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Rosalie swallowed a gasp, knees trembling as she crouched low in the shadows of the main hall. Her entire body ached, but the adrenaline had pushed the worst of it from her mind. Instead, all she could feel was thrill, sparking up the length of her spine like a live wire.
“I know you’re close,” Cassandra singsonged. “I can smell you.”
The brunette stalked her way up the main stairs, steps prowling like a hunting cat. Human footsteps, her swarm banished for the purposes of their little game, to add fairness, if such a thing was possible.
Gnawing at her lip, Rosalie fisted her hands in the hem of her thin white dress as she tracked the footsteps across the landing. She shifted on the balls of her feet, squeezing her eyes closed as the shifting inside of her sent white-hot pleasure through her gut. She was hyper aware of her racing heart, her ragged breaths, the way that slick traveled down her thigh.
The footsteps grew fainter, as the middle Dimitrescu meandered deeper into the floor above. Her steps were slow, casual, they both knew that the true hunt had barely started. She did not care to catch her prey too soon. Cassandra enjoyed the chase, the menacing, and would wait until Rosalie was thoroughly wrecked before she truly tried to capture her.
Swallowing another cry, she got up on wobbly legs, scurrying deeper into the ground floor.
The hunt had been set into motion as it often did, wine-drunk and hedonistic after dinner, Cassandra’s hand finding her thigh under the table and squeezing possessively as Bela discussed the latest harvest. A smear of wine was at the corner of Cassandra’s lips, and Rosalie had leaned over to lick it from her mouth.
They had descended into giggling, tannin-dry kisses, then getting progressively sloppier as Cassandra whispered filthy things into her ear. Heedless, both of them, to the company of the rest of the family.
Lady Dimitrescu had enough of their display, rising from her seat with an aggrieved expression. “I will instruct the maids to prepare for a hunt, then.”
“Yes, Mother,” Cassandra purred, licking spit from her lips and smiling like the cat that got the cream. “I think the little rabbit could use some excitement.”
The Lady sighed, pressing a kiss to Rosalie’s cheek. “Be safe, little one. Give my daughter a good chase.”
Rosalie had smiled back, utterly shameless. “I will, My Lady.”
“And you,” the Lady pressed a kiss then to Cassandra’s forehead. “Treat your wife well.”
The middle child had raked her nails along Rosalie’s thigh, eyes glowing at her shiver. “I intend to.”
The preparations for the hunt were extensive—it could not be made too easy, after all.
The maids would go through the house, locking doors at random, allowing them entry to some room and barring others. They would take worn clothes from Rosalie’s laundry, scattering them through the castle to mask the scent. Then, once windows were closed and hearths stoked, they would seal themselves into the servant’s quarters and await the call for clean up.
Their own preparations for the hunt were a markedly more tantalizing affair.
As naked as the day they were born, Cassandra pressed Rosalie down over the edge of their shared bed, pinning her on her stomach like a prey animal. Then, she would begin to prepare her—hands stroking, nails scratching, hair pulled and clit toyed with, all in the name of working her up so that her scent would waft like a bitch in heat.
Cassandra ground onto the meat of Rosalie’s thigh, her clit dragging along her smooth skin in search of selfish pleasure. Her wetness painting slick up and down the skin, embedding her scent like a claim. “I cannot wait to have you,” Cassandra purred, leaning forward to press pliant palms to the bed, pinning her there as she panted. “To make you beg to take me. To make tears spill down those pretty little cheeks of yours.”
Rosalie gasped, forced to take it as Cassandra used her thigh, her wife moaning and leaning forward to drag her teeth between her shoulder blades.
“I’ll fuck you so hard, the whole castle will hear you,” Cassandra continued, panting and groaning as she rutted. Her words making Rosalie whine. “I’ll make you my own personal toy, bury my cock deep in your pussy and use you until you’re screaming. Until you can barely move these nice fucking legs of yours—ah, shit, oh!”
The climax came hard and fast, but would not be the only one. Cassandra took pleasure in power, marking one leg with her cum and then shifting to rut at the other one, smearing her slick all over her. “I want you to smell like me always,” she moaned. “If I had my way, I’d never let you out of this room—leash and collar you, keep your legs spread open for me so I could fuck you whenever I want.”
She took it all, pressed beneath her wife’s body and helpless to do anything but allow the feral marking.
By the time the second orgasm rushed through Cassandra, Rosalie’s eyes were squeezed harshly shut, teeth caught in her lips and her cunt burning for attention. She was moaning, wanton and desperate.
Cassandra came down from her high, laughing, nothing nice to it. “Poor little toy,” she cackled, leaning back to smack her ass hard, giggling at the glob of slick that oozed from her cunt. “So desperate for me to fill you already?”
Face down in the bed, Rosalie moaned. “Please!”
“Patience,” Cassandra purred, smacking her ass once more and laughing as she jolted. “Stay.”
The brunette left her, rifling through her bedside drawer for all of their playtime toys. She hummed to herself, the sound menacing in the quiet of the room, as she plucked a few of her favorite items and deposited them on the bed.
Satisfied, Cassandra seized her by the thighs, rolling her onto her back, then shoving her further up the bed so she could crawl beneath her open thighs. “Look,” she said, dipping her hand down to run through wet folds, laughing when her hand came back soaked. “You’re so eager, aren’t you, slut?”
“Yes,” Rosalie moaned, increasing in tone when Cassandra ran those slippery fingers over her stiff clit. “Oh, fuck!”
“Such a dirty mouth you have,” Cassandra purred. “Do you kiss your wife with it?”
The response was a wordless, shuddering whine, turning into a low cry when Cassandra’s hands moved down to fuck her open with her fingers. The first one sunk in easily, joined by a second, pumping slick out of her—then, when there was no protests, a third finger joined them, hammering into her.
“Don’t even need to work you up,” Cassandra taunted. “Always so ready for me, aren’t you?”
She moaned in the affirmative. “Ah, Cassandra—”
The fingers honed in immediately, hooking and curling until they dragged across spongey flesh inside of her, then punishing that spot with hard thrusts as she used her with all the fervor of a woman possessed. Her mouth dipped down, pressing a kiss to her clit, then licking at it with feather-light touches.
Rosalie’s eyes rolled in her heat, white-hot pleasure running through her. So, so close.
But as she jogged her hips back in search of more, Cassandra’s fingers began to drift away, giving her less and less. She cried out in frustration, so close to her orgasm, only to be edged.
