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Gilded	By : tinkerheck Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 3151 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, aka Black Butler. I make no money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
++++++++ Please see disclaimer & story notes in chapter one ++++++++

++++++++ chapter notes ++++++++

I fly beta-less. Please forgive the typos.

You should thank fanfiction dot net, if you are so inclined as to enjoy lemons and limes. My anger with their silly policies has made this fic twice as graphic as I originally intended, not that I’m unhappy about that…

Or, instead of thanking them, you could leave a review here, maybe? Just sayin’.

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Gilded

Chapter 10

 

+

Gilda went back to school the second week of January with a much smaller schedule for her last term. She had but three scheduled classes; Orchestra, Piano Lab, and Theory of Composition. Her first final, performing with an orchestra, was a grueling five-hour affair and would be judged by no less that four outside professionals. It was scheduled for the first week in April.

Her second final, conducting, was to follow in mid-May. She’d be given her assigned piece and the instrument layout for the orchestra very soon, but the conducting would be done raw; there would be no practice with the actual orchestra (a professional group not associated with the conservatory) beforehand. The test was just as much about grace under pressure and spontaneous performance as it was about the skills associated with leading an orchestra. She was excited and nervous to take that final, but not nearly as worked up as she was with the thought of her piano recital, her last final.

That would happen in early June.

We had about four months remaining as Mistress and Butler, and then our business would be concluded.

As for the present… Well. I’d love to deliver good news. Unfortunately–

The bitch is driving me mad.

She has definitely come back out of that sad, dark little cocoon she was in for all of December. Unfortunately, twas not a butterfly that emerged. More like a wasp.

No. That isn’t accurate, either.

If you can think of the name of a sexually-provocative bug that comes out of her shell after a long hibernation looking exactly the same as she did before, but behaving like she is suddenly a different species, then you’ll have it.

We hadn’t done anything even remotely as intimate as we’d had that night, when her flu had begun to taper off. I could still sense Gilda’s soul on my fingertips like a lingering wound, and it made me yearn for her affection once again.

But something had flipped in her. Something cruel.

Lipstick blots? Crumpled, tossed, dying their little deaths in the vanity’s trash bin. Yes, she was still doing that. And I was still saving them, actually, even as distorted as they were. Losing our little tradition had felt like salt in a wound. All I had to do was figure out which one of us was the salt and which the wound.

Bath time wasn’t even fun anymore. Everything had purpose, was structured – standard, routine, expected. When she did decide to flirt with me, she was trite about it, which simply didn’t suit her. But more than that, she was being callous. This horrid attitude of hers was the barrier now.

I do have some standards. Quite a few, actually. Superficial as it may be, I have no problem popping to earth in between contracts for the occasional carnal delight, but I didn’t want her like that. Not my precious Gilda.

One day after we came home from school, she inquired if the staff was in while I removed her wool coat from where I stood behind her. When I replied no, that they only came once a week now, on Tuesdays, she turned suddenly, and groped me rudely while my hands were occupied with her coat.

When I attempted to shift my hips out of her way, the insistent little bitch moved in tandem.

“What? Isn’t this kind of like flirting where you come from?” She squeezed harder. Not enough to cause pain, I don’t believe she’d ever go there. But her grip was strong enough to let me know she was serious.

“No,” I said as politely as possible, hanging up her coat and removing her far-too eager hands from my person. “They skip such formalities and move right on to the raping.”

“Oh. Well, it’s not like I haven’t had it that way, either.”

Such careless words.

“Miss Gilda… actually being raped by a demon cannot possibly compare to…” I closed my eyes, willing the heinous vision of a broken, battered and bleeding Gilda from my mind.

“All right… But… isn’t this better? Me just needing to get off now and then? And look, here’s my loyal butler – a guy I thought was perfectly willing to fuck me blind.”

From bad… to worse.

“You keep your emotions in check all the time, right? Well, I can do that too.” She smirked unpleasantly. “Anyway, I thought you’d be pleased.”

I gaped at her. Who the hell was this girl?

“Mistress, I know your recent ordeal with influenza was difficult, but I feel sure it did not compromise your sanity. So I have to ask… do you have a death wish?”

“Why on earth would I need a death wish when I have you, Demon?”

Oh… that stung.

Seeing as how she was not going to get anywhere with either me or my cock, she turned and left me there, more confused than ever.

What did she want from me? What was I missing this time?

+

By the end of January, I’d fallen into a slightly perverted routine. All right, it was downright depraved.

Every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday. It happened whenever I dropped her off at the conservatory. She found a new way of asking it each time, whether it was just the inflection in her voice, or how she worded it… a few times she even said it in a language foreign to her, but it never failed to come out of her snotty little mouth.

‘Wanna check me for clean underwear, Demon?’

Feel free to imagine the dulcet tones of my cultured voice mimicking hers because that is precisely what I just did.

