Chapter Text
Six years ago, when you were thirteen, you were given to the crown princess of Joseon.
It wasn’t like it had been a surprise to anyone – you’d grown up in the palace, the daughter of one of the scullery maids, and had always been close to Jennie despite the differences in your status. Children don’t care about such things, after all. Two years older than you, you’d met when she was six and you were four, and she’d run away from her tutor and bumped into you in the hallways of the palace. Being four, you hadn’t realized who she was at the time, and when she’d asked you to help her hide, you’d brought her to the herb garden, a part of the palace she’d never been to.
Five hours later, the palace had been turned upside down searching for the missing crown princess, and you and Jennie, completely unaware, were munching on cherry tomatoes and giggling in a corner of the garden. You’d gotten the spanking of your short life from your furious mother when she realized what you’d done, and it was the first time you even knew that she was the fabled crown princess, because somehow that just hadn’t come up in your conversation.
Jennie, contrite at being the cause for your punishment, had gone to the servants’ quarters for the first time in her life two days later with a pudding that she’d saved from her dinner, finding you alone in the room you shared with your mother and older sisters, having been locked up to prevent you from getting into more mischief.
Later that night, when your sister came back to the room after finishing her duties as a waiter for the banquet that had been happening that night, she found you and Jennie curled up together on your mattress, the empty bowl and dirty spoon set on the floor next to you.
Eventually, after the adults realized that Jennie wasn’t going to forget her new friend, you were allowed to become the older girl’s companion. The rest, as they say, is history.
The tradition of the gifting is unique, yet one that makes a lot of sense. On the day that the heir to the throne turns fifteen, he or she will be given a personal slave, who will stay with them for the rest of their life. Slavery has been outlawed in Joseon for a long time now, as it has been in most other parts of the world, but this is a cherished tradition, because it has served the monarchy so well. The slave, known as a gift, is the responsibility of the crown prince or princess, teaching them what it means to have lives depending on them. As the person closest to the monarch, the gift is also often a loyal confidante, personal assistant and closest servant, someone who understands the deepest urges and desires of the monarch, offering a necessary outlet for the pressure of being the monarch.
It’s not a bad position to have – Jennie’s father dotes on his gift, a petite man with wide eyes and a mischievous grin who’d always been kind to you. He dresses in the finest silks and lounges on a soft bed all day, but you’d seen how important he was in person, once. The king had received news of an attempted uprising led by his own advisor, and it had only been the intervention of his gift that had saved the advisor from dying right there, on the floor of the throne room, without a proper trial.
You had been only nine when that happened, but awed when you realized what an important role he played in ensuring the country ran smoothly. Monarchies were difficult to maintain, precisely because the pressure of making good decisions for so many people all the time was too much for most people, but the reason why the Joseon dynasty had remained strong while most other countries had constitutional monarchies or turned away from royalty altogether was, as everyone knew, because of the gift.
Still, it had been a surprise when Jennie had asked you about it. The first time she’d broached the subject, she’d been thirteen and you’d been eleven. You spent less time together as you grew up, as she grew busier with her duties and lessons, and you started work as a kitchen helper. Nevertheless, you still made an effort to visit her whenever you could, bringing a bit of leftover fruit or a snack you’d managed to squirrel away to her bedchambers after both of you were done with your respective duties for the day, when Jennie would let you climb into the bed next to her and snuggle up together, sharing whatever you’d brought while you caught up.
It had been on one of those nights, when you’d heard that it had been a rough day for the older girl and put in that extra bit of effort to snag a box of strawberries from the pantry and some chocolate, bringing the snack to her, that she’d first broached the subject. After the two of you had finished the box of strawberries, you’d just stayed up idly chatting, you sitting in the nice bed that never failed to awe you whenever you were in her room leaning against the mountain of soft, fluffy pillows, while she lay beside you, her head in your lap.
“Y/n –” she’d said quietly, hesitantly, during one of the moments of comfortable silence between the two of you that stretched out. Truth be told, you’d thought she’d fallen asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time one of you had done that, since you were both usually so tired by the end of the day.
“Hmm?” you’d responded absently, brushing her hair away from her face.
“You know… they’ve been asking me about who I want to be my gift recently. Daddy said that we could hold a search, summon all the people of appropriate age to the palace to see if I like any of them, or anything.”