Cassandra only laughed at her pain, then did it again. And again. And again.
Until she was blubbering, over-sensitive and yet still craving the touch, to topple over the edge. “Please, touch me,” she moaned. “Fuck, please Cassandra, please! I’ll be so good! I’ll do whatever you want!”
The answer was firm, resounding. “No.”
She tried to buck her wife off, arms yearning to reach down and finish the job herself, but her hands were batted away and her hips pinned to the mattress.
“So desperate,” Cassandra mocked, again, reaching to the side. “It’s okay, I’ll fill you up, pretty thing.”
Then, she felt something dragging over her clit, and she gasped, eyes flying wide.
It was Cassandra’s favorite dildo, and Rosalie’s eternal nemesis: it was long and thick both, heavy and firm, but with just a little give to drag against the deepest places inside of her. It was one she took great joy in burying inside of Rosalie, fucking her through the mattress with it—more than once, it had fucked the very legs out of her, forcing her wife to carry her like a doll for the day.
“Shit, no, that’s too much. The smaller one—”
Whatever token protests she was going to make, they died with an animal cry as Cassandra began to push it inside of her. It didn’t hurt, but it was uncomfortably tight in her slickness, easing deeper and deeper inside until she felt like it couldn’t possibly go further, then settling another torturous, earth-shaking inch.
She sobbed, high and throaty.
“It looks so good in you,” Cassandra moaned back, eyes blown as she gave it a small jostle, fucking it in and out of her just to see the way her wetness gathered on the length of it. “You’ll look after it for me, won’t you?”
“What, Cassandra—no, not for this!”
“You don’t make the rules,” Cassandra reminded her, pulling it from her with a filthy squelch as she slipped it through a leather harness. Then, sliding it back in harshly, deep. She stared for a moment, waiting for a safe word or a sign for her to stop—then, when she received nothing but a gasp and a whimper, she buckled the straps around Rosalie’s legs, keeping it there. “I want you to take this and think of me. Remember what I promised you, little rabbit, hm? I want you to feel every inch of me as you run.”
Rosalie moaned, head leaning back. “I-I will.”
“Good,” Cassandra leaned in, licking into her mouth with a possessive, hungry kiss. Then, leaning back to smile down at her, she reached out for more torture implements. “I cannot wait to catch you.”
Despite looking fuck drunk and flushed, Rosalie grinned salaciously back. “If you can.”
The clocks in the castle sang into the witching hour, and the hunt began in full force.
She was creeping down the hallway closest to the entrance hall when Cassandra eased out of the shadows, teeth flashing in soft candle light. “Hello, little rabbit.”
Rosalie froze like the namesake, an animal caught in a snare. Her nerves lit up, sparking to life inside of her, as she clenched harshly around the cock still buried inside of her.
A step advanced on her, gait slow, steady.
Teeth snapped, a nose scented the air; toying, playful.
“You smell like prey,” Cassandra purred. “Will you run for me, sweetheart?”
She didn’t need any more encouragement than that, jolting backwards. The dildo inside of her shifted, dragging painfully and pleasurably both. But she had no choice. Run or succumb, those were her only options—and with a heart beating like a war drum, she chose the former.
The cackling followed her as she ran, bare feet loud on creaking floorboards, the thud of boots not far behind.
Panic, fear, pleasure—it coiled in her like a heady mix as Rosalie ran through the castle.
In the hour since she had been set free, she had time to test some of the doors, had found some open and many more locked. She hoped that Cassandra hadn’t had the time to do the same, caught between the smell of her all over the castle. Prayed the maids had done their job well.
Darting through the main hall and up the stairs, she ducked briefly into the wine room, rounding a table as Cassandra burst through the door after her. It was a protective measure, the bottle of Sanguis Virginis on the table a deterrent from keeping her wife from vaulting the table—the last time, Cassandra had been dragged by her hair down to the cellar by Alcina, and come back red-faced and bruised.
“Little rabbit,” Cassandra snarled, primal, feral. She reached out, grasping for Rosalie’s hair as she circled the table. “You’re making it too easy for me.”
She ducked the outstretching hand by a hairsbreadth, limbs clattering awkwardly as she dropped under the table, hands and knees. Then, scrambling back out the other side, she burst back onto the landing and left a furious Cassandra behind.
She reached the edge of the balcony, it bit into her palms as Cassandra slammed through the door after her.
A bad idea struck her, horrible, awful—
She vaulted, swallowing a pained wheeze as she landed on the sofa below—far from comfortable, her knees collapsed as she landed feet-first on it, roughly tumbling off the edge and onto the area rug. She had little time to process the pain in her knees, scrambling back to her feet, pushing her way back towards the depths of the castle.
Cassandra howled like a beast, hands wrapped like claws around the banister as she glowered down at her.
“Run while you can,” she ground out. “I’ll ruin you when I catch you.”
Rosalie grinned like a possessed creature up at her, shouldering through a doorway as she called back. “If you can catch me!”
She lasted maybe a half-hour on the run, gaining more bruises and scratches for her efforts—each one increasing Cassandra’s fervor, until the woman was dogging each of her steps like a beast, running her absolutely ragged. Her lungs ached as she ran, desperate to draw in more breath. Her insides were like jelly, pain and pleasure as one, slick running down her thighs regardless of the thick silicone inside of her.
Rosalie ran down a familiar set of hallways, limping a little from a twisted ankle.
“Little rabbit,” Cassandra growled behind her, closing in as she ran, looking like a beast unleashed for the sole purpose of hunting her down. “I cannot wait to sink my teeth into you.”
“Shit,” she cursed.
A door at the end of the hall was her only hope—she forced her aching muscles into high gear once more, dodging slashing fingers, as she made for the entrance to the library.
It offered temporary reprieve at best, a lighthouse calling her into a safe harbor. But she knew the waters there hid darker depths, and knew that taking things down that path would make the hunt much worse.
Despite her screaming instincts, self-preservation won out. She skidded through the heavy doors, working to push them shut behind her, fear sparking low in her gut as Cassandra roared against the door. “You think she will keep you safe?”
A hand helped her push it shut with supernatural strength, key sliding into the lock with loud finality, tumblers snapping like a gun shot.
A pair of arms wrapping around her afterwards, familiar. “Hello, sister-in-law. You’ve come to visit me?”