Why, yes, as a matter of fact, you pretty little hellion, I’d love to inspect your delicates! For all I know you could have switched them on me this morning and you are wearing the same ones you wore the day before just to piss me off. It’s working, Mistress. And while I’m at it, I’ll toss you over my knees and spank the living daylights out of you. Then, when you are crying because of your beet-red bottom, I’ll spank you for crying. And once you have gotten the point and have shut up and are sniffling, I’ll rip those damn panties off and have my way with you for good measure.

I will be rough. And aggressive. I will scare you. And I will enjoy that.

Such a state she has brought me to. Truly? Honestly? I do not want to punish her. I’d rather she go back to the sweet, shy, slightly naïve, very enticing person she was before. Perhaps this change in attitude is due to my confession that I can only offer her as much as a demon is able to offer her and nothing more? Or maybe she simply is this frivolous regarding sex and love and it’s only just now emerging. Whatever the cause, Gilda seems hell-bent on proving that she views our intimate relationship as nothing more than a game. She is insensitive to it, to me, as though we are not even comrades anymore.

Worst of all, she thinks her attitude is mutual.

Such deplorable… feelings, and I use the term very loosely, are not mutual. Not at all. The fact is, each time she teases me about her panties, I lose a little more control over myself. Eventually I had to start doing something about it, before I either eviscerated one of her schoolmates or, heaven forbid, yelled at Cat.

She’d do her damn panties-checking act, then giggle at me… taunting me. I’d open the bitch’s door for her at the steps, then I’d watch her delicious, un-spanked bum as it bounced up those stairs. I’d get back in the limo and drive to the parking lot, slamming the vehicle into park. Quickly unzipping my trousers and freeing my hardened genitalia, I’d stroke myself aggressively until I came, clenching my teeth and growling like the demon I am the entire time.

I would like to personally extend my gratitude to the human who invented privacy glass for motor vehicles.

The whole sordid thing usually took all of six seconds… I can remember the first time it happened very vividly. I was very grateful that I’d started keeping a box of tissues in the front seat, because I managed to grab a handful of them before I ejaculated all over my new chauffeur’s uniform. Having to dry clean a wool uniform is such a nuisance.

+

And so it went for the remainder of January and nearly all of February. Over a month and a half! In many ways, it was worse than the previous rough patch, that cold rift. She was going out of her way to prove that she could be shallow and spoiled, and occasionally I had to bite my tongue before nearly calling her ‘Alois’. There were moments where I could have sworn she was channeling that little slut of a boy.

My rational brain said this was not possible… but some paranoid part of me thought it might be.

I was paranoid enough that I was forced into enlisting the services of Grell Sutcliff. I asked him to poke his nose into it, to use his demonic contacts if he even had any, to obtain information on the true state and whereabouts of Claude Faustus and Hannah Annafellows. All it cost me was a kiss…

“Ooh Bassie! And with tongue, if you please!”

Ugh. It was disgusting, but I did that much just to satisfy my annoying fears.

Turns out Faustus was no more than the bodiless soul of a demon, as suspected. That pisses me off, because it means I can never, ever kill the prick, ever again.

Faustus could, however, seriously torment Gilda in Hell should she end up there, and with far more dexterity than he had in her version of limbo. He never really ‘was’ in limbo with her, as he can only reside in Hell now. But he had eventually sensed her fugue state, smelling me on her, and established a psychic link to pester her anyway he could… thereby pestering me.

His behavior there was odd, even for him, just from Gilda’s description of it. But after Sutcliff got back to me with the requested information, I learned why. Faustus, it seems, had been driven insane by the actions of one Hannah Annafellows.

Also existing as nothing more than the wandering soul of a demon, Annafellows still possessed the souls of Alois Trancy, aka Jim Macken, and his little brother Luka, within her own. Desperate for a sense of belonging to something, anything – which is the most painful thing about being a bodiless soul, I’m afraid; for the most part it’s permanent and can be quite maddening, especially for a human – Faustus earned a reputation in Hell for pestering Annafellows relentlessly, begging for that sweet, brief, temporary coalescence that two wandering souls may engage in, but his only purpose in doing so was to be close to Alois.

Perhaps demons can fall in love with humans. At least, that’s how it seemed to go for Faustus.

Eventually, Annafellows tired of his harassment. His affection for the boy quickly turned into obsession. Luka became quite disturbed at being pushed aside so that Faustus could rub his soul against Trancy’s, pervert at heart that he is, and Alois himself began to feel dread at the thought of Claude entering Annafellows and smothering him, even if just for a few moments.

She’d begun to deny his every request. When there was no break to be had from his badgering, Annafellows talked a fellow demon into distracting Faustus for just a few moments, and she fled, taking the boys with her.

Hell, you may not know, is a very big place. It is infinitely large, like it’s divine counterpart. Therefore, Faustus is not likely to find Annafellows ever again. Hence his continued madness.