Your hand stilled. “Oh?” you hummed instead of saying anything that might betray your feelings. Such a process was normal for the search for the gift, especially if the crown prince or princess didn’t have anyone close to them of appropriate stature. The gift couldn’t be from a prominent family, of course, since they would have responsibilities of their own, lands to take care of, titles to inherit, and so on. They also couldn’t have political ties, lest they use their influence with the monarch to further their own interests.
Of course, because of the intensely personal connection between the gift and the owner, the crown prince or princess could choose who they wanted to be their lifelong companion, and if they already had someone in mind, the search wouldn’t have to take place at all.
You hadn’t really thought about the gifting ceremony until that point; it had always hovered on the periphery of your consciousness, a future thought that didn’t need to be worried about for the time being. Yet to a certain extent, you’d secretly hoped to be chosen as Jennie’s gift. You were best friends, after all, and more than the desire to be honoured by being chosen to stay with Jennie all her life, was the fear that if she chose someone else, you would be cast aside, your friendship no longer required.
“Um…” It wasn’t like Jennie to be so hesitant and unsure, years of training and etiquette classes having taught her to say what she had to say forcefully, because queens were always certain of what they wanted and how they should do it.
“Unnie, spit it out,” you sighed, playing with her hair. It was always so soft and smooth, because she took good care of it, unlike yours, which was usually tucked into a bun for a majority of the day while you worked in the kitchen.
“I was wondering if you would… maybe be interested in… being my gift?” Her voice was soft, softer than you’d ever heard it before, and trailed off uncertainly at the end as she bit her lip.
“I – really?” you breathed, unable to believe it. She was choosing you.
“Yeah, but… you don’t have to say yes or anything, I won’t force you, so you shouldn’t feel obliged, okay? I just –” she was working herself into a rant, and while that habit of hers was cute sometimes, it was really unnecessary in this instance.
“Hey… it’s okay. I’d love to be your gift, don’t worry.” You stopped her quietly, and the smile that bloomed across her face was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.
In hindsight, you think, you really should have realized earlier that you’d been in love with Jennie all your life.
Today is Jennie’s twenty-first birthday, six years to the day that you were gifted to her. It’s also the day of Jennie’s coronation, which means that you were up at four rushing to get everything in order for her, from the dress to the floral arrangements, and getting everything into her room so she could get ready.
At six am, it’s time for Jennie to wake up, and you smile as you crawl under the sheets to do so in her preferred manner. Jennie, though you would never expect it from someone so upright and proper all the time, especially enjoys waking up slowly to the sensation of you pressing soft, butterfly kisses to her asshole.
It’s fine, though. This is what the gift is for – allowing the monarch to indulge in their deepest, secret fantasies and desires. The relationship doesn’t have to be sexual, although you figure that generations of gifts before yourself have been involved in intimate ways with their masters. It’s certainly not frowned upon, and given the carte blanche that monarchs are given over their gifts, you think it was probably almost inevitable.
Not that your relationship had been sexual from the start. It had started innocently enough, with Jennie wondering what it was like to kiss someone after reading a romance novel and you happily letting her try it out on you. Biting back your smile at the sweet memories, you wriggle down the bed till you reach her ass, conveniently exposed for you because she’s lying on her side.
You stroke the soft skin of her ass with your thumbs, gently pulling the cheeks apart as you nuzzle the especially tender skin right by the hole, already fluttering softly as if it knows what’s coming. It’s difficult to resist the urge to swipe your tongue against it, but you know that’s not what you’re supposed to do, and besides, there’ll be time enough for that later. Shifting that infinitesimal distance closer, you press your lips against her in just the way you know she likes, slow, soft kisses like you’re in love with her ass.
Which you probably are, if you’re being honest with yourself.
And just the way you knew she would, she shifted a little as she woke up, pressing back into your face slightly as she reaches over to pet your head. She’s not one for words in the morning, and you don’t take it personally when she doesn’t greet you with words, because you know the physical affection she’s showing you is the way she says good morning.
With a wordless murmur and a gentle tug to your hair, she lets you know that it’s time to move on to the next part of your morning routine. Another kink that had taken way too long for Jennie to confess to you, given that it wasn’t like you would – or even could – say no to anything she wanted of you. You pull back slightly, giving her room to maneuver onto her back, propping her feet on the bed on either side of her butt. You wriggle over so that you’re lying on your belly between her legs, your hands resting on the outside of her thighs, stroking her gently.
