Thank you for your patience and continued readership! Chapter 4 is written and will be uploaded soon, so please stay tuned!
~ Soph
"Good girl," Edwin said, feeding Lucia a little tart. It was smaller than bite size, dainty and beautiful even between his fingers.
Lucia tried her best not to let her mouth touch his fingers, but the tart was so small that his pointer finger brushed against her top lip anyways. He didn't seem to mind, picking up another tart for himself.
Ever since she'd been brought back to Edwin's estate six days ago, they'd followed the same routine every day.
For the most part, she would either be in the same room as Edwin or lounge in his room. It was, on the whole, a relatively boring existence. But she reminded herself that it was better than being trapped in the cell, and so she made do with her new life, spending a lot of time in thought or watching Edwin work on things she grew curious about. There were times where he was called away for business, she presumed, during which she was locked in his room.
There were a few times that she looked out of the window curiously, imagining a world in which she was bold enough to tie together sheets and scale down the side of the building. But in reality, she was up two stories and alas, she was not that bold version of herself. She did spend time going through his clothes, the belongings he kept in his bedroom, which were not many and disappointingly, didn't reveal much about him. Other times, she would try on the dresses that he'd said were hers, running her hands over their stitching, their softness.
On the third day after her arrival, he had greeted some delivery-man who carried a small trunk. Edwin had brought it in and carried it up, setting it by Lucia for her to look at.
"Go on," he said to her.
Feeling as if it would be a trap, she looked up cautiously at him before opening the latch of the trunk and swinging the lid open with tentative hands. Inside were many beautiful dresses, made of fine fabrics she had never before owned. She picked one up and held it up to see that it was just her size.
"You won't always need to be clothed when you're home, but... for the days where we must conform to expectations."
"Thank you." She said softly, folding it up and placing it back in the trunk.
"Don't you want to try it on?" He asked. There was something in his eyes, something that was starting to become familiar to Lucia at this point. She couldn't quite articulate what it was, but it was that same something that made her so nervous when she interacted with him. It was like he was testing her, wanting a specific answer from her that she was never made aware of.
"A little bit." She admitted, looking down at the small trunk.
She'd learned quickly that Edwin didn't tolerate anything but the truth; remembering how on the second day he'd held her over his lap and spanked her bare bottom made her face feel hot. She wasn't sure how he was so good at telling whether she was lying or hiding something, but to a certain extent, she didn't mind that she was chained to the truth, so to speak. He never punished her for revealing something that embarrassed her, only if she were to try to hide it.
"Try this one, then," he'd said, rummaging through the trunk and pulling one of them out. It was a soft pink, a color that Lucia had never even owned nor dreamt of owning. He helped her step into it, buttoning it up in the back as she smoothed her hands down the sleeves and bodice with a little smile.
Despite everything else about Edwin, he was oddly insistent on caring for her. He felt otherwise stoic, so it always caught her off guard how he treated her gently. Not only had his touch been tender as he helped her get dressed, for lunch and supper every day, he would feed her as she was sat in his lap.
Her stomach twisted as they polished off the last of the tarts, knowing what was coming next.
She squealed as he picked her up in his arms, carrying her out of his study and to his bedroom. His gentleness had been replaced, in a moment, by something else. Something predatory, something hungry.
It seemed like in no time she was lying on her back, Edwin's body over hers as usual. She could never get used to it, his attentions. One would think that after enough times, the sensations would start to dull, that her body would grow used to the feelings, but it only seemed to be the opposite. It was as if the more times she was manhandled on Edwin's bed, the more her body anticipated his touch, wetness flooding between her legs even before he touched her.
There were times, too, when it wasn't anywhere near the time for their nightly game, but her body would grow aroused as she thought about what it felt like to be pinned underneath him, his finger squirming in her.
Whenever it happened, she would hide her face and try to think of anything else, but a couple times Edwin seemed to sense her embarrassment and give a little smirk, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking of.
"Oh!" She cried out as his mouth made its way down her stomach, just as it always did. The rasp of his stubble upon her skin was almost painful, but it added to the whirlwind of sensations that threatened to make her lose her mind as she clutched her fingers to her mouth, a useless attempt to stem the enthusiasm that wanted to burst out of her.
She had only allowed him to put his mouth down there once so far. On the second day he had made it all the way down before she stopped him, his mouth closing around her little nub there. She'd almost shrieked aloud from surprise, from the intensity of the sensation of his tongue flicking at its tip. With her panic almost driving her to tears she ended the game for the night.
Since then he started to go slower, letting her ease into the surmounting pleasure before starting to escalate his game. Shamefully, she would let it go for longer every day, but always cut it off before he could put his mouth there, terrified of experiencing those sensations again.
But today, Edwin noticed that her hips bucked a little harder than normal, her gasps a little louder than normal, and when he lay kisses down her front, she hardly protested, only giving a sigh. He could smell her arousal, and it was captivating. It was stronger than usual and her fragrance made his cock twitch in response. He wanted to bury himself in her heat.
"You're very receptive today, little one," he said, lifting his mouth from where it was. She looked at him, breathing hard with glassy eyes. "Isn't that right?"
She only stared at him with her unfocused gaze, and by way of punishment for her silence he sank his finger into her at once. She moaned in a mixture of pain and wretched pleasure. "Maybe," she said weakly.