I am not going to deny that this news made me chuckle. However, no matter how angry I am with Faustus, I am angrier still with Annafellows. She knows to avoid my presence, I believe, and I can live with not seeking her out any further. Should she encounter me, however, there are a few demonic methods I know of to ensnare even a bodiless soul.

I will not be gentle.

That only leaves the most pressing issue, which is to keep Gilda from landing in Hell. No matter how much of a brat she is being to me right now, I do love the girl. Even at the risk of losing her soul as my meal, I cannot bear the thought of what Faustus would do to her.

+

I can be very patient.

But not unexpectedly, the day finally came where I could no longer take her crap.

“…check my underwear, Demon?”

I could also move faster than the speed of light, if I wanted to.

She looked up at me, gaping, doing that familiar ‘o’ thing with her lips, as I had leapt from the front seat into the back through that little window, and turned and pushed her body until she was laying across the seat. I was kneeling in between her legs, having pushed one to the side where it dangled off the seat, and tossed the other one over my shoulder.

“Shall I unfasten your pants, or do you want to do that for me?” I asked politely, but with an undertone of threat.

“W-What are you doing?”

She sounded frightened. Good.

“Me? Why Miss Gilda, I am checking that your panties are clean, of course.”

She was staring up at me, flabbergasted, from under those long black eyelashes. The filtered light from the limo’s windows was playing across her face, making her dark green eyes glitter.

“I… I’m…”

Speechless. Finally.

I reached across her hip with one hand, never taking my eyes off of hers, and undid the riveted clasp of her blue jeans. I heard her whimper as my fingertips gripped the zipper’s pull. Such a delightful sound from her – it made my cock twitch. I wanted to take her very badly, but I refused to give in. Still, my eyes – it was involuntary, I tell you, falling right in line with the erection – had that pink demonic glow to them, and I knew she saw it because her eyes widened slightly and her pulse sped up. I had to be careful lest I turn completely demon on her and give her a real scare. That was not my intention. I simply wanted to make her realize how dangerous a game it was that she had been playing with me all these weeks.

Moving forward, I held the zipper pull tightly and tugged downward, achingly slow. Gilda gripped the edge of the seat with one hand, and clutched the front of her very dark blue woven cotton button down shirt with the other.

Oh. She is wrinkling it.

I liked ironing. Almost as much as sex.

I shivered slightly, too slight for her to perceive, and got my head back to the task at hand.

When the zipper began to open, the first view of her panties came into sharp focus, as did the heady fragrance she was giving off.

Ahh… Plain white cotton. It was a miracle, I tell you.

I smiled, and licked my lips.

“Demon…” she started, her voice no more than a plea.

“Yes, Mistress?” I asked, mine as light as a butterfly. I glanced up from the white triangle of her panties peeking out between the zipper’s open teeth, having to drag my eyes away from my goal, and looked down at her flushed face. “What is it?”

“Is… Are these windows… Can you…”

She was having trouble forming a complete sentence, but I knew exactly what she was asking. There were, after all, people milling about, just outside of our limo.

“One-way glass, my dear Mistress, and the limo is sound proof as well.”

She stared at me a moment longer, then her mouth parted slightly. It was all the encouragement I needed. I tossed the leg on my shoulder over to the same side as the other one and yanked her jeans off in one smooth motion, liquid fast. Her hideous shoes disappeared with them as I dropped the whole insult of a garment to the floor of the limo. Tossing her leg back onto my shoulder, I shoved her button down shirt and the hand clutching it out of the way, wrinkles be damned, and exposed the lower half of her body.

The cotton panties lay before me then, ready for my meticulous inspection. I could already tell they were clean.

For now.

Delicately, I traced the inside edge of the waistband with one finger, my black fingernail brushing against her skin as it tested the strength of the elastic. I pulled outwards, just a little bit on the one side, then released it to let it snap back into place. Gilda elicited a gasp, much to my satisfaction.

“Well, the band is strong, so they are new. That’s always nice,” I said quietly. She shivered. I leaned forward and buried my nose in the cotton, just at the tip of her cleft, which earned me a lovely groan. Taking a deep whiff, I held it, then exhaled long. “Smells very clean,” I stated, looking back up the length of her torso to her eyes. “Smells like laundry soap... and my Mistress,” I purred, moving back up to kiss her navel.

“Oh, man…” she breathed, closing her eyes. He head lolled back, which was her usual sign of submission when it came to me. “Just… Just… Oh, I don’t even know,” she muttered.

I chuckled, and reached down with my free hand to raise the leg hanging off of the seat. Tossing it over my shoulder with the other one, I was able to gently grip the sides of the panties and pull them up to her knees – slowly, mind you, I was feeling vindictive and I wanted to unhinge her as much as she’d been doing to me. I dragged them over her knees and slid them down her calves, over her ankles, her feet, until they were little more than a white scarf, dangling from my fingers.

