be still her heart. Such simple words would have the towering creature that reigned terror upon anyone that laid eyes upon her a complete mess.
𝗜 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗰𝘂.
The tall woman is quick to extend her hand and grab Donna’s as if to prevent her from physically taking any steps to leave. “Don’t you dare” she says with a soft smile and pulls the small woman inside, closing the door behind them. “Come” she says quietly, leading them to her chambers.
She was left thoroughly surprised by Lady Dimitrescu’s hand upon her delicate wrist, gripping as if to prevent her from physically leaving the grounds of Castle Dimitrescu and caused her gaze to ascend, settling tentatively on the towering lord’s utterly breathtaking features. “Oh. . .” It tumbled forth in that of a startled gasp, the words causing the beat of her heart to rise, thundering swiftly as the Puppeteer found herself being swept inside. If one was fortunate enough to peak beneath the woman’s veil, they’d likely find Donna’s blushing cheeks as Alcina’s very actions left the woman feeling breathless.
Golden hues cast sideways to look down at the doll maker at such a startled sound. Was it truly so unexpected? Alcina found all sorts of excuses often to touch Donna. She looks away once again, focusing on the path within the dark castle. There were few candles lit here and there but other than that, it was all darkness. They arrive at the vampire’s chambers and only then she releases the smaller woman’s wrist. Not before she lets her thumb stroke her inner wrist. The bed was almost impeccably made aside from where she had been beneath the covers, reading.
It was so silly, the way her slow beating heart starts to race so erratically.
“Make yourself confortable, dragă.”
It was, in fact, ever so expected, the touch that was often received from by Lady Dimitrescu occurring more often than not and yet, in spite of the frequency, the Lord of the Valley’s lack of physical affection with everyone else that existed around her still left her completely and utterly at shock whenever touches were received.
Perhaps, the sight of the women appeared somewhat ridiculous as Donna, tiny in her stature remained closer than one would deem usual as they travelled the darkened paths of the Castle. Her eyesight, whilst perfect, was limited not only by the loss of her left eye but the darkened fabric of her funeral garb that left what was left of her eyesight heavily obscured. And not to mention, Lady Dimitrescu’s presence left Donna feeling unusually at ease, without the usual stress that so often plagued her, weighed her down and returned her to a time where their village lived without Mother Miranda.
She hadn’t been within Alcina’s bedroom for centuries, from the time that had existed before Mother Miranda and it had, for the majority, remained the same with, of course, an exception for her furniture that had been reciprocated and made bigger. “Grazie, amore mio.”
Now that they were within their bedroom and Alcina had nothing else to keep her busy, she lets the knowledge crash into her. This is the first time in centuries that Donna has been into her chambers and the knowledge makes her — well nervous. Yes, Lady Alcina of castle Dimitrescu is nervous. Here she is with the woman who haunts her every thought and has done so ever since first meeting all those years ago.
The perfect Italian which falls from those sweet lips could’ve nade her heart burst through her chest. Oh how very alive did Donna make her feel with only her presences and a few spoken words. Damn mother Miranda. Damn her for taking this away from her.
Alcina smiles and nods gently, drifting back to the bed and to her previous spot.
Donna had, for the merest of seconds, contemplated perching herself on the foot of the bed in means of being near pale-skinned beauty but far enough away to be deemed as respectful but the height was proving to be a source of worry. It was a climb that she’d be able to accomplish but the thought of Alcina seeing her struggle, even for a short moment, left the Lord of the Valley perturbed.
And well. . . There was also the other fact that it was Alcina’s personal bed.
She had chosen to remain lingering by the entrance, fingers toying together as her gaze travelled around the room strictly in search for that of a suitable seat and discovered one that is possibly used by her daughters considering the somewhat normal size of the elegantly-carved chair. Steps were soft, cautious of her surroundings not out of fear but worry. Alcina’s belongings were not only costly but a rarity, acquired through the passing time periods they had lived in.
Golden hues settle on Donna who still hovers by the entrance. It makes frown slightly and she is ready to beckon the woman closer, closer to her and just about ready to lift her onto the bed. However the remaining Beneviento woman makes her way over to a smaller chair considering the size of the rest of the furniture. The tall woman feels disappointment settle within her as space is chosen. She is aware that Donna tries to be respectful, that she worries about crossing certain lines.
“You don’t have to sit so far, draga mea” her voice is gentle. It was also quite obvious that Donna will be staying through the night as she was not about to have the small woman trek back to her own home. “Besides, we can’t have you sleeping in a chair. Come here” she says, gesturing gently with her hand for the doll maker to come closer.
She did not worry of crossing lines, per say. She was worried of crossing lines in both the wrong time and in the wrong place and bringing punishments upon the woman that holds her very heart. Miranda hadn’t known of their previous romance before their trials, discovering them at random and setting harsh lines that injured persistently, was one of the reasons that Donna felt so very vacant, so very defeated and had chosen her mourning garb as her outfit. She was mourning their delicate, blossoming love that had been snuffed out.
She hates those lines. Such lines that brought them both agony that remained unknown to those in their lives. Such lines that had been created by the tyrant that ruined their lives repeatedly and without regret. Mother Miranda had seen and continued to see their love as a sign of mutiny, and betrayal, a weak link in her little army. She missed Alcina, her charm and daring boldness, her touch and the way her kisses had felt, the way that her skin ached in desperation to be close and was never satisfied until they were cradled as one, pressed so close that one couldn’t figure out where one of them begun and the other ended.
She’d merely nodded and begun the short distance to the bed, clambering up the sides with surprising ease and agility, knowing that if she did not come by her own volition that Lady Dimitrescu would’ve soon come and moved the woman herself and not taken a no as an answer. “Better?”
To be near Donna but not be as close as they once had been was always torture. She lives with the ghost of her kisses and caressed, the feel of Donna’s petite frame pressed against her slightly taller one. Not as towering as she is now but she had still been much too tall. They used to be so close together that they became one and now — now the distance was great. Now even if they were mere inches apart, or even feet, it felt like a whole ocean was between them.
Curse Mother Miranda. She will live the rest of her immortal life cursing and damning her.
The doll maker comes forward and climbs onto the tall, large bed. She smiles softly, mostly to herself.
𝗕𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿?
Not quite. “Hmm” she says simply, giving a single nod. “A bit” she murmurs and reaches out to squeeze Donna’s thigh. The contact is brief but it leaves her instantly aching for more.
She had managed to suppress the sounds that had threatened to burst forth, gaze heavy and pensive while remaining, focusing on her thigh that had just been briefly gripped by the Countess and letting the burn settle in, relishing in the sparks that remained, flickering with life that Alcina only ever seemed to bring to her body. Lady Dimitrescu had always found reasons to touch, to be in her presence and yet, her touch was simple, restrained and never straying from ones that were considered acts of friendship and not a single thing else.
Donna was slow in her movements, the funeral garb that was consistently perched upon her head slowly taken off and placed in her lap, delicate skin that had once been touched by sunshine now paled but was still beautiful, nonetheless. She rarely ever took it off, only when within her own home and not a soul was near and the rare moments that saw her here, in the Castle surrounded by Alcina and her daughters.
She hated her appearance, cursed the way that her eye was taken and replaced with a mass of flesh, an horrendous scar given my Mother Miranda that was able to move if so desired. In her youth, Donna had been beautiful, sun-kissed and content in her life, still shy but had her moments of daring flashes but whenever she was in the presence of Alcina Dimitrescu, there was nothing else she considered more beautiful, not even the vineyards of her home within the hills of Italy or the waterfall that rushed behind her home here, in Romania and she had remained just as beautiful, simply on a bigger scale.
“Kiss me?” She wasn’t sure how it came out, when or why but it had and Donna refused to take those words back. Greed had begun to settle into her soul. She wanted this moment, the first in centuries.
Donna removes her garb and Alcina silently watches. Each time that the doll maker did so, the vampire could not help but looks. She was often denied the beauty of the opposing woman for the cadou had taken away an eye and had caused for Donna to hide away. Lady Dimitrescu still found her to be every so beautiful but it too a long time for the Beneviento to have grown comfortable enough to show her face again. At least to Alcina. When she had, the tall woman had cupped her cheek and kiss the risen flesh that had taken over her right eye. ‘Beautiful’ she had murmured quietly and that had been that.
They never really spoke about, at think at the time they both had been so acutely aware of how dangerous that single action had been.
𝗞𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲?
She is broken out of her thoughts by those soft spoken words. Oh by the gods and all things unholy. Her heart stops then, she is certain of it. What hdd has promoted this? Does it matter? No. No it does not. This is what she has wanted to do for centuries and Donna, sweet and now extremely shy Donna has taken the initiative. A large hand comes to cup a pale cheek, stroking with her thumb along the bottom of the doll maker’s bottom lip. Golden hues flicker between soft lips and a green eye.
Alcina leans in and captures her lips in a soft kiss.
Donna was tricked, forced into a life that was not her own and held hostage. She’d been unwillingly forced from those she had loved, each of them taken and ruthlessly destroyed without a single care by Mother Miranda and her poisonous talons. Alcina Dimitrescu was all that she had left, and in time, she was forced from the woman she loves by the same hand. Her scars were simply not held on the exterior but within and the pain, the constant loss had broken her, left her fragile and damaged in the eyes of those that had been left to surround her.
Donna Beneviento had been coerced into a life that held solidarity and torment. It was painful, forced to spend the eternity of her unnatural life experiencing the motions of the past, the ghost touches of the moments, the touches that she had once shared with Alcina and constantly reminded of everything that they’d lost with every glance towards the Lady of Dimitrescu Castle. She was forced to an eternity sharing wishful glances, wishful thoughts with and about about the woman she once and still loved, who had once existed as her beloved and not a partner of a twisted business.
How long has it already been? How many centuries had passed by? How long had Donna watched Lady Dimitrescu from afar, experiencing the ghost touch of their lips as they shared a passionate kiss and the weight of her larger hand encompassing her own? She simply couldn’t go on, couldn’t proceed without having it just once more, needing it to mimic another however many centuries they wet condemned too.
Alcina’s palm and it’s warmth was so very familiar and yet so very unfamiliar. It felt the same but was simply bigger. She sighed as if a weight was lifted, her breathing increasing out of anticipation as a thumb traced her lips, kissed tenderly as Donna’s remaining eye watched, studying Alcina’s ever so beautiful complexion.
Her hand had seemed small upon Alcina’s cheek in their youth, Donna always being petite and Alcina always towering but it felt even smaller as it cradle the curve of a soft cheek, the Lady of the Valley’s kiss soft and tender once her gasp had fallen and was pushed out of the way.
Oh she felt alive once more. So truly and unrestrictedly alive in a way she has not been in centuries. A single kiss has sparked every bit of nerve ending on fire. This is what she had been missing for years, what she had yearned for and closed her eyes to imagine, only having the memory, the ghosts of touches which she tried so hard to recreate with her maidens but was never like this. Nothing will ever be like this and she knows, she knows they shouldn’t. She knows they should break apart and try to sleep away the hours of the early morning that remain before the castle came awake.
But she simply couldn’t. She could not tear herself apart. Not when she was finally getting to touch Donna in the way she has craved for years after mother Miranda had prohibited they continued what they had. She had been enraged, devastated and had destroyed too much furniture that day.
Both hands are now cradling small cheeks within them, thumbs stroking as she kisses the doll marker with reverence, longing, desire that had been tucked away for so long, with love. The love that had always remained, had never withered. Daringly she traces soft lips with her tongue, asking for entrance.
She had, at first, worried about her choice. It was an unfair request, one that could release emotions that were dangerous and long put to bed. If they were to be hidden once more, pain was inevitable for them both. How she loathed that. How she hated the very thought of, once more, being the centre of Lady Dimitrescu’s pain. Was this going to lead them down a road of agony? Condemn them, for a second time, to a life that drained them of life as that missing link left them unfulfilled.
It was complete and utter bliss to feel supple brims cradling her own once more, and dancing as they’d once done, falling back into old habits with such surprising ease that had, admittedly, caught her off guard. Their love, after centuries, had remained, never withered even as it remained untended, lying forgotten as the lover’s were forced apart. She had pressed forth, almost desperate as an element of firmness was applied and a silent plea to remain here was silently delivered.
Her first touch was tentative, cautious as her palm settled against the sharp curve of a pale jawline. It was just the same. . . Alcina had not changed, still felt as she had in last the moment they had shared. Donna felt as if that of a broken sob could burst forth, this very moment overwhelming as her heart pounded ruthlessly within her chest and the entire realm of her body burned, ached with excitement, with life. Who could have thought? One unforeseen and spontaneous kiss returning life to both women.
Donna finally felt alive, without the weight that clung ever so desperately upon her and the stale breath that stained her lungs, feeling weightless and as if her lungs were being flooded with fresh air, given a new lease on life. She had lived without life for centuries, weighed down ruthlessly and previously, was convinced that it would never changed, stuck in the same cycle was as unforgiving as it was vicious. She loathed it, cursed on Mother Miranda for the life Donna had been tricked in to.
Her fingers traced supple and sharp features that the Lord of the Valley already knew off by heart, falling as a victim to her greed and taking as much as she could, her desire rising it’s head and shattering her control to allow this path to be taken, letting their lips to rock together, to dance as one once more.