She sighs as you press your mouth to her pussy, carefully forming a seal with your lips as you flatten your tongue against her, patiently waiting for her.
Stroking your hair, she grabs fistfuls of it as she sighs again, this time one of relief, and starts pissing, right into your mouth. The flow is strong, and the taste acrid because it is, after all, her first piss of the morning, but the familiar taste is almost soothing to you as you gulp it down without missing a beat or spilling a drop. You remember the first time she’d told you that she wanted to try this – she’d been so hesitant, afraid that you would judge her, when she confessed the dirty fantasies she had about using your mouth like that.
That had been years ago, and at first it had been difficult for you to learn how to drink it well enough that she could relieve herself freely, but she’d been patient, just happy that you hadn’t judged her and were, in fact, happy enough to try it out with her, to serve her in such an intimate manner.
Now, though, you suck down her piss like a pro, not stopping the movement of your hand as you stroke her thigh gently, letting her know that you’re there and you’re okay. For the most part, when you drink from her, it’s not an act of humiliation or degradation, but one of the most intimate acts you could perform for her. Sometimes she does enjoy the rougher aspects of it, like when she’s had a hard day or you’re doing a scene together, but for the most part, Jennie is a soft dom.
As the stream slows and finally stops, you diligently lap up the last few drops that cling to her before detaching your mouth, pressing a light kiss to her clit before struggling out from under the covers. “Good morning, Jennie-unnie,” you greet, looking down at her sleepily smiling face with a smile of your own as you sit next to her in the spot you’d vacated hours ago. “And happy birthday.”
She yawns and stretches. “That’s right, it is.” Then she pauses, looks up at you a little shyly – ridiculous, really, given where your mouth was just a second ago and the fact that you have a belly full of her urine – and says, “Happy anniversary, Y/n.” And it is – six years to the day that you were gifted to her in a beautiful, intimate ceremony that you will remember for the rest of your life.
Your heart flutters a little in your chest. “Happy anniversary, unnie,” you respond. “And happy coronation day, too.”
At that, her eyes widen as she scrambles into a sitting position. “Shit, that’s right,” she gasps.
You chuckle at her. “How is it that you so easily remember that your birthday is also the day I was given to you, but the fact that you’re becoming the queen today completely slipped your mind?”
She smiles and leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, her fingers stroking the nape of your neck. “Just goes to show how much more I care about you than Joseon, love.”
You can’t help the blush that flares on your cheeks at her words, even as you protest that she’s got her priorities all wrong. She just laughs indulgently at you as her hand lands on yours and your fingers twine together automatically, tugging you closer to her. “Come on,” she finally says right next to your ear, before tugging on the lobe with her teeth, “We should get ready.”
“Okay.” You scramble off the bed after her, following her to the en suite bathroom. Everything is laid out and ready for her as it is every morning, courtesy of you. She heads over to the sink, picks up the toothbrush already loaded up, and starts brushing her teeth. You sink onto your knees behind her, glad, as ever, for the fluffy bath mats strewn all over the bathroom floor, including the one in front of the sink, which you are currently kneeling on.
As she’s brushing, you pepper kisses to whichever part of her you can reach, her ass, thighs, the small of her back. She likes it, you know, likes feeling beautiful and adored, and you enjoy lavishing the attention on her whenever possible, because it’s so easy to love her.
“Ah, Y/n, stop,” she giggles when she’s done rinsing out her mouth and the toothbrush, leaving both of them on the rim of the sink. She pads over to the toilet and you follow on your hands and knees, because she told you when she was drunk once how much she likes it when you do that.
She sits on the toilet backwards, as you kneel in front of it. “Baby girl, you ready?” she asks, her voice a little strained.
You nuzzle into her ass cheek and press a small kiss to it. “Yes, mistress,” you say, your voice low and subservient. Because really, what other tone is there to take when you’re on your knees waiting for your mistress to take her morning shit, so you can lick her clean after? This had been something that surprised you, when she first mentioned it, and it had taken you a few days of thinking to agree to it. Time Jennie had graciously allowed you, of course, and she repeatedly emphasized that if you said no, she would respect your wishes. But she’d looked so sad and small giving you those assurances, and your heart had squeezed, and before you knew it you were kneeling in front of the toilet for the first time.