I removed the leg from my shoulder that had been on the seat, and put it back, exposing her privates to me. Labia slightly parted, I could already see the moisture gathering there and her scent practically slammed into my sensitive nose. My head began to reel and I honestly felt like growling, but I kept my composure… at least on the surface.

Gilda stared up at me as I pretended not to notice the naked, growing-ever-juicier female parts of my beloved Mistress looming below me, even though the image of just exactly that was flooding my mind now, trying and mostly succeeding in pushing every other thought from my brain. I bit my tongue, and inspected the panties instead.

“Quite clean, although there is a tiny bit of moisture on the crotch. I do wonder about that; you were in a bath tub less than ninety minutes ago, so how did that get there?” I dropped the panties to the floor and leered at her. “Let’s have a look-see, shall we?”

She bit her lip as I pushed her leg up, just enough to expose her further. I reached down with one hand and caressed the edges of her labia with a knuckle, not being invasive… not just yet.

“Well, you don’t feel all that wet,” I exaggerated, smiling, “But I could be mistaken.”

Gilda smirked the tiniest little smirk as she tossed her forearm over her eyes. “I’m just gonna go with this, okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” I said, velvet-smooth. “A wise course of action, Miss Gilda.” Leaning down, my mouth less than three inches away, I could feel the heat pouring out of her already. I placed two fingers just inside of her opening, separating the lips and running my fingers up and down until she parted further and opened up easily for me.

Good girl.

She was pink, and slick, and very, very warm. I decided it was time to tease. “Oh, this won’t do. Here you are all wet, and for no apparent reason. If I put your panties back on you now, they will most certainly get stained. What sort of a butler would I be if I allowed that to happen? I’m just going to have to clean you up first.”

“Fuck,” she muttered.

No, I thought. That will have to wait.

I slipped my hands under her fabulous backside, holding her securely, and lowered my mouth to her body. I started with a small kiss on her sensitive mons, and as expected, she shivered. Smiling up at her, I kissed her there again and again, relishing the small whines she elicited. She was trying so hard not to react, the poor dear.

I should tell you, at this time, that I could kiss Gilda’s mound forever, and I would still not tire of it. During sex with a female, the mons should be treated as a segue, and it should be lingered on in an indulgent fashion.

Such amazing parts to your bodies, some of which I simply cannot get enough! My very first worthy soul, the Duchess Estrilda Torylox – a rather cruel woman who taught me the merit of a good beating – had the most alluring smile. She was in her late thirties, and the way the delicate skin crinkled around her eyes when she laughed was unbearably attractive. You call them ‘crow’s feet’? And to think you seek to rid yourself of them! Well, this is one crow that could have walked his feet all over her beautiful face, day in and day out.

Ciel Phantomhive? He had an absolutely perfect little rump. The blue of his eye when he glared at me was ravishing. The smooth skin on Gilda’s back begs to be touched, as you well know.

Her plump lower lip when she bites it. Louis DeBrena’s well-defined collarbone. The clitoris. The foreskin. The nipples, the tongue, the navel, the–

Sorry. Drifting…

As we were not in an eternal paradise, I forced myself to leave behind Gilda’s Mount of Venus and I moved forward…

I added more kisses, just tiny little pecks on either side of her labia, as I worked my way to her center. Then I pulled back slightly and licked the surface, just enough to cause her to squeal. Smiling at this new reaction, I began to lap at her, steady and slow, each time sinking my tongue into her a tiny bit more. When she began to writhe under me, my hands came up to her hips, and I gripped them tightly. I looked up to see long, pointy fingernails – not perfectly trimmed human ones – the shiny black of which were digging into her pale skin.

Oh my… first the eyes, now the hands. Steady, old boy.

She let out a cry as I held her down. “Now Mistress,” I said, my voice muffled against her, “You mustn’t fight me.” I kissed her inner thigh, then moved back up to lick her again. I flattened my tongue against her clitoris briefly and felt her body tense up for a moment. I pulled back, and looked at her, enjoying what I was seeing.

“This is for your own good, after all.”

Gilda snickered. I dove into my task with vigor then, licking her clean just as I promised. By then I knew that not only had my eyes and hands reverted to their demonic state, but so had my tongue, as I felt it split into it’s forked form, lengthen, thicken, and delve into her… deeper than any human could, in and out, over and over. My tongue returned to her clit and labia, twirling and writhing with inhuman skill. I was determined to sample every bit of what was before me. She was so delicious, so hot and slick with moisture.

When I tasted what was obviously a sensitive spot, Gilda’s torso twisted, then she sat up slightly. She reached out with her hands and greedily wound her fingers into my hair, and pulled. I ignored the pain, fascinated by her response, and felt an enormous swell of gratification when she put the soles of her feet on my shoulders and shimmied her hips forward, getting her swollen privates just that much closer to my mouth. I buried my face in her, sinking my mouth deep into her open cleft, and licked ferociously. When her fingers clutched at my hair with abandon, I knew she was close to her climax.