The kiss has opened a door that has been long locked and now Alcina was not sure if she could close it once more. Obviously she did not wish to and that certainly did not help but she knew and knows that Donna knows this cannot be. Not if the wished you escape the wrath of Mother Miranda. Yet she did not care, not in this moment at least of what the consequences may be. Not when the doll maker was kissing her like that, touching her like that. No, she did not care.
Lady Dimitrescu is unable to hold back the moan which bubbles up when she feels Donna’s tongue. Her own begins a gentle dance with that of the petite woman and she pulls her closer. She pulls her as close as possible, wanting to feel as much of the doll maker as she could. It was everything and yet not enough. How could she have gone so long without this? How could she have allowed herself to go on for centuries as half a woman? She was like a flower and Donna was water and sunlight.
“Oh draga mea” she says softly, in a held back sob against those lips. “I have missed you” she whispers that admission. Without much thought, she pulls Donna into her lap, clinging to the woman as she resumes the kiss.
She lingered, delicate feet rocking back and forth as fingertips were captured in the midst of a desperate dance, her gaze unusually determined but in the very same moment uncertain, attempting to burn down the door that held the beloved @vampcina behind it to solve her current issue.
To say such an observation that the time of night is late was simply useless, the darkened hallways of Dimitrescu Castle a telling tale that Beneviento was lingering in the hours that belonged rightfully to the witches and ghouls.
Finally, after a period of time that the dollmaker had spent standing in the midst of the hallway, her tiny fist extended to rasp carefully, almost silently against the door. If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t have been heard but for someone such as Lady Dimitrescu it would have sounded just as loud as a simple knock.
The tall woman resides in her chamber, a few candles lit to illuminate the room. She sat on the bed, back against the board and a book within a large hand. Small glasses were perched upon her nose as she read, golden hues running along each word that laid upon the pages before a knock interrupted her quiet night. She frowns, looking in the direction of the door. Who the hell could be at her door at this hour?
The vampire rises, setting the open book upon her nightstand. She wears a white nightgown, silk and loose around her tall frame. The woman begins to make her way to the main door and it is surprise when she sees Donna on the other side of it.
“Donna!” She takes a second, blinking before stepping back and letting the small woman inside. “Are you okay? It is late. . .” Not that she minded but Donna never visited this late.
In spite of her delicate features being unseen, hidden behind the protection of her veil, the woman had simply offered the softest of simpers, fingers fleeting in their notions as they danced across worn palms that had been caused by seemingly endless years of persistent, heavy work. “I. . . I offer my apologies for the inconvenience my visits might have brought. . . I simply wished. . .” Her words tumbled to a breathless stop, her delicate lower lip captured by pristine teeth as the Puppeteer attempted ferociously to fight back those voices that rose, challenging the feelings that lingered in the depths of heart. “I simply wished that I could see you, Lady Dimitrescu. . .” It was late, yes, but the need, the desperation had overruled thought and lead the women here, lingering at the steps of Castle Dimitrescu just as they once done when they first met all those decades ago, when their respective families came together to introduce the newest heirs. One could say it had been love at first sight, each of the women left silently captivated by the opposite. The once shy but ever so politely confident Donna Beneviento had been immediately entrapped, utterly enthralled by the beauty and grace that ever so effortlessly tumbled from the bold and daring Alcina Dimitrescu. “I. . . I can return, if you desire.” It fell ever so quietly, barely tumbling from her lips as her stomach was suddenly overwhelmed with seemingly endless nerves, her boot-covered feet tapping together lightly.
The smaller woman hovers by the door, doesn’t come in even though Alcina had granted her silent permission. The vampire is quick to dismiss the apology, obviously finding no inconvenience in the woman’s visit however late it may be. Though she sort of froze at the words that followed.
Oh be still her heart. Such simple words would have the towering creature that reigned terror upon anyone that laid eyes upon her a complete mess.
𝗜 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗰𝘂.
The tall woman is quick to extend her hand and grab Donna’s as if to prevent her from physically taking any steps to leave. “Don’t you dare” she says with a soft smile and pulls the small woman inside, closing the door behind them. “Come” she says quietly, leading them to her chambers.
She was left thoroughly surprised by Lady Dimitrescu’s hand upon her delicate wrist, gripping as if to prevent her from physically leaving the grounds of Castle Dimitrescu and caused her gaze to ascend, settling tentatively on the towering lord’s utterly breathtaking features. “Oh. . .” It tumbled forth in that of a startled gasp, the words causing the beat of her heart to rise, thundering swiftly as the Puppeteer found herself being swept inside. If one was fortunate enough to peak beneath the woman’s veil, they’d likely find Donna’s blushing cheeks as Alcina’s very actions left the woman feeling breathless.
Golden hues cast sideways to look down at the doll maker at such a startled sound. Was it truly so unexpected? Alcina found all sorts of excuses often to touch Donna. She looks away once again, focusing on the path within the dark castle. There were few candles lit here and there but other than that, it was all darkness. They arrive at the vampire’s chambers and only then she releases the smaller woman’s wrist. Not before she lets her thumb stroke her inner wrist. The bed was almost impeccably made aside from where she had been beneath the covers, reading.
It was so silly, the way her slow beating heart starts to race so erratically.
“Make yourself confortable, dragă.”
It was, in fact, ever so expected, the touch that was often received from by Lady Dimitrescu occurring more often than not and yet, in spite of the frequency, the Lord of the Valley’s lack of physical affection with everyone else that existed around her still left her completely and utterly at shock whenever touches were received.
Perhaps, the sight of the women appeared somewhat ridiculous as Donna, tiny in her stature remained closer than one would deem usual as they travelled the darkened paths of the Castle. Her eyesight, whilst perfect, was limited not only by the loss of her left eye but the darkened fabric of her funeral garb that left what was left of her eyesight heavily obscured. And not to mention, Lady Dimitrescu’s presence left Donna feeling unusually at ease, without the usual stress that so often plagued her, weighed her down and returned her to a time where their village lived without Mother Miranda.
She hadn’t been within Alcina’s bedroom for centuries, from the time that had existed before Mother Miranda and it had, for the majority, remained the same with, of course, an exception for her furniture that had been reciprocated and made bigger. “Grazie, amore mio.”
Now that they were within their bedroom and Alcina had nothing else to keep her busy, she lets the knowledge crash into her. This is the first time in centuries that Donna has been into her chambers and the knowledge makes her — well nervous. Yes, Lady Alcina of castle Dimitrescu is nervous. Here she is with the woman who haunts her every thought and has done so ever since first meeting all those years ago.
The perfect Italian which falls from those sweet lips could’ve nade her heart burst through her chest. Oh how very alive did Donna make her feel with only her presences and a few spoken words. Damn mother Miranda. Damn her for taking this away from her.
Alcina smiles and nods gently, drifting back to the bed and to her previous spot.
Donna had, for the merest of seconds, contemplated perching herself on the foot of the bed in means of being near pale-skinned beauty but far enough away to be deemed as respectful but the height was proving to be a source of worry. It was a climb that she’d be able to accomplish but the thought of Alcina seeing her struggle, even for a short moment, left the Lord of the Valley perturbed.
And well. . . There was also the other fact that it was Alcina’s personal bed.
She had chosen to remain lingering by the entrance, fingers toying together as her gaze travelled around the room strictly in search for that of a suitable seat and discovered one that is possibly used by her daughters considering the somewhat normal size of the elegantly-carved chair. Steps were soft, cautious of her surroundings not out of fear but worry. Alcina’s belongings were not only costly but a rarity, acquired through the passing time periods they had lived in.
Golden hues settle on Donna who still hovers by the entrance. It makes frown slightly and she is ready to beckon the woman closer, closer to her and just about ready to lift her onto the bed. However the remaining Beneviento woman makes her way over to a smaller chair considering the size of the rest of the furniture. The tall woman feels disappointment settle within her as space is chosen. She is aware that Donna tries to be respectful, that she worries about crossing certain lines.
“You don’t have to sit so far, draga mea” her voice is gentle. It was also quite obvious that Donna will be staying through the night as she was not about to have the small woman trek back to her own home. “Besides, we can’t have you sleeping in a chair. Come here” she says, gesturing gently with her hand for the doll maker to come closer.
She did not worry of crossing lines, per say. She was worried of crossing lines in both the wrong time and in the wrong place and bringing punishments upon the woman that holds her very heart. Miranda hadn’t known of their previous romance before their trials, discovering them at random and setting harsh lines that injured persistently, was one of the reasons that Donna felt so very vacant, so very defeated and had chosen her mourning garb as her outfit. She was mourning their delicate, blossoming love that had been snuffed out.
She hates those lines. Such lines that brought them both agony that remained unknown to those in their lives. Such lines that had been created by the tyrant that ruined their lives repeatedly and without regret. Mother Miranda had seen and continued to see their love as a sign of mutiny, and betrayal, a weak link in her little army. She missed Alcina, her charm and daring boldness, her touch and the way her kisses had felt, the way that her skin ached in desperation to be close and was never satisfied until they were cradled as one, pressed so close that one couldn’t figure out where one of them begun and the other ended.
She’d merely nodded and begun the short distance to the bed, clambering up the sides with surprising ease and agility, knowing that if she did not come by her own volition that Lady Dimitrescu would’ve soon come and moved the woman herself and not taken a no as an answer. “Better?”
To be near Donna but not be as close as they once had been was always torture. She lives with the ghost of her kisses and caressed, the feel of Donna’s petite frame pressed against her slightly taller one. Not as towering as she is now but she had still been much too tall. They used to be so close together that they became one and now — now the distance was great. Now even if they were mere inches apart, or even feet, it felt like a whole ocean was between them.
Curse Mother Miranda. She will live the rest of her immortal life cursing and damning her.
The doll maker comes forward and climbs onto the tall, large bed. She smiles softly, mostly to herself.
𝗕𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿?
Not quite. “Hmm” she says simply, giving a single nod. “A bit” she murmurs and reaches out to squeeze Donna’s thigh. The contact is brief but it leaves her instantly aching for more.
She had managed to suppress the sounds that had threatened to burst forth, gaze heavy and pensive while remaining, focusing on her thigh that had just been briefly gripped by the Countess and letting the burn settle in, relishing in the sparks that remained, flickering with life that Alcina only ever seemed to bring to her body. Lady Dimitrescu had always found reasons to touch, to be in her presence and yet, her touch was simple, restrained and never straying from ones that were considered acts of friendship and not a single thing else.
Donna was slow in her movements, the funeral garb that was consistently perched upon her head slowly taken off and placed in her lap, delicate skin that had once been touched by sunshine now paled but was still beautiful, nonetheless. She rarely ever took it off, only when within her own home and not a soul was near and the rare moments that saw her here, in the Castle surrounded by Alcina and her daughters.
She hated her appearance, cursed the way that her eye was taken and replaced with a mass of flesh, an horrendous scar given my Mother Miranda that was able to move if so desired. In her youth, Donna had been beautiful, sun-kissed and content in her life, still shy but had her moments of daring flashes but whenever she was in the presence of Alcina Dimitrescu, there was nothing else she considered more beautiful, not even the vineyards of her home within the hills of Italy or the waterfall that rushed behind her home here, in Romania and she had remained just as beautiful, simply on a bigger scale.
“Kiss me?” She wasn’t sure how it came out, when or why but it had and Donna refused to take those words back. Greed had begun to settle into her soul. She wanted this moment, the first in centuries.
Donna removes her garb and Alcina silently watches. Each time that the doll maker did so, the vampire could not help but looks. She was often denied the beauty of the opposing woman for the cadou had taken away an eye and had caused for Donna to hide away. Lady Dimitrescu still found her to be every so beautiful but it too a long time for the Beneviento to have grown comfortable enough to show her face again. At least to Alcina. When she had, the tall woman had cupped her cheek and kiss the risen flesh that had taken over her right eye. ‘Beautiful’ she had murmured quietly and that had been that.
They never really spoke about, at think at the time they both had been so acutely aware of how dangerous that single action had been.
𝗞𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲?
She is broken out of her thoughts by those soft spoken words. Oh by the gods and all things unholy. Her heart stops then, she is certain of it. What hdd has promoted this? Does it matter? No. No it does not. This is what she has wanted to do for centuries and Donna, sweet and now extremely shy Donna has taken the initiative. A large hand comes to cup a pale cheek, stroking with her thumb along the bottom of the doll maker’s bottom lip. Golden hues flicker between soft lips and a green eye.
Alcina leans in and captures her lips in a soft kiss.
Donna was tricked, forced into a life that was not her own and held hostage. She’d been unwillingly forced from those she had loved, each of them taken and ruthlessly destroyed without a single care by Mother Miranda and her poisonous talons. Alcina Dimitrescu was all that she had left, and in time, she was forced from the woman she loves by the same hand. Her scars were simply not held on the exterior but within and the pain, the constant loss had broken her, left her fragile and damaged in the eyes of those that had been left to surround her.
Donna Beneviento had been coerced into a life that held solidarity and torment. It was painful, forced to spend the eternity of her unnatural life experiencing the motions of the past, the ghost touches of the moments, the touches that she had once shared with Alcina and constantly reminded of everything that they’d lost with every glance towards the Lady of Dimitrescu Castle. She was forced to an eternity sharing wishful glances, wishful thoughts with and about about the woman she once and still loved, who had once existed as her beloved and not a partner of a twisted business.