You’d definitely worked your way up together, plumbing the depths of Jennie’s more depraved urges. But the gift was so named for a reason, and you took your role seriously, because more than anything else, you wanted to be there for Jennie, an outlet for her stress and for her every desire that the public couldn’t know about.
A small grunt and a soft whoosh of gas later, you see her asshole start to dilate, and knead the flesh of her ass a little as encouragement as she strains. Though you can’t see her face, you know she’s frowning a little, focusing hard on what she’s doing. You know, too, that she’s probably dripping, and you reach around with one hand to toy with her clit as she continues shitting.
“Mmf, fuck, Y/n –” she mutters as you make contact, and you can see her asshole fluttering around the greasy log of shit currently protruding from it as your fingers dip down to her pussy to collect some of the slick before returning to her clit. “Such a good little slave for your mistress,” she praises as the first log breaks off and falls into the toilet.
You smile, because on days she feels like it, Jennie can be the sweetest, softest person, even though she’s also hardcore kinky. “You’re so pretty,” you coo as you nuzzle her ass cheek, pressing affectionate kisses to it as if praising what it’s doing now. Jennie makes another soft, guttural noise as she pushes more out.
You stay like that until she’s done, when she lets out a breath of relief and leans forward a little more, slumping against the cistern. Her asshole gapes, smudged in brown, and you lean in, pressing a kiss to her tailbone before shuffling slightly lower. “Ah, that’s good,” she moans as your tongue meets her dirty ass. The taste is… not great, as one would imagine, but you aren’t doing this because of the taste. It’s because of Jennie, because this is what she needs, what makes her feel happy and cherished.
Besides, you get used to it.
So you carefully, diligently lap her clean, half-listening to her muttered curses and the praise she lavishes on you, calling you her good little brown-noser (you have to bite back a laugh at that one), the best toilet paper she’s ever used, her pretty little whore, and so on. You’ve heard of subspace, but Jennie gets into what you can only describe as domspace. She’s a kind person, truly, but you wouldn’t necessarily know that from the way she likes to treat you sometimes.
Not that you mind. Being with Jennie all these years has revealed that the depths of your depravity rival hers, which is why the two of you are truly perfect for each other. Which is why you’re currently where you are, doing what you’re doing right now. Your pussy feels like it’s on fire, wet and leaking and swollen as you clench your thighs together in the vain hope of getting some friction. There’ll be time enough for that later, though. For now, you try your best to push the distraction of your arousal aside to finish your job properly.
“All done,” you murmur, patting her hip as you pull away from her, getting up and immediately going to the sink to brush your teeth. You watch in the mirror as she gets up and flushes the toilet, then walks over to the shower. After brushing your teeth well, you rinse and spit, then join her. She’s already got the water running and you shed your clothes before getting into the ridiculously luxurious shower. Four showerheads, eight settings, a rain shower, coloured lighting, a stereo system… you name it. One of the best perks of your job (aside from, of course, Jennie herself) was upgrading from the simple shower you shared with the other staff to this one, which Jennie let you use whenever you wanted.
Smiling at you, she pulled you in for a kiss, which you gladly acquiesced to, smiling like it was your first time. “Are you excited for your coronation?” you ask as she sits on the wooden shower bench in the middle of the space. She’s taller than you are, so this makes it easier for you to wash her hair.
“Hmm, I guess so,” she says, shrugging as you load up your hands with the expensive citrus-scented shampoo she prefers. You hum thoughtfully as you massage it into her scalp, watching as it foams up under your fingers.
“That doesn’t sound very excited,” you observe.
“Well – it’s a lot of pressure, I suppose,” she admits, her head tilted back and eyes closed in bliss as your fingers work her scalp.
“It is,” you acknowledge. “I think how aware you are of that is a good sign, though,” you say encouragingly. “I know you’ll be good at it.” You rinse the shampoo out of her hair, and squeeze out the excess water before working the conditioner through it, using your fingers to comb through the long locks.
“Really?”
“Yeah, you’ve taken great care of me since I’ve been given to you,” you say, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek.
Jennie huffs out a laugh. “It’s a little different, baby girl.”
You shrug, undeterred. “Nevertheless, you’re great at it, and I know you’ll be great at looking after Joseon too. And, at the very least, you already have one loyal subject,” you say with a slight flush.
