Josephine wanted to be a good girl, she really did. She spent her whole day, every day trying to follow all of Master's rules; she never wore clothes, not even when Master had guests and every eye was on her voluptuous tits and her curvy, swaying ass. She always made herself available to anyone who wanted to grope her soft pink breasts or lick her wet pussy or fuck her pillowy lips, and she never said no to any instruction she was given. She masturbated on command, filling her cunt and her asshole with the biggest toys she could stretch herself to fit and thanking her betters for her degradation; she used her tongue on everyone who demanded it, wherever she was told. She was a good fucktoy and she never, ever disobeyed... except now. Except in this one thing.
It frightened her, the intensity of this secret impulse to defy Master's will. Josephine could feel it wriggling and thrashing in the back of her brain, an itch that she'd never been able to scratch in all the months she'd been in service to him. A terrible guilt rose up inside her every time she thought about it; here she was, given the run of a genuine castle owned by a genuine British baron, allowed to masturbate whenever she wasn't servicing him and his friends and to cum as much as her body could take, and what did she want to do? Only to disobey his first and most important rule, that's what! She couldn't even imagine how angry he'd be if he found out. She'd never been punished before--she'd never needed to, she was always such a good slut for Master--but she knew that this would merit the strongest discipline he could mete out.
And yet. And yet here she was, down in the deepest basement of Staffordshire Keep, at the far end of the long hallway that led past the wine cellars, standing in the shadows that the bare yellow bulb didn't so much dispel as emphasize, the key that she normally wore around her neck now gripped so tightly in her hand that the knuckles went white. In front of her was a featureless metal door painted a bright vermilion red, the color of arterial blood. Josephine imagined the color coming away on her fingers the second she touched it, staining her hands with the evidence of her sin. She shouldn't open it. She shouldn't even be down here. And yet. And yet.
It was the one room in the castle she hadn't been inside. Josephine had slept in every bedroom, collapsing onto the pillows in exhaustion after long nights of being blindfolded and flogged and fucked in every hole until her legs couldn't hold her up anymore. She'd worked in the kitchens, so subservient that even the chef thought nothing of pushing her down to her knees and plowing her mouth with his cock. She'd served drinks along with her body in the great hall, crouched on the carpet of the reading room so that Master could put his slippered feet up on her bare back, even fetched wine from the freezing wine cellar in the middle of a bleak English winter. But she'd never been into the room behind the crimson door before now. Her curiosity was killing her.
It wasn't like anyone would know. Master was in Brussels for an economic summit, one of those boring weekend affairs only livened up by the presence of submissive sluts like Josephine, and he'd given the household staff three days of leave in his absence. Only Josephine remained, patiently keeping her cunt slick and ready for his return. She had nowhere to go. She was Master's property; she didn't earn a salary for her service and never had any desire to be anywhere but in his control. She had no desires of her own at all anymore, except for her hunger to learn the secrets behind that metal door.
She knew her key would fit. Even though Josephine had never, ever dared try it in the lock, she felt a deep and abiding certainty that it would smoothly and easily turn the tumblers with well-oiled precision. If she wanted to, if she fought Master's control in the only way it was still meaningfully possible for her to do so and reached out her slender fingers to push the key into the lock, she could open the door and see what lay beyond. It would happen. If she only chose, it would happen. She couldn't imagine making that choice, though. She couldn't imagine defying her Master's will that way. She couldn't imagine disobeying.
The key slid into the lock. Josephine watched it happen, her wide blue eyes staring in dismay as her hand moved up seemingly of its own volition to turn the tumblers and unlock the vermilion door. She was stunned by her own disobedience, her breath escaping in a startled squeak at the shocking sight of a deliberate, conscious refusal to follow Master's rules. She felt certain that at any second, Master's voice would ring out behind her and demand to know exactly what she was doing, and Josephine knew she would have no answer beyond her own burning curiosity. She was doing it because she had to know. That was all there was to it.
Josephine's hand moved down to the latch, squeezed it until the rasp of metal told her that nothing held the door shut anymore save for inertia. All she needed to do was push, and all her curiosity would be satisfied at last. She'd finally sate that maddening itch inside her head, learn the one truth that Master was keeping from her behind his rules and strictures. It was an unthinkable betrayal, a devastating act of disobedience to a man who'd shown her nothing but the most beautiful and sensual kindnesses, but she couldn't stop herself. She had to know. She had to find out what was behind the door.
