Being buried in a woman's pussy was probably one of the heavenly desires of every man, yet even as he pleasured the moist lips between Lady Elizabeth's thighs, Evan's mind could help but wander elsewhere.
His knees ached dully from having to kneel on the uneven ground in front of Lady Elizabeth, but it was a pain he had gotten accustomed to a long time ago.
Evan did his task dutifully, his tongue switching from broad strokes to pressured sucking on the Lady's pink pearl, but in his head, he was pondering what he would have for lunch. Would he have to eat scraps off the cold stone floor again?
Spreading the soft folds of the lady's pussy, his tongue lazily explored her warm insides. She responded, raising her hips up and pressing it deeper into his face.
Splayed on a chair with rich satin cushioning, Lady Elizabeth moaned softly as she played with Evan's ash blonde hair, but none of her actions registered in Evan's consciousness at all.
Or, perhaps if he satisfied his masters amazingly, Evan might be fortunate enough to have one of them feed him warm food directly from the table. The thought of that slightly brought him back into the present as he worked harder, probing deeper and pressing where he knew the Lady would like.
A soft happy sigh escaped Lady Elizabeth's mouth, and Evan's mood lifted a little only to sink down to the deep abyss it always seemed to dwell in lately when she pushed him away before she even reached a climax.
"You're handsome and skilled at what you do, Evan, but lord, you're so terribly dull," Lady Elizabeth complained with a scowl on her face as she rolled her white stockings up.
His lips still wet with clear fluids, Evan only appeared to support her point even more when he stared up at her blankly, unmoving from his subservient position. Lady Elizabeth gave one last scornful glance at Evan, heaving an exasperated sigh before turning to the servant standing by the bedroom doors.
"Call me another slave, preferably a new one this time or at least one with emotions," she said, gesturing impatiently with her hand.
The last word dripped with malice obviously directed at Evan, but he had done what he needed to do, and it honestly wasn't his fault if he couldn't give her the excitement she wanted. There was a limit to how lively a person could be after they had been performing fellatio for almost the past half-decade.
Evan could understand why Lady Elizabeth or any master would want a fresh, untrained slave. The ones that still struggled, blushed and felt humiliated more than they had ever been, especially when they became inexorably aroused by the debauchery.
However, there was only a certain period before one would get used to it, jaded, bored even, once they knew the rules of the game and how to follow it. Or maybe Evan was wrong and didn't actually know how to play it after all, because he seemed to be the sole slave to be exhibiting this kind of vacantness.
So yes, Evan was a somewhat amenable sex doll crafted by the twisted sovereign- not exactly broken, but not exactly in one perfect piece either.
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Charming and oozing appeal at the surface but hollow to the core, having his emotions slowly siphoned away to emptiness ages ago. Resigned to the same fate that many seemed to love, Evan had long lost the ability to feel anything but indifference and monotony. It was a fortunate thing to even be able to stir up his sex, because it was the one of the only reasons he hadn't been discarded yet.
At least, it was what Evan had assumed anyway, and he had assumed wrongly.
A beautiful black rose, its lush velvet petals glistening amongst the garden of ostentatiously gaudy flowers that withered in the morning. A polished diamond in a squalid clutter of grimy coals, Lord Mercier possessed a classic, timeless exquisiteness that set him apart from everyone else.
That much Evan could tell from a mere glance. Maybe he didn't believe in love at first sight, but lust at first sight was definitely understandable and all too true.
The night air cool with the oddly satisfying scent of crisp grass and the mellow flickering candle flames battling with the half-moon's sharp glow, it was another night of festive celebrations just for the sake of celebrating. Slaves were marched into the open lawn in orderly fashion, positioned next to the marble statues- nude cupids and figures- like the ornaments they were.
His steps rising in the certain height they were trained to do, Evan's gun-metal grey eyes made a lazy sweep over the posh furniture and even more posh nobles lounging around before coming to a halt on what- or who, to be specific- would soon pollute his thoughts for every day, minute and second to come.
With a glass of wine in his elegant fingers, the young male strode over the lawn, dainty bare feet stepping on the blanket of plush emerald grass. His other hand lifted the sizable chiffon ruffles of his skirt into a small bunch next to his hip as he made his way to a seat.
Evan could see his shoulder blades moving under his porcelain skin as he walked gracefully, his beautiful back bare to everyone save for a strip of black cloth on his lower torso that kept his top together.
