Impenetrable Fortress Ch. 03

Stewing in the bath, I contemplate Alder's actions till now. He has, by all accounts, behaved as a gentleman should. His gaze does not linger too long. His touch is never more forceful than necessary. Yet, I find myself yearning for more impassioned responses. Earlier, as he wrested me from Nicolin's grasp, I wished for Alder to put Nicolin in his place, to cut his cousin down with either his words or his sword.

Floating my hands through the water, I allow myself to daydream for a few moments longer. Then I snap out of my stupor and pinch myself hard on the thigh. Of course Alder would not go out of his way to defend some common whore. It is not as though I am a noble woman. It is not as though we are engaged. Alder owes nothing to me.

As soon as I step out of the bath, the second servant girl enters. In the hazy light, I could almost mistake her for Byrde. She is taller and slimmer, though her round face preserves a youthful appearance. The girl helps towel my hair. After I am dried, she helps me into a pale blue dress. No servant's frock this time. Still, it is not as elegant as a gown a noble lady might wear. Indeed, if my life had proceeded under normal circumstances these past two years, this soft cotton piece may have been one I purchased for my own wardrobe.

"What's your name, dear?" I ask the servant girl.

"Matylde. And you need not flatter me, you are likely not much older than I." Her voice is flat and serious, unlike Byrde's chipper tone.

"Are you and Byrde..."

"Sisters, yes," Matylde interrupts, finishing my sentence. The restrained malice she shows me is what I had been expecting all along. No servant wants to wait upon someone of the same station. It is a wonder she has agreed to serve me at all.

Still, her rude manner takes me aback. This is a good thing, I decide. Matylde's attitude will help put me in my place, remind me that I am nothing to either Alder or Nicolin. Far below that of a noble woman, I am a mere thing. An object of desire, that's what Madam referred to us girls as. As soon as we started believing ourselves to be something more, she made sure to discipline us. Ego, pride, believing that we deserve better--such feelings were a sure path to misery. There is nothing better for a whore like me.

Stepping out of the bathing room, I make my way down the hall back to Alder's chambers. However, I find that the door is closed. Instead, directly across the hall, I see Alder standing in what must be his study. The desk is piled high with papers and he quickly scans over them, rearranging the sheets into different piles.

Approaching the doorway, I knock gently. Alder turns to me and freezes in place. His eyes are locked onto me. Or perhaps simply my dress, as his gaze does not reach my face. For a moment, I wonder why, until I piece it together. Mirilis. The dress must have belonged to her.

My stomach churns. The fact that Alder is lending me his former lover's clothes must mean that she is... Dead. Else, Alder is a fool of a man for lending a lover's clothes to a mistress.

"Do you need any assistance, master?" I ask, slowly entering the study.

Stiff as a statue, Alder does not even lower the piece of paper he had been reading. His eyes follow my legs, watching the way the fabric ripples and shifts as I reach his desk.

Since he has not protested, I put myself to work, itching for an intellectually stimulating task. Scanning over each correspondence, I learn that Alder is the heir apparent to this castle. His father, the Lord, is of poor health and confined to his chambers, where Alder's mother also spends most of her days caring for the sickly man. A few letters from the Meryld family--a familiar name that I heard my first night here, though I cannot recall the context.

Finally, my eyes land on a report that seizes all the air in my chest. Kitlanya is preparing to go to war with Prenyth, the kingdom to the south. Kitlanya's King has ordered Alder, as de facto head of the Vaisal family, to prepare the defenses for this land. My head spins as I process the information. Kitlanya going to war? And Alder to lead his forces into battle? So many political happenings have developed without my awareness. The greedy nobles of the capital did not once mention an imminent war during my last year at the brothel. Of course, since it is not their own blood that will be shed during such a battle. Their corruption and complacency has always sicked me.

I reach out for this report, aiming to place it with the stack of other papers that seem to be related to military affairs. Alder grabs my wrist in midair, gripping me painfully.

"Master," I gasp in shock. "Apologies, I was only trying to help."

There's a hardness to his expression that I cannot read. Why must he treat me so delicately one moment then scorn me the next? If only he would cast me aside for good, make clear my standing in his eyes. Then I would give up on any fantasy of leveraging him for my freedom. Why show me any kindness at all? Would he go out of his way to provide for any whore that shares his bed? I cannot make heads or tails of it.

"Leave that," Alder hisses, throwing my arm down. He haphazardly tosses the paper in his hand before making his way out of his study. The page glides through the air before landing on the floor.

Stupefied, I stand among his dark wooden bookshelves, the finely lacquered desk. Each day, he moves one step closer to me, then takes two steps back. It will be difficult to gain his affections.

Not knowing what else to do, I turn my attention back to the stacks of papers. For a few hours, I reorganize each letter and report, sorting by subject and implied urgency. The task makes my heart quiver as I recall how I used to do the same thing for my father, when he was still alive. I repress my longing for those days before the accident, before my life was put on this current path. There is no use in dwelling what cannot be changed.

