Woot! Finally done! For those on team Drell, he's officially back in the story. Sorry this took so fucking long. I also rewrote chapter one, so make sure and go read that again! It's essentially the same, but mistakes have been fixed, and I fleshed it out a little more.
I also wanted to say, thank you so much to everyone who comments. Any time I'm starting to doubt myself, to doubt whether or not I'm doing well, whether or not people enjoy this, I go and reread all of the comments. I love you guys.
Enjoy!
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The day after the sudden reappearance of Drell, I received some very exciting news.
"A dressmaker will be coming this afternoon to take your measurements," Anthony told me at breakfast. I perked up, all sleepy residue gone at once. "He will also be bringing some dresses I think should suit you better and fitting them to you, so you'll have some clothing more to your liking in the meantime."
I bounced in my seat, eyes wide with excitement. While I still wasn't a fan of dresses, anything would be better than these pastel, shapeless horrors. "Thank you so much!"
He chuckled, before giving me a stern look. "You will be good. No swearing, no glaring, and be nice. Promise me."
"Yes, yes, I'll be good," I responded, nodding absently, mind already stuck on this afternoon, impatient for it to come. One of his hands snagged my chin, tugging my face around so that my eyes met his.
"I'm serious Alanna. This is a highly respected dressmaker, the best I could find, just for you. You. Will. Be. Good." His fingers squeezed my chin for emphasis, eyes hard.
I nodded again, trembling slightly at the command in his voice. While it normally made my hackles rise, that bossiness made my body purr. "I promise," I told him solemnly. "I'll be good. And again, thank you." My face flushed, overwhelmed by this generous act.
His eyes searched my face for a moment as if to determine how serious I was being, before finally releasing me. "Good girl."
The compliment momentarily made me beam with pride, before the expression was replaced with a scowl. No. I wouldn't be proud of that. I'm not developing feelings. I'm not.
I was having a bit of trouble convincing myself.
--
The afternoon couldn't come soon enough for my liking. I spent the morning wandering aimlessly around the garden, basking in the warmth and sunlight. A small portion of time was spent sitting next to the fish pond, looking up at the statue of Knowledge and wondering what she was like. Anthony was busy during lunch, so I ate out there as well, convincing Kata to sit and talk with me a bit. I was starting to go a bit stir crazy in this house, and I think she saw that.
Finally, finally, the butler came to tell me that the dressmaker was waiting for me in the sitting room. When he turned to go back into the house, I caught Kata peering after him longingly, and I smothered a grin. Putting it from my mind for the moment, I followed him into the house, head already dancing with ideas of what the new clothing would look like.
The first thing I noticed when we entered the sitting room was that all of the furniture was pushed up against the walls. After that I noticed the dresses and fabric strewn across said furniture. Finally, my eyes were drawn to the famed dressmaker.
He wasn't what I expected him to be. I mean, I'm not entirely sure what I expected, but this wasn't it. He was fairly short for a guy, probably 5'5, give or take an inch. Though still half a foot taller than me, which was irksome, especially considering the disdainful look on his well tanned face. His features, underneath slicked back blonde hair, reminded me of a weasel.
He made my skin crawl, but I quickly remembered my promise to Anthony and pasted on a pleasant smile. Cold, brown eyes narrowed as they swept up and down my frame, before a scowl twisted his lips down, as if he'd seen something that disgusted him.
"Your owner hasn't taught you how to properly greet your betters?" He snapped, voice equally as unpleasant as his appearance. My smile became more forced.
"I apologize, I haven't been a slave very long," I responded, voice tight, trembling hands gripping my skirts hard.
He made a dismissive noise and gestured for me to stand in the center of the room, before commanding me to strip to my underclothes. My eyes widened as it occurred to me for the first time that I wore none. In fact, I hadn't worn underwear since the orc had cut my thong off. I didn't even have shoes.
The man must have seen the bright blush across my cheeks and guessed at the reason, for he laughed, the sound grating my nerves.
"Strip anyways. I assure you, you won't be the first woman I've seen in a state of undress."
With hands that trembled, my promise to Anthony clear in my head alongside my desperate desire for more flattering clothing, I slowly pulled the dress up and over my head. It was clutched to my chest, as if to protect myself from his gaze, but he quickly snatched it from my hands and tossed it aside.
