Chapter Text
“Come along now, don’t dawdle, girl. Let’s not keep the master waiting.”
You barely register the raven-haired man’s clipped words. Your feet covered in silk slippers pad along the cool marble floors, calves aching as you try to keep up with his pace. The attire (if it could be called that) of fine gold chains and gossamer chafes and stimulates the sensitive parts of you underneath the beautiful, buttery silk robe that covers it as you move along.
He leads you through a labyrinth of hallways that twist and turn, some in various stages of renovation and repair. While great care has been taken to preserve the craftsmanship of the halls, the decor is significantly different from one area to the next. Rich burgundy and mahogany are replaced with ivory and gold, heavy velvet window treatments to block out the sun being replaced by airy chiffon.
Not at all how you’d expected the place to look.
The act of assessing your surroundings as you walk swiftly behind the pale, raven-haired man quickly drains your energy reserves. Your head spins as you reach a set of doors at which he turns around to face and address you.
“You are to address the master as ‘master’ or ‘my lord’. Do not speak unless you are spoken to. If you displease him, you risk the fate of your mortal life ending in a giant bloody puddle on the floors. I advise against this, as this was the fate of your predecessor and I don’t much feel like cleaning up that sort of mess again. When your time here is done, you will exit these doors and wait for someone to collect you and bring you back to your room. Am I understood?”
“Yes,” you lie, struggling to keep yourself upright.
He grunts in approval, turning to knock a pattern on the set of doors, the anticipation of what’s behind them making your empty stomach lurch.
“Enter.”
You are hardly given a moment to collect yourself and take a steadying breath before you are thrust in front of him. He follows closely behind you as you make your way to a desk before a panel of glass windows, the sheer curtains ruffling gently in the midday breeze.
An elf with attractively mussed silver curls peers down through reading glasses at a large, musty tome- one of many crowding the surface of his desk. He scribbles furiously with his quill on a scroll you cannot see, stopping only once to refresh the implement with ink before he continues. He worries the corner of his lower lip gently with an elongated canine, hunching over to squint as he re-reviews the passage in the ancient book before him.
“The girl you summoned, my lord.”
He gives you a cursory glance of bored indifference before he freezes, slowly trailing his crimson gaze up your curves to really, fully take you in.
Your eyes meet with his for only a moment before you remember yourself, looking down obediently to the floor.
Away from the face of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.
You jump at the sound of the book being slammed shut, cringe at the forceful exhale made through his nose as he rises from his desk. Adrenaline sets your heart hammering in your ears, your senses made sharp once again. He makes his way over to you and you flinch where you stand, using every last bit of your willpower to stay still as he raises his elegant, manicured hand.
Not to strike your face, but to caress it.
“Gods below us, what have you done to her?” he snarls at the raven-haired man.
“She was…larger than described, so I thought to lean her out a bit before she was presented to you,” he sputters, his voice thin and reedy.
The hands that hold your face in his tender grasp are warm- similar to the sunlight that streams in through the room’s large, open glass windows.
“I never ordered this,” the elf snaps, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Tell me darling, when was your last meal? What did they serve you?”
“Last night- a few bites of roast chicken and a handful of vegetables…my lord,” you add quickly, your face heating with shame at almost forgetting to address him properly.
He scoffs, the displeasure radiating off of him in waves as he inspects you.
His touch, however, remains gentle.
“Hardly enough to sustain one’s self. For how long?”
You look up at the raven-haired man again, seeing the sweat that is starting to form on his brow. “Since I arrived a tenday ago, my lord. The same meal, once every day.”
The elf’s jaw twitches in response.
“I see. We should still have the dried, smoked tuna and the salted salmon in our stores,” the elf states, removing his glasses and placing them on the desk with care. “Do you remember the dish that…he would have the thralls make up for our mortal guests when they were ill? Have the kitchens prepare it and send one of the staff to bring it to us.”
“It will be done, my lord.”
“Oh, and Dufay?”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Your meals shall be limited to one goblet, once per day for a tenday. Starting now-”
“Master, I-”
“Starting. Now,” the elf growls, and you swear that you see his red eyes glow…though you might be hallucinating in your hunger. “Pick your jaw up off the floor, and begone from my sight before I change my mind.”
The raven-haired man gives a single bow from the hinge of his hips to acknowledge his orders. He disappears from sight, as quiet as a whisper of smoke.
Your heartbeat begins to race as you realize you’re now alone…with him.
The man that had chosen you as homage in place of coin or crops from his lands. The man that, according to Dufay, had reduced the person brought to him before you to nothing more than viscera and blood. The man who was rumored to be the only and first day-walking vampire, his powers bought and paid for with the sacrifice of 7000 tortured souls.
“He’s lucky that I need him to run the damned place, and between us I think he knows it,” he confides in you, the warmth of his hand moving down to the column of your throat to rest on your pulse. “On to more pleasant matters. What’s your name, pet?”
You almost don’t say it, and when you do, it comes out as a trembling whisper.