Briefly I wondered if any of her human lovers had excited her to the point where she had lost herself as she was doing with me, now.

I could smell her soul, brimming up inside of her, ready to bare itself once again before that eternal mystery known as sex, lurking just under my plundering mouth like a curious, brave, beautiful fish, following your finger as it drags across the glass surface of an aquarium.

It was right there. All I had to do was to hold her down and viciously bite and tear at her flesh, and I could taste it, briefly, before it escaped my clutches as it fled her dying body. But of course a taste was simply not enough. It would be such a tragic waste. I had to wait for the contract to be fulfilled. Only a skilled demon such as myself could recognize the merit in holding back their instincts while bringing a human to the edge of such passion as this.

“Alex…”

Her voice, barely a whisper, cut through me like a blade.

It suddenly dawned on me – that was the first time Gilda had spoken my name since getting over the flu. All this time she either didn’t address me at all, or had used the impersonal ‘Demon’. I’d been so preoccupied just being angry with her that I hadn’t realized it until just then, right as it slipped out of her pretty mouth. I had missed it.

Gilda’s body shook, stiffened, and I felt her hit her orgasm hard as the walls of her sex massaged and pulled at my tongue, still deep inside her. She yanked on my hair and cried out my name again, whimpering, and it sounded so sweet to my ears. My face was still hidden from her, and I smiled wickedly against her sex as I realized… I had won this battle.

Not the war, of course. Not yet. But this battle was mine.

Eventually she relaxed her grip on my hair and fell back to where she was laying across the seat again. I listened to her heavy breathing as it slowed, and I licked away as much of the moisture from her labia as I felt was necessary for her own comfort. Reluctantly, I admit, I finally pulled away and sat back up, still on my knees.

“I… so bad… almost suffocated you,” she breathed, still trying to come back down to earth.

I smiled down at her softly. “But I do not breathe, Miss.” When she did not react to that, I continued. “You are a very passionate human, Mistress. I am sure your soul will taste of nothing less than ambrosia,” I finally allowed, and she opened her eyes to look up at me. My own were still pink and glowing with the embers of Hell. My fingernails were still long. Gilda sat up then, ignoring that she was nude from the waist down. I put a hand to the small of her back to support her as she brought her palms up to my chest. She looked up into my eyes, frowning, then reached down to my free hand, and inspected my nails. Looking back up into my eyes, she ordered me to open my mouth.

I tilted my head at her. I was having a little bit of trouble getting my demonic nature to return to its hiding place, given that Gilda’s excitement had worn off on me a bit. I really didn’t enjoy having my prey see my demon form, even if it was just a little part of it.

“Stick out your tongue, Alex,” she ordered again.

I sighed, and complied, and the slick black snake in my mouth poked itself out from between my perfect human lips.

She gasped, eyes wide, but did not look frightened. Gilda reached out to run a fingertip along the dark surface, until she got to the forked end, and she played with the two wet points, ever so gently. That made me shiver, and that made her smile.

“I felt that,” she whispered, “deep inside me, I felt your tongue change.”

The sudden change in her attitude that this bout of intimacy had brought on was immense. She was interested. Bashful, even. It was as though these last seven weeks hadn’t even happened. The taunting bitch was gone, no loss there, and in her place was the one I had longed for, my sweet Miss.

The look in her eyes was… I sucked my tongue back in as I was a bit put off by what I saw on her face. There was earnest affection there. Maybe even–

Love.

“Alex, I know who you are. Why do you hide this stuff from me?”

Before I could say anything, she was pulling me to her for a kiss, no doubt wanting to feel more of that magic tongue that I’d besotted her with. But to my great surprise, she never went that far. She kissed me, so I kissed her back, and our mouths were slightly open but the kiss was not what one would consider ‘French’. The point being, she wasn’t trying to force my forked tongue out to play again. Gilda simply wanted to kiss me.

This was post-coital bliss, and even as I was enjoying kissing her, now I wondered if I should l have gone as far as I had.

Eventually my human form fully returned while Gilda worked her way into my lap, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck, kissing me deeply. I acquiesced – of course I did, it was kissing for heaven’s sake – but all I could think about was her privates brushing up against me, and her fluid staining the front of my shirt… I’d smell it there after she left me for the day, and it was going to drive me insane with want–

She broke from my lips, and kissed her way up to my ear, where she whispered something about ditching her classes and going back to bed. I’m pretty sure she meant for me to join her. She kissed me again, clutching my hair in her hands, and I loved the way it hurt.

My pants were suddenly too tight again.

“Alex,” she said, smiling at me with heavy-lidded eyes, and her feelings – those feelings – were written all over her face.