When I am almost done organizing the correspondence, I remember the single page Alder had dropped earlier. It lays on the plush red carpet spread underneath the desk. Bending over to pick it up, I hear a familiar voice grate on my ears.

"Now there is a sight I love to see," Nicolin jeers from the doorway. "A good woman bent over, waiting for me."

I roll my eyes, confident that he cannot see from this angle. Straightening back up, I pretend that I did not hear him. Once the final piece of paper is in the correct pile, I spend an unnecessarily long time adjusting each stack, ensuring that every corner is aligned.

From behind, Nicolin's hands wrap around my hips and I jump. "Poor thing, you must be so bored. Alder's a busy man without much time to play. But worry not, I am here to keep you entertained," he whispers in my ear. It sends a shiver down my spine, the tingle lingering as he begins kissing the nape of my neck. This close, I can smell the wine on his breath. How utterly in-character for him to be drunk by noon.

One of his hands squeezes my ass as the other finds its way to my breasts. He cups one of them, loosely fondling it before shoving his hand down the neckline of my dress. I gasp as his fingers graze bare skin. Strangely, Nicolin's touch feels different from earlier. Softer, more sensual. His fingers linger longer than normal, the pressure less like a predator's claws and more like a lover's massage. Perhaps the drink has dulled his reflexes. Soon, my nipples start hardening, arousing me as they rub against my cotton dress. Without seeing a face, I start to imagine that I am being enveloped in Alder's embrace...

But my reverie is cut short when Nicolin grasps my arms and spins me around to face him, pinning me to the desk. His eyes scan over my body, not lasciviously this time, but with confusion.

"Say, is this not one of Mirilis's dresses?" Nicolin slurs.

Swallowing hard, I do not answer. His use of the past tense in referring to Mirilis confirms my suspicions about the woman's passing. She must have been a prominent presence in Alder's life if even Nicolin recognizes a single dress of hers.

"A beauty, that one," Nicolin states with a perverted smirk. "Always wanted to get my hands on her."

Luckily for Nicolin, my arms are still restrained under his grasp. Otherwise, I would have slapped him straight across the face.

"You are truly despicable!" I half-shout. "How could you refer to a deceased woman in such a way? And about a woman your own cousin loved?"

Heat rises to my face and I am immediately fearful. In the past two years, I have never once had such an outburst. Enduring unsavory comments from men should be second nature. I surprised even myself by shouting at Nicolin. And what for? To defend a dead woman whom I have never met? It seems that, lately, I cannot think straight when it comes to matters concerning Alder.

Instead of punishing me, Nicolin's grin simply grows. "You look a lot like her, you know," he mumbles. Then, sloppily, Nicolin presses his mouth against mine.

A sharp pain shoots through my backside as the edge of the desk jabs into me. Nicolin leans his full weight into me, pressing me further and further backwards as his tongue explores the inside of my mouth. I try to protest, but it comes out sounding like a moan as his tongue wrestles mine.

Slowly, I melt into his mouth. It has been months since a man has kissed me; my former clients preferred to avoid this level of intimacy with a prostitute. As our lips crush each other's, I taste the wine on his breath and my head is washed over with a dizzying fog. I close my eyes, falling into this rare moment of tenderness.

With a soft thud, my head hits the desk as Nicolin pushes me all the way onto my back. The papers I had painstakingly organized spill out of their piles, scattering all around. Deepening his kiss, Nicolin begins to slide my dress off my shoulders, exposing my breasts. His uncoordinated hands shove my skirts up to my stomach.

Unexpectedly, Nicolin kneels on one knee and presses his face into my groin. A high-pitched squeak escapes from me as he begins running his tongue over my folds, sucking on my clit. His hands wrap firmly around my thighs, keeping them pried open while I squirm. I feel my own wetness mix with his saliva, dripping down my ass and likely soaking the pages I am laying on top of.

"Not... Here..." I whisper, desperately trying to push Nicolin's hands off me. But the words come out as moans, my protest utterly unconvincing. I can only imagine how furious Alder would be if he walked in now. Imagining it makes my pussy throb.

Lifting my head slightly, I see Nicolin's head bobbing up and down as he licks and sucks, drowning me in ecstasy. Above his head, I see that the door is completely ajar. Anyone could walk past at any moment and see us like this. A salacious sound comes from below, and I can barely register it as Nicolin inserting his fingers into me. He slides in and out, spreading his fingers wide as if trying to show the entire world my insides. My heart races faster. Biting down on my hand, I try to stifle my moans.

Moments before I reach orgasm, Nicolin pulls his mouth and fingers away. Standing up, he walks around to the other side of the desk. Before I understand what is happening, his fat cock is dangling above my face. Then, instantly, I know what he wants. Using my arms, I push myself further towards him, until my head is dangling over the edge. I do not bother to close my legs, my juices now dripping over the side of the desk. In this moment, as I open my mouth and feel Nicolin shove himself inside, all my concerns fade away.