She relaxed into the hold, then gasped when the arms around her traveled higher, cupping her chest through the nightdress. Cassandra had allowed her no underwear, nor a bra, in favor of the implements of much worse torture. And Daniela’s fingers grasped at her nipple clamps through the fabric, tugging lightly.
A moan slipped from her, despite herself, and Cassandra’s answering pound on the other side of the door was apoplectic. A frenzied sound that promised she would be punished, that she would regret allowing outside help. “Daniela! Don’t you fucking dare!”
Rosalie gasped, batting at the hands. “Daniela! Stop it!”
The youngest Dimitrescu giggled, but did as she was asked. Her arms instead looped back around her stomach, dragging her further back into her hold, into the curve of her hips. She nuzzled into the crook of Rosalie’s shoulder, tongue lapping out to taste the light sweat there with an indecent groan.
Daniela raised her voice, deliberately loud as she called out. “Rose tastes so good sister, like fear and sex. May I keep her?”
Cassandra was barred beyond the door, caught by her own rules—no swarming, no ability to slip beneath the door like she often did.
“She is mine!”
“But she came to play with me,” Daniela whined, grinning against the skin. She nipped, fang barely nicking at pale skin, just enough to draw a few droplets of blood—the feeling of which made Rosalie cry out, loud in the silence. “You see? She wants to play with me!”
“Rosalie!” Cassandra bellowed, the door rattling from the force of a boot. “Get out here. NOW!”
“Oh, she’s mad,” Daniela giggled, licking up the slight trails of blood. Then she leaned in, rubbing her cheek up and down Rosalie’s own, then again into her neck, dragging her wrist up to rub against it—scenting her like a cat. “You’re going to be in so much trouble. I can’t wait to hear your pretty little crying.”
The hair on the back of her neck rose, but Rosalie’s smile was sharp. “Only if she catches me.”
“She’s so lucky she got you first,” Daniela mourned, good-humored but a longing look in her eyes as she released her. Ignoring the increasingly heavy pounding, the creaking hinges, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind Rosalie’s ear, turning her around to press a kiss to her forehead. “Pull the second book on the third shelf—Kafka. The tunnel will take you down to the kitchen.”
Rosalie smiled, leaning up to press an affectionate kiss to Daniela’s cheek. “Thank you, Dani.”
“You won’t be thanking me later,” Daniela grinned, manic and electric. “Go, little rabbit. I’ll buy you some time.”
The sound of a fight, door smashing and steel on steel, was muffled behind her as she limped down the servant’s tunnel.
It was dusty and disused, the floor grimy against her bare feet. She made a mental note to ask Alcina to send the staff down to clean it up—the Lady did so love scaring them into obedience, being able to yell at them for their failure to clean it would be a nice present for her, for arranging the hunt for them.
She entered into the kitchen, casting her eyes about—it was clean, empty of staff, the wood burner still lit and casting the room in a fire glow.
Rosalie paused briefly at the sink, wetting a cloth. She dabbed at her neck, her armpits, then tried to clean the inside and outside of her thighs. It wouldn’t get rid of her scent, thick with Cassandra and Dani and her own slick, but it would dull it somewhat.
She held the cloth in her hand, eyes glancing around for the perfect place. Then, decision made, she tossed the soiled cloth towards the pantry storage and then slowly made her way to test the doors.
The courtyard was sealed, the Lady’s request no doubt; unlike Daniela, the last thing the Lady wanted was to hear her daughter’s…activities.
The exit to the kitchen was locked, but the bolt was on the inside. She unlatched the door, pushing her way through, making her way in a roundabout loop through familiar hallways.
If she was lucky, Daniela could hold Cassandra off long enough for her to find a place to hide. She passed a clock in the hallway, noting it ticking closer and closer to 1AM. If she made it fifteen more minutes, she would win. She had never won before, and the thought set a thrill in her blood despite the ache in her body.
Swallowing a giggle, she eased her way towards the Hall of Four.
She scrambled through the halls, panting like a dog, eyes wide with excitement.
Footsteps hammered in the distance, so close yet so far.
She could do it.
She could win.
“Oh, little rabbit.”
A menacing voice rang through the halls, loud and commanding; raspy, like the beast had finally broken containment.
“I am going to wreck you!”
The clocks ticked as she ran.
She caught her shoulder on a doorway.
A door knob rattled in the distance.
She sped by Bela in the hall.
The blonde stepped back with a crazed grin, eyes bright.
“Run, little one! You’re almost there!”
Cackling in the distance, dark and promising.
A vase shattered to the floor.
A roar like a beast, a portrait fell from the door with a slammed door.
Her hair whipped as she dived over a couch, scrambled up and away.
Run, run, run.
She burst through the doors of the opera hall, feet slipping on polished wood.
The clocks ticked ominously onwards, seconds left.
She could do it, she could win—victory and pleasure and fear and anticipation rocked through her like a physical thing, palpable in the shifting of her thighs and slick pouring out of her. She ached furiously, in all the best and worst ways. But her soul was alight, the grin on her face unhinged. The hunt only as good as the chase.
Rosalie knew she would be in trouble for it with Alcina later, but she shoved a column over to bar the door, giggling.
And then a hand seized her by the back of the neck.
She cried out as her knees were swept, until she was kneeling. A boot nudged at her inner thighs from behind, coaxing them wider, until she was forced to spread them open like a whore.
A giggle.
The hand at the back of her neck slipped forward, grasping around her throat in a lovers caress, feeling the terrified throb of the artery behind a thumb. Then, it jerked her chin sharply up.
A clock chimed in the distance. It was over.
“Hello, little rabbit.”
Defeat crashed down on her hard, a gasp startling out of her throat, a little cry of protest. Rosalie moaned, eyes squeezing shut. “Cassandra—”
“No,” the smirking woman corrected, dried blood on her cheek. “I won our little game. You know the price, baby.”
Her eyes flew open, a dark and desperate thrill that built in her belly, burning up and down the length of her. Leaving her shuddering in the hold, a wanton moan dripping from her. “I was so close,” she whined.
“You almost got me,” Cassandra agreed, mocking; nails bit into the soft skin around Rosalie’s throat, pleasure sparking through her eyes. “So, so close to winning. It was a good try.”
Rosalie gasped again as the brunette released her neck. Instead, a heeled boot came to press between her shoulder blades. Then, with the point of the heel, shoving her sharply down. “But now, Daddy has to teach you a lesson.”
Forehead scraping the floorboards, ass high in the air, Rosalie moaned.
