This is a non-consent story, although the non-consent isn't quite as strong as in previous chapters. If that's not your thing, please move on to the other great stories.
Ellinda is a member of the upper nobility, engaged to be married to a wealthy merchant in a month, when she learns that a heartstone has been made illegally and provided to an upscale pleasure house. Heartstones force the owner to obey, but attune gradually, with the first commands taking weeks to take effect. The more often it is used, the more rapidly the commands take effect.
Chapter 3 ended with her virginity having been auctioned off and the winner having offered to help her solve the heartstone question, in exchange for enjoying her privately.
Chapter 1 https://www.literotica.com/s/the-stolen-heartstone-ch-01
Comments & feedback very appreciated, and great for motivation to keep writing here.
******
One week and then two weeks passed. Ellinda had hidden the blank card with the transponder number under her mattress, careful to push it far enough back that it wouldn't fall out when the staff made the bed. Then she'd pulled it out at least twice a day to stare at it, as if staring would somehow make the number give her the answers she wanted.
It didn't.
Fortunately, or perhaps not, she couldn't quite decide, she stayed busy with last minute preparations for the wedding. She had never succeeded in meeting the tailor's apprentice, despite making far more excuses to pass by his shop than was necessary. Yes, they were using the buttons she had selected, and no they didn't need another fitting since the one yesterday. Once she had looked in the window to see a young man bent over a large swath of fabric. From the half-view of his face, she couldn't tell if she had met him before or not, though she was certain he had never sewn for her. Would a man she'd never met have reason to trap her like that? But then, perhaps he had seen pictures. Perhaps he had gleaned whatever it was he needed from the fitted pieces for her dress.
Tarin had, gratefully, respected her proclaimed superstition that the bride and groom couldn't see each other in the weeks before the wedding. How would she be able to face him when her wedding night came? Could she fake that she had never been with a man? Should she tell him the truth? Not the whole truth, not about the heartstone, but that a man had forced himself on her while she fought. Or if she didn't tell him, simply kept it a secret and pretended, would he be able to tell that he wasn't her first? Could a man feel the difference? Surely they must, or Delron's auction wouldn't have had any success.
And again, the only person she could think to ask was the man who had left the blank card she'd hidden under the bed, the man who'd paid to use her while she was in this position to begin with. Even if she was to call him, transponders couldn't be trusted. She'd have to meet with him, and being seen meeting with strangers ran the risk of passersby listening in.
It was the third time that day that she'd held the card, staring at the numbers she'd long-since memorized, when the sound of servants' voices rising in anger drifted to her from the staircase. At first she ignoreed them, but with nothing to distract her but the card, she finally stepped out to put an end to the squabble.
The voices stopped when her door clicked open, but she went anyway. It was her father's assistant and her brother's valet.
"What seems to be the problem?" she asked, wishing she didn't have to get involved.
The valet shook his head and spoke for both of them. "Nothing of consequence, Lady. We apologize for disrupting your afternoon."
The assistant nodded. It was like listening to children bickering on the playground. "There is nothing to apologize for. I was simply reviewing some details. But still, there shouldn't be strife in the house. Please tell me what you were discussing."
They exchanged awkward glances, and this time the assistant spoke. "Markus was going to the city, and I asked him to help me by doing another errand. Nothing more."
She looked to the valet. "It seems a reasonable request. Why did you not want to do it?"
"It would be a reasonable request on any other day, but his errand would take at least an hour. I have several deadlines to meet today, and don't want to be late with them."
"And what was the errand specifically?" Why were they avoiding it?
The two looked at each other again and it was the assistant who spoke, dropping his eyes as if it was a confession. "It was making final arrangements with the hotel for the wedding guests."
Well, that at least explained their reluctance to tell her. Their tact, at least, was commendable. "Ah, I see." She turned to the valet. "Well, I think my brother owes me a bit of his time for having helped him as I have been, wouldn't you agree?" The valet was the only other person alive who knew she was the one who'd been doing the bookkeeping for him. He would agree. She didn't need to wait for him to say it. "If he complains about your not completing your tasks for today, explain to him that I asked you to do this, and that I thought the extra time I'd saved would help him with the time."
The valet glowered, but loyalty to her brother held his tongue. It wasn't blackmail. Not really. But he wouldn't risk prolonging the discussion, either, and so instead he simply nodded. "As you wish. I trust you'll explain why I am gone longer than he planned should he ask after me?"
