Impenetrable Fortress Ch. 02

Author's Note: Last time, Alder was referred to as "sire" but I am changing his honorific to "young master". Please enjoy the second chapter of my first erotica story.

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When I wake in the morning, Alder is already gone. As my eyes adjust to the light pouring through the window, I run my hands over the bedsheets, luxuriating in the soft fabric.

Once I emerge from this bed, I am unsure what I will face. The threat of being sent away still pinches my chest. Last night, I was unable to satisfy Alder... Or rather, he had put an end to it before we had even begun.

Mirillis. I swirl the name around in my mind. She must be Alder's former lover. No man whispers a name so tenderly while drunk and kissing another woman unless the subject of the name was once dear to him. Is still dear to him. Where, then, is Mirillis? Why is she not with him?

As I lay pondering, the door creaks open and I bolt up to a sitting position, afraid that the Madam will barge in and reprimand me for my laziness. Yet it is only Byrde. She carries a wooden tray in, setting it on the table. The whole time, she averts my gaze. I look down at myself and flush slightly when I realize what she has seen: the straps of my silk slip pushed off my shoulders, the purple-ish welts across my chest. Suddenly self-conscious in front of this young girl, I draw the blanket up to cover myself.

"I shall l-let you eat breakfast while I fetch your clothes."

Before I can thank her, Byrde bolts out of the room. Sighing, I climb out of bed and sit in front of my meal. A bowl of hot bone broth and another half-loaf of bread, this time spread with butter. My mouth waters at these delicacies. It must be Alder himself giving the order to keep me well-fed. While it is nowhere near as decadent as the meals the nobles must enjoy, I know for certain that no other servant in this place is dining as well as I.

After I have drank the last of the soup, Byrde appears with a bundle of clothes. A simple servant's frock. I suppose my former clothes were too unsightly, low-cut and short enough to reveal my thighs. Attempting to put the girl at ease, I smile at Byrde and change into the white cotton shift, asking for her help tying the corset. Although apprehensive, she wears a smile on her face as always.

"Byrde, dear, could you do me a favour?" I venture, ensure of whom else to ask this of.

"If it is simple enough, I suppose..." she mutters in response.

Crossing the room, I pick up a scrap of paper and ink pen that I spotted earlier sitting atop a dresser. I scrawl a few ingredients on the paper and blow on the ink to ensure it has dried before pressing the paper into Byrde's hands. Her round eyes widen as she watches me do this.

"You know how to write?" she asks, face brimming with curiosity.

I return her question with a wry smile. "Yes, well, I was not always a slave." My hand grips the pen harder, recalling with ease the schoolgirl I once was. The top of my class, poised to marry a politician after my studies. That is, until my parents passed and my inheritance was not enough to cover my dowry. My fiancé's family easily cast me aside. Two hundred gold was all it took for my life to be ripped away from me. Heartbeat quickening in my chest, I force myself to meet Byrde's eyes and smile even more warmly.

She stares down at the paper in her hand and then back at me, a pout on her face. "B-but I cannot read."

"Worry not, dear. I only need you to deliver this to the kitchen and ask them for the items on the list. Tell them that I need a tea brewed with those exact ingredients every morning. It is vital for my...job here."

Byrde's face contorts with confusion at my explanation. I hope that her prudish nature prevents her from inquiring any further. The ingredients I gave her are for a contraceptive tea, a recipe I learned from the brothel. Based on my explanation, I predict that anyone else who hears of this tea will presume it to be an aphrodisiac.

As I thought, Byrde nods and tucks the paper into her pocket without prying. She picks up the tray and makes to exit the room. Simultaneously, another servant girl, seemingly closer to my age, arrives at the door.

"Izolda, your presence is requested in the parlor," she relays flatly.

I raise my eyebrows, unsure who would be summoning me, but do not hesitate to follow her.

This servant walks with her back straight, carrying far more confidence than Byrde. She leads me to a set of winding stairs and I only now realize that Alder's room is on the top floor of the building. We descend one level and stop at the first door in the hall. The walls are devoid of portraits, instead decorated with scenic paintings and large vases. The servant knocks twice and a voice beckons us in. She pushes the door open and gestures for me to enter without her.

Once inside, my stomach drops. I hear the door click shut behind me.

"Good grief, who dressed you in that?" Nicolin chides, pointing a teaspoon at me. He sits on a red velvet chaise in front of a dark wooden tea table. Without breaking eye contact, he stirs three spoonfuls of sugar into his cup. "It is no wonder Alder feels zero sexual desire towards women if this is the type of garb he prefers them dressed in."

Nicolin takes a sip of his tea and pulls back immediately, the steaming liquid likely burning his tongue. I suppress my desire to smile at his misfortune.

"So, last night? Did you suck him off? Fuck him?" he asks nonchalantly, the way one asks about the weather.