She was sore and bruised all over, disappointed in yet another hunt brought to a close, but her body burned with excitement.
“Did you enjoy playing with my sister?” Cassandra asked, leaning down to fold herself over Rosalie’s back. She pressed a palm hard into the base of the dildo secured within her wife, ignoring the guttural moan. She was practically snarling, her lip curled. “You reek of Daniela. Am I not enough for you? Is Daddy’s cock not enough to fill you? Do you want to crawl into Dani’s lap too?”
She gave a low moan. “No, I only want you!”
“Oh?” A mocking laugh. “You only want who?”
Rosalie groaned, part humiliation and part violent arousal—the nickname did unfair things to her, as did Cassandra when she used it. It started as a joke. It wasn’t one anymore, when Cassandra took her by the hair and demanded she call her by it.
Flushed, she whined. “You, Daddy.”
Cassandra dragged her teeth across her back, harsh, just to feel her jump. “You only want Daddy’s cock inside you?”
“Yes,” Rosalie shuddered, eking into a higher cry when Cassandra tugged at the leather straps on her thighs, shifting the toy inside her. Her voice came out ragged. “Only you!”
“Then prove it to me,” Cassandra demanded, fingertips drifting to push harder into the base of the dildo. “Beg Daddy to take you.”
“Please,” she gasped. “Please, fuck me!”
“You can do better than that,” Cassandra mocked, landing a harsh slap against her ass. “Tell me how you want it! Beg me like a whore!”
“Please, Daddy, I want you to use me,” Rosalie whimpered, white sparking behind her eyes. “I want to be your toy!”
Cassandra made a feral, hungry noise against her neck, rubbing her face into the space there, claiming over Daniela’s scent with her own. “Do you, baby?” She asked, purring. “Do you want to be Daddy’s cocksleeve? Want me to fill you up so good? Force you to cum on my cock, over and over again until you cry?”
A needy sob slipped from Rosalie’s lips. “Yes, please!”
Teeth bit hard into her shoulder, a small spark of crimson followed by a languid tongue. “I am going to stand you up,” Cassandra purred, menace in every carefully enunciated syllable, “I am going to drag you back to our room, tie you to our bed, and ruin your pussy for anyone but me. I am going to make it hurt. Do you understand?”
“Yes!”
“Good,” a hand curled in her wheat-colored hair, dragging her to her feet. “Come along.”
Cassandra dragged her back to her room by her hair, ignoring the crying and the pleading, forcing her to walk along with unsteady steps—never too fast and never pulling too hard, but hard enough to make her stumble and cry out more than once.
Bela tutted from the landing as she was paraded through the main hall like a sacrificial maiden. She leaned against the balustrade on one elbow, chin planted on an upturned palm. “Such a shame, I had so hoped she would outrun you for once.”
“I always catch my prey,” Cassandra purred, yanking her debauched wife behind her. “Do let me know if she becomes too loud, sister.”
Bela hummed. “Would you stop?”
“No,” the answer was unrepentant, heedless of Rosalie’s whining. “But I could punish her, if you like.”
Daniela materialized next to Bela with a buzz, her clothes were ripped and her face was bloody. Her nose was crooked, like it had been broken. But she grinned all the same, watching Rosalie’s funeral march with a positively giddy expression. “Make her cry for me,” Daniela winked, licking blood from her busted lip.
Cassandra scoffed. “The little slut will cry for me, sister. Not you.”
“I can’t wait to see her all wobbly like a baby deer tomorrow,” Daniela let out a high pitched, crazy cackle. “Be good, little rabbit! Or don’t, I do love listening to your screams.”
She was pressed to her knees on the floor once again.
This time, she was naked, white dress ripped bodily from her and discarded like trash on the floor. Her knees ached on the herringbone floorboards, but she spread her legs obediently wider under her wife’s heated gaze. Her hands rested on bruised thighs, the straps removed and the dildo pulled free, leaving her wetness to puddle filthily beneath her.
She sat panting like a dog in heat, shivering as collar was snapped around her neck. A leash swiftly joined it, snapping into the D-Ring, then tugging it harshly as a test.
“Please,” she whined, almost mindless in her pursuit of pleasure.
“Hold this for me,” Cassandra chuckled darkly, shoving the leather between her teeth. Then, reaching for her wrists to buckle the cuffs around one, then the other, dropping open mouthed kisses on them. “Have some patience, baby. All in good time.”
With a firm hand, she tugged her arms back, twisting and hooking them together, until the wrists were secured at her lower back. It forced her to sit taller, pushing her chest out, revealing the angry red of her nipples, the clamps still attached. With a self-satisfied smirk, she reached out to tug on one, then the other.
The leash fell from a slackening mouth.
“Fuck!”
The feeling was indescribable, biting and pulling into the pinched skin. A spark like a wildfire building in each nipple, painful, but yet somehow throbbing in time to her heartbeat, her clit pulsing in time.
“So sensitive,” Cassandra laughed, tugging one more time just to hear her scream. “You’re making such a mess for me.”
Rosalie clenched down on nothing, painfully aware of the flush burning down her chest. She swallowed at the sensation of more of her own slick running down her inner thighs, droplets landing with a soft splatter on the floor beneath her. The maids would have fun cleaning that up later, alongside the mess they had made of the castle.
Cassandra eyed the dripping with a wicked grin, a spark of a bad idea forming in her eyes. She stepped behind her, then manhandled her into an awkward backwards shuffle. Once Rosalie was far enough back, she returned to her front, grasping her hair by the thick, wheat-colored locks and yanking.
“Shit—” Rosalie gasped, allowing herself to be tugged forward, downward, until she was dropped.
Her stomach hit the floor heavily, making her yelp as the nipple clamps dug and pressed into tender skin. She couldn’t sit up with her hands bound behind her back. It was helped even less when Cassandra worked the leash free from her neck, then pinned it to the floor under her boot, forcing her neck down further.
She only noticed the puddle of slick when her cheek was pressed into it.
“Lick it up,” Cassandra laughed, nudging her face further into the mess with the other boot.
Her lungs froze on the exhale, shame and humiliation and arousal coiling in her lower half like a spring. “Cassandra,” she tried, maybe to protest or to beg for more, she wasn’t really sure, rational thought seemed tenuous at best.
“Daddy,” Cassandra corrected, forcefully, pushing her further into the mess.