She turns to you, emotion darkening her eyes for a moment, before capturing your lips in a tender kiss, her hand coming up to your cheek. “I’m so lucky to have you as my gift,” she says once you pull away slightly, breathless.
You look away shyly. “The people of Joseon are lucky to have you as their queen, unnie,” you respond, before rinsing the conditioner out of her hair. She stands then, and you start soaping up her body – and having to restrain yourself from starting anything because you do not have time for this today – starting with her shoulders, working down past her breasts, and kneeling at her feet as you go lower.
“I love seeing you like this,” she teases, and you look up at her in surprise, your eyes wide and mouth slightly open. It’s not like that’s something you didn’t know, but she doesn’t often say things like that to you out of nowhere. When she narrows her eyes slightly at you and grabs your face in one hand, squeezing on your cheeks slightly so that your mouth opens involuntarily, she bends down and spits into it.
“Such a good little slut for me,” she purrs as you swallow her saliva automatically.
“Unnie, we don’t have time –” you protest halfheartedly, and she scoffs.
“What are they going to do, start the coronation without me?” she asks rhetorically, tangling her hands in your hair. “Eat,” she orders as she pulls you closer to her pussy, one foot resting on the shower bench to give you more access.
Well, when she puts it that way…
You shuffle closer, looking up at her to make sure this is what she really wants, and she just raises a brow at you haughtily, looking more like a queen than you’ve ever seen before. The shower washes away the suds as you lean in to press tiny kisses to her clit, making her tighten her hands in your hair to the point of pain.
“Stop teasing,” she orders, and you grin up at her mischievously, making her roll her eyes at you, before laying your tongue flat against her pussy and lapping in broad strokes. “Mm, yes, what a good girl,” she praises as you keep licking her, steadying yourself with your hands on her hips as you dig in with gusto.
“Mm, you like how it tastes, don’t you, sweetheart?” she asks, and you moan in agreement, savouring the taste of the slick dripping out of her cunt as you eat her out. Filth continues to pour from her mouth as her thighs tense and relax rhythmically on either side of your head, until finally she shudders as she orgasms on your tongue, drenching your face liberally in her juices.
You continue until she pushes you away slightly, grimacing at the overstimulation. Smiling up at her, you lick your lips clean, making a show of it.
“You’re a brat, you know that?” she says with fond exasperation, her hands cradling your face like you’re precious to her.
“You love it,” you sass back, getting up to grab her hair mask, then working it through her hair. While it’s doing its thing, you quickly clean yourself, biting your lip as you pass your hand over your engorged clit, trying not to stimulate it too much as you rub the same fragrant body wash over your body. Jennie had been surprised initially at the joy you took in sharing her bath products, not realizing how different your lives had been until you’d moved into her living quarters as her gift, but now she took pleasure in finding all sorts of novel luxury products online, purely because she liked how excited you got over them.
“Aww, baby, come here, let me return the favour,” Jennie coos from the shower bench as she realizes how turned on you are.
Biting your lip, you regretfully decline. “We really don’t have time, unnie,” you say as you rinse off the soap.
“That’s what you said about just now, too,” she objects.
“That’s different,” you protest. “We can’t hold up the coronation because of me. Besides,” you walk the short distance back to her and press a soft kiss to her lips before you reach around her to start washing the mask out of her hair, “you always look prettier after coming and you want to be pretty on your coronation day, don’t you?”
Jennie flushes prettily. “You’re so good to me, Y/n,” she says quietly and you laugh.
“That’s why I’m your gift, right?” you joke, turning off the shower.
You speed through the rest of her skincare routine because you really hadn’t had time for that tryst in the shower, but thankfully because today is such a big day there are professionals to get her hair and makeup ready, and all you have to do is help her into her hanbok before you have to send her on her way.
“Wait, Y/n –” she tries to get your attention as you text the team of stylists that they can come up now, but you just kiss her one more time before speeding out of the room to get breakfast. You could always pull rank and have someone bring meals up for the two of you, but it seems wrong, since most of the people working in the kitchen were your seniors from before you’d been gifted. Besides, it was nice going back and the head cook doted on you. You always got extra little treats in your food when you went to pick it up yourself, like a fruit tart or a truffle or, on one memorable occasion, some caviar on a biscuit that she’d saved you from a banquet.