He repeats your name, his velvety drawl wrapping around you in a cocoon that soothes your ragged nerves.
“Pretty,” he comments with a cock of his head to the side, pulling his hand away. Your chest aches at the loss of his touch, the world seeming a little less bright as he distances himself from you, setting himself down in a plush chair by the fireplace.
“Come to me.”
You move obediently towards him, your legs wobbling like a newborn fawn with every step forward. A dull headache sets in as you ponder what’s going to happen next. If any of the tales you’ve heard are true, your fate has been sealed as a lamb sent to slaughter. You make up your mind to endure the last few moments of your life peacefully- with what dignity you have left after you’d been isolated, starved, then dressed up and trotted out before him.
He giggles then, the high-pitched sound of his odd laughter piercing your chest.
“Poor darling. I suppose you’ve heard all sorts of stories about me, haven’t you?” he inquires, reaching out to gather your hand in his. Your heart soars with his touch, filling with that addictive, intoxicating warmth. He guides you into his lap and nestles his head against your breast, sighing with contentment. “What’s the thing that’s shocked you the most?”
Oddly enough, it’s not the fact that he could be a vampire. It was an open secret that the lord that previously held these lands was one himself.
No, there’s another fact that’s sitting at the front of your mind, something far more personal.
“That you would agree to accept me as tribute.”
A young tiefling woman appears then, silent as a ghost as she brings a side table before you. She catches you staring at her as she sets the table and winks at you, revealing a bowl of steamed rice with bits of pink salmon over the top. She pours a honey-colored liquid into it frosm a teapot, setting it down and disappearing before you have the thought to thank her.
The elf reaches over and picks up an oddly-shaped spoon resembling a miniature ladle, gathering a little bit of everything into it before he raises it to his mouth.
Your eyes are drawn to his plush, soft lips, blowing on the contents of the spoon to cool them down. Heat pools low in your belly as you imagine how they would feel on yours, how sweet they might taste.
“Eat.”
He raises the spoon to your mouth and you consume the strange, delicious contents with hesitation- aren’t you supposed to serve him? Isn’t this supposed to be the other way around?
“This dish is called ochazuke. You could say it’s an old family recipe,” He begins before cooling another spoonful and raising it to your mouth. “Good, no? It should give you some strength back.”
After a few more spoonfuls consumed in tense silence, he speaks again.
“Why do you believe yourself to be unworthy?”
You look down to the floor, away from him.
“My lord, I’m sure that there were prettier-” Your speech is interrupted by the eating utensil shoved in your mouth, not leaving until you swallow its contents down.
“Any idiot with eyes can see how lovely you are,” he intones harshly. “Try again.”
The compliment goes straight between your legs in spite of its delivery. Your mind races through the fog of lust that threatens to set in, trying to find the best way to hedge around the owlbear in the room. His broad, lean chest has enough width to accommodate you, but isn’t he feeling cramped for space? Aren’t his muscular thighs complaining from having you atop his lap?
You accept the last of the savory and sweet rice dish, your courage returning with your body’s renewed vigor.
“It is because of my size, my lord.”
He chuckles, leaning forward to politely set the utensil aside, next to the bowl.
“And there it is. I believe you deserve to have a little fun for your honesty, no?” He purrs, ensuring you are gathered in his arms.
“Hold on tight to me, little love.”
You yelp with surprise as your lord stands, lifting you as if you weighed nothing, carrying you out of the room.
“Where are we going?” You ask impulsively, cringing inwardly when you realize you’ve spoken out of turn.
“A place where I can teach you a lesson,” he says with a bit of a growl. You bite down on your lower lip, feeling your pussy clench in hopes that it’s the sexy kind. “ Alright then, here we are.”
The double doors in front of you open with a wave of his hand, your lord carrying you over the threshold of one doorway, and through another. The decor of the rooms matches that of the rest of the new renovations, with the elevated staples you’d become accustomed to in your time here. Silken fabrics, plush imported carpets, painstakingly crafted furniture- and you’re guessing that by the size of the innermost room and the presence of the massive, 4-post bed that this is his personal bedroom.
As you near the bed, your legs squeeze together and your clit twitches when you spot the silken fabric tied around the posts. Is this how he’s going to teach you a lesson? By tying you up and having his way with you?
He chuckles then, a low, dark sound of amusement as if he can read your thoughts. “Maybe another day. I have a different activity in mind.”
You enter his wardrobe, a room that is easily the size of your family’s meager home in Tumbledown. He sets you down to stand in front of a large ornate mirror, coming up behind you, pressing the warmth of his body against the thin silks of your robe.
It is then that you notice what is unmistakably his erection pressed against you, poking at the small of your back.
“We’re going to play a game,” he drawls, the heat of his breath against the nape of your neck making a shiver run through you. “You’ll look upon yourself and name what you like. If you can list at least ten things, I’ll give you a reward of your choosing.”
“Yes, my lord,” you assent, already wondering how bold you can be with your prize.