Despite the tone, she was looking down at Rosalie, almost nervous, hesitating—waiting for a safe word, Rosalie realized, a flush of warm building in her chest, despite her own sticky feelings.
Her eyes closed, cheeks burning. And she stuck out her tongue.
Practically purring in relief, Cassandra watched her with a feral grin. “Don’t miss a drop, slut.”
Whatever preconceptions or reservations she may have had about it, Rosalie lapped at the small puddle like a whore, moaning low in her throat. She knew what she tasted like—Cassandra’s favorite move was to make her suck the cum from her fingers until she gagged, after all. But it was different to be on her hands and knees, the musk of sex around her, licking it from the floor like a dog while her wife watched.
Cassandra must have shared the sentiment, because she put her hand up to her mouth to bite the back of her hand. A high, half-moaned, fuck dripping off of her lips. Her other hand came down, hiking up her dress and dipping into her panties so she could rub furiously at her clit.
She whined low in her throat as she licked, peering up at her wife through her lashes.
Dark, hungry eyes watched her, rolling slightly as the frantic circling of her clit sparked a growing heat in her belly. “You look so good for Daddy like that,” Cassandra panted. “F-Fuck, I could watch you on your knees all day. Fuck you just like that, then make you lick up your own cum like a little slut. Would you like that?”
Rosalie whined, clenching around nothing as she lapped up the last of it. She could already feel another puddle forming, wetness dripping down her inner thighs now. “Fuck, Daddy,” she groaned, eyes hot. “Please!”
Cassandra shuddered, biting at her lower lip. “Call me that again!”
“Daddy,” she begged, wanton, wriggling to try and get her thighs back under her so she could sit up. A hard task with her hands behind her back and leash pinned beneath her wife’s book. Desire burned like an inferno in her chest, as she watched Cassandra’s hand at work. “I want to taste you.”
The responding sound was filthy.
Cassandra growled, low and harsh in her throat. Then, she snaked her fingers from her panties, instead reaching out to tug Rosalie up by her waist. “You will,” she agreed, steadying her on her feet, then shoving her at the bed with supernatural strength. “On your back, baby.”
Obediently, she shuffled as much as she could, rolling over onto her back and curling her fingers tightly into the bedspread. Her eyes grew wide, then wider still as Cassandra materialized above her, dress and underwear lost somewhere in the cloud, leaving her naked and wild-eyed.
Her wife leaned down, slotting her mouth over Rosalie’s, licking desperately into her. She kissed her like she wanted to devour her whole, and Rosalie was helpless to do anything but kiss her back.
Cassandra eventually pulled back with a groan. “I’m going to fuck your mouth now.”
Electricity sparked through her, and she watched as Cassandra traveled up, up, up. Until her knees came to straddle at either side of her face, baring her pussy to Rosalie’s heated gaze, her need heady in the air. She yearned to reach up and pull her down, trap her there so she could coax her through climax after climax, and cursed the cuffs for the hundredth time.
True to her words, though, Rosalie did not have to wait.
Cassandra lowered her hips, presenting herself like a prize. A low, throaty moan left her when Rosalie’s tongue latched onto her clit, flicking it in soft circles, only to follow it with sucking, alternating between fast and slow. The pleasure was good, but not enough, and Cassandra grew impatient, grinding harshly back against her.
Rosalie moaned, tongue flicking harder as her wife began to rut back on her enough to make her jaw ache, painting her face with slick. It felt dirty and wonderful, her thighs rubbing together for friction as she licked her way downwards. Her nose ground into Cassandra’s clit, tongue struggling to find purchase deep inside with her wife’s jerky thrusts.
“God,” Cassandra moaned, guttural, as the tongue sunk inside of her. It was not long enough to truly do much besides drink her in and offer some pleasant sensation, but it was the eroticism of the act that always got to her. “Fuck, you’re too—ah—good at that!”
Wishing desperately for use of her hands, so she could sink three fingers into her and drive her truly wild, Rosalie had nothing else at her disposal besides her tongue and teeth. The latter of which proved useful, as she pulled back slightly and closed her mouth back over the throbbing clit and, with as much care and as gentle as she could, dragged and pinched it between her teeth.
Cassandra jolted, a low cry echoing in the sweaty silence of the room. “F-Fuck!”
Her hand came down in an instant, capturing Rosalie’s hair harshly and tugging her harder. She worked her hips once, twice, and a third shivering time before she stuttered to a halt, eyes closed and chest heaving.
Rosalie pressed a kiss to the clit, feather light, grinning despite the pain in her scalp when Cassandra flinched.
“I love you,” she muttered into hot, wet skin, the picture of innocence.
Cassandra stared down the length of her own body, deep into fluttering eyes, relief and hunger clear on her face. “I,” she enunciated slowly, carefully, despite the heaving of her chest, “am going to pay you back for that tenfold.”
She grinned, licking a stray strand of cum from Cassandra’s thigh. “I can’t wait.”
Cassandra made good on her earlier threats to tie her up—after a brief, reluctant break, entirely her wife’s idea and enforced ruthlessly, no matter how much she whined and pleaded.
“Patience,” Cassandra had commanded. “I’ll have time to fuck your brains out once I’ve fed and watered my precious little human. I can’t have you tapping out on me too soon.”
Rosalie scowled, but allowed her bossy wife to have her way with as much dignity as could. Which, at this stage in their relationship, regularly chased across the castle and called a slut in front of her sisters-in-law, there wasn’t much of that left.
She gulped water from the nightstand at Cassandra’s behest, perhaps a bit too eagerly, as it she drank until she coughed and it ran over her chin and breasts—which her wife took great pleasure in licking back up. It was cool and refreshing, though, and desperately needed to calm her overheated skin and sticky thoughts.
Then, her wrists were unclasped from behind her back, Cassandra tweaking each finger and massaging the feeling back into her hands. Only when she could curl them comfortably into fists did she push them higher up the bed again, hooking the cuffs to the discreet chains at either side of the headboard, keeping her arms spread by her head. Her leash was thrown over a small hook at the top of the headboard. Almost as an afterthought.
The dildo, which had been pulled from her aching pussy upon their initial return to the bedroom, was taken to the bathroom and carefully cleaned. Though, not before Cassandra took the chance to stuff it into Rosalie’s mouth until she gagged, pushing it further down her throat until she could feel it bump the collar and her own slickness deep in her throat. When she returned, it was dangling from her Cassandra’s hips like a promise.