Heading back up to Jennie’s chambers, you note with approval that the stylists are already there, setting up, as you lay breakfast in front of her, before settling in to eat your own. It’s not until you’ve finished your food that you look up and realise with a start that although half of the stylist team have started working on Jennie, there are another three just looking at you helplessly.
“Uh… can I help you?” you query.
Jennie sighs. “They’re here to help you get ready, Y/n.”
“Ready… for what?” You’re hopelessly confused, and it shows on your face.
“If you’d listened earlier…” she says with fond exasperation, “I would have told you that you’re going to be at the coronation too.”
You raise your brow. “I know that, there’s a spot for me with all the servants and everything.”
Jennie facepalms. “No, you dummy, you’re going to be standing behind me during the ceremony.”
“I’m going to… what? How? Why?” The questions tumble from your lips, evidence of how unexpected this all is.
“Surprise?” Jennie says tentatively, only now realizing that this might have been something she should have run by you before making all the arrangements. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just thought it would be a good way to show everyone how important you are to me, but if it makes you uncomfortable –”
You dash over to her, sinking to your knees in front of her. “No, no, no, I’m honoured, really, I was just surprised, and I didn’t expect you to do something like this for me.” The words tumble out and you find yourself having to take a deep breath at the end of it, tears brimming in your eyes. To have a place at the coronation ceremony, behind the new queen of Joseon – it’s something someone of your upbringing and status could never dream to aspire to. You’d been happy to even have a spot in the audience, knowing that you occupied some part of Jennie’s mind during the ceremony. You’d never dreamed that she would do something so dramatic for you.
She takes one of your hands in one of hers, the other one going to cradle your face, brushing the tears away from your eyes. “You’re the greatest gift I’ve ever received, and every day you keep giving me more. This is the least I could do.”
The stylists look away, a little embarrassed to be witnessing such an intimate moment. The affection that the crown princess of Joseon has for her gift is the stuff of rumours and legends, and they’d thought, like most reasonable people, that the stories had been exaggerated. It’s a little startling to realise that that is not the case, and today, everyone will know it too.
You squeeze her hand, too overcome for words, and she bends forward slightly to kiss you lightly on the forehead. “I love you, Y/n,” she whispers, softly enough that you’re the only one who hears the words. “Now, go get ready,” she says at a normal volume, and you smile at her as you hurry to put on the hanbok that she’d prepared for you.
Over an hour of the most intense primping session you’ve ever had later, and you’re ready. You don’t look anywhere near as done up as Jennie, who looks resplendent in her colourful hanbok with the crest of Joseon embroidered on the jeogori, her hair in an elaborate traditional updo. Yours, on the other hand, looks more modern, a baby pink with a white jeogori, and your hair is pulled back into a loose braid, with a few pieces of hair left out to frame your face artfully.
“Ah, you look so pretty,” Jennie compliments you when you get up, and you blush, stammering out your own compliment to her.
You let her lead you through the rest of the preparations, too frazzled now and unfamiliar with the duties associated with your changed role to protest. Jennie seems to like it, if the contented smile on her face as she holds your hand and drags you around the palace is anything to go by. Giggling as she leads you down the hall to the great room, you tell her how much this reminds you of when you were children, always up to no good in the palace, running up and down the halls and screaming with laughter.
She turns back to give you a soft smile that you don’t quite understand the significance of.
The great room is a flurry of activity, but it all ceases when Jennie comes in through the front doors, marching right up to the front to where her father and the high priest of Joseon are convening. The actual ceremony doesn’t take place in this room – it will be on the steps of the building overlooking the courtyard, where the guests will be gathered – but it’s a hub for all the activity today.
By the time the guests start filtering in, you’ve been hanging around for hours, watching as Jennie confirms and reconfirms the steps involved in the ceremony, practicing her speech again and again until you have to intervene, tugging on her hand and telling her that it’s amazing, that she’s amazing and everything will go smoothly.
Shortly before the ceremony is about to begin, however, something is wrong. You can sense it from the way Jennie is shifting her weight from one foot to another, wringing her hands in front of her.
“Jennie-unnie, what’s wrong?” you whisper.
“I have to pee!” she hisses back at you.
You blanch. “Oh, God, okay, let’s get you to a toilet, I’ll help you with your dress and everything –”
“There’s no time!” She’s blinking back tears of panic now and your mind goes into overdrive, seeking a solution.