How long has it already been? How many centuries had passed by? How long had Donna watched Lady Dimitrescu from afar, experiencing the ghost touch of their lips as they shared a passionate kiss and the weight of her larger hand encompassing her own? She simply couldn’t go on, couldn’t proceed without having it just once more, needing it to mimic another however many centuries they wet condemned too.
Alcina’s palm and it’s warmth was so very familiar and yet so very unfamiliar. It felt the same but was simply bigger. She sighed as if a weight was lifted, her breathing increasing out of anticipation as a thumb traced her lips, kissed tenderly as Donna’s remaining eye watched, studying Alcina’s ever so beautiful complexion.
Her hand had seemed small upon Alcina’s cheek in their youth, Donna always being petite and Alcina always towering but it felt even smaller as it cradle the curve of a soft cheek, the Lady of the Valley’s kiss soft and tender once her gasp had fallen and was pushed out of the way.
Oh she felt alive once more. So truly and unrestrictedly alive in a way she has not been in centuries. A single kiss has sparked every bit of nerve ending on fire. This is what she had been missing for years, what she had yearned for and closed her eyes to imagine, only having the memory, the ghosts of touches which she tried so hard to recreate with her maidens but was never like this. Nothing will ever be like this and she knows, she knows they shouldn’t. She knows they should break apart and try to sleep away the hours of the early morning that remain before the castle came awake.
But she simply couldn’t. She could not tear herself apart. Not when she was finally getting to touch Donna in the way she has craved for years after mother Miranda had prohibited they continued what they had. She had been enraged, devastated and had destroyed too much furniture that day.
Both hands are now cradling small cheeks within them, thumbs stroking as she kisses the doll marker with reverence, longing, desire that had been tucked away for so long, with love. The love that had always remained, had never withered. Daringly she traces soft lips with her tongue, asking for entrance.
𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑, starter for @servitoae
It is early morning, dawn has yet to break over the horizon. It was simply how she operates, she hardly sleep and when she does, it isn’t for long. Alcina is never really relaxed, never really at ease even in her own home. There is often all of these worries upon her shoulders which weight her down.
The vampire lets out a soft exhale, rising from her bed and slipping on her robe. Her maiden will be here soon to prepare her bath and help her wash. Oh sweet Caitriona, so lovely and gentle, so beautiful. The lady of the castle being her usual self had been unable not to indulge herself. She had made the maiden hers. It had been slow seduction, little touched and praises which builded up to a kiss. Lady Dimitrescu may be a monster for many reasons but she always gave her ladies a choice when it came to their intimacy with her.
Cautriona had given herself willingly.
At first it was purely physical, way for Alcina to satisfy her sexual hunger — not so much her actual hunger. She cared for Caitriona in a way she didn’t got other maidens even before the physical part was added. She was special, knew how to handle her girls so the vampire didn’t feed on her.
She is drawn out of her thoughts when she hears the door open and turns away from the window. “Good morning, comoara mea.”
Caitriona had rose close to an hour previous to that of Lady Dimitrescu, requiring to bathe, as all servants in the employ of House of Dimitrescu were commanded, however short, and to fill her belly with breakfast before her day started officially with the preparation of Lady Dimitescu’s own bath. Once, Dimitrescu Castle had been frightening, the pit of hell that women were sold into and never seen and in time, heard from again. Now, it was simply considered as her home, dangerous or not.
Simply put, Caitriona’s arrival upon the steps of Dimitrescu Castle had been met with silent trepidation. It was no secret to the village that once women entered those elegant, towering doors, they would inevitably disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. She had cursed the man that had once been her father for selling her off in means of gaining fortune, to send her into the arms of certain death.
Those in the village spoke often of the rumours and tales that had circulated the Castle and it’s the Lady that stalked within it since the days that saw the Cult of the Black God settled and Mother Miranda begun sinking her poisonous talons within their beloved mountainside community. Spoke of those that had either been sent or made the unfortunate, drunken mistake to approach the property and never been seen again. Spoke of the tales whispered by disloyal servants that were sent to the village to purchase needed assets and spoke of acts of violence and cannibalism that served to only support the rumours spoken by the elders.
Lady Dimitrescu was frightening, swift to anger and violent in her punishments, her unforgiving personality strengthened by an towering 9′6 stature and yet, Caitriona had found it impossible to resist, impossible to ignore her beauty even when in rage. Weeks, no, months of slow burn, of gentle but purposeful touches had worn her down and had given herself willingly when the topic of intimacy rose.
“Doamna mea.” She spoke softly, strands of obsidian locks wiggling free from her bun as the Maiden willingly bowed in official greetings to her Lady before soft feet carried her into the bathroom, beginning the monstrously sized bath. “I hope that your rest has left you feeling in good health.” Whilst her relationship with Alcina was, to a small degree, different to the other maidens, the expectation to treat Lady Dimitrescu as taught during her arrival never changed, remaining as a servant and nothing more, only acting on her desire to touch and approach when prompted by the Lady herself.
Golden hues watch the small human head towards the bathroom. She hears the tub being filled and the words which come with the sound. Alcina hums in response, “I did not sleep much” she says and walks towards the bathroom. When she is within it, the tall creature bends down to be more at eye level with her maid. Slender, long digits that are free from their usual gloves whip the free strands that escape Caitriona’s bun away. She lets them touch soft, warm skin, “did you sleep well?” She asks softly, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Caitriona’s neck.
Her nose nuzzles beneath her ear and then she grabs the woman’s chin, gently turning her face. Only then does she kiss her on the lips, soft but sensual. This is the kind of greeting she liked from her beautiful maiden. By the grace of mother Miranda, she could just take the raven haired beauty here and now against the tub. It was so easy for her desires for the woman to hit her with such ferocity.
It is always like that. Every emotion that Alcina feels is just ten times more intense than anyone else could ever feel. Her love is fierce, her desire is shameless and her anger destructive.
The lady of the castle lets her hand drop down, beginning to slowly pull the skirts of Cait’s uniform up. She makes sure the movement makes the fabric caress the soft, alabaster skin of her legs and when they reach above her knees, long fingers glide along the inner thigh of them.
One would think that Lady Dimitrescu’s steps would be heavy, heard easily and in spite of being a woman of both frightening and intriguing stature, her steps were silent like that of a predator observing it’s prey. Even now, after living within the woman’s presence, Caitriona hadn’t yet gotten used to such a fact and was easily left spooked by a sudden turn of her head to find the Countess in her surroundings. She had learnt, with time, to rely on her instincts, the feeling of presences. Her mother, without a doubt, would be ashamed to know that the mere lean of her employer had left a sinful thought to surface in her mind of supple cleavage that she willingly and ever so happily worshipped whenever prompted, requiring the call of her strength to guide her vision upwards to pale, beautiful features. “I did.”
She practically sunk against the kiss that was applied to the soft, currently unbruised neck, patience for finally receiving her Lady’s affection from, however small or significant, getting slimmer and slimmer by the seconds. Caitriona was positive that Lady Dimitrescu’s bath scents were seconds away from exploding out of it’s bottle as the anticipation grew overwhelming and a soft gasp tore from her lips as they were located by the Countess’s ever so talented ones. “I missed you, though.” It was a risk, and one that she willingly took before their lips had met and the Maiden was eager to return the tender kiss, her lips soft and obedient as they followed along.
Her body was trembling in anticipation as the Lord begun to slowly pull Caitriona’s clothing upwards, exposing ivory flesh beneath her purposely-driven motions, excitement pouring through her veins in unforgiving waves at the aspect of being touched and especially by her mistress. Caitriona was always willing, always so very eager and her thighs parted as a long finger glided between them. Her eagerness showing in that simple, single move. “Touch me, please. . .”
Her lips quirk momentarily in a smirk when she notices where green eyes had been focused upon. Oh she loves to be gazed upon like that by her sweet maiden, made her feel desirable. Which she did not often felt despite her facade. A gentle hum reverberates within her chest. “Good. I wish you always to be well rest draga mea” she whispers tenderly, care laced within her tone.
It was so delightful how Caitriona reacted to every touch and kiss. It was addictive. Dare the lady of the castle even believe that it was far more addictive than the blood she often had to consume. Her free arm wraps delicately around the small frame of her maid, keep her steady as the raven haired beauty leans against her and sinks into her kisses.
𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵.
Oh how this precious human could make her body sing. She could make her heart race and her clit pulse as fast and hard as the very heart mentioned. She made her feel so alive in ways Alcina have not felt in so long. Just with simple words or reactions she has to the tall creature’s nearness, touches, kisses.
Always to eager, so ready. Already the lady of castle Dimitrescu can smell the woman’s desires. Cait parts her legs and Alcina lets out a soft little sound of approval.
𝗧𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗲, 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲. . .
“Oh my sweet pet” she whispers, finger finally making contact with the maid’s centre through her underwear. “I missed you as well” she finally says, putting pressure on Caitriona’s clit. She begins tight, slow circles over the soft material of her panties.
Gods. . .
She was already whimpering pathetically, pale thighs trembling as her bundle of nerves throbbed painfully, begging for attention as het arousal already begun to cling desperately to her body and a broken whine had escaped her from her lips as capable fingers located her clit and applied pressure in tight, slow circles. Her hips rose, searching for more as the pit of Caitriona’s stomach was already tightening, bursting with white hot pleasure that her Mistress had only ever seemed to pull forth.
It was simply out of her control, unable to be altered. Caitriona’s body was not her own whenever Lady Dimitrescu was near, pathetically eager and reacted swiftly, without the need to be truly prompted by her Mistress. However it came, soft or rough, made cum by kitten touches that left her feeling enlightened or fucked into the furniture that’d leave her thoroughly bruised. She took it, without complaint and ever so eagerly, greedy for more even after a bone-crushing orgasm.
Her heart was pounding, set at a thunderous pace and not only due because of her Lady’s touch but also due to the emotions that coursed through her. “Can you feel it? Can you feel how much I missed you, hear how much I missed you?” Caitriona had noticed once how Lady Dimitrescu reacted to her words, and often showed the woman appreciation, spoke of her beauty and the desires she felt for the towering creature. It was always a chance to speak, to say something that she wasn’t usually allowed as Alcina’s moods could change rapidly, one moment content and the next frightening.
Caitriona’s hips remained gentle in their rocking, a symphony of breathless moans falling from her lips as that delicious friction was increased with every rise but knew to restrain her greed, knowing that it could end in punishment if she was to search for more before being granted. “I’m yours, Mistress.”
A growl reverberates deep within her chest at the words. Oh if there was a hunger before, now it has been turn to purse starvation. “Yes” she hisses lowly, tracing the shell of Caitriona’s ear with her tongue and moving the woman’s panties aside. A moan of delight, low and deep escapes her as she feels wetness against her fingers without the material of the maid’s underwear. Alcina explores, teases for a few moments and spreads the young woman’s wetness. “That’s right” she growls at the words and slips her middle finger all the way deep inside of her maiden without warning.
“𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗲.”
Her other hand which is wrapped around the petite frame tightens securely around Cait. With said hold upon the raven haired beauty, Alcina moves to sit in a nearby chair she keeps in the bathroom, the maiden on her lap. She begins to thrust that single digit in and out, from the tip until it is knuckle deep. “Say it again” she commands, kissing along the back of a pale neck. She is warm, tight, greedy muscles clench around her finger as if trying to keep it trapped deep within.
The hand that had been keeping Caitriona straight before when they women were standing — bent down in Alcina’s situation, it slides up to knead at one of her breasts, pinch at her nipple through the material of the uniform. “Absolutely divine, comoara mea” she purrs, “so wet and so tight.” The tall creature begins to speed up her thrust.
Gods. . . It was so simple, that of a possessive growl that resonates deeply from the depths of Alcina’s chest and surging ruthlessly through the pale-skinned woman’s flushed, panting stature but it was truthfully so very complex, yielding Lady Dimitrescu a gift in the form of wetness that surged forth, serving to worsen the ruins of her panties. “Mistress!” She had barely managed to gasp out as her head tumble back and a guttural moan tore from her lips and her arms draped across impenetrable shoulders, nails gliding over pale flesh as a single finger impaled Caitriona deeply without warning. Her body sung with pleasure, flushed flesh both burning and trembling with rapture as warm, drenched walls gripped, fluttered around an invading finger. “Yours, Mistress Dimitrescu, yours.” There was such dedication in her words, such devotion as they fell from trembling brims that one, once heard, was positive that it was the utter truth and nothing less.
Had they moved? Caitriona wasn’t positive, her concentration dedicated to one thing and one thing only, that talented finger that was enveloping her body in warm, ruthless pleasure. “Mistress.” Her chest fluttered with each quivering breath that was taken and returned as a breathless, burning pant, the pale flesh of her forehead not only covered in a light sheen of sweat but furrowing, brows following as her complexion tells a tale of the tightening band in the pit of her stomach, the desperate throbs of her clit and the clinging of her walls. Guttural moans, broken whimpers and desperate whines fell in a beautiful symphony with each flick of Alcina’s powerful wrist.