When she pushed it open, light spilled out of the crack between door and jamb. It was a beautiful, glorious brilliance, creating a pearly iridescence on every surface it touched, and Josephine immediately hungered for more the instant she saw it. She leaned against the cool metal, flinging the portal wide and opening herself completely to the radiance inside. "Oh," she whispered, her awed voice filling the hush of the corridor even as the splendor of the illumination filled her mind. "Ohhhh....:
She'd seen this before, Josephine realized. She'd seen this before, and every time she saw it, she forgot that she saw it because her mind was too small and weak to contain such powerful knowledge. It burned away her willpower, emptied out her thoughts, seared her with the sacred devotion of obedience until all she wanted to do was fall to her knees and worship it. She was nothing compared to the radiance behind the red door. She was nothing at all. How could she have ever thought she was anything more than a helpless, simpering slave in the face of power like this? How could she dare defiance in a world where such a thing existed?
She couldn't. It was too much for her. With a whimper, Josephine abased herself, dropping to the grimy flagstones of the ancient corridor and groveling in the dust before the radiance she beheld. "I'm nothing," she whimpered, staring helplessly into the blinding purity of the light that pounded into her mind and feeling the last tiny vestiges of her willpower crumble. "I, I'm nothing, I'm nothing, I'm nothing, I'm nothing...." She lost track of how long she chanted the new truth that held the core of her very self firmly in its grip. Her throat went dry, her voice hoarse. Her hands slid down between her legs, furiously masturbating in gratitude to the holy brilliance that crushed her strength to powder. Orgasm followed orgasm. She stopped even noticing them after a while.
Eventually, Josephine passed out. It was inevitable; hunger, thirst, exhaustion and the sheer overwhelming pleasure that wracked her body and mind in spasms of ecstasy combined to numb her brain until it simply shut down under the onslaught of the radiance behind the door. She slumped on the floor, her pale skin rubbing against the dirt and grime, her limbs twitching occasionally as a random nerve misfired. She didn't notice the portal slowly swinging shut. She didn't hear the click of the lock as it reset. She only lay there, drooling onto the cold stone floor, pushed beyond endurance.
When she woke, Josephine looked at the door. She looked at her key, wondering if she should risk Master's wrath by attempting to discover what lay behind it... but something told her now was not the time. Not when she didn't know how long she'd waited down here before her indecision caught up with her. Not when she needed to wash the dirt off her body, eat a badly-needed meal, and prepare her cunt for Master's return. Someday, she knew, she'd get her chance. She'd find out what lay behind the crimson door and satisfy her aching curiosity at last. But not today.
Three months ago:
Josephine's hand brushed absently at her collar, clearing away a few strands of blonde hair from where they'd slipped carelessly inside her peignoir. She still wasn't used to having longer hair, nor to wearing a peignoir for that matter, but Henry--Master--said that they looked beautiful on her. And as much as she tried to pretend otherwise, the approval of the Baron Staffordshire had taken on a new and powerful importance to her over the last few months. Almost too powerful, at times. And Josephine was determined to discover the reason why.
Not that she didn't enjoy this new side of herself. Even now, Josephine's pulse quickened just thinking about how it felt to sink to her knees, her eyes heavy-lidded with arousal and submission as her Master tangled his fingers into her long hair and pulled her mouth forward onto his cock. There was something so pure and delicious about the pleasure she received from surrendering herself to him, a slick warmth that flowed into her brain like syrup and trickled down to leak out of her soaking cunt. Her fingers twitched, eager to help her lose herself in masturbatory bliss again daydreaming about the firm, commanding voice that captured her and smoothed her will away.
But Josephine wasn't the kind of woman who knelt, not even for a Baron. As lovely as it was to give her mind and body over to him, she recognized that her normally firm personal boundaries were crumbling at a disconcerting pace. She hadn't even left the castle since that first weekend, spending her days exploring the manor's many rooms and indulging in her near-constant arousal, and her nights as Henry's concubine... Henry's, she thought with a furious blush, and lately his closest friends. That was when she knew something was really wrong, when he lent her out like a library book and all it made her was wet. The old Josephine, the woman who first came here, wouldn't even have accepted that, let alone enjoyed it. And something had to be responsible.