Which is how you end up on your knees, in front of Jennie, in a hidden alcove near the great hall. Her hands are helping yours pull her skirt up, then you duck your head under them, your hands letting go of the fabric, which falls to partially obscure your body. You pull down her panties and help her lift one foot out of them, then shuffle closer to press your mouth to her pussy.
“Oh my God, here it comes,” Jennie whimpers as you stroke her hip soothingly. Both of you are dressed to the nines and there’s no time to grab a change of clothes if you spill, which means it’s the highest the stakes have ever been, but you’ve done this so often now that you’re a pro, gulping down the veritable waterfall that spills from her as she moans and shudders in relief.
She pees for what seems like hours, although realistically it’s probably only a minute at the most. But your heart is pounding, the adrenaline of the moment and the fear that you might get caught making the blood rush through your head, until all you can hear is the roar of the urine streaming from her and your own heartbeat thudding in your ears.
When the flow finally subsides, you lick her clean perfunctorily, since you’re not trying to start something there’s no way you can finish, and emerge from under her skirts, helping her rearrange everything. “All good?” you ask, and she gives you a grateful smile as she nods.
“Oh, your lipstick is a little smudged, though,” she says, going to fix it with her finger, and you think that it’s a good thing the stylists had put a simple, sheer gloss on you. She helps you reapply the product, and then both of you are good to go.
“Ah, Jennie, dear, where did you run off to? The coronation is about to start,” Jennie’s mother fusses over her, picking nonexistent lint from her clothing.
“Just having a private moment with my gift, mom,” Jennie responds, and you clear your throat awkwardly, recalling just how private and intimate the moment you’d just shared had been.
“Ah, the two of you have been inseparable since you were children,” the older woman chuckles fondly. “I should have known she would be at your coronation ceremony.”
You blush at the statement, although Jennie seems to take it in her stride.
The ceremony begins shortly after, and you take your place behind Jennie and off to the side, watching the happenings with a proud little smile. She really does look beautiful in her traditional wear, and she carries herself like a queen, nodding regally at her subjects and bowing to her father, the king.
Some speeches later, and she is going to the throne room for the first time as the new queen. She has to walk across the courtyard to do it, and the guests part to clear the path for her. Taking slow, careful steps, her head held high, she makes her way over to the throne that is now hers, while you trail behind, your head ducked down modestly.
Jennie sits in the throne, the new queen facing her subjects for the first time, and you sink down onto your knees next to her, on the comfortable cushion in the spot that gifts traditionally occupy. It’s one of your favourites, ridiculously large and plush, and you realise all over again how seriously Jennie is taking your welfare and comfort. Not for the first time, you look over at her in awe.
Sensing your gaze on her, she turns to look at you, and smiles back at you tenderly, causing your heart to squeeze painfully in your chest.
After the coronation ceremony ends, you both retire to her quarters to rest before the party tonight, and she insists that you take a nap because of how early you’d gotten up today to help her prepare. Not one to argue with a command like that, you strip out of your beautiful hanbok, wash the makeup from your face, and immediately dive into the bed, rolling around it with a beatific sigh.
Jennie, having removed her own clothing, laughs at your antics. “Really, you should be used to this bed by now, you’ve slept in it every night for the past six years.”
“Yeah, and I slept on a futon that I shared with my sisters for thirteen years before that,” you sass, even as you pat the bed next to you expectantly, waiting for her to get in so you can cuddle up to her.
“That’s true,” she says, smiling down at you indulgently. “I’m glad you enjoy all of this so much,” she says, gesturing around her. “It makes me feel better about…” she trails off awkwardly, then shakes her head. “Never mind.”
You sit up at that. “About what?” you ask, curious now, and she knows you well enough by now to know that now that your interest has been piqued, you won’t let it go until you get a satisfactory answer.
She blushes. “Well, about all the fucked up shit I ask you to do,” she says softly, her hands clutching the covers balling into fists.
Surprised, you just blink at her for a moment. “Unnie… you know that’s not why I agreed to be your gift.”
“I know that,” she says, sounding distressed, “but you didn’t know about any of this back then. Hell, I didn’t know about all the weird stuff I’m into back then.”