If her nipples hadn’t already hardened, the pinch of efficient fingers finished the job. Soft cries fell, surged forth with each pinch, tug and twist, her sensitive nipples easily worked beneath the Lady of Dimitrescu Castle’s motions. “For you, unicul meu, only ever for you.” She had whispered around broken pants and sounds of pleasure, hands gripping with desperation and devotion upon broad shoulders as Caitriona begun to rise, riding that single digit with such fidelity, willingly impaling herself as her walls clung, gripping unforgivingly in persistent attempts to keep Alcina’s finger deep inside of her. “Harder, please, prove to everyone that I’m yours, that only you can fuck me and pull these sounds.”
Alcina has had many lovers over the centuries but only a handful have made her body feel so alive. By handful there’s only ever been two. It isn’t like the others hadn’t managed to make her wet or anything but by the name of Mother Miranda, it was never like this. She is slick, her clit pulsing as if it had a heart of its own just by the sounds her maiden made. The way her wall cling to an single digit, the way she begins to fuck herself without shame upon it.
It took everything in her not to rip the uniform off of the lovely body of her beloved. Another growl escapes her at the words, nearly animalistic. Alcina slips a second finger and fucks her harder, faster and still deep. Her lips kiss along a pale neck, collarbone and down to one of her breasts. The one she isn’t pinching with her fingers she takes between her lips and sucks. She pumps into her vigorously, curling her fingers to hit that spot she knows would drive the maiden crazy.
“Scream, my pet. Scream for me, tell me how good my fingers feel in your tight little cunt.”
She licks and sucks on a rosy nipple, moaning against soft flesh. “You 𝗮𝗿𝗲 mine and only 𝗜 can fuck you” she hissed. She never drank from Caitriona but she did always mark her. She did alway leave bruises as reminders for her and anyone else who laid eyes upon that soft and usually unharmed skin. That’s exactly what she does now, her mouth wanders only to suck on pale skin and leave marks behind. Her fingers are unforgiving, merciless in their thrusting and a thumb is added to the mix, stroking the maiden’s clit.
𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑, starter for @servitoae
It is early morning, dawn has yet to break over the horizon. It was simply how she operates, she hardly sleep and when she does, it isn’t for long. Alcina is never really relaxed, never really at ease even in her own home. There is often all of these worries upon her shoulders which weight her down.
The vampire lets out a soft exhale, rising from her bed and slipping on her robe. Her maiden will be here soon to prepare her bath and help her wash. Oh sweet Caitriona, so lovely and gentle, so beautiful. The lady of the castle being her usual self had been unable not to indulge herself. She had made the maiden hers. It had been slow seduction, little touched and praises which builded up to a kiss. Lady Dimitrescu may be a monster for many reasons but she always gave her ladies a choice when it came to their intimacy with her.
Cautriona had given herself willingly.
At first it was purely physical, way for Alcina to satisfy her sexual hunger — not so much her actual hunger. She cared for Caitriona in a way she didn’t got other maidens even before the physical part was added. She was special, knew how to handle her girls so the vampire didn’t feed on her.
She is drawn out of her thoughts when she hears the door open and turns away from the window. “Good morning, comoara mea.”
Caitriona had rose close to an hour previous to that of Lady Dimitrescu, requiring to bathe, as all servants in the employ of House of Dimitrescu were commanded, however short, and to fill her belly with breakfast before her day started officially with the preparation of Lady Dimitescu’s own bath. Once, Dimitrescu Castle had been frightening, the pit of hell that women were sold into and never seen and in time, heard from again. Now, it was simply considered as her home, dangerous or not.
Simply put, Caitriona’s arrival upon the steps of Dimitrescu Castle had been met with silent trepidation. It was no secret to the village that once women entered those elegant, towering doors, they would inevitably disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. She had cursed the man that had once been her father for selling her off in means of gaining fortune, to send her into the arms of certain death.
Those in the village spoke often of the rumours and tales that had circulated the Castle and it’s the Lady that stalked within it since the days that saw the Cult of the Black God settled and Mother Miranda begun sinking her poisonous talons within their beloved mountainside community. Spoke of those that had either been sent or made the unfortunate, drunken mistake to approach the property and never been seen again. Spoke of the tales whispered by disloyal servants that were sent to the village to purchase needed assets and spoke of acts of violence and cannibalism that served to only support the rumours spoken by the elders.
Lady Dimitrescu was frightening, swift to anger and violent in her punishments, her unforgiving personality strengthened by an towering 9′6 stature and yet, Caitriona had found it impossible to resist, impossible to ignore her beauty even when in rage. Weeks, no, months of slow burn, of gentle but purposeful touches had worn her down and had given herself willingly when the topic of intimacy rose.
“Doamna mea.” She spoke softly, strands of obsidian locks wiggling free from her bun as the Maiden willingly bowed in official greetings to her Lady before soft feet carried her into the bathroom, beginning the monstrously sized bath. “I hope that your rest has left you feeling in good health.” Whilst her relationship with Alcina was, to a small degree, different to the other maidens, the expectation to treat Lady Dimitrescu as taught during her arrival never changed, remaining as a servant and nothing more, only acting on her desire to touch and approach when prompted by the Lady herself.
Golden hues watch the small human head towards the bathroom. She hears the tub being filled and the words which come with the sound. Alcina hums in response, “I did not sleep much” she says and walks towards the bathroom. When she is within it, the tall creature bends down to be more at eye level with her maid. Slender, long digits that are free from their usual gloves whip the free strands that escape Caitriona’s bun away. She lets them touch soft, warm skin, “did you sleep well?” She asks softly, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Caitriona’s neck.
Her nose nuzzles beneath her ear and then she grabs the woman’s chin, gently turning her face. Only then does she kiss her on the lips, soft but sensual. This is the kind of greeting she liked from her beautiful maiden. By the grace of mother Miranda, she could just take the raven haired beauty here and now against the tub. It was so easy for her desires for the woman to hit her with such ferocity.
It is always like that. Every emotion that Alcina feels is just ten times more intense than anyone else could ever feel. Her love is fierce, her desire is shameless and her anger destructive.
The lady of the castle lets her hand drop down, beginning to slowly pull the skirts of Cait’s uniform up. She makes sure the movement makes the fabric caress the soft, alabaster skin of her legs and when they reach above her knees, long fingers glide along the inner thigh of them.
One would think that Lady Dimitrescu’s steps would be heavy, heard easily and in spite of being a woman of both frightening and intriguing stature, her steps were silent like that of a predator observing it’s prey. Even now, after living within the woman’s presence, Caitriona hadn’t yet gotten used to such a fact and was easily left spooked by a sudden turn of her head to find the Countess in her surroundings. She had learnt, with time, to rely on her instincts, the feeling of presences. Her mother, without a doubt, would be ashamed to know that the mere lean of her employer had left a sinful thought to surface in her mind of supple cleavage that she willingly and ever so happily worshipped whenever prompted, requiring the call of her strength to guide her vision upwards to pale, beautiful features. “I did.”
She practically sunk against the kiss that was applied to the soft, currently unbruised neck, patience for finally receiving her Lady’s affection from, however small or significant, getting slimmer and slimmer by the seconds. Caitriona was positive that Lady Dimitrescu’s bath scents were seconds away from exploding out of it’s bottle as the anticipation grew overwhelming and a soft gasp tore from her lips as they were located by the Countess’s ever so talented ones. “I missed you, though.” It was a risk, and one that she willingly took before their lips had met and the Maiden was eager to return the tender kiss, her lips soft and obedient as they followed along.
Her body was trembling in anticipation as the Lord begun to slowly pull Caitriona’s clothing upwards, exposing ivory flesh beneath her purposely-driven motions, excitement pouring through her veins in unforgiving waves at the aspect of being touched and especially by her mistress. Caitriona was always willing, always so very eager and her thighs parted as a long finger glided between them. Her eagerness showing in that simple, single move. “Touch me, please. . .”
Her lips quirk momentarily in a smirk when she notices where green eyes had been focused upon. Oh she loves to be gazed upon like that by her sweet maiden, made her feel desirable. Which she did not often felt despite her facade. A gentle hum reverberates within her chest. “Good. I wish you always to be well rest draga mea” she whispers tenderly, care laced within her tone.
It was so delightful how Caitriona reacted to every touch and kiss. It was addictive. Dare the lady of the castle even believe that it was far more addictive than the blood she often had to consume. Her free arm wraps delicately around the small frame of her maid, keep her steady as the raven haired beauty leans against her and sinks into her kisses.
𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵.
Oh how this precious human could make her body sing. She could make her heart race and her clit pulse as fast and hard as the very heart mentioned. She made her feel so alive in ways Alcina have not felt in so long. Just with simple words or reactions she has to the tall creature’s nearness, touches, kisses.
Always to eager, so ready. Already the lady of castle Dimitrescu can smell the woman’s desires. Cait parts her legs and Alcina lets out a soft little sound of approval.
𝗧𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗲, 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲. . .
“Oh my sweet pet” she whispers, finger finally making contact with the maid’s centre through her underwear. “I missed you as well” she finally says, putting pressure on Caitriona’s clit. She begins tight, slow circles over the soft material of her panties.
Gods. . .
She was already whimpering pathetically, pale thighs trembling as her bundle of nerves throbbed painfully, begging for attention as het arousal already begun to cling desperately to her body and a broken whine had escaped her from her lips as capable fingers located her clit and applied pressure in tight, slow circles. Her hips rose, searching for more as the pit of Caitriona’s stomach was already tightening, bursting with white hot pleasure that her Mistress had only ever seemed to pull forth.
It was simply out of her control, unable to be altered. Caitriona’s body was not her own whenever Lady Dimitrescu was near, pathetically eager and reacted swiftly, without the need to be truly prompted by her Mistress. However it came, soft or rough, made cum by kitten touches that left her feeling enlightened or fucked into the furniture that’d leave her thoroughly bruised. She took it, without complaint and ever so eagerly, greedy for more even after a bone-crushing orgasm.
Her heart was pounding, set at a thunderous pace and not only due because of her Lady’s touch but also due to the emotions that coursed through her. “Can you feel it? Can you feel how much I missed you, hear how much I missed you?” Caitriona had noticed once how Lady Dimitrescu reacted to her words, and often showed the woman appreciation, spoke of her beauty and the desires she felt for the towering creature. It was always a chance to speak, to say something that she wasn’t usually allowed as Alcina’s moods could change rapidly, one moment content and the next frightening.
Caitriona’s hips remained gentle in their rocking, a symphony of breathless moans falling from her lips as that delicious friction was increased with every rise but knew to restrain her greed, knowing that it could end in punishment if she was to search for more before being granted. “I’m yours, Mistress.”
A growl reverberates deep within her chest at the words. Oh if there was a hunger before, now it has been turn to purse starvation. “Yes” she hisses lowly, tracing the shell of Caitriona’s ear with her tongue and moving the woman’s panties aside. A moan of delight, low and deep escapes her as she feels wetness against her fingers without the material of the maid’s underwear. Alcina explores, teases for a few moments and spreads the young woman’s wetness. “That’s right” she growls at the words and slips her middle finger all the way deep inside of her maiden without warning.
“𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗲.”
Her other hand which is wrapped around the petite frame tightens securely around Cait. With said hold upon the raven haired beauty, Alcina moves to sit in a nearby chair she keeps in the bathroom, the maiden on her lap. She begins to thrust that single digit in and out, from the tip until it is knuckle deep. “Say it again” she commands, kissing along the back of a pale neck. She is warm, tight, greedy muscles clench around her finger as if trying to keep it trapped deep within.
The hand that had been keeping Caitriona straight before when they women were standing — bent down in Alcina’s situation, it slides up to knead at one of her breasts, pinch at her nipple through the material of the uniform. “Absolutely divine, comoara mea” she purrs, “so wet and so tight.” The tall creature begins to speed up her thrust.
She lingered, delicate feet rocking back and forth as fingertips were captured in the midst of a desperate dance, her gaze unusually determined but in the very same moment uncertain, attempting to burn down the door that held the beloved @vampcina behind it to solve her current issue.
To say such an observation that the time of night is late was simply useless, the darkened hallways of Dimitrescu Castle a telling tale that Beneviento was lingering in the hours that belonged rightfully to the witches and ghouls.
Finally, after a period of time that the dollmaker had spent standing in the midst of the hallway, her tiny fist extended to rasp carefully, almost silently against the door. If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t have been heard but for someone such as Lady Dimitrescu it would have sounded just as loud as a simple knock.
The tall woman resides in her chamber, a few candles lit to illuminate the room. She sat on the bed, back against the board and a book within a large hand. Small glasses were perched upon her nose as she read, golden hues running along each word that laid upon the pages before a knock interrupted her quiet night. She frowns, looking in the direction of the door. Who the hell could be at her door at this hour?
The vampire rises, setting the open book upon her nightstand. She wears a white nightgown, silk and loose around her tall frame. The woman begins to make her way to the main door and it is surprise when she sees Donna on the other side of it.
“Donna!” She takes a second, blinking before stepping back and letting the small woman inside. “Are you okay? It is late. . .” Not that she minded but Donna never visited this late.
