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Crimson suited her. It flowed like a damning waterfall from hardened, certain shoulders.
There was doubt in her gaze, not of herself - never that - but of your usefulness to her. Whatever she wished for, her face told you she had found it.
She had found you, nestled in a corner of her opulent ballroom awaiting instructions from your Mistress; a Duchess from a neighbouring Kingdom who had been invited to Lady Ambessa Medarda’s birthday ball on account of her fine trading connections. Not that you’d know her speciality in fabrics, considering the filth she kept her servants in. Presentable but ugly and misshapen, meant as a reminder of your station.
You had been drifting into a daydream, the beauty of Noxian balls harsher and more pressing than other lands. It wrapped you up, threatened to choke you with its splendour. Everything here was a message - everything would surrender to the red and gold might of Noxus one day.
Horrified, both for your job and then more pressingly your life, you were dragged from ponderings by a firm, calloused hand cupping your chin. Lady Medarda was holding you like trussed up livestock. The red fabric seemed silkier up close, gentle etchings swirled in it, fine gold thread adding a shimmer to her movements.
Should you speak? Bow? Had you offended her?
“Are you going to make me repeat myself?” Steel cut through your panic, grey eyes bemused.
“I-I’m terribly sorry Lady Medarda,” You blurted, cheeks aflame, “Please accept my-”
“Enough of that,” She snorted, “Tell me your name child,”
It fell from your lips, mouth staying agape.
Her thumb traced along your lip, “I was unaware I’d been given another present, the gifts are over there dear,”
A nervous laugh tittered out under her grip, her eyes darkening into charcoal pools. No wonder she was a renowned warlord, even light flirtation was a battlefield with her. Her hand slipped from your face, resting on your hip instead.
“Who should I give my thanks to for such a delightful offering?”
A pause, your dry mouth swallowed in search of moisture, “Duchess Montgermaine is my Mistress my Lady, I am to serve her wine,”
A sharp eyebrow raised, “Are my servers not enough?”
“Of course not, my Lady,” You attempted a demure smile, “She just-”
“Is a drunkard,” Lady Medarda snapped bluntly, relishing in the surprised giggle you let out, “Is she not?”
“Well, I couldn’t say,” You bit your lip, the inferno from her gaze fueling you, a hazy spell embracing you under her touch.
“A secret between friends then, Precious,”
Her advances were interrupted by the Duchess herself and you feared she may lose her head for it. Medarda turned, face frustrated, as Montgermain began to ramble about their happy trading union.
“She is yours, I am told,” You are gestured to lazily, bangles jangling, as her words are choked back into her overindulgent throat.
You had never seen someone interrupt your Mistress, let alone belittle her so. It made your body throb. This seemed to summon the warlord's eyes as if she could sense it on you.
“Unfortunately yes,” She babbles, glare fixated on you, “Dull girl, you know how hard finding help is Ambessa,”
“I suppose you won’t mind my taking her then,” She sneers with fake civility, “I am sure I can find a way to use her,”
Use you. It echoed, red and gold smothering you as you had feared. You were as good as hers now, your naivety at the seriousness of her advances crystal clear. It seemed an extravagant way to gain staff.
“I’d be happy to oblige you,” the Duchess slurred, “No skin off my nose,”
The interaction ended there for Lady Medarda, it seemed, as she turned and pushed you against one of her guards. They ushered you away down a corridor, her wolf-like grin lingering in your eye as she looked away.
Heavy doors swung open to reveal a large, smooth bedchamber. It screamed of her, each corner loomed as she did. Flurs covered the bed and an enticing fire showered the room in an orange hue. You were not unaware of your chances here, should you fail to impress her it was highly likely Lady Medarda would simply kill you. She had killed many more for far less. That felt less like a death sentence and more like a challenge, an otherworldly desire to please overwhelmed you.You would spar if necessary or clean or scribe or bathe her. Whatever it took, you resolved The guards left quickly, leaving you alone.
Unsure of how long she would be or if she would join you tonight at all, you curled at the foot of the fire. Sitting on a chair felt too presumptive, the bed entirely off limits as hers.
Time slipped by like sand through a sieve, your eyelids grow heavy as you stayed perched.
“Undress me,” You were unsure when she appeared and how you’d missed it, a stormy smile yanking you forward.