“Hey…” you say, coaxing her hands out of the sheets that they’re crumpling and into yours. “You’ve never forced me to do anything I don’t want to do, okay? If you’re fucked up, then so am I, because I really do enjoy every bit of it.”
“Y– yeah?” she asks, sniffling a little.
You nod emphatically. “Yeah, unnie. I love you, and I love everything about you, okay? And I would love you even without all of this, even if we were back in the servants’ quarters together.”
Full-on crying now, she flings her arms around your neck and hugs you tightly. Closing your eyes, you hug her back, your chin resting on her shoulder and your hands running up and down her bare back. “I love you too,” she sobs. “I’m so lucky to have you as my gift.”
You pull back slightly to wipe the tears from her face. “And I’m lucky that you chose me to be your gift, unnie. I’ve cherished every day I’ve spent with you, even before the gifting. You’re my best friend and the love of my life. I would never have met anyone who meant as much to me as you, even if you hadn’t chosen me.”
She hugs you tightly as the two of you lay back down in the bed, intermittently pressing soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks, nose, lips, until you fall asleep.
When you wake up, the sun is starting to set and you squint dazedly at the window. Jennie isn’t in the bed with you, and you sit up, yawning, to try and locate her.
Just as you’re about to work yourself into a panic because she isn’t anywhere in her bedchambers, the doors open and you look up wildly to see her entering the room, holding a little bowl in her hands.
“Oh… you woke up,” she says, hurrying over to you. You slump back into the bed upon realizing that she just went to get a snack.
“Unnie, you should have woken me up if you’re hungry,” you chastise. “You’re the queen now, you can’t be going into the kitchens. You’ll terrify all the help.”
She giggles, because you look adorable with your hair all sleep-mussed and your limbs heavy with lethargy. “I know, I know,” she says lightly, having heard this lecture from you many times before. “I just wanted to get something for you.”
Curious now, you peer into the bowl, but she covers it with her other hand so you can’t see the contents. “Uh-uh,” she says teasingly. “Close your eyes.”
Smiling indulgently, you do as she says, then open your mouth at her request so she can put whatever it is she got from the kitchen into your mouth. When she does, you close your mouth and bite down, opening your eyes at her in surprise when you realise what it is.
“This is…” you say, eyes wide.
She grins and nods, showing you the contents of the bowl. “Cherry tomatoes, straight from the herb garden.”
You chew slowly and swallow, slightly in awe of the way taste can evoke such nostalgia. The cherry tomato takes you straight to the first time you’d met Jennie, all those years ago, and she smiles at you again as she pops one into her mouth.
“You know, before I met you, my life was way more boring,” she says, as if confiding a huge secret. “The day I met you was the first time I broke the rules, and I was rewarded so amply for it that I realized my existence would be nowhere near as interesting if I only coloured within the lines.”
You know, from the slight tremor in her voice, that she’s working her way up to telling you something important. She falls silent, her throat working as she works up the courage to say what it is that she wants to say, and you wait patiently for her.
“I have a confession to make,” she says, her carefully nonchalant tone as she sets the bowl of cherry tomatoes aside not fooling you. You know her well enough by now to know all her nervous ticks, and you know she’s internally freaking out right now.
“Yeah?” you ask, holding your hand out for her. She takes it gratefully.
“Yeah,” she agrees, and her hand is so tense in yours. “I lied to you once.”
“Oh?” You know that if you push too hard, she’ll spook and refuse to tell you what she wants to say, so you feign nonchalance just like her, even though you’re dying to scream at her to just spit it out already.
“Do you remember the night I first asked you if you wanted to be my gift?”
“Yes, unnie, I remember,” you say with a small smile. It’s one of your most cherished memories.
“I gave you the impression that I’d started thinking about having you as my gift because daddy was asking about it, but that wasn’t true,” she says. Now that she’s started, the words seem to fly out of her. “I started thinking about it when you handed me a cherry tomato right off the vine, and told me they tasted best that way.”
You’re momentarily speechless at the magnitude of the confession she just laid on you. That means that the whole time you’d been secretly pining after her, she’d been doing the same. She felt just as strongly about you as you did about her, if not more so, and the realization of just how much you meant to her was humbling.
“Unnie…” you breathe, tears spilling from your eyes. “I love you so much.”
She pulls you into her embrace, letting you snuggle against her chest as you sob. “I love you too.”