In spite of her delicate features being unseen, hidden behind the protection of her veil, the woman had simply offered the softest of simpers, fingers fleeting in their notions as they danced across worn palms that had been caused by seemingly endless years of persistent, heavy work. “I. . . I offer my apologies for the inconvenience my visits might have brought. . . I simply wished. . .” Her words tumbled to a breathless stop, her delicate lower lip captured by pristine teeth as the Puppeteer attempted ferociously to fight back those voices that rose, challenging the feelings that lingered in the depths of heart. “I simply wished that I could see you, Lady Dimitrescu. . .” It was late, yes, but the need, the desperation had overruled thought and lead the women here, lingering at the steps of Castle Dimitrescu just as they once done when they first met all those decades ago, when their respective families came together to introduce the newest heirs. One could say it had been love at first sight, each of the women left silently captivated by the opposite. The once shy but ever so politely confident Donna Beneviento had been immediately entrapped, utterly enthralled by the beauty and grace that ever so effortlessly tumbled from the bold and daring Alcina Dimitrescu. “I. . . I can return, if you desire.” It fell ever so quietly, barely tumbling from her lips as her stomach was suddenly overwhelmed with seemingly endless nerves, her boot-covered feet tapping together lightly.
The smaller woman hovers by the door, doesn’t come in even though Alcina had granted her silent permission. The vampire is quick to dismiss the apology, obviously finding no inconvenience in the woman’s visit however late it may be. Though she sort of froze at the words that followed.
Oh be still her heart. Such simple words would have the towering creature that reigned terror upon anyone that laid eyes upon her a complete mess.
𝗜 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗰𝘂.
The tall woman is quick to extend her hand and grab Donna’s as if to prevent her from physically taking any steps to leave. “Don’t you dare” she says with a soft smile and pulls the small woman inside, closing the door behind them. “Come” she says quietly, leading them to her chambers.
She was left thoroughly surprised by Lady Dimitrescu’s hand upon her delicate wrist, gripping as if to prevent her from physically leaving the grounds of Castle Dimitrescu and caused her gaze to ascend, settling tentatively on the towering lord’s utterly breathtaking features. “Oh. . .” It tumbled forth in that of a startled gasp, the words causing the beat of her heart to rise, thundering swiftly as the Puppeteer found herself being swept inside. If one was fortunate enough to peak beneath the woman’s veil, they’d likely find Donna’s blushing cheeks as Alcina’s very actions left the woman feeling breathless.
Golden hues cast sideways to look down at the doll maker at such a startled sound. Was it truly so unexpected? Alcina found all sorts of excuses often to touch Donna. She looks away once again, focusing on the path within the dark castle. There were few candles lit here and there but other than that, it was all darkness. They arrive at the vampire’s chambers and only then she releases the smaller woman’s wrist. Not before she lets her thumb stroke her inner wrist. The bed was almost impeccably made aside from where she had been beneath the covers, reading.
It was so silly, the way her slow beating heart starts to race so erratically.
“Make yourself confortable, dragă.”
It was, in fact, ever so expected, the touch that was often received from by Lady Dimitrescu occurring more often than not and yet, in spite of the frequency, the Lord of the Valley’s lack of physical affection with everyone else that existed around her still left her completely and utterly at shock whenever touches were received.
Perhaps, the sight of the women appeared somewhat ridiculous as Donna, tiny in her stature remained closer than one would deem usual as they travelled the darkened paths of the Castle. Her eyesight, whilst perfect, was limited not only by the loss of her left eye but the darkened fabric of her funeral garb that left what was left of her eyesight heavily obscured. And not to mention, Lady Dimitrescu’s presence left Donna feeling unusually at ease, without the usual stress that so often plagued her, weighed her down and returned her to a time where their village lived without Mother Miranda.
She hadn’t been within Alcina’s bedroom for centuries, from the time that had existed before Mother Miranda and it had, for the majority, remained the same with, of course, an exception for her furniture that had been reciprocated and made bigger. “Grazie, amore mio.”
Now that they were within their bedroom and Alcina had nothing else to keep her busy, she lets the knowledge crash into her. This is the first time in centuries that Donna has been into her chambers and the knowledge makes her — well nervous. Yes, Lady Alcina of castle Dimitrescu is nervous. Here she is with the woman who haunts her every thought and has done so ever since first meeting all those years ago.
The perfect Italian which falls from those sweet lips could’ve nade her heart burst through her chest. Oh how very alive did Donna make her feel with only her presences and a few spoken words. Damn mother Miranda. Damn her for taking this away from her.
Alcina smiles and nods gently, drifting back to the bed and to her previous spot.
Donna had, for the merest of seconds, contemplated perching herself on the foot of the bed in means of being near pale-skinned beauty but far enough away to be deemed as respectful but the height was proving to be a source of worry. It was a climb that she’d be able to accomplish but the thought of Alcina seeing her struggle, even for a short moment, left the Lord of the Valley perturbed.
And well. . . There was also the other fact that it was Alcina’s personal bed.
She had chosen to remain lingering by the entrance, fingers toying together as her gaze travelled around the room strictly in search for that of a suitable seat and discovered one that is possibly used by her daughters considering the somewhat normal size of the elegantly-carved chair. Steps were soft, cautious of her surroundings not out of fear but worry. Alcina’s belongings were not only costly but a rarity, acquired through the passing time periods they had lived in.
Golden hues settle on Donna who still hovers by the entrance. It makes frown slightly and she is ready to beckon the woman closer, closer to her and just about ready to lift her onto the bed. However the remaining Beneviento woman makes her way over to a smaller chair considering the size of the rest of the furniture. The tall woman feels disappointment settle within her as space is chosen. She is aware that Donna tries to be respectful, that she worries about crossing certain lines.
“You don’t have to sit so far, draga mea” her voice is gentle. It was also quite obvious that Donna will be staying through the night as she was not about to have the small woman trek back to her own home. “Besides, we can’t have you sleeping in a chair. Come here” she says, gesturing gently with her hand for the doll maker to come closer.
She did not worry of crossing lines, per say. She was worried of crossing lines in both the wrong time and in the wrong place and bringing punishments upon the woman that holds her very heart. Miranda hadn’t known of their previous romance before their trials, discovering them at random and setting harsh lines that injured persistently, was one of the reasons that Donna felt so very vacant, so very defeated and had chosen her mourning garb as her outfit. She was mourning their delicate, blossoming love that had been snuffed out.
She hates those lines. Such lines that brought them both agony that remained unknown to those in their lives. Such lines that had been created by the tyrant that ruined their lives repeatedly and without regret. Mother Miranda had seen and continued to see their love as a sign of mutiny, and betrayal, a weak link in her little army. She missed Alcina, her charm and daring boldness, her touch and the way her kisses had felt, the way that her skin ached in desperation to be close and was never satisfied until they were cradled as one, pressed so close that one couldn’t figure out where one of them begun and the other ended.
She’d merely nodded and begun the short distance to the bed, clambering up the sides with surprising ease and agility, knowing that if she did not come by her own volition that Lady Dimitrescu would’ve soon come and moved the woman herself and not taken a no as an answer. “Better?”
To be near Donna but not be as close as they once had been was always torture. She lives with the ghost of her kisses and caressed, the feel of Donna’s petite frame pressed against her slightly taller one. Not as towering as she is now but she had still been much too tall. They used to be so close together that they became one and now — now the distance was great. Now even if they were mere inches apart, or even feet, it felt like a whole ocean was between them.
Curse Mother Miranda. She will live the rest of her immortal life cursing and damning her.
The doll maker comes forward and climbs onto the tall, large bed. She smiles softly, mostly to herself.
𝗕𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿?
Not quite. “Hmm” she says simply, giving a single nod. “A bit” she murmurs and reaches out to squeeze Donna’s thigh. The contact is brief but it leaves her instantly aching for more.
She had managed to suppress the sounds that had threatened to burst forth, gaze heavy and pensive while remaining, focusing on her thigh that had just been briefly gripped by the Countess and letting the burn settle in, relishing in the sparks that remained, flickering with life that Alcina only ever seemed to bring to her body. Lady Dimitrescu had always found reasons to touch, to be in her presence and yet, her touch was simple, restrained and never straying from ones that were considered acts of friendship and not a single thing else.
Donna was slow in her movements, the funeral garb that was consistently perched upon her head slowly taken off and placed in her lap, delicate skin that had once been touched by sunshine now paled but was still beautiful, nonetheless. She rarely ever took it off, only when within her own home and not a soul was near and the rare moments that saw her here, in the Castle surrounded by Alcina and her daughters.
She hated her appearance, cursed the way that her eye was taken and replaced with a mass of flesh, an horrendous scar given my Mother Miranda that was able to move if so desired. In her youth, Donna had been beautiful, sun-kissed and content in her life, still shy but had her moments of daring flashes but whenever she was in the presence of Alcina Dimitrescu, there was nothing else she considered more beautiful, not even the vineyards of her home within the hills of Italy or the waterfall that rushed behind her home here, in Romania and she had remained just as beautiful, simply on a bigger scale.
“Kiss me?” She wasn’t sure how it came out, when or why but it had and Donna refused to take those words back. Greed had begun to settle into her soul. She wanted this moment, the first in centuries.
Donna removes her garb and Alcina silently watches. Each time that the doll maker did so, the vampire could not help but looks. She was often denied the beauty of the opposing woman for the cadou had taken away an eye and had caused for Donna to hide away. Lady Dimitrescu still found her to be every so beautiful but it too a long time for the Beneviento to have grown comfortable enough to show her face again. At least to Alcina. When she had, the tall woman had cupped her cheek and kiss the risen flesh that had taken over her right eye. ‘Beautiful’ she had murmured quietly and that had been that.
They never really spoke about, at think at the time they both had been so acutely aware of how dangerous that single action had been.
𝗞𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲?
She is broken out of her thoughts by those soft spoken words. Oh by the gods and all things unholy. Her heart stops then, she is certain of it. What hdd has promoted this? Does it matter? No. No it does not. This is what she has wanted to do for centuries and Donna, sweet and now extremely shy Donna has taken the initiative. A large hand comes to cup a pale cheek, stroking with her thumb along the bottom of the doll maker’s bottom lip. Golden hues flicker between soft lips and a green eye.
Alcina leans in and captures her lips in a soft kiss.
She lingered, delicate feet rocking back and forth as fingertips were captured in the midst of a desperate dance, her gaze unusually determined but in the very same moment uncertain, attempting to burn down the door that held the beloved @vampcina behind it to solve her current issue.
To say such an observation that the time of night is late was simply useless, the darkened hallways of Dimitrescu Castle a telling tale that Beneviento was lingering in the hours that belonged rightfully to the witches and ghouls.
Finally, after a period of time that the dollmaker had spent standing in the midst of the hallway, her tiny fist extended to rasp carefully, almost silently against the door. If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t have been heard but for someone such as Lady Dimitrescu it would have sounded just as loud as a simple knock.
The tall woman resides in her chamber, a few candles lit to illuminate the room. She sat on the bed, back against the board and a book within a large hand. Small glasses were perched upon her nose as she read, golden hues running along each word that laid upon the pages before a knock interrupted her quiet night. She frowns, looking in the direction of the door. Who the hell could be at her door at this hour?
The vampire rises, setting the open book upon her nightstand. She wears a white nightgown, silk and loose around her tall frame. The woman begins to make her way to the main door and it is surprise when she sees Donna on the other side of it.
“Donna!” She takes a second, blinking before stepping back and letting the small woman inside. “Are you okay? It is late. . .” Not that she minded but Donna never visited this late.
In spite of her delicate features being unseen, hidden behind the protection of her veil, the woman had simply offered the softest of simpers, fingers fleeting in their notions as they danced across worn palms that had been caused by seemingly endless years of persistent, heavy work. “I. . . I offer my apologies for the inconvenience my visits might have brought. . . I simply wished. . .” Her words tumbled to a breathless stop, her delicate lower lip captured by pristine teeth as the Puppeteer attempted ferociously to fight back those voices that rose, challenging the feelings that lingered in the depths of heart. “I simply wished that I could see you, Lady Dimitrescu. . .” It was late, yes, but the need, the desperation had overruled thought and lead the women here, lingering at the steps of Castle Dimitrescu just as they once done when they first met all those decades ago, when their respective families came together to introduce the newest heirs. One could say it had been love at first sight, each of the women left silently captivated by the opposite. The once shy but ever so politely confident Donna Beneviento had been immediately entrapped, utterly enthralled by the beauty and grace that ever so effortlessly tumbled from the bold and daring Alcina Dimitrescu. “I. . . I can return, if you desire.” It fell ever so quietly, barely tumbling from her lips as her stomach was suddenly overwhelmed with seemingly endless nerves, her boot-covered feet tapping together lightly.
The smaller woman hovers by the door, doesn’t come in even though Alcina had granted her silent permission. The vampire is quick to dismiss the apology, obviously finding no inconvenience in the woman’s visit however late it may be. Though she sort of froze at the words that followed.
Oh be still her heart. Such simple words would have the towering creature that reigned terror upon anyone that laid eyes upon her a complete mess.
𝗜 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗰𝘂.
The tall woman is quick to extend her hand and grab Donna’s as if to prevent her from physically taking any steps to leave. “Don’t you dare” she says with a soft smile and pulls the small woman inside, closing the door behind them. “Come” she says quietly, leading them to her chambers.