There it is.

Even if she thought she was kidding around, she wasn’t, her scent had betrayed her, she was falling and…

And it was too soon.

It wasn’t even March yet. She wouldn’t graduate until June. I’d never be able to sustain–

She quipped something about her first class in-between a few sweet little pecks, and slid off my lap.

I got her panties, jeans and shoes back on her, and smoothed out her hair and make up. She couldn’t stop smiling at me. While some part of me was thrilled at that, the rest of me heard warning bells going off. When she grabbed my tie and pulled me in for one last kiss, I felt a familiar sense of dread creeping up my spine.

I popped back into the front seat, put my chauffeur’s jacket and hat back on, exited out the driver’s door, and opened Gilda’s door for her. When she took my hand and rose from the limo, I heard her sigh contentedly.

“If I have made you late for your first class, Mistress, I do apologize. I can speak with your Orchestra professor and explain to her that it was entirely my fault if necess–”

“Who the fuck cares?” she said lazily, smiling. “I’ll see you at two-thirty, Alex.” She looked up at me with glassy eyes and flushed skin, biting that delicious lower lip around a smirk, and it was all I could do not to throw her back into the limo and eat her alive.

Literally.

I wondered what was going to happen when we got home that night. And which one of us was going to start it.

There was also the issue of how I was going to get through the day. If I watched her as a cat, no doubt I’d be running up to her side and humping her leg between classes. Could crows masturbate against tree limbs and power lines and the like without making a spectacle of themselves, I wondered? Perhaps I could find a naïve sparrow and rape it to ease the time.

“Yes, Miss. Have a good day,” I managed. She smiled up at me again and bounced up the stairs.

+

“You smell good, Alex.”

We were on her bed. Gilda was hugging her knees to her chest, sitting with her back to my front. I was combing out her clean, glossy locks from where I kneeled behind her. Dinner and bath time had gone by with minimal conversation and no further intimacy.

Smiling, I returned with, “What do I smell like?”

Pausing a moment, she said, “Spanish Cedar.”

“The sort they use for clothes hangers and jewelry boxes and the like?”

“Yup. You’ve smelled like that since the first time I met you, at that café, but I’ve only just realized it.”

“I see. This is a pleasing odor?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, it is to me.”

“Well then, I thank you for the compliment.”

I smelled different to each and every prey, and there was always a story behind it. She fell silent, and I was very tempted to ask her what it was about the fragrant wood that pleased her so much. But she wasn’t offering any more details, and I had learned in the past with Gilda that pushing her for personal information was not always the best route.

And to be honest, with this particular subject, I hated having to ask. I preferred that the prey tell me, and in their own time.

I eventually learned that I’d smelled like Linseed oil to Louis DeBrena and clean white paper to Linda Smith. Both these things reminded them of the professions that they had loved so well. Alois Trancy had told me I smelled ‘nice’ the first time we met, but I couldn’t have cared less what that fucking brat thought I smelled like.

Ciel Phantomhive, lover of sweets, had told me (in a rare moment of weakness) that I’d smelled like the fig pudding his mother had made every year for Christmas.

I never could anticipate how my human body’s chemistry was going to adjust to please my prey, but there was always an element of comfort to it. Most demons use intense pheromones as a sophisticated weapon against their prey, but I preferred to think of this as part of my charm.

“Speaking of smelling, what did you mean about me smelling like ambrosia?”

Her quiet voice cut through my thoughts and I stopped combing out her hair to ponder how to react to what she’d said. It was now Gilda’s bedtime, but that was the first thing she’d said since I picked her up after school that made any reference whatsoever to the cunnilingus I had performed on her that morning.

It wasn’t like we hadn’t talked at all throughout the day; we had. But as I said, it had been minimal. We’d only exchanged pleasantries – How was school. Fine. Hey I saw you watching me in the trees today. I’ll have to be more discreet next time. Would you like something specific for dinner. Oh just some kinda cow and potatoes.

I was expecting something along the lines of: By the way that felt super. Do it again Alex. Right now. Certainly Miss Gilda. Shall I carry you to your bed or shall I just clear a table in the salon.

Sorry. I do tend to amuse myself at times.

I realized I had to say something in response. But I needed to keep it vague.

“The potency of a soul such as yours is intensified when you feel something fervently.”

Yes. There we are. Vague. Fervent fear, fervent hate, fervent grief – none of those were desirable with this particular contract but they’d all work. I’d answered Gilda’s question but I said nothing to the specific emotion; so, not a lie.

She paused before moving on. “I’ve been teasing you too much lately with that underwear thing. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“Well. Yes, about that. My behavior was atrocious. I went too far without asking. I am sorry as well.”

She released her knees from the circle of her arms, and looked up and back at me with an incredulous expression.

“Are you kidding me?”