"N-no," I stammer, caught off-guard. I struggle for words that will preserve Alder's dignity while keeping the blame off of me. "He was not in an ideal state to receive my advances." The explanation sounds vague and evasive even to me. Still, Nicolin nods as if he understands perfectly.

"Who knows what goes on in the mind of that prick. Women throwing themselves at him every day and still, he rejects every one. If I were him, I would never let a good woman go to waste." His leer makes my hairs stand on end.

"I will... I will make sure to be more useful tonight," I promise.

Nicolin laughs heartily, drinking in my body. Even though I am dressed in this shapeless sack, it seems that he can see every curve and crevice underneath. My skin prickles as if crawling with spiders.

"I like a woman who knows when to be useful," he declares. "Indeed, you can start right now. I would loathe for your skills to grow rusty." Nicolin spreads his arms out against the back of the chaise and leans more comfortably into it.

"H-here?" I ask, attempting to mask the reluctance in my voice.

"Yes, prove to me that you were worth the gold!" he chuckles. "I would not dare send a mediocre whore to my poor cousin."

I swallow hard and take a deep breath. I remind myself that this is not the first time I have serviced a loathsome client. It could be much worse, I repeat in my mind. At least Nicolin is washed and well-groomed. While his manner disgusts me, like Alder, Nicolin is an attractive man. Although short, he is slender and I can imagine the lean muscles under his clothes. Whereas Alder is handsome, Nicolin is beautiful. Not a hair out of place, not a crease on his jacket. His icy blue eyes always manage to pierce through me every time I meet his gaze. It is difficult to hate him, as his long eyelashes give him an innocent, doe-like appearance. Yet his stare is that of a predator. He is a man who knows what he wants and is accustomed to getting it.

My feet move towards him unconsciously. The movements are too practiced for me to resist, every muscle in my body melting into this familiar pattern. Alder gently kicks away the tea table, making room for me. I drop to my knees in front of him.

As I unfasten his belt and tug his pants down, I can tell he is already erect. I remember last night, when he pressed himself into my backside. This man is always ready for sex, it seems.

His cold hands wrap around the sides of my face, thumbs rubbing against my cheeks as I take his cock in my hands. The girth of his penis is unexpected. For someone so slim, his shaft is much wider than the average man's. With two hands, I stroke him up and down. Slowly, he grows even harder. I hear him let out the occasional grunt or sigh.

I position my lips above his cock, gauging whether my mouth is wide enough to take him in. Unsure of whether my jaw will open that far, I begin sucking on the tip, wrapping my tongue around him until saliva is dripping down my chin. One of his hands grabs a fistful of my hair and I feel the sting on my scalp. After licking and sucking the tip of his penis enough to provide ample lubrication, my head slides down, drool spilling down my neck. I bob up and down, wet slurping noises echoing around the room. He pulls even harder on my hair, the resistance making my movements awkward as I try my best to keep his fat cock stuffed in my mouth.

From the corner of my eye I see him pull out something from his hip. Fear rushes through me when I realize it is a knife, the metal glinting in the light. My movements slow and Nicolin notices, his free hand pressing my head down, forcing me to suck his cock even faster.

"A damn shame to keep these beauties wrapped up like a mummy," he grunts, reaching down to cut away the front of my dress. Once he's created a slit, he tears the fabric violently, exposing both of my breasts. Nicolin shifts forward in his seat, sending his cock even further deeper in my mouth, pounding against the back of my throat.

Tears spring to my eyes as the pain mixes with pleasure. I can feel his veins against my tongue, the fleshy tip scraping the roof of my mouth. As soon as I am used to the stinging in my throat, a jolt of electricity shoots through my chest. Just as he did last night, Nicolin pinches one of my nipples so hard that my mind goes blank.

Weak, pathetic moans escape from me, muffled by his cock, which fills every corner of my mouth. I am starting to feel dizzy, unable to breathe. Hearing me struggle seems to excite Nicolin. I feel him twitching inside of my mouth.

Suddenly, both his bony hands wrap around my head, pulling me closer to him. My hands fly to his thighs, keeping myself upright as I resist gravity. With two fistfuls of my hair in his grip, Nicolin grunts and shoves his cock even deeper down my throat.

Hot, bitter liquid hits my tongue. Instinctively, I begin to gag and try to push myself off of him. His grip remains firm, keeping my mouth glued to his cock until I have drank every last drop of his thick cum.

I do not spill a single drop. He yanks my head back then releases my hair. I cough and sputter, my throat burning from his forcefulness. He stands and I think he is satisfied, certain that such a vigorous orgasm would drain him of his energy.

Instead of buckling his pants, however, he drops them to the floor and kicks them away. Nicolin stands before me and pulls me up, pushing me into the chaise. I kneel on the velvet, both hands braced against its back. Not wasting a moment, he lifts my skirt and places the tip of his cock near my wet lips. Even I did not realize how drenched I had become, performing one of the sloppiest blowjobs I can recall.