She was left thoroughly surprised by Lady Dimitrescu’s hand upon her delicate wrist, gripping as if to prevent her from physically leaving the grounds of Castle Dimitrescu and caused her gaze to ascend, settling tentatively on the towering lord’s utterly breathtaking features. “Oh. . .” It tumbled forth in that of a startled gasp, the words causing the beat of her heart to rise, thundering swiftly as the Puppeteer found herself being swept inside. If one was fortunate enough to peak beneath the woman’s veil, they’d likely find Donna’s blushing cheeks as Alcina’s very actions left the woman feeling breathless.
Golden hues cast sideways to look down at the doll maker at such a startled sound. Was it truly so unexpected? Alcina found all sorts of excuses often to touch Donna. She looks away once again, focusing on the path within the dark castle. There were few candles lit here and there but other than that, it was all darkness. They arrive at the vampire’s chambers and only then she releases the smaller woman’s wrist. Not before she lets her thumb stroke her inner wrist. The bed was almost impeccably made aside from where she had been beneath the covers, reading.
It was so silly, the way her slow beating heart starts to race so erratically.
“Make yourself confortable, dragă.”
It was, in fact, ever so expected, the touch that was often received from by Lady Dimitrescu occurring more often than not and yet, in spite of the frequency, the Lord of the Valley’s lack of physical affection with everyone else that existed around her still left her completely and utterly at shock whenever touches were received.
Perhaps, the sight of the women appeared somewhat ridiculous as Donna, tiny in her stature remained closer than one would deem usual as they travelled the darkened paths of the Castle. Her eyesight, whilst perfect, was limited not only by the loss of her left eye but the darkened fabric of her funeral garb that left what was left of her eyesight heavily obscured. And not to mention, Lady Dimitrescu’s presence left Donna feeling unusually at ease, without the usual stress that so often plagued her, weighed her down and returned her to a time where their village lived without Mother Miranda.
She hadn’t been within Alcina’s bedroom for centuries, from the time that had existed before Mother Miranda and it had, for the majority, remained the same with, of course, an exception for her furniture that had been reciprocated and made bigger. “Grazie, amore mio.”
Now that they were within their bedroom and Alcina had nothing else to keep her busy, she lets the knowledge crash into her. This is the first time in centuries that Donna has been into her chambers and the knowledge makes her — well nervous. Yes, Lady Alcina of castle Dimitrescu is nervous. Here she is with the woman who haunts her every thought and has done so ever since first meeting all those years ago.
The perfect Italian which falls from those sweet lips could’ve nade her heart burst through her chest. Oh how very alive did Donna make her feel with only her presences and a few spoken words. Damn mother Miranda. Damn her for taking this away from her.
Alcina smiles and nods gently, drifting back to the bed and to her previous spot.
Donna had, for the merest of seconds, contemplated perching herself on the foot of the bed in means of being near pale-skinned beauty but far enough away to be deemed as respectful but the height was proving to be a source of worry. It was a climb that she’d be able to accomplish but the thought of Alcina seeing her struggle, even for a short moment, left the Lord of the Valley perturbed.
And well. . . There was also the other fact that it was Alcina’s personal bed.
She had chosen to remain lingering by the entrance, fingers toying together as her gaze travelled around the room strictly in search for that of a suitable seat and discovered one that is possibly used by her daughters considering the somewhat normal size of the elegantly-carved chair. Steps were soft, cautious of her surroundings not out of fear but worry. Alcina’s belongings were not only costly but a rarity, acquired through the passing time periods they had lived in.
Golden hues settle on Donna who still hovers by the entrance. It makes frown slightly and she is ready to beckon the woman closer, closer to her and just about ready to lift her onto the bed. However the remaining Beneviento woman makes her way over to a smaller chair considering the size of the rest of the furniture. The tall woman feels disappointment settle within her as space is chosen. She is aware that Donna tries to be respectful, that she worries about crossing certain lines.
“You don’t have to sit so far, draga mea” her voice is gentle. It was also quite obvious that Donna will be staying through the night as she was not about to have the small woman trek back to her own home. “Besides, we can’t have you sleeping in a chair. Come here” she says, gesturing gently with her hand for the doll maker to come closer.
She did not worry of crossing lines, per say. She was worried of crossing lines in both the wrong time and in the wrong place and bringing punishments upon the woman that holds her very heart. Miranda hadn’t known of their previous romance before their trials, discovering them at random and setting harsh lines that injured persistently, was one of the reasons that Donna felt so very vacant, so very defeated and had chosen her mourning garb as her outfit. She was mourning their delicate, blossoming love that had been snuffed out.
She hates those lines. Such lines that brought them both agony that remained unknown to those in their lives. Such lines that had been created by the tyrant that ruined their lives repeatedly and without regret. Mother Miranda had seen and continued to see their love as a sign of mutiny, and betrayal, a weak link in her little army. She missed Alcina, her charm and daring boldness, her touch and the way her kisses had felt, the way that her skin ached in desperation to be close and was never satisfied until they were cradled as one, pressed so close that one couldn’t figure out where one of them begun and the other ended.
She’d merely nodded and begun the short distance to the bed, clambering up the sides with surprising ease and agility, knowing that if she did not come by her own volition that Lady Dimitrescu would’ve soon come and moved the woman herself and not taken a no as an answer. “Better?”
To be near Donna but not be as close as they once had been was always torture. She lives with the ghost of her kisses and caressed, the feel of Donna’s petite frame pressed against her slightly taller one. Not as towering as she is now but she had still been much too tall. They used to be so close together that they became one and now — now the distance was great. Now even if they were mere inches apart, or even feet, it felt like a whole ocean was between them.
Curse Mother Miranda. She will live the rest of her immortal life cursing and damning her.
The doll maker comes forward and climbs onto the tall, large bed. She smiles softly, mostly to herself.
𝗕𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿?
Not quite. “Hmm” she says simply, giving a single nod. “A bit” she murmurs and reaches out to squeeze Donna’s thigh. The contact is brief but it leaves her instantly aching for more.
𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑, starter for @servitoae
It is early morning, dawn has yet to break over the horizon. It was simply how she operates, she hardly sleep and when she does, it isn’t for long. Alcina is never really relaxed, never really at ease even in her own home. There is often all of these worries upon her shoulders which weight her down.
The vampire lets out a soft exhale, rising from her bed and slipping on her robe. Her maiden will be here soon to prepare her bath and help her wash. Oh sweet Caitriona, so lovely and gentle, so beautiful. The lady of the castle being her usual self had been unable not to indulge herself. She had made the maiden hers. It had been slow seduction, little touched and praises which builded up to a kiss. Lady Dimitrescu may be a monster for many reasons but she always gave her ladies a choice when it came to their intimacy with her.
Cautriona had given herself willingly.
At first it was purely physical, way for Alcina to satisfy her sexual hunger — not so much her actual hunger. She cared for Caitriona in a way she didn’t got other maidens even before the physical part was added. She was special, knew how to handle her girls so the vampire didn’t feed on her.
She is drawn out of her thoughts when she hears the door open and turns away from the window. “Good morning, comoara mea.”
Caitriona had rose close to an hour previous to that of Lady Dimitrescu, requiring to bathe, as all servants in the employ of House of Dimitrescu were commanded, however short, and to fill her belly with breakfast before her day started officially with the preparation of Lady Dimitescu’s own bath. Once, Dimitrescu Castle had been frightening, the pit of hell that women were sold into and never seen and in time, heard from again. Now, it was simply considered as her home, dangerous or not.
Simply put, Caitriona’s arrival upon the steps of Dimitrescu Castle had been met with silent trepidation. It was no secret to the village that once women entered those elegant, towering doors, they would inevitably disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. She had cursed the man that had once been her father for selling her off in means of gaining fortune, to send her into the arms of certain death.
Those in the village spoke often of the rumours and tales that had circulated the Castle and it’s the Lady that stalked within it since the days that saw the Cult of the Black God settled and Mother Miranda begun sinking her poisonous talons within their beloved mountainside community. Spoke of those that had either been sent or made the unfortunate, drunken mistake to approach the property and never been seen again. Spoke of the tales whispered by disloyal servants that were sent to the village to purchase needed assets and spoke of acts of violence and cannibalism that served to only support the rumours spoken by the elders.
Lady Dimitrescu was frightening, swift to anger and violent in her punishments, her unforgiving personality strengthened by an towering 9′6 stature and yet, Caitriona had found it impossible to resist, impossible to ignore her beauty even when in rage. Weeks, no, months of slow burn, of gentle but purposeful touches had worn her down and had given herself willingly when the topic of intimacy rose.
“Doamna mea.” She spoke softly, strands of obsidian locks wiggling free from her bun as the Maiden willingly bowed in official greetings to her Lady before soft feet carried her into the bathroom, beginning the monstrously sized bath. “I hope that your rest has left you feeling in good health.” Whilst her relationship with Alcina was, to a small degree, different to the other maidens, the expectation to treat Lady Dimitrescu as taught during her arrival never changed, remaining as a servant and nothing more, only acting on her desire to touch and approach when prompted by the Lady herself.
Golden hues watch the small human head towards the bathroom. She hears the tub being filled and the words which come with the sound. Alcina hums in response, “I did not sleep much” she says and walks towards the bathroom. When she is within it, the tall creature bends down to be more at eye level with her maid. Slender, long digits that are free from their usual gloves whip the free strands that escape Caitriona’s bun away. She lets them touch soft, warm skin, “did you sleep well?” She asks softly, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Caitriona’s neck.
Her nose nuzzles beneath her ear and then she grabs the woman’s chin, gently turning her face. Only then does she kiss her on the lips, soft but sensual. This is the kind of greeting she liked from her beautiful maiden. By the grace of mother Miranda, she could just take the raven haired beauty here and now against the tub. It was so easy for her desires for the woman to hit her with such ferocity.
It is always like that. Every emotion that Alcina feels is just ten times more intense than anyone else could ever feel. Her love is fierce, her desire is shameless and her anger destructive.
The lady of the castle lets her hand drop down, beginning to slowly pull the skirts of Cait’s uniform up. She makes sure the movement makes the fabric caress the soft, alabaster skin of her legs and when they reach above her knees, long fingers glide along the inner thigh of them.
One would think that Lady Dimitrescu’s steps would be heavy, heard easily and in spite of being a woman of both frightening and intriguing stature, her steps were silent like that of a predator observing it’s prey. Even now, after living within the woman’s presence, Caitriona hadn’t yet gotten used to such a fact and was easily left spooked by a sudden turn of her head to find the Countess in her surroundings. She had learnt, with time, to rely on her instincts, the feeling of presences. Her mother, without a doubt, would be ashamed to know that the mere lean of her employer had left a sinful thought to surface in her mind of supple cleavage that she willingly and ever so happily worshipped whenever prompted, requiring the call of her strength to guide her vision upwards to pale, beautiful features. “I did.”
She practically sunk against the kiss that was applied to the soft, currently unbruised neck, patience for finally receiving her Lady’s affection from, however small or significant, getting slimmer and slimmer by the seconds. Caitriona was positive that Lady Dimitrescu’s bath scents were seconds away from exploding out of it’s bottle as the anticipation grew overwhelming and a soft gasp tore from her lips as they were located by the Countess’s ever so talented ones. “I missed you, though.” It was a risk, and one that she willingly took before their lips had met and the Maiden was eager to return the tender kiss, her lips soft and obedient as they followed along.
Her body was trembling in anticipation as the Lord begun to slowly pull Caitriona’s clothing upwards, exposing ivory flesh beneath her purposely-driven motions, excitement pouring through her veins in unforgiving waves at the aspect of being touched and especially by her mistress. Caitriona was always willing, always so very eager and her thighs parted as a long finger glided between them. Her eagerness showing in that simple, single move. “Touch me, please. . .”
Her lips quirk momentarily in a smirk when she notices where green eyes had been focused upon. Oh she loves to be gazed upon like that by her sweet maiden, made her feel desirable. Which she did not often felt despite her facade. A gentle hum reverberates within her chest. “Good. I wish you always to be well rest draga mea” she whispers tenderly, care laced within her tone.
It was so delightful how Caitriona reacted to every touch and kiss. It was addictive. Dare the lady of the castle even believe that it was far more addictive than the blood she often had to consume. Her free arm wraps delicately around the small frame of her maid, keep her steady as the raven haired beauty leans against her and sinks into her kisses.
𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵.
Oh how this precious human could make her body sing. She could make her heart race and her clit pulse as fast and hard as the very heart mentioned. She made her feel so alive in ways Alcina have not felt in so long. Just with simple words or reactions she has to the tall creature’s nearness, touches, kisses.
Always to eager, so ready. Already the lady of castle Dimitrescu can smell the woman’s desires. Cait parts her legs and Alcina lets out a soft little sound of approval.
𝗧𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗲, 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲. . .
“Oh my sweet pet” she whispers, finger finally making contact with the maid’s centre through her underwear. “I missed you as well” she finally says, putting pressure on Caitriona’s clit. She begins tight, slow circles over the soft material of her panties.
She lingered, delicate feet rocking back and forth as fingertips were captured in the midst of a desperate dance, her gaze unusually determined but in the very same moment uncertain, attempting to burn down the door that held the beloved @vampcina behind it to solve her current issue.
To say such an observation that the time of night is late was simply useless, the darkened hallways of Dimitrescu Castle a telling tale that Beneviento was lingering in the hours that belonged rightfully to the witches and ghouls.