“Let’s give it a go then, hmm? Untie your robe for me.”
Your trembling fingers hastily undo the knot at the front of the silken robe, resisting the temptation to look away when his deft fingers slide it off your shoulders.
The sharp inhale from the man behind you and the twitch of his hardness pressing into your back does not go without your notice.
You meet your own gaze, slowly acknowledging the sinful vision of golden chains and jewels artfully draped around your figure. The deep v neckline of the gathered, gossamer silk gown you wear above the layer of body jewelry splits over each leg high on the hip, teasing a preview of what it hides below. You’d never thought in your wildest dreams you’d wear anything that resembles this. It must be custom-made, the way that it brings attention to the right places, hiding the spots you feel insecure about.
A small smile forms at the corners of your mouth- whoever picked this out knows what they’re doing.
And If you’re being honest? You’re a little turned on by how sexy you look.
Your lord takes a deep inhale, as if he’s caught the scent of something addictive in the air.
“Don’t keep a man waiting,” he leans in, rumbling the words inches away from your ear. “Tell me what you see.”
You start in safer, known waters at first. “I like my eyes, the makeup that the maids put on really brings out the color.”
“And my freckles, even though I used to get teased for them when I was a child,” you add with defiance, squaring your shoulders, standing a little straighter.
This pleases your lord, your heart beating a little faster when a smile graces his lips.
Encouraged by this, you continue.
“I like…how I look in the dress that’s been chosen for me,” you say, letting the words fall from your lips without a second thought before you have a chance to doubt yourself. “I like the way it shows off my cleavage, it makes me look like I have legs for days.”
“Indeed you do,” he breathes, your ears picking up the sound of fabric rustling behind you. “Go on then, what else?”
“It shows off my arms, which I’ve always liked,” you admit, proud of the strength you’ve built over the years. “And the curve of my calves.”
“And what of the curves that your dress disguises?” He asks, his voice a low, seductive purr. “Take it off.”
The command to fully reveal yourself is the key you need to unshackle the chains of shame that have held you back. You loosen the ties that keep the dress held in place, letting the fabric fall away from you, pooling on the ground at your feet.
You have three more things to name but many more reveal themselves, a veritable galaxy of discoveries waiting to be called out.
“I like how shapely my rear is,” you observe, your eyes widening in shock as you feel the warm, velveteen rod that pushes up against it in mutual appreciation.
“As do I, but I’m quite certain you’re aware of that by now,” he laughs, his amusement giving way to a lusty groan as you feel his cock glide across the curves of your backside.
You watch the rise and fall of your chest, admiring the shape of your nipples pebbled underneath the gold chains that frame them. You ponder how appropriate it is to mention until you spot him reaching into his coat pocket, opening up a small vial you suspect is lubricant. His kohl-lined eyes squeeze shut in relief as he empties the contents, begins working his hand up and down on his length.
All decorum has officially left, flown out the window now that he strokes himself, giving you the courage to speak your musings out loud.
“I like the shape of my nipples,” you declare boldly, a glint in the mirror catching your eye as you speak.
Following the glimmer, your attention is drawn to the apex of your thighs, stealing your breath away. Your labia is swollen with desire, your cunt dripping clear, slick juices of arousal down your thighs. A whimper escapes from your throat as you see your clit twitch, the enlarged nub begging to be touched- worshiped by the man pleasuring himself from the sight of you.
ALL of you.
“I like how my…” your voice cracks and goes dry- Gods, are you really about to say this out loud?
“I like how my…pussy looks, wet like this and ready for you, my lord.”
A strong hand grasps at you to whirl you around, the other still languidly stroking the cock it holds. He captures your jaw with his thumb and forefinger, forcing your chin up to look at him, to meet his burning ruby gaze.
“I have a suggestion for your reward,” he rasps, his body trembling as he speaks. “I’d like you to watch me lick that delightful cunt of yours clean and make you cum with my mouth and my fingers, and then watch you bounce on my cock in front of the mirror.”
He licks his lips, his eyes fixated on the wetness between your legs. “And by the looks of things, I’d say that's what you want as well.”
“Yes, my lord,” you admit breathlessly, “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”
“Good.”
His lips mash against yours in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue thrusts itself forcefully between your lips, and when you submit to him, the sinful moans he sings into your mouth is the sweetest song you’ve ever heard.
A sharp object in his mouth catches the bottom half of your lips, creating a small cut that he noisily sucks at. He wrenches himself away and you whine from the loss of him, leaning forward into the space he previously occupied.
“Ahhh…delicious,” he groans obscenely before pushing you backwards onto a wide tufted bench centered in the mirror’s view, falling to his knees before you. He grasps on to your hips and drags you to the very edge, wrenching your thighs open.
“One more thing, pet- I want to hear you call out my name when you cum.”
You nod with gusto in response. “Which is, my lord?”
He pauses to give you a rakish, dangerous smile before he leans down to taste you, devour you.
“Astarion.”