It was only when she was suitably rested, prepared and comfortable that Cassandra descended back over her like the devil come to earth, all wicked ideas and intentions.
“Are you ready, little rabbit?”
A chill ran down the length of Rosalie’s spine—the game was back on. “Yes, Daddy.”
Cassandra purred, grasping her thighs and pushing them wide, dragging one up so her hand could hold it behind the knee. Then forced it up, until it almost touched her belly, just to see her spread widely—the humiliating wetness of her pussy, the angry red of her clit. It made them both groan together.
“You’re always so ready for me,” Cassandra rumbled, leaning down to slot their mouths together in a harsh, claiming kiss. It forced her screaming thigh even higher, and she tilted her hips into it to try and ease the ache, making her wife laugh. “You look so filthy, all for me.”
When she leaned back, letting the thigh hook around her hip instead, Rosalie panted. “Please, I need—”
A laugh. “Shh, Daddy knows what you need.”
The answer was a mouth, descending to the crook of her neck. Cassandra’s tongue lapped at sweaty skin with a hum, licking and nipping her way into the space under her jaw and sucking hard, ignoring Rosalie’s whimper. Despite her wife’s tossing head, Cassandra made it her mission to suck and mark every inch of skin from her jaw down to the top of her breasts.
“Look at them,” Cassandra purred, raising her head from licking a trail her two breasts to flick her nipple, giggling darkly at the responding shout. Still within the clamps, they were angry red and swollen. She pressed a kiss to the tips, tongue flicking, just to watch her squirm. “They’re so pretty like this.”
Rosalie chewed at her bottom lip. “Please…”
“Do you want Daddy to take them off?”
A loaded, yet inevitable question. It was one designed to make her ask for her own torment, they both knew it. The pressure was enough to make her thighs rub, each touch enough to spark pain and pleasure in a loop. But they both knew what came after the release.
She took a shuddering breath. “Yes, please.”
Cassandra’s face lit up with feral intent. “I’m so looking forward to this.”
Then with excited hands, she reached out and released them both, tossing them over her shoulder.
Rosalie keened.
Her hips bucked, wrists jerking loudly in the restraints. The release of the nipple clamps was an explosion of sensation, the blood rushing back to the tender skin and making them burn with pleasure. The fire only grew as Cassandra chuckled, leaning down to suck one into her mouth, teeth dragging and tongue swirling.
“Fuck,” Rosalie hissed through clenched teeth, eyes rolling.
The nipple was released, a soft blow of air on it making her gasp again, nerves crackling. Then, brutally, Cassandra shifted over to the other breast and began to paint that one with affection as well. The motions making her writhe and stomach muscles clench.
A high, throaty sob caught in her throat, bursting out before she could stop it.
Cassandra released the suction with a vicious pop, leaning back to grin at her. A look layered with deep amusement, desire and bad intentions. “Aw,” she mocked, “are you going to cry for me already, baby?”
Heaving for breath, Rosalie whined. “F-Fuck you!”
A low laugh, fingernails raking down between her heaving tits to leave deep red lines. “You first, sweetheart.”
Cassandra spent far too long then languishing between her breasts, sucking and biting her way around them to leave pretty marks all over. All the while interspersed with breaks to pull and sucked on her overstimulated nipples, laughing whenever Rosalie whimpered. She even licked the sweat from beneath the weight of them, between them, purring softly even as Rosalie shied away.
“Stay still for me, little rabbit,” Cassandra commanded, seizing a leg—which had been insistently rubbing and nudging at her, trying to steal some friction. She cocked her head, musing out loud. “Next time, I’m tying your legs down as well. Then you can’t wriggle away from me when I rub that eager little clit of yours until you cry again.”
Rosalie stifled a groan at the reminder.
The memory of their last hunt was one she wouldn’t forget, the night crested by Cassandra torturing her through more than a dozen orgasms of increasingly painful intensity until she was sobbing for her to stop, then working one more out of her while she kicked and screamed. Cassandra had a black eye for a week from a well-deserved knee to the face, and Rosalie ended up passing out and waking up unable to walk for two days.
“Cassandra, no,” she decided, immediately.
“Cassandra, yes. And that’s not my name right now,” she snapped her teeth teasingly back, eyes predatory. “You know the rules—if Daddy wins, she gets what she wants.”
Ah, yes, the price of losing was always Rosalie’s to pay—this time stolen by only a matter of seconds.
The stakes of the hunts were largely bragging rights, initially, but had turned into something utterly debauched over time. Now, it seemed like every time they played, a new kink or toy was introduced into the mix. It was all quite hedonistic, a fact well known and joked about by the family, much to her embarrassment—hard to be private with their hunts though, especially when everybody had supernatural hearing and invisible boundaries.
A half-dozen hunts ago had introduced Daddy, mostly due to a bad joke from Rosalie that had awakened something terrible in Cassandra. Not long after that, they’d bet on control: whoever won the hunts would be in charge, able to do whatever they wanted with the loser, provided no safe word was called.
Calling her attention back to the price of her losing, Cassandra leaned down to bite sharply into the soft skin of her stomach, just above her belly button. “Eyes on me, princess.”
Rosalie shuddered, looking down into those wolfish, teasing eyes as they scraped ever downwards. More marks, clawing and biting, were left all over her. They joined a few bruises on her stomach, from catching a table around the middle during a frantic dodge—bruises Cassandra made sure to press into just to hear her hiss, then kissing them softly to soothe the pain.
“You taste so good,” Cassandra said, teething at the bottom of her belly button, grinning as she felt the stomach clench beneath her. “I’m going to devour you, then I’m going to fuck you through the mattress like you’re made for it. Do you understand, whore?”
Lightning blazed down the length of her spine, meeting her clit. “Yes,” she choked. “Please!”
Her lover shifted down, then, wrapping her arms around her thighs and dragging her lower body up to meet her mouth. The initial lick was cursory, exploring the thick stream of slick dripping from her wife, that lined her inner thighs and labia. But Cassandra quickly settled in, honing in on her clit with soft groans of her own, working her tongue under the hood and work it over in firm, circling licks that she knew drove Rosalie to insanity.
The blonde groaned, hands jerking in the restraints, aching to reach down and bury her fingers in Cassandra’s hair and yank her close. “Fuck!”