Finally, after a period of time that the dollmaker had spent standing in the midst of the hallway, her tiny fist extended to rasp carefully, almost silently against the door. If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t have been heard but for someone such as Lady Dimitrescu it would have sounded just as loud as a simple knock.
The tall woman resides in her chamber, a few candles lit to illuminate the room. She sat on the bed, back against the board and a book within a large hand. Small glasses were perched upon her nose as she read, golden hues running along each word that laid upon the pages before a knock interrupted her quiet night. She frowns, looking in the direction of the door. Who the hell could be at her door at this hour?
The vampire rises, setting the open book upon her nightstand. She wears a white nightgown, silk and loose around her tall frame. The woman begins to make her way to the main door and it is surprise when she sees Donna on the other side of it.
“Donna!” She takes a second, blinking before stepping back and letting the small woman inside. “Are you okay? It is late. . .” Not that she minded but Donna never visited this late.
In spite of her delicate features being unseen, hidden behind the protection of her veil, the woman had simply offered the softest of simpers, fingers fleeting in their notions as they danced across worn palms that had been caused by seemingly endless years of persistent, heavy work. “I. . . I offer my apologies for the inconvenience my visits might have brought. . . I simply wished. . .” Her words tumbled to a breathless stop, her delicate lower lip captured by pristine teeth as the Puppeteer attempted ferociously to fight back those voices that rose, challenging the feelings that lingered in the depths of heart. “I simply wished that I could see you, Lady Dimitrescu. . .” It was late, yes, but the need, the desperation had overruled thought and lead the women here, lingering at the steps of Castle Dimitrescu just as they once done when they first met all those decades ago, when their respective families came together to introduce the newest heirs. One could say it had been love at first sight, each of the women left silently captivated by the opposite. The once shy but ever so politely confident Donna Beneviento had been immediately entrapped, utterly enthralled by the beauty and grace that ever so effortlessly tumbled from the bold and daring Alcina Dimitrescu. “I. . . I can return, if you desire.” It fell ever so quietly, barely tumbling from her lips as her stomach was suddenly overwhelmed with seemingly endless nerves, her boot-covered feet tapping together lightly.
The smaller woman hovers by the door, doesn’t come in even though Alcina had granted her silent permission. The vampire is quick to dismiss the apology, obviously finding no inconvenience in the woman’s visit however late it may be. Though she sort of froze at the words that followed.
Oh be still her heart. Such simple words would have the towering creature that reigned terror upon anyone that laid eyes upon her a complete mess.
𝗜 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗰𝘂.
The tall woman is quick to extend her hand and grab Donna’s as if to prevent her from physically taking any steps to leave. “Don’t you dare” she says with a soft smile and pulls the small woman inside, closing the door behind them. “Come” she says quietly, leading them to her chambers.
She was left thoroughly surprised by Lady Dimitrescu’s hand upon her delicate wrist, gripping as if to prevent her from physically leaving the grounds of Castle Dimitrescu and caused her gaze to ascend, settling tentatively on the towering lord’s utterly breathtaking features. “Oh. . .” It tumbled forth in that of a startled gasp, the words causing the beat of her heart to rise, thundering swiftly as the Puppeteer found herself being swept inside. If one was fortunate enough to peak beneath the woman’s veil, they’d likely find Donna’s blushing cheeks as Alcina’s very actions left the woman feeling breathless.
Golden hues cast sideways to look down at the doll maker at such a startled sound. Was it truly so unexpected? Alcina found all sorts of excuses often to touch Donna. She looks away once again, focusing on the path within the dark castle. There were few candles lit here and there but other than that, it was all darkness. They arrive at the vampire’s chambers and only then she releases the smaller woman’s wrist. Not before she lets her thumb stroke her inner wrist. The bed was almost impeccably made aside from where she had been beneath the covers, reading.
It was so silly, the way her slow beating heart starts to race so erratically.
“Make yourself confortable, dragă.”
It was, in fact, ever so expected, the touch that was often received from by Lady Dimitrescu occurring more often than not and yet, in spite of the frequency, the Lord of the Valley’s lack of physical affection with everyone else that existed around her still left her completely and utterly at shock whenever touches were received.
Perhaps, the sight of the women appeared somewhat ridiculous as Donna, tiny in her stature remained closer than one would deem usual as they travelled the darkened paths of the Castle. Her eyesight, whilst perfect, was limited not only by the loss of her left eye but the darkened fabric of her funeral garb that left what was left of her eyesight heavily obscured. And not to mention, Lady Dimitrescu’s presence left Donna feeling unusually at ease, without the usual stress that so often plagued her, weighed her down and returned her to a time where their village lived without Mother Miranda.
She hadn’t been within Alcina’s bedroom for centuries, from the time that had existed before Mother Miranda and it had, for the majority, remained the same with, of course, an exception for her furniture that had been reciprocated and made bigger. “Grazie, amore mio.”
Now that they were within their bedroom and Alcina had nothing else to keep her busy, she lets the knowledge crash into her. This is the first time in centuries that Donna has been into her chambers and the knowledge makes her — well nervous. Yes, Lady Alcina of castle Dimitrescu is nervous. Here she is with the woman who haunts her every thought and has done so ever since first meeting all those years ago.
The perfect Italian which falls from those sweet lips could’ve nade her heart burst through her chest. Oh how very alive did Donna make her feel with only her presences and a few spoken words. Damn mother Miranda. Damn her for taking this away from her.
Alcina smiles and nods gently, drifting back to the bed and to her previous spot.
Donna had, for the merest of seconds, contemplated perching herself on the foot of the bed in means of being near pale-skinned beauty but far enough away to be deemed as respectful but the height was proving to be a source of worry. It was a climb that she’d be able to accomplish but the thought of Alcina seeing her struggle, even for a short moment, left the Lord of the Valley perturbed.
And well. . . There was also the other fact that it was Alcina’s personal bed.
She had chosen to remain lingering by the entrance, fingers toying together as her gaze travelled around the room strictly in search for that of a suitable seat and discovered one that is possibly used by her daughters considering the somewhat normal size of the elegantly-carved chair. Steps were soft, cautious of her surroundings not out of fear but worry. Alcina’s belongings were not only costly but a rarity, acquired through the passing time periods they had lived in.
Golden hues settle on Donna who still hovers by the entrance. It makes frown slightly and she is ready to beckon the woman closer, closer to her and just about ready to lift her onto the bed. However the remaining Beneviento woman makes her way over to a smaller chair considering the size of the rest of the furniture. The tall woman feels disappointment settle within her as space is chosen. She is aware that Donna tries to be respectful, that she worries about crossing certain lines.
“You don’t have to sit so far, draga mea” her voice is gentle. It was also quite obvious that Donna will be staying through the night as she was not about to have the small woman trek back to her own home. “Besides, we can’t have you sleeping in a chair. Come here” she says, gesturing gently with her hand for the doll maker to come closer.
𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑, starter for @servitoae
It is early morning, dawn has yet to break over the horizon. It was simply how she operates, she hardly sleep and when she does, it isn’t for long. Alcina is never really relaxed, never really at ease even in her own home. There is often all of these worries upon her shoulders which weight her down.
The vampire lets out a soft exhale, rising from her bed and slipping on her robe. Her maiden will be here soon to prepare her bath and help her wash. Oh sweet Caitriona, so lovely and gentle, so beautiful. The lady of the castle being her usual self had been unable not to indulge herself. She had made the maiden hers. It had been slow seduction, little touched and praises which builded up to a kiss. Lady Dimitrescu may be a monster for many reasons but she always gave her ladies a choice when it came to their intimacy with her.
Cautriona had given herself willingly.
At first it was purely physical, way for Alcina to satisfy her sexual hunger — not so much her actual hunger. She cared for Caitriona in a way she didn’t got other maidens even before the physical part was added. She was special, knew how to handle her girls so the vampire didn’t feed on her.
She is drawn out of her thoughts when she hears the door open and turns away from the window. “Good morning, comoara mea.”
Caitriona had rose close to an hour previous to that of Lady Dimitrescu, requiring to bathe, as all servants in the employ of House of Dimitrescu were commanded, however short, and to fill her belly with breakfast before her day started officially with the preparation of Lady Dimitescu’s own bath. Once, Dimitrescu Castle had been frightening, the pit of hell that women were sold into and never seen and in time, heard from again. Now, it was simply considered as her home, dangerous or not.
Simply put, Caitriona’s arrival upon the steps of Dimitrescu Castle had been met with silent trepidation. It was no secret to the village that once women entered those elegant, towering doors, they would inevitably disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. She had cursed the man that had once been her father for selling her off in means of gaining fortune, to send her into the arms of certain death.
Those in the village spoke often of the rumours and tales that had circulated the Castle and it’s the Lady that stalked within it since the days that saw the Cult of the Black God settled and Mother Miranda begun sinking her poisonous talons within their beloved mountainside community. Spoke of those that had either been sent or made the unfortunate, drunken mistake to approach the property and never been seen again. Spoke of the tales whispered by disloyal servants that were sent to the village to purchase needed assets and spoke of acts of violence and cannibalism that served to only support the rumours spoken by the elders.
Lady Dimitrescu was frightening, swift to anger and violent in her punishments, her unforgiving personality strengthened by an towering 9′6 stature and yet, Caitriona had found it impossible to resist, impossible to ignore her beauty even when in rage. Weeks, no, months of slow burn, of gentle but purposeful touches had worn her down and had given herself willingly when the topic of intimacy rose.
“Doamna mea.” She spoke softly, strands of obsidian locks wiggling free from her bun as the Maiden willingly bowed in official greetings to her Lady before soft feet carried her into the bathroom, beginning the monstrously sized bath. “I hope that your rest has left you feeling in good health.” Whilst her relationship with Alcina was, to a small degree, different to the other maidens, the expectation to treat Lady Dimitrescu as taught during her arrival never changed, remaining as a servant and nothing more, only acting on her desire to touch and approach when prompted by the Lady herself.
Golden hues watch the small human head towards the bathroom. She hears the tub being filled and the words which come with the sound. Alcina hums in response, “I did not sleep much” she says and walks towards the bathroom. When she is within it, the tall creature bends down to be more at eye level with her maid. Slender, long digits that are free from their usual gloves whip the free strands that escape Caitriona’s bun away. She lets them touch soft, warm skin, “did you sleep well?” She asks softly, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Caitriona’s neck.
Her nose nuzzles beneath her ear and then she grabs the woman’s chin, gently turning her face. Only then does she kiss her on the lips, soft but sensual. This is the kind of greeting she liked from her beautiful maiden. By the grace of mother Miranda, she could just take the raven haired beauty here and now against the tub. It was so easy for her desires for the woman to hit her with such ferocity.
It is always like that. Every emotion that Alcina feels is just ten times more intense than anyone else could ever feel. Her love is fierce, her desire is shameless and her anger destructive.
The lady of the castle lets her hand drop down, beginning to slowly pull the skirts of Cait’s uniform up. She makes sure the movement makes the fabric caress the soft, alabaster skin of her legs and when they reach above her knees, long fingers glide along the inner thigh of them.
She lingered, delicate feet rocking back and forth as fingertips were captured in the midst of a desperate dance, her gaze unusually determined but in the very same moment uncertain, attempting to burn down the door that held the beloved @vampcina behind it to solve her current issue.
To say such an observation that the time of night is late was simply useless, the darkened hallways of Dimitrescu Castle a telling tale that Beneviento was lingering in the hours that belonged rightfully to the witches and ghouls.
Finally, after a period of time that the dollmaker had spent standing in the midst of the hallway, her tiny fist extended to rasp carefully, almost silently against the door. If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t have been heard but for someone such as Lady Dimitrescu it would have sounded just as loud as a simple knock.
The tall woman resides in her chamber, a few candles lit to illuminate the room. She sat on the bed, back against the board and a book within a large hand. Small glasses were perched upon her nose as she read, golden hues running along each word that laid upon the pages before a knock interrupted her quiet night. She frowns, looking in the direction of the door. Who the hell could be at her door at this hour?
The vampire rises, setting the open book upon her nightstand. She wears a white nightgown, silk and loose around her tall frame. The woman begins to make her way to the main door and it is surprise when she sees Donna on the other side of it.
“Donna!” She takes a second, blinking before stepping back and letting the small woman inside. “Are you okay? It is late. . .” Not that she minded but Donna never visited this late.
In spite of her delicate features being unseen, hidden behind the protection of her veil, the woman had simply offered the softest of simpers, fingers fleeting in their notions as they danced across worn palms that had been caused by seemingly endless years of persistent, heavy work. “I. . . I offer my apologies for the inconvenience my visits might have brought. . . I simply wished. . .” Her words tumbled to a breathless stop, her delicate lower lip captured by pristine teeth as the Puppeteer attempted ferociously to fight back those voices that rose, challenging the feelings that lingered in the depths of heart. “I simply wished that I could see you, Lady Dimitrescu. . .” It was late, yes, but the need, the desperation had overruled thought and lead the women here, lingering at the steps of Castle Dimitrescu just as they once done when they first met all those decades ago, when their respective families came together to introduce the newest heirs. One could say it had been love at first sight, each of the women left silently captivated by the opposite. The once shy but ever so politely confident Donna Beneviento had been immediately entrapped, utterly enthralled by the beauty and grace that ever so effortlessly tumbled from the bold and daring Alcina Dimitrescu. “I. . . I can return, if you desire.” It fell ever so quietly, barely tumbling from her lips as her stomach was suddenly overwhelmed with seemingly endless nerves, her boot-covered feet tapping together lightly.