I feel my own saliva mixing with my juices as he rubs himself against me. Before I have mentally prepared myself, he shoves his thick cock inside and I let out a yelp.

"Fuck," he moans. "You sure are tight for a whore."

Not that I would admit it, but it is rather the size of his cock which makes him difficult to take in. He is stretching me wider than any man has before. Waves of pleasure ripple through me as be begins thrusting in and out. I grip the chaise even harder, panting and moaning as he fucks me hard. Earlier, I had resolved not to feel any satisfaction from his touch. Now, I must reluctantly admit Nicolin's skill. He is certainly no virgin.

I cry out as he slaps one of my ass cheeks, the sting lingering. I feel him twitch inside me. He slaps me again. Shamelessly, I moan louder, my voice echoing around the room. I think of the servant standing outside. Surely, she is able to hear me.

One of Nicolin's cold hands wraps around my hips and he begins stroking my clit with two fingers. A shiver runs down my spine. Rubbing and pinching my clit between his fingers, he continues to spank me with his free hand. I am reduced to a whimpering mess, forgetting any animosity I had held against him. Any desire to resist has melted away into simply desire. I cannot fathom how good his cock feels, rubbing against the places inside me most men never find.

"Squeeze my cock harder you fucking whore," Nicolin commands. My mind resists, afraid that his thick penis will destroy me if I grip it any tighter. But my traitorous body obeys, succumbing to the intense pleasure. I squeeze myself against him and we moan in unison. Pleasure is pulsing through every inch of my body.

Nicolin places one foot on the chaise, steadying himself and entering even deeper into me. With newfound leverage, he fucks me harder and faster, rubbing my clit more vigorously.

I bury my head in my hands and bite down to suppress the scream that erupts from me, an explosive orgasm rocking my body. My legs tremble and I grow weak.

Soon after, Nicolin also grunts and, with one final hard thrust, his hot orgasm fills me for the second time this morning. His cock twitches for a long time, pouring a seemingly endless stream of semen into me. Once he pulls out, I slide down the chaise, laying on it in a fetal position.

I hear Nicolin sigh in satisfaction. "Well, I can say with confidence that your pussy passes my inspection."

Unbelievable. He still has it in him to joke around after all that. It was one of the most intense sexual experiences I have had, yet it seems like any other morning to Nicolin. I would not be surprised if he visited another brothel later today. I shudder, considering what my days would be like if he were my master instead of Alder.

Then it suddenly dons on me. Nicolin technically is my master. He purchased me, meaning he has my papers. He owns me.

My racing heart does not slow down, the sound continuing to drum in my ears. I should get up off the chaise, but all I can think about is how to turn Alder onto me, how to make him desire me.

If Alder purchases me from Nicolin, I will be free from this man's insatiable lust.

From outside the room, I hear the servant's protesting voice. "Young master, please do not enter!"

The door flies open. I push myself up and spin around, chest sinking in horror as I find Alder standing in the doorway.

"Woah, whatever happened to knocking, cousin?" Nicolin jests, showing no shame as he stands his naked.

"What are you doing with her?" Alder seethes.

"Sampling the product as it were," Nicolin smirks. "One does not serve a dish to a king before testing it for poison."

"You are despicable," Alder spits. He crosses the room angrily, marching right for me. Self-consciously, I wrap my arms around my chest. Standing above me, Alder briefly takes in the rips on my dress, Nicolin's thick cum leaking out of me. Then he turns away. My face burns hot.

Wordlessly, Alder strips off his jacket and tosses it onto me, not looking in my direction. I tug the jacket on, its rough material rubbing against my nipples. I mentally chastise myself as my nipples grow hard. Mercifully, they are not visible through the jacket's thick material. Seeing Alder angry was strangely arousing. I recall the warmth of his body pressed into mine last night and long to be held in his arms.

The Madam's voice sounds in my mind. "Do not, under any circumstances, fall for any of the clients. They will say they are in love with you. They will promise to rescue you from this place and marry you. But they will not. You are a fantasy to these men, a fuckable woman who desires nothing for herself. Your clients will never see you as an equal."

I bite my lip and force away the memories of last night. It is pointless to grow attached to Alder. After all, he is currently engaged to a noble woman and pines for another. A plan solidifies in my mind. I will appeal to his morality, beg him to free me from a life of serving a man like Nicolin.

With his jacket on, I stand and smooth out the wrinkles in my dress. I can feel hot, sticky fluids flowing down my leg. Alder finally dares to turn his head in my direction. He looks into my eyes with a pained expression before nodding and spinning around to leave. I take this as a sign that I should follow.

When I pass Nicolin on my way out, he waves at me mockingly. I cannot be sure that I do not scowl at him in disgust.

Alder leads me back upstairs and pushes open the door to the bath. I step inside and before I can return his jacket to him, Alder closes the door.

I hear his footsteps fade as he walks in the direction of his chamber.