A chuckle was muffled against her skin, and she jolted again. Cassandra wrapped her arms tighter around her to hold her steady, enthusiasm ramping up as she swirled her tongue and suckled lightly at her, then harder, until it felt like her nerves were about to pull through her cunt—pleasure and pain mixing on that erotic edge, a path Cassandra had warped her down and seemed to forever be introducing her to new turns.
Head lolling back, she stared up at the canopy of their bed, eyes blown wide and mouth open.
She could feel the climax building already, short and sharp licks stoking the fire back to life—the one that had burned low but not out, the remnant of being edged a dozen times, then plugged and set free, no relief in sight.
Cassandra felt it coming in the way Rosalie’s hips flexed against her, thighs trying desperately to shutter around her ears. Felt it in the way her calves wrapped over her shoulders, heels digging deep into the flesh of Cassandra’s back. So, she channeled her attention into brutalizing her clit, harsh in her affections, grinning as she nipped and Rosalie screamed.
A white-out of pleasure took over, and she arched as much as she could in Cassandra’s hold with a low, throaty moan.
Self-satisfied, Cassandra licked her through the wave, gentler now in mind of her sensitivity, but never quite backing off—a hallmark of her wife, who just did not know when to quit, who did not believe overstimulation was a thing when it brought Rosalie to such pretty tears. She worked her up just as quickly into a second orgasm, throwing her into it with a louder scream.
When the second was complete and Rosalie was whining her way into a third, the brunette licked the cum from her face, and what she could not reach she rubbed into Rosalie’s stomach with a pleased giggle.
“You get so wet,” she said, licking some of the fluid from the rounding of her belly. “I can’t wait to bury my cock in you. I want the sheets ruined by the time we’re done. I’m going to make you cum so much, you won’t be able to look the laundry maids in the eye.”
Rosalie groaned, twitching with aftershocks and her whole body flushed. “I already can’t because someone keeps ruining all of my underwear.”
“The perks of being married to me,” Cassandra replied, flippant. “Making you cum whenever and wherever I feel like it is part of the package.”
“I don’t remember that in our vows.”
“It was definitely in there,” Cassandra grinned. “Right next to—I, Rosalie Dimitrescu, want to be ruined by my daddy’s cock every night until the end of time’. It was very sweet, if a little bit inappropriate for the occasion.“
Rosalie scoffed. “You’re insufferable.”
“You love me.”
“For some unknown reason,” Rosalie replied, hooking her leg harder around Cassandra’s waist and trying her best to shove the girl towards her. “Now, hurry up and actually fuck me, before I think my Daddy is all talk.”
That was all it took to rile her up.
Cassandra snarled, almost visibly puffing up with the perceived slight. “Oh, if you wanted to play rough, you could have just asked nicely,” she replied, voice harshening as she took hold of Rosalie by one hip, the other grasping at the strap-on between her legs. “Instead, it seems Daddy is going to have to teach you a lesson you will never forget.”
The dildo sunk deeply within her like an old friend welcomed home, as if it had never been removed. The wetness Cassandra so loved her for made her entrance easy. She fucked her open with a few smaller, token thrusts, before slamming it wholly inside of her when there was no resistance to be found.
Rosalie gasped. “Shit!”
“Does this feel like all talk?” Cassandra leaned over her like a woman possessed, hands pressed into the sheets by her head as she let her hips roll into Rosalie’s. The pace was harsh, the thrusts aimed with expert efficiency towards sending her over the edge. “When you’re crying and begging me later like a little whore, just remember: you asked for this.”
Whatever Rosalie was going to say was lost to a gasp, as Cassandra braced herself on one flexing forearm. The other hand came down, seizing her aching clit between two knuckles as she continued to thrust into her. The sensation sent her into flashes of hot and cold, grinding her teeth to hold back the sharp cry.
“There’s my little fuck toy,” Cassandra giggled into her ear. “You feeling good on my cock?”
She moaned, babbling something wordless as the strap-on continued to dig deeply inside of her, all of their time married lending themselves to Cassandra’s expertise at honing in on all of the places inside of her that made her see stars, forcing more and more slick out of her with each hard thrust.
The clit was tweaked between the knuckles, punishing, forcing her to cry out. “If I ask you a question, I want an answer. Use your words, baby.”
“Y-Yes!”
She felt fuck drunk and utterly debauched, legs spreading wider to account for the bulk of Cassandra rutting between her hips like a beast. Made worse too by a coaxing thigh under her own, forcing the angle to change somewhat, allowing the cock to fuck deeper into her.
“Not good enough,” Cassandra mocked. “Tell me you love it. Tell me how good my cock makes you feel.”
“I love it,” Rosalie gasped, eyes rolling. “Your cock feels so fucking good inside me, oh my god—”
Her voice broke as Cassandra slammed into her g-spot and softly twisted her clit between her knuckles, the motion making her see sparks. With a few more sharp thrusts, a few more rolls of her clit, she shattered apart with a keening cry. “Fuck!”
There was no reprieve.
Cassandra fucked her through her orgasm, laughing darkly all the while as Rosalie cried out, jerking in her restraints—over-sensitive and her full body trembling with the force of it. It was a motion she’d come to expect, one she’d invoked—but regret was a powerful mistress, and she experience it in her whole body as the dildo plundered deep inside of her.
“So pretty when you cum,” Cassandra mused, nosing sweat-soaked hair away from her face, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Can you do it again for me?”
The answer was not far away, a resounding yes, as Cassandra’s thumb came into play on her clit. Dragging the hood of it up, to expose the nub itself, engorged violently for how much it had been played with, throbbing and hot to the touch. A few circles was enough to have Cassandra’s name echoing through the chambers.
Cassandra tutted, then. “So quick to forget. I’m not your wife tonight, cum slut, I’m your Daddy.”
Rosalie babbled, eyes watering from the pain and pleasure rolling through her in waves. Made worse when Cassandra leaned in to give one of her aching nipples a harsh bite, teeth just a little too sharp and leaning just a little too far onto the side of pain.
“Go on, cry for me, baby,” Cassandra moaned, her own voice slurring as she continued to rut. The press of the dildo was digging into her own clit through the harness, and the thrusts were becoming jerky and self-centered, all in the name of seeking pleasure. “I want to lick the tears from your cheeks.”
She held on to barely a thread of her sanity from the feeling of being used like, in Cassandra’s own words from earlier, a cocksleeve. To see her wife’s face aglow, hazy with pleasure, eyes rolling as she thrust into Rosalie for her own use.
It threw her right into another orgasm, horribly and wonderfully.