Twitching, unsteady hands stroked against her dress, you undid it and pulled it off, careful not to linger too long on any part of her body.
Fuck. There was no underwear to even attempt to remove.
“Anything else, My lady?” You muttered, eyes down. Thick hands slammed you down, your knees crashing into harsh marble. The pain had tears forming, eyes darting up in shock.
Lady Medarda slapped your face lightly, as if disciplining a dog, “Eat,” she commanded, pushing your jaw forward.
Oh.
Soft, dewy folds rested just above your mouth, your task for her Ladyship suddenly obvious. Your small tongue dashed out, unsure as it lapped against her. A triumphant sigh rattled from her chest, grip encouraging your ministrations. The inferno was back, eating you whole, turning you to dancing embers. Warmth leaked from her onto your lips, wiping your mind into a blissfully clean slate. Each pulse of her core had you licking harder, deeper, fuelled by her certain guidance and your primal bliss.
You were inexperienced and sloppy, but Ambessa hardly minded. Your emptying eyes and desperate gasps against her cunt were more than enough to close that gap, her head lulling back in pleasure. Her pillowy thighs robbed you of the small gaps of air her clit had allowed, pressure weak but noticeable. Another Noxian message - serve or perish trying.
This was far from a death sentence, it was salvation. Like a mutt you rutted mindlessly at her feet, your own leaky ache coating your thighs.
“Dirty girl,” Ambessa cooed, riding your face more harshly, a smirk on her lips, “Unable to stop yourself,”
You whined, nose pushing against her clit as you nodded, spluttering in oxygen noisily. She would be your undoing, towering and crushing your sense of self, moulding it for herself.
Fingers tugged against your locks as Ambessa roughly used your face to find her completion, grunts and bewitching moans sending her higher and further until she crashed against your bruised mouth, her juices flooded onto your surprised face as you lapped and sucked.
“Strip,” She panted, glittered gaze dominating you as she held out a hand to receive your clothes.
You did without question, lumpy fabric landed in her grip as you tried to offer yourself as openly as possible. Embarrassment crept through the heady fog. You were slight, not by choice but malnutrition and years of overworking yourself. Ambessa crushed that doubt, throwing your clothes in your flames as she stalked around you. You were perfect, she decided, oh how she loved to break things.
“No need for those, they hide you away,” She purred, toying with your upper thighs, hovering just below where you begged for her, “Have you ever been touched here little one?”
“No, My Lady,” You moaned out, “I-Uh just you,”
She let out a laugh, making butterflies dance in your chest, “I haven’t even done it myself yet, Dear,”
“Please?” You find yourself whimpering, “I’ll do whatever you like,”
“Oh will you now,” Her tone mocked you, sympathetic pout on her mouth as she gripped your hips and you flung across the air into her bed. The furs soothed your sore legs, her scent permeated them. Your knees fell open, pleading for her to use your molten core.
Use she did, regardless of your comforts and desires. Two fingers pushed into you, you stuttered and slurred as your body adjusted. Ambessa was not patient, overactive from too many idiots at once and your artful, whorish tongue, she ploughed into you against your pained whines. Soon pain gave way to a sticky, addictive ecstasy. She saw the change, empty eyes suddenly clouding over, loud keening moans ripping from our throat.
“My, very loud without a cunt against your mouth, Pet,” Ambessa’s hypnotic snarl had you nodding nonsensically, chasing a high you didn’t understand. Just as you thought you would tumble helplessly off a cliff it all stopped. The engine died. Her fingers stilled.
“Why did you stop?” You croak, outraged, grabbing at her wrist.
Ambessa growled, fear spiking your heart as harshly as pleasure had. A free hand leisurely planted a slap against your burning cheek, lips falling open in shock. Not at the violence, but the joy it flared in you. The same hand slapped your suddenly empty hole, narrowed eyes following the trail of drool leaking from your useless mouth.
“You don’t do anything without my permission, Foolish girl,” Ambessa flipped you as easily as a book page, rubbing against your ass absentmindedly, “Do you think ten will suffice?”
“What?” Your lips could barely move.
Her eyes rolled, “Fifteen then, do be sure to count them,”
Her hand came swiftly slamming down.
One
“Aloud,” Her teeth bit your ear.
Fuck
It was almost as if you had never been taught numbers, each one fighting its way out as your ass joined the list of things sore and overused on your body. Ambessa seemed detached, calm as though she was merely discussing the weather. At fifteen your face was crushed against her thighs, taking in her skin and huffing in the sex stained air as much as you could.