He circled around me, eyes tracing the curves that had finally started to fill back in, the smallness of my waist in comparison, the delicate slope of my shoulders. I was reminded of how small, how delicate, how physically helpless I am compared to most people. It made me want to hunch over protectively, but I forced myself to stand straight, not wanting to show that his disdainful gaze was affecting me.
The moment finally ended and he turned away, allowing me to breath a sigh of relief. He returned with a cord, quickly taking measurements of my arms and legs, as well as my bust and waist and hips, making me blush. His touch was clinical, however unwelcome, and he attempted nothing untoward.
"Here, put this on," he tossed a dress at me without checking to see if I'd catch it, before turning to jot down notes in a small pad of paper. I scrambled to pull the dress on, happy to have some protection from his cold eyes.
The dress was magnificent, if a little large. It pooled slightly at my feet, too long for my short frame, and the sleeves nearly dragged across the floor. They were 'V' shaped, and I could tell the that the top of the split was meant to fall to my wrists, allowing my hands plenty of freedom of movement. It had a fitted bodice, and the skirt fell straight down from the hips, with just enough extra fabric that it swished when I turned and it wouldn't limit my walking. There was also a loose sash that was meant to tie low around your hips. It was altogether a beautiful creation, and the fabric felt sumptuous against my skin.
The best part of it was the color. An iridescent shade somewhere between copper and silver, a color I knew complimented my skin fantastically without even having to look. The man quickly set to work adjusting the dress and pinning it, carefully making sure it would fit to my frame. I was spun back and forth until I was almost dizzy, before he was finally satisfied and I was ordered to remove it, carefully.
Satisfied that despite his apparent disdain for me, he meant me no harm and would be professional, I was more comfortable with my nudity this time. Two more dresses followed the first one. One was a fairly simple, even practical if I could go that far, design, with a square neckline that revealed just the slightest hint of cleavage and cap sleeves that covered only my shoulders. It made up for the plain design with the deep purple color of it, a shade I knew would make my eyes pop.
The third dress nearly made me blush. It was an eye-catching scarlet, with full flowing sleeves and a heart shaped neckline that would, ahem, emphasize my breasts once it was fitted properly. The bodice was almost stiff, with lacing in the back, almost a corset but not quite, and the skirts were full and ruffled, resembling the victorian dresses from my world.
Finally he finished pinning and prodding and spinning me, and the final dress was removed, set carefully across the couch. With a relieved sigh, I moved to retrieve my dress, happy that my ordeal was finally over. As I bent to reach for it, a body pressed up against me from behind, an arm wrapping around my waist. I straightened quickly, eyes wide with shock.
"What the fuck are yo-" A hand slapped over my mouth, turning my indignation into muffled curses.
"Shut up," he snapped in that same disinterested tone, even as his free hand started to roam my body. I twisted, nearly escaping his grip before I was slammed into the wall, dazing me momentarily. While I caught my breath, my body was bent over the front of the couch on my knees, face shoved into a pillow, muffling my protests again. His knees pinned my legs down, hand roaming my body now that I couldn't do much more than squirm beneath him. A sweaty palm closed around my breast, fingers pinching my nipple cruelly and making me groan in pain. That hand gave the same treatment to the other nipple before trailing down between my legs.
"You're pretty for a human, but that's not my favorite part about you creatures." The man, if I could even call him that, spoke with as much interest as if he were talking about the weather. "I like that initial fight, the indignity of being accosted by a stranger while in the service of another." He worked two fingers inside of my dry pussy, making my eyes water with the pain. "And then the crushing realization that no one cares about a slave. Let alone a human." The word was spit out as if it was dirty.
I whimpered. Anthony cared about me, I knew he did. He'd never willingly let something like this happen to me.
Would he?
I put the thought from my head. There was no way he'd let this scumbag assault me, no matter what he said. I may only be a slave here, but I was Anthony's slave, and he'd promised to protect me, no matter what.
The man behind me swore as he struggled to thrust his fingers in and out, the lack of any lubrication making it difficult.
"You'd better hope you get wet," I was informed, "Or I'm going to shove myself into you dry. I've done it before." My eyes widened at the thought and I struggled harder beneath him. One of my legs finally wiggled free and I swung my foot haphazardly up between his legs. I must have hit my target because he fell backwards, releasing my head. A scream was torn from my throat the moment my face left the pillow, rolling to my feet.
I glared down with satisfaction at the man clutching at his crotch, listening to the sound of boots echoing down the hall. Anthony burst through the door, worried eyes taking in the room, the man hunched over in pain and me in a state of undress.