“Oh my god,” she keened, head throwing back as much as her leash would allow, half-choked and desperate.
She felt like she was on another plane, floating, clawing her way through waves of pleasure, feeling it being wrung out of her like a sponge and unable to stop it. It made her fuzzy, hazy. Her own blood roared in her ears, heart working overtime and lungs screaming out to try and drown her own
Cassandra made good on her words, licking at her cheeks like a dog, panting and moaning at the taste of the salt. That was when Rosalie realized she was crying, hitching and low in the back of her throat, the tears streaming without permission.
“H-Hah,” Cassandra’s voice was growing higher, hips beginning to stutter in their frantic rocking. Her voice came out wanton, her words growing darker and filthier as she edged in on her own orgasm. “There she is, my little fucking crybaby!”
Rosalie babbled something unintelligible, breath stuttering in her chest. “F-Fuck—I can’t—”
“You will,” Cassandra gasped, trembling, strung out on a wire. “You don’t have a choice—”
Her jaw locked, crying out sharply as she was thrown into another climax within moments of the first. “P-Please! I—I—”
She started to lose count of her own orgasms, it began to feel like one long, strung out explosion.
The thrusts continued, even after Cassandra shuddered above her in her own orgasm, giving a broken cry. They continued even as the brunette sealed her mouth over Rosalie’s, swallowing her moans and her begging, devouring all the air inside of her lungs.
A hand pressed down low on her abdomen, forcing her hips down into the bed, pressing right over the rutting dildo—until they could both feel it beneath the skin, bulging and pushing.
“D-Daddy,” Rosalie screamed, then. “I—I’m—”
A universe burst into existence behind her eyelids. She died a million little deaths. Her vision faded out to static, only capable of making out one thing behind her fluttering eyelids—Cassandra’s burning eyes, like molten gold, and the sensation of wetness torrenting out of her.
Cassandra shouted above her, incredulous joy and excitement in her eyes. “Are you squirting—”
Rosalie had an absent, mind-shattering moment to dread the discovery of a new kink being added to her lover’s arsenal—
Then, she knew no more.
She surfaced from the haze with a shuddery groan to the feeling of the strap-on being gently eased out of her. The sensation was painful, she’d been pushed past the point of overstimulation and her insides aching from the brutal treatment.
She winced when it was pulled free fully, but felt immediately better for it. Though, maybe not for the stream of her own slick she felt pouring out, far more than usual. An embarrassing amount.
“I know,” Cassandra whispered, patting her belly softly when she whined. “You’ll be fine.”
Her response was a very well-thought out, educated, “Mmfgh.”
A laugh dropped from her wife’s lips, not mocking or dark like when they played their games. It was bright, light and airy, the sort of giggly that Cassandra only allowed herself to be when she was truly happy. “You’ve never done that before,” she said, conversationally.
Rosalie blinked slowly, like a sleepy cat. She took in Cassandra’s state, wet from the hips down, and her own—
Oh, shit.
They were both soaked, literally.
She wanted the ground to swallow her up.
She would definitely not be able to meet the eyes of the laundry maids tomorrow—maybe never, actually. A real death sounded preferable over the dozens of little ones she’d had.
Cassandra pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Still with me, Rosie?”
She blinked slowly, unsteadily. Her voice tear-thick and croaky. “Barely.”
“You did so well for me. I didn’t even know you could do that,” Cassandra whispered, kissing her salt-stained cheeks and gesturing down at the soaked sheets. “Anything broken?”
”I didn’t know.” She was throbbing and sore, muscles tense and bruised all over—from the hunt and the fucking both, feeling like she’d been battered within an inch of her life. “I think you really tried to kill me this time.”
“If I tried to kill you, you’d be dead,” Cassandra responded instantly, with sureity. “Lucky for you, I love you far too much to do that.”
Rosalie groaned as her wrists were uncuffed, revealing the reddened skin beneath. Her wrists were pulled gently down, arms worked in circles to test the range of motion, then the dark lines kissed in apology. The leash and collar were removed not long after, with throat kisses and gentle hands.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Rosalie whined. “I’m pretty sure I could press charges for this.”
“The only authority in this castle is Mother,” Cassandra replied, cheeky. “I doubt she wants to know about our sex life.”
Her nose scrunched. “Please don’t refer to sex and your mother in the same sentence ever again.”
“Mother is too hung up on that maid of hers, anyway—”
Rosalie waved her away, shaking her head. “Alexandra is my friend and I do not want to picture those two together. Ever. Especially not after I’ve been fucked within an inch of my life. Don’t ruin my tingles.”
“I think that’s just the blood rushing back to your head,” Cassandra laughed. “Pretty sure it was all in your nipples and your pussy.”
Rosalie sighed. “Why are you so vulgar?”
“Because it gets both of us off?”
“Unfortunately true.”
Cassandra hummed, then, after a long period of silence, grinned. “Do you want to know a secret?”
Her eyes, which had lulled closed in the silence, popped open inquisitively.
The grin grew wider, manic and supremely self-satisfied. “I cheated.”
Her jaw dropped open, and she made a motion as if to sit up, only to collapse immediately when her entire body throbbed like a living bruise. She cradled herself, aching, then glared up at her wife. “You WHAT?”
“Cheated?” Cassandra’s smile was unrepentant. “How do you think I got into the opera hall? It was a clever move, barring the door like that.”
“But, I was watching! I didn’t hear the swarm—”
She grinned in reply. “A magician never reveals their secrets.”
Rosalie cursed. “As soon as I can move my legs, I’m going to put my foot so far up your ass—”
The answering kiss was brutal, possessive, and Cassandra giggled into it when jerky arms thumped against her back as retribution. Then, the brunette pulled back grinning. “I’ll look forward to your revenge.”
“I’m going to make you carry me like a fucking princess everywhere and serve me like a slave,” Rosalie huffed. “I’m not letting you cum, in me or on me, for the next decade. If you even think about touching me without asking, I’m going to be asking the Duke for bug spray and a lighter!”
“Making me your slave?” Cassandra purred, honeyed, not at all cowed by the threat. “Now there’s a thought.”
Rosalie batted weakly at her, irritated and sore. “Get off me, peasant, and go get something to clean me up.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
“Ugh, that makes me sound like your mother,” she complained. “I prefer the term My Liege, or maybe Your Highness.”
Cassandra laughed loudly, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek again. “I love you, Your Highness.”
“I tolerate you. Now, go!”