The smaller woman hovers by the door, doesn’t come in even though Alcina had granted her silent permission. The vampire is quick to dismiss the apology, obviously finding no inconvenience in the woman’s visit however late it may be. Though she sort of froze at the words that followed.
Oh be still her heart. Such simple words would have the towering creature that reigned terror upon anyone that laid eyes upon her a complete mess.
𝗜 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗰𝘂.
The tall woman is quick to extend her hand and grab Donna’s as if to prevent her from physically taking any steps to leave. “Don’t you dare” she says with a soft smile and pulls the small woman inside, closing the door behind them. “Come” she says quietly, leading them to her chambers.
She was left thoroughly surprised by Lady Dimitrescu’s hand upon her delicate wrist, gripping as if to prevent her from physically leaving the grounds of Castle Dimitrescu and caused her gaze to ascend, settling tentatively on the towering lord’s utterly breathtaking features. “Oh. . .” It tumbled forth in that of a startled gasp, the words causing the beat of her heart to rise, thundering swiftly as the Puppeteer found herself being swept inside. If one was fortunate enough to peak beneath the woman’s veil, they’d likely find Donna’s blushing cheeks as Alcina’s very actions left the woman feeling breathless.
Golden hues cast sideways to look down at the doll maker at such a startled sound. Was it truly so unexpected? Alcina found all sorts of excuses often to touch Donna. She looks away once again, focusing on the path within the dark castle. There were few candles lit here and there but other than that, it was all darkness. They arrive at the vampire’s chambers and only then she releases the smaller woman’s wrist. Not before she lets her thumb stroke her inner wrist. The bed was almost impeccably made aside from where she had been beneath the covers, reading.
It was so silly, the way her slow beating heart starts to race so erratically.
“Make yourself confortable, dragă.”
It was, in fact, ever so expected, the touch that was often received from by Lady Dimitrescu occurring more often than not and yet, in spite of the frequency, the Lord of the Valley’s lack of physical affection with everyone else that existed around her still left her completely and utterly at shock whenever touches were received.
Perhaps, the sight of the women appeared somewhat ridiculous as Donna, tiny in her stature remained closer than one would deem usual as they travelled the darkened paths of the Castle. Her eyesight, whilst perfect, was limited not only by the loss of her left eye but the darkened fabric of her funeral garb that left what was left of her eyesight heavily obscured. And not to mention, Lady Dimitrescu’s presence left Donna feeling unusually at ease, without the usual stress that so often plagued her, weighed her down and returned her to a time where their village lived without Mother Miranda.
She hadn’t been within Alcina’s bedroom for centuries, from the time that had existed before Mother Miranda and it had, for the majority, remained the same with, of course, an exception for her furniture that had been reciprocated and made bigger. “Grazie, amore mio.”
Now that they were within their bedroom and Alcina had nothing else to keep her busy, she lets the knowledge crash into her. This is the first time in centuries that Donna has been into her chambers and the knowledge makes her — well nervous. Yes, Lady Alcina of castle Dimitrescu is nervous. Here she is with the woman who haunts her every thought and has done so ever since first meeting all those years ago.
The perfect Italian which falls from those sweet lips could’ve nade her heart burst through her chest. Oh how very alive did Donna make her feel with only her presences and a few spoken words. Damn mother Miranda. Damn her for taking this away from her.
Alcina smiles and nods gently, drifting back to the bed and to her previous spot.
𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑, starter for @servitoae
It is early morning, dawn has yet to break over the horizon. It was simply how she operates, she hardly sleep and when she does, it isn’t for long. Alcina is never really relaxed, never really at ease even in her own home. There is often all of these worries upon her shoulders which weight her down.
The vampire lets out a soft exhale, rising from her bed and slipping on her robe. Her maiden will be here soon to prepare her bath and help her wash. Oh sweet Caitriona, so lovely and gentle, so beautiful. The lady of the castle being her usual self had been unable not to indulge herself. She had made the maiden hers. It had been slow seduction, little touched and praises which builded up to a kiss. Lady Dimitrescu may be a monster for many reasons but she always gave her ladies a choice when it came to their intimacy with her.
Cautriona had given herself willingly.
At first it was purely physical, way for Alcina to satisfy her sexual hunger — not so much her actual hunger. She cared for Caitriona in a way she didn’t got other maidens even before the physical part was added. She was special, knew how to handle her girls so the vampire didn’t feed on her.
She is drawn out of her thoughts when she hears the door open and turns away from the window. “Good morning, comoara mea.”
She lingered, delicate feet rocking back and forth as fingertips were captured in the midst of a desperate dance, her gaze unusually determined but in the very same moment uncertain, attempting to burn down the door that held the beloved @vampcina behind it to solve her current issue.
To say such an observation that the time of night is late was simply useless, the darkened hallways of Dimitrescu Castle a telling tale that Beneviento was lingering in the hours that belonged rightfully to the witches and ghouls.
Finally, after a period of time that the dollmaker had spent standing in the midst of the hallway, her tiny fist extended to rasp carefully, almost silently against the door. If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t have been heard but for someone such as Lady Dimitrescu it would have sounded just as loud as a simple knock.
The tall woman resides in her chamber, a few candles lit to illuminate the room. She sat on the bed, back against the board and a book within a large hand. Small glasses were perched upon her nose as she read, golden hues running along each word that laid upon the pages before a knock interrupted her quiet night. She frowns, looking in the direction of the door. Who the hell could be at her door at this hour?
The vampire rises, setting the open book upon her nightstand. She wears a white nightgown, silk and loose around her tall frame. The woman begins to make her way to the main door and it is surprise when she sees Donna on the other side of it.
“Donna!” She takes a second, blinking before stepping back and letting the small woman inside. “Are you okay? It is late. . .” Not that she minded but Donna never visited this late.
In spite of her delicate features being unseen, hidden behind the protection of her veil, the woman had simply offered the softest of simpers, fingers fleeting in their notions as they danced across worn palms that had been caused by seemingly endless years of persistent, heavy work. “I. . . I offer my apologies for the inconvenience my visits might have brought. . . I simply wished. . .” Her words tumbled to a breathless stop, her delicate lower lip captured by pristine teeth as the Puppeteer attempted ferociously to fight back those voices that rose, challenging the feelings that lingered in the depths of heart. “I simply wished that I could see you, Lady Dimitrescu. . .” It was late, yes, but the need, the desperation had overruled thought and lead the women here, lingering at the steps of Castle Dimitrescu just as they once done when they first met all those decades ago, when their respective families came together to introduce the newest heirs. One could say it had been love at first sight, each of the women left silently captivated by the opposite. The once shy but ever so politely confident Donna Beneviento had been immediately entrapped, utterly enthralled by the beauty and grace that ever so effortlessly tumbled from the bold and daring Alcina Dimitrescu. “I. . . I can return, if you desire.” It fell ever so quietly, barely tumbling from her lips as her stomach was suddenly overwhelmed with seemingly endless nerves, her boot-covered feet tapping together lightly.
The smaller woman hovers by the door, doesn’t come in even though Alcina had granted her silent permission. The vampire is quick to dismiss the apology, obviously finding no inconvenience in the woman’s visit however late it may be. Though she sort of froze at the words that followed.
Oh be still her heart. Such simple words would have the towering creature that reigned terror upon anyone that laid eyes upon her a complete mess.
𝗜 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗰𝘂.
The tall woman is quick to extend her hand and grab Donna’s as if to prevent her from physically taking any steps to leave. “Don’t you dare” she says with a soft smile and pulls the small woman inside, closing the door behind them. “Come” she says quietly, leading them to her chambers.
She was left thoroughly surprised by Lady Dimitrescu’s hand upon her delicate wrist, gripping as if to prevent her from physically leaving the grounds of Castle Dimitrescu and caused her gaze to ascend, settling tentatively on the towering lord’s utterly breathtaking features. “Oh. . .” It tumbled forth in that of a startled gasp, the words causing the beat of her heart to rise, thundering swiftly as the Puppeteer found herself being swept inside. If one was fortunate enough to peak beneath the woman’s veil, they’d likely find Donna’s blushing cheeks as Alcina’s very actions left the woman feeling breathless.
Golden hues cast sideways to look down at the doll maker at such a startled sound. Was it truly so unexpected? Alcina found all sorts of excuses often to touch Donna. She looks away once again, focusing on the path within the dark castle. There were few candles lit here and there but other than that, it was all darkness. They arrive at the vampire’s chambers and only then she releases the smaller woman’s wrist. Not before she lets her thumb stroke her inner wrist. The bed was almost impeccably made aside from where she had been beneath the covers, reading.
It was so silly, the way her slow beating heart starts to race so erratically.
“Make yourself confortable, dragă.”
She lingered, delicate feet rocking back and forth as fingertips were captured in the midst of a desperate dance, her gaze unusually determined but in the very same moment uncertain, attempting to burn down the door that held the beloved @vampcina behind it to solve her current issue.
To say such an observation that the time of night is late was simply useless, the darkened hallways of Dimitrescu Castle a telling tale that Beneviento was lingering in the hours that belonged rightfully to the witches and ghouls.
Finally, after a period of time that the dollmaker had spent standing in the midst of the hallway, her tiny fist extended to rasp carefully, almost silently against the door. If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t have been heard but for someone such as Lady Dimitrescu it would have sounded just as loud as a simple knock.
The tall woman resides in her chamber, a few candles lit to illuminate the room. She sat on the bed, back against the board and a book within a large hand. Small glasses were perched upon her nose as she read, golden hues running along each word that laid upon the pages before a knock interrupted her quiet night. She frowns, looking in the direction of the door. Who the hell could be at her door at this hour?
The vampire rises, setting the open book upon her nightstand. She wears a white nightgown, silk and loose around her tall frame. The woman begins to make her way to the main door and it is surprise when she sees Donna on the other side of it.
“Donna!” She takes a second, blinking before stepping back and letting the small woman inside. “Are you okay? It is late. . .” Not that she minded but Donna never visited this late.
In spite of her delicate features being unseen, hidden behind the protection of her veil, the woman had simply offered the softest of simpers, fingers fleeting in their notions as they danced across worn palms that had been caused by seemingly endless years of persistent, heavy work. “I. . . I offer my apologies for the inconvenience my visits might have brought. . . I simply wished. . .” Her words tumbled to a breathless stop, her delicate lower lip captured by pristine teeth as the Puppeteer attempted ferociously to fight back those voices that rose, challenging the feelings that lingered in the depths of heart. “I simply wished that I could see you, Lady Dimitrescu. . .” It was late, yes, but the need, the desperation had overruled thought and lead the women here, lingering at the steps of Castle Dimitrescu just as they once done when they first met all those decades ago, when their respective families came together to introduce the newest heirs. One could say it had been love at first sight, each of the women left silently captivated by the opposite. The once shy but ever so politely confident Donna Beneviento had been immediately entrapped, utterly enthralled by the beauty and grace that ever so effortlessly tumbled from the bold and daring Alcina Dimitrescu. “I. . . I can return, if you desire.” It fell ever so quietly, barely tumbling from her lips as her stomach was suddenly overwhelmed with seemingly endless nerves, her boot-covered feet tapping together lightly.
The smaller woman hovers by the door, doesn’t come in even though Alcina had granted her silent permission. The vampire is quick to dismiss the apology, obviously finding no inconvenience in the woman’s visit however late it may be. Though she sort of froze at the words that followed.
Oh be still her heart. Such simple words would have the towering creature that reigned terror upon anyone that laid eyes upon her a complete mess.
𝗜 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗰𝘂.
The tall woman is quick to extend her hand and grab Donna’s as if to prevent her from physically taking any steps to leave. “Don’t you dare” she says with a soft smile and pulls the small woman inside, closing the door behind them. “Come” she says quietly, leading them to her chambers.
She lingered, delicate feet rocking back and forth as fingertips were captured in the midst of a desperate dance, her gaze unusually determined but in the very same moment uncertain, attempting to burn down the door that held the beloved @vampcina behind it to solve her current issue.
To say such an observation that the time of night is late was simply useless, the darkened hallways of Dimitrescu Castle a telling tale that Beneviento was lingering in the hours that belonged rightfully to the witches and ghouls.
Finally, after a period of time that the dollmaker had spent standing in the midst of the hallway, her tiny fist extended to rasp carefully, almost silently against the door. If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t have been heard but for someone such as Lady Dimitrescu it would have sounded just as loud as a simple knock.
The tall woman resides in her chamber, a few candles lit to illuminate the room. She sat on the bed, back against the board and a book within a large hand. Small glasses were perched upon her nose as she read, golden hues running along each word that laid upon the pages before a knock interrupted her quiet night. She frowns, looking in the direction of the door. Who the hell could be at her door at this hour?
The vampire rises, setting the open book upon her nightstand. She wears a white nightgown, silk and loose around her tall frame. The woman begins to make her way to the main door and it is surprise when she sees Donna on the other side of it.
“Donna!” She takes a second, blinking before stepping back and letting the small woman inside. “Are you okay? It is late. . .” Not that she minded but Donna never visited this late.