“No. No I am not,” I replied, truly confused. “I admit that your teasing had become something of an issue, and you should try to refrain from doing it to me as much as you do. But, as your butler, I acted inappropriately.”

She turned back to let me finish combing her hair out. The wavy strands slipped through my fingers like silk, fresh from her bath, clean and dry. I found her hair somewhat hypnotizing when I was combing it, so some time had passed before I realized she had fallen silent and her mood had changed.

“Mistress?”

She was frowning. “So, what you’re saying is… that’s never gonna happen again, is it?”

“On the contrary,” I said, setting the comb down on the nightstand and placing my hands on her shoulders. “Give me the order, and I will ravish your body right now,” I whispered in her ear, and felt her shiver.

“But, Alex,” she said, pulling her ear away from my mouth. “I didn’t order you this morning.”

“That was what I meant by acting inappropriately. It won’t happen again.”

“So… what you are saying is that you did what you did this morning because you wanted to?”

She was cornering me. And I was letting her.

I needed to say goodnight and get out of her bedroom.

“Yes,” I finally replied, telling her the truth.

“But if I want that to happen again, I’ll have to order you to do it?”

I hesitated, just a moment, because I could already hear the disappointment in her voice.

“Yes.”

She sighed. “Gee. That makes me feel really special,” she muttered, her voice dripping with scorn.

“Mistress, you must understand–”

“Jesus, you confuse the shit out of me! The day you first approached me, when you said that you’d gladly fuck me senseless whether we contracted or not – was that a lie?”

“No, I told you, I do not lie. But that was befo–”

“So now we have a contract together, and you don’t want me like that anymore? This morning was just revenge for the teasing, and nothing else?”

“That is not true, I find you very alluring.”

“Yeah… Just as long as I order you to, you mean,” she mumbled bitterly. I didn’t like that.

“You misunderstand the situation.”

“Do I? Fill me in, then.”

“Tell me what to do, and I will do it,” I said, pulling her back tight against my front, trailing my fingertips down her bare arms. “Tell me to tease you until you are screaming for a finish, and I will happily give you that finish. Tell me to take you by force, and I will tire you out with a song in my black heart. Tell me to lavish tenderness on you slowly, and I will do so in a way that you will never, ever forget. Tell me what to do. I am yours to command.”

“All right, Alexander,” she whispered, tilting her head back to give me access to her face. “Can I order you to want to do all those things?”

I froze. I already did want to do all that, but that wasn’t…

She waited a beat, then smirked unpleasantly. “Didn’t think so.” She pulled away from me then, and got up from the bed. Walking to her bedroom door, Gilda pulled it open fully and then turned back to me. “I need to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow. Turning in my composition to the Dean’s board to see if they approve it for my final piano recital. Make it or break it time, you know.” She smiled nervously.

How was it she always managed to do this to me?

Gilda could take any situation where I was trying to guide her reaction to me, to keep this contract on some sort of a manageable schedule, and she would cut it and paste it until I couldn’t even recognize it as my own damn handiwork anymore. Each and every time, I had to go back to the drawing board and start over.

At a loss, I said quietly, “They will be amazed by your lovely composition, I am sure.”

She gazed at me, but did not respond.

I nodded, then I got up from her bed. I turned down the covers for her and waited for her to climb into her bed so that I could tuck her in, but she did not budge.

“Mistress?”

“It’s okay. I’ll be all right,” she said quietly.

The door beckoned. Not five minutes ago I was aching for a way out of her bedroom, now I was aching for something else. And before you think I’m referring to sex again, I tell you, I’m not.

“Shall I not tuck you in?”

“Goodnight, Alex,” she said, this time holding the door in her hand, clearly waiting for me to leave.

I don’t know why, and I suspect that I will not be able to stop thinking about it until I do, but my stomach suddenly hurt.

I dropped the comforter and left her room, saying “Goodnight, Mistress. Pleasant dreams,” as I passed her.

Gilda bit her lip and shut the door behind me.

+

I remained at my desk in my quarters down the hall for the rest of the night. There were piles of paperwork that needed my attention, but I ignored them.

My big plan, falling apart around me like so much burnt confetti. She’d shut her door on me, again. All I could do was listen to Gilda as she lay in her bed. I would not abandon her to tears, if it came to that. I told you I didn’t want to break her.

Oh, gods… I am going soft.

I heard her tossing and turning more than usual, but there was no crying. I should have been proud of her, but to be honest with you I wished she had begun to cry – at least that would have been something I could’ve worked with. Not this horrendous apathy, which was confusing to say the least.

Eventually her exhaustion – and no doubt I am partly to blame for it – got the better of her and she drifted off.

I kept turning our conversation over in my head.

‘It’s okay. I’ll be all right.’

I had that same feeling in the pit of my stomach, that ache I mentioned; only I finally realized what it was. I remembered when I’d felt it before. It was when I left Ciel in Paris, incorrectly assuming that I should break our contract because of his melancholy. He wound up having to make his way back to London on his own. It was a frightening and difficult journey, fraught with desperation the entire way.

