After Eggs Benedict and dark brewed coffee with cream, just as she liked it, Annika felt much better. A maid named Marnie, a pretty young woman in a neat black uniform, helped her bathe and dress in a gorgeous 1940s style sundress made of pale yellow linen with white trim. There was a bra for her, a strange satin conical one from the same era. It didn't fit Annika very well; few bras did – Annika was blessed with a small back and body and large natural breasts – but she was grateful to be wearing underwear again. The kitten heels she was given were a little small, at size six, but she felt civilised dressed head to toe. The maid curled and pinned up her hair, Annika thought it was a Betty Grable style, the whole look was very forties, very World War Two, right down to the winged eyeliner and red lipstick. She commented on this and the maid blushed and said Grable was her very favourite popular actress, followed only by Rita Hayworth. It was only after Marnie left that this struck Annika as odd. First the old-style clothing and then the makeup, the curled up-do hairstyle. She sat at the vanity table, in front of the mirror and looked at the cosmetics. She gasped. Max Factor Pancake foundation, pressed powder in an old style compact, rouge, cake mascara with an odd little brush...it also seemed to be from that same era!
Annika studied her reflection, noting how the maid had applied her makeup differently to modern fashions. The foundation and powder was patted on thickly and the rouge gave her red rosy cheeks. Her eyebrows were dark and exaggerated. Her breathing quickened as she tried to make sense of this. It is just old cosmetics, she thought dizzily. The Lord probably just has old makeup...perhaps he once had a wife back in the 1940s? She thought he probably sacrificed her to this kraken thing that was on the church's pulpit and she shuddered. The doors open again and Marnie walked in, with Lord Nicholas Bloodstone. His stoic marble-like face erupts with pleasure when he sees her.
"Oh, Annika! You look lovelier than I dreamed!"
Annika felt her cheeks redden under the heavy makeup and rose to her feet, staring up shyly at the six foot nine inch tall man. His exotic cinnamon aftershave made her swoon; she was intoxicated by him, desperate for his touch.
Nicholas dismissed Marnie and the maid walked away, closing the double doors after her with a thunderous bang. Now, only Nicholas and Annika stood in the large well-furnished room. She became uncomfortably aware of this and felt her pussy grow hot and moist. She felt wetness inside her thighs. Her concentration wavered as she looked at his sexy mouth.
"Annika. We have much to do together." Nicholas said, taking her hand gently and leading her over to a mahogany table setting by some French glass windows. The heavy red velvet drapery let in a small amount of grey light – Annika senses it is daytime. "I want to taste you again." His fingers stroked her inner wrists and she trembled a little at his words, at his directness. His fierce black gaze devoured her as she sat on the velvet cushioned seat before him and she shifted, feeling desire burn urgently in her pussy. "I told you before. I need to get you ready, for him, we need you to be perfect."
Annika nodded nervously, watching his pale fingers caress her naked arms. Her skin burned, she could feel her nipples harden, her clit swell. She tried to stay on topic, tried to think clearly. "Who is he? And what is he going to do to me?"