"Of course." Did he really think she wouldn't? Then the thought struck her. She wasn't deciding to meet with the foreigner. There was no commitment to do so. But this was a chance to make it possible. "Also," she said, working out the explanation in her head as she spoke, "I have a cousin who might be coming in this week. Would you see that there's at least one room available in case she does?"
"As you wish," he said, the tone still tight. It wasn't what he wished, but it was important, and the request truly wasn't unreasonable.
"Thank you." She gave him a smile, hoping that would smooth things over.
He gave a curt nod and turned to leave. Things hadn't been smoothed over.
#
Back in her room, she finally took out her transponder and typed the message she hadn't wanted to send. Sending a message didn't mean she'd have to with meet him, after all.
This is the
she paused. How could she identify herself? She tried typing again.
I am the noble lady you proposed the business arrangement to. I do not agree to the arrangement, but would be open to meeting to discuss it.
Ten breaths later, she pressed send, hoping that he would exercise discretion when he replied. Hoping he wouldn't reply. Hoping that he would.
The hands on the clock barely moved as she waited. Every time her transponder beeped, she jumped to check it. Once it was a message from the florist to say the flowers would be delivered on time, once from her brother asking about her notes, twice it was simply a notification. Then finally, when it beeped and she forced herself to reach for it slowly, a controlled gesture, she saw the message came from an unnamed number.
I am willing to meet if you agree to the price. I have some information I think you'd be interested in."
Her heart stopped. When she finally remembered to breath, she wasn't sure if it was because she wanted the information or because of the payment. Carefully she typed back,
Meet at The Bridges tomorrow.
It was the hotel she'd had the valet make extra bookings for. She hadn't agreed to the payment, but by suggesting the place, he'd likely come. Once there, she could try to persuade him to give her the information for some other price. It was a plan, at least, and a safe one. He didn't seem the kind to force her to do anything.
#
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed much too quickly, and she stayed busy enough with preparations not to have to think about the next day too much. At least the responsibility for researching heartstones was lifted, perhaps. She could also put off trying to determine who made it until she knew how it was made. It would be much easier to play the role of the detective when she knew what to look for. She sent a message to her cousin telling her the hotel was arranged and she'd be welcome any time she arrived. It would be good to talk. She almost wished she could explain the whole story, unload to someone, but she knew she couldn't.
The next day, she dressed in as many layers of clothing as she could without drawing attention, black slacks, a black turtleneck—tighter than she wished-and a red sweater over it. Nothing for him to misinterpret. The pilot dropped her off at the caterer's, which unfortunately wasn't anywhere near The Bridges, but she didn't want any suspicions.
She stopped at the desk, told them she was here to inspect the rooms for the wedding guests, was given the key, and went to the side stairs. They would have no reason to think anything was out of the ordinary.
The room was, unsurprisingly, made up immaculately. She checked the bathroom, and the closets, and sat on the sofa, adjusting the pillows behind her. She read as she waited for her transponder to beep, again holding her breath until it did. She'd read the paragraph for the third time when the beep came, reverberating louder than she expected. Surely louder than it normally did in the empty room.
I'm outside the entrance. Where are you?
Was she really going to tell him? It would be easy to walk away at this point, to disappear out a side door and never call him again. But if she did, would she be able to find the information herself? She didn't have those kinds of connections.
Room 341. The door is unlocked
she messaged back, her finger pausing only briefly before she clicked the send button, then unlocked the door to prevent anyone seeing her greet him at the door when he got there.
She picked up the book again, but couldn't read, crossing and uncrossing her legs and fidgeting with the pages. All too soon, the door clicked and she saw him. She could look at him more easily now than before when she'd been sitting naked in front of him, obligated to make him happy whatever was required. He still had the light complexion and sharp features of an easterner, still looked like he spent a good deal of time working out. He wore the tailored overcoat and low cut top hat that the merchants had come to wear nowadays. It was his most likely status.
He moved to sit on the armchair across from her before she had a chance to invite him to. He should have waited. It was proper when in the presence of someone of higher status. He surely knew that. He surely didn't care.
"Thank you for coming," she said, trying to take charge of the conversation and keep it a business meeting, regardless of the fact that it was a hotel room. "You said you had information?"
"I do, if you agree to the price." His accent caught her off guard, although she didn't know why. It wasn't as if she hadn't known he was a foreigner.
"What information?"
He leaned back comfortably, controlling the space around him. "It's enough that you'll want to hear it,"
"And the price? I can assist you in a number of ways here, including connections or handling business covertly if that's what you're looking for."
"You know what I'm looking for as payment."