This taste is familiar, intoxicating. I gag as his shaft reaches the back of my throat. As he thrusts his cock in and out of my mouth, during brief moments of clarity, I wonder what is wrong with me. This is the second time today that a man I despise has fucked me. And the second time I am finding enjoyment in it. Impossibly, Nicolin's thick penis reaches even deeper than it did earlier. The familiar sting in my throat makes me want more of him, makes me impatient for the pleasure to follow. Occasionally, I catch a glimpse of his lustful expression. I suspect that he takes more pleasure in choking me with his cock than any other sexual play.

"Yes... Like that... Tighten your lips more," Nicolin mutters. His commands do not carry their usual authoritative weight. Still, I do as he says, sucking even more vigorously. The lack of air conjures stars in my vision, but I continue to wrap my tongue around him, focusing on nothing but his taste.

Using my hands, I jerk the base of his shaft and fondle his testicles. He grabs the sides of my head and thrusts harder. A small cry of pain escapes my throat, only to be garbled by his dick and all the saliva pouring out of my mouth. The sound of my sucking and slobbering echoes in my ears, so loud that I fear the whole castle can hear it. My breasts bounce back and forth as I rock with the motion of his thrusts. His breathing grows ragged and just when I think he is about to finish, he rips his hips away from me.

With a pop, his dick comes out of my mouth and I cough, sputtering and gasping for air. Nicolin drops into the chair behind the desk, his eyes beckoning me towards him. I slide myself off the desk, papers spilling everywhere, and shed my dress.

Standing in front of Nicolin fully naked brings me pause. If I was going to put an end to this escapade, it would be now. Nothing about our little triste is right. Alder is my master. This is Alder's study. I should stop indulging Nicolin.

Predictably, he does not notice my hesitation. Nicolin unbuttons his shirt, then grabs me by the wrists and guides me down onto him. Once my lips are positioned over the tip of his erect penis, a quiver of anticipation races through me. All at once, Nicolin pulls my wrists down, shoving his cock inside me. His thick shaft pushes the walls of my pussy apart, filling me completely.

I moan. Loudly. The sound outmatches even my best performance back at the brothel. Nicolin lets go of my wrists and lifts my legs up so I am half-kneeling on the chair, his hard dick grounding me in place like a flag pole. Doing so puts me at an angle where the tip of his cock rubs against the most pleasurable spot inside me. I cannot not stop now.

With me on top of him, Nicolin's thrusts are not as fast or long, but he is much deeper inside me than earlier. I feel a pressure building in my pelvis as each of his pumps shoots lightning up my stomach. Tears come to my eyes as he buries his face into my breasts, sucking on each of my nipples. The pleasure is unbearable. And it is still not enough. Gripping his shoulders tightly, I grind my pelvis against him. Time slows. Each passing moment, I can feel myself growing tighter and tighter around Nicolin, until it draws a moan out of his mouth.

He leans back in the chair, pausing his thrusts, and places his thumb against my clit. As I grind, he rubs me slowly, skillfully. Inside my pussy, his cock throbs. And before I know it, I lose myself completely to an intense orgasm, my whole body spasming. I fall against Nicolin, crying out. I bite his shoulder to stifle my moans, which last for far too long. The sensation rocks me so vigorously that I do not even notice him cumming inside me as well. When the moment's passed, I become aware of the familiar hot liquid oozing out of me, onto the chair.

"Ahem," I hear from behind me. "Lunch is served."

Matylde's voice. I am too embarrassed to turn around. She is always so quiet with her approach. How long has she been standing just outside the doorway, listening in? From where she is, can she see how Nicolin's still-erect dick is stuffed into my pussy, spreading my lower region wide open? My breath is hot against Nicolin's chest, where I have pressed my face into, hoping that perhaps a hole will open up and I will fall inside.

"Understood, now shoo," Nicolin responds lazily. I wait to hear Matylde's light footsteps retreat before hastily climbing off his lap and rushing to clothe myself.

"We cannot be doing such things in Alder's study," I mumble under my breath.

"So anywhere besides Alder's study is alright?" he quips.

"You are...impossible," I growl.

Once my dress is back on, I take in all the papers scattered about the floor. Shame floods through me, weighing down on my chest. I collect each page, smoothing out the wrinkles, and begin re-assembling the piles on the desk. Wordlessly, Nicolin begins to help me in this task.

I stare at him, unsure whether he is still drunk. The smug expression he wears as he returns my gaze tells me that this man is certainly sober by now.

"What? Afraid that I am an illiterate fool that will only disturb your organization? Worry not, this will proceed much faster with two people." His last sentence is delivered so sincere that I can't help but laugh with surprise.

Since I am already familiar with most of the papers' contents, I am able to sort them much faster. As promised, Nicolin also makes quick work and we finish in a fraction of the time I spent earlier.

"Finally!" Nicolin exclaims. "Now I wonder what they are serving for lunch. I am truly famished." In his usual arrogant way, Nicolin saunters away and down the hall.