From this new position those blissful, brutal fingers thrust back in at an inhumane rhythm, your battered mind finally following the flow of commands. If you wished for more, you begged and even then if she did not wish it, it would not be so. You were dangling over that cliff again, love drunk on Ambessa as her siren song sang you over the edge. It felt like ascension, your soul left your body, your scream desperate. Gushing liquid and tinges of red mingled on her powerful fingers. Noxian in your own way then, you giggled to yourself, head rolling against her legs. Lady Medarda revelled in it, her fingers licked clean by her own indulgent tongue.
You seemed to float there for a while, murderous sweet nothings indecipherably fell from your Lady’s lips as she cleaned you.
“A fabulous start,” She grinned, caressing your cheek, “I think you’re ready now,”
Rolling you onto her furs, she stood and opened a small wooden cupboard to the right of her bed. What she removed you could barely process, a long dark rod attached to leather straps that fit snugly on her hips. She had never seemed stronger, force and control things she owned and tamed rather than possessed as your legs were spread. Now lying on your back, tickled by the bedding, you could fully appreciate her breasts. Weighty and glistening, they called to you like a swinging pocket watch, enticing you with every movement. This distraction allowed Ambessa to toy with your stretched hole, her strap-on lightly stimulating your twitching folds. Leaning down, her own hand met your sorely neglected breast as she squeezed the supple flesh. Pinching a nipple between her nails, she twisted till you’d soaked your thighs, coating the strap-on as she wished.
“Good girl,” She tugged you down, strap moving in an inch or two.
A wanton mewl slipped from your lips, grinding against it for more friction. She only punished you slightly, sharp nails scratching at your clit. The warlord attempted to be patient, coaxing the length in as kindly as possible. Your rolling eyes and sharp inhales were making it troublesome, her restraint slipping as she thrust into you fully. You squealed, glassy eyes wide as she bottomed out, pussy gushing slightly. Her fingers had prepared you for any major stretching, so the pain was fainter than you’d anticipated. Once Ambessa realised this her restraint slipped entirely, merciless hips destroying you as she stared into your very soul.
“I thought you’d squirm less, Pet,” Venom dripped into your ear, your body twitching and rutting to meet her pace, “I do hope it's not too much,”
“More,” You grunted, desperate, “Use me like a whore,” You had no idea where that came from, but it felt right somehow, your thoughts dripping in the lustful debauchery she had introduced.
“Don’t worry, your Mistress knows just how to treat you,” She said firmly, pace speeding up as a dark chuckle left her lips, this was a pleasant exercise, her muscles flexing as her strap soiled your sloppy cunt.
“Mistress,” You slurred back happily, the word soothing you. You were getting close again, blood thrumming in your ears, black spots dancing across your vacant eyes, shameless begging filling the room.
It was music to Ambessa’s ears, wet slaps of skin against skin as you whimpered and shrieked for her, your body moulded to serve. You had come so far from the little Wallflower she had teased hours ago, and you would stay like this, a sex-crazed slut worshipping at her feet. Feeling her own climax edging closer, she slurred filth into your malleable mind, both of you breathless and dripping with slick. She stole your orgasm from you as she conquered everything else, with ruthlessness and obsession. You were babbling, preening as you leaked over the furs, relishing in her juices dripping down onto you.
In a fluid motion she pulled out and sank down, lapping up your mess as you giggled helplessly. Her tongue was far superior to your own, coaxing another sticky flood as your mind snapped like a weak twig. No thoughts, no noise, no understanding. Only pleasure. Always pleasure.
Ambessa surveyed your blissed out, nonresponsive form as she cleaned herself and the strap-on off, placing it back in its box. A warm hand towel was fetched, as she stroked up and down your shining skin, slowly grounding you with sweet nothings and alluring kisses. You couldn’t quite understand her, but love and safety blossomed in your chest. Lady Medarda had chosen you and you had pleased her. Succumbing was good. Was right.
“Thank you,” Your weak voice said, kissing against her palm.
“You’re welcome, my darling,” A kiss to your forehead, “Rest now, sink into me,”
You were pulled onto her chest, pillowy breasts and warm covers plunging you into a dreamless, glorious sleep.
You loved Noxus.