I truly regretted leaving him, and I was grateful when he called me back. Still, I felt that same pain with Gilda that had spurred me on to break with Ciel in Paris. Should I leave her now, as well? Would she call for me, or attempt to muddle through her life alone?

Gilda was falling in love with me, if she wasn’t already. That had been my plan all along, but here it was with a wrench in it right off the bat.

+

The following morning saw her up before I could enter to wake her. When I knocked on her bedroom door, which was still closed I am sorry to say, she beckoned me in quietly. I found that she had already showered and was back into her pajamas. Her hair dryer was in her hands, and she was preparing to dry her hair. Alone.

I smiled at her cheerfully, and said, “Good Morning, Miss. I trust you slept well?” She nodded.

Walking over to her vanity, I picked up the chair and placed it next to her. She eyed the chair, then me, and then handed me the appliance as she sat down.

I took the towel from off her shoulders and used it to sap more of the water from her wet hair. Trying to keep things light, I spoke casually.

“Today you have Orchestra, then piano lab from noon until two in the afternoon, then Theory of Composition. In between those last two, however, you’ll need to turn in your final composition to the board, as I am sure you know. For your dinner, I have planned Rack of Lamb with Mint Sauce – on the side,” I amended quickly, smiling, mindful of her general dislike of sweets, “New Potatoes, and fresh green beans for dinner. Dessert will be at your discretion, as always. I’ve prepared a lunch for you, and it is in the icebox, should you wish to take it. I will be picking your outfit today.”

She nodded again. I didn’t like the way she smelled.

“Are you feeling all right, Mistress?” I asked, finally approaching the way things had been left between us the night before.

“I’m fine, Alex.”

Ah. Not biting.

“Are you prepared for your Orchestra final? April is just over a month away.”

“Yes. It’s everyone else that needs to worry.”

I loved her confidence, even if she was being cold to me. “What about your composition? Are you satisfied?”

“It’s done. It was done several days ago, actually.”

“Yes, but do you like it?”

She bit the inside of her lip, looking away. “I’m not sure it matters anymore. It just needs to be finished, and as good as I can make it.”

“I see,” I responded, frowning. I watched her face carefully. “How long before the Dean’s board gets back to you with an approval?”

“It’ll be some time.”

“And if they reject it – I seriously doubt they will, but… You’ll have very little time to revise it before the final. That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Most things aren’t.”

I gritted my teeth. “I know you were struggling with a title. Since it is finished, what have you decided to call it?”

“That doesn’t matter, either.”

I frowned.

I finished drying her hair for her, applied some dressing, and pulled it back and up per her request. She would have probably put it into a ponytail, but I took the time to style it into a casual French knot, and left a few wavy wisps loose on the sides that framed her face beautifully. She moved the chair back to the vanity and applied her make-up as I arranged her clothing, and I watched, despairingly, as the lipstick blot got crumpled and tossed into the little trash bin.

When she was done, I stood at her bed, holding her socks for the day in my hands. Remaining next to the vanity, she tilted her head at me and spoke.

“I can dress myself, Alex. Why don’t you go make me some oatmeal?”

“Are you sure, Miss? Dressing you is no trouble at all.”

Dressing you, in fact, is most enjoyable.

“No. Thank you for everything you have done for me. I can finish.”

“Of course, Miss Gilda,” I said. I was barely able to contain the disappointment in my voice.

I left her then, and as I headed down to the kitchen, I heard her close her door. Again.

+

Before she came down to eat her breakfast, to which I added a rasher of bacon without asking, I peeked in her hideous canvas bag from where it sat on the dining room table. The composition was tucked inside, finished in the formal fashion in a black binder and on the proper paper, and written by hand as per the requirements. I noticed on the cover page that she had gone to pains to control her messy handwriting; it was still distinct, but it was also legible. Very good, Mistress. When I turned the cover page to get to the contents, I got an unexpected surprise.

The title of her composition was ‘That Butler: Gilded’.

I was shocked. That doesn’t matter either, she’d said. Before I could even decide how I felt about that, I heard her trotting down the stairs. I put it all back as I had found it with inhuman speed, and poured her a cup of coffee as she entered the dining room. She looked clean, but tired.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the cup from me.

“No need to thank me, Miss. Just doing my job as your butler.”

She didn’t respond, and focused her gaze on the other end of the table as if processing what I’d said.

She ate her breakfast in silence, and she sat in silence all the way to the conservatory. Holding the limo door open for her, I said, “Best of luck with the composition, Mistress,” as politely as I could.

A curt thanks was her only reply as she bound up the conservatory steps and out of my sight.

Yes indeed. This was going foul. I never should have contracted with her. It was time for me to leave.

+

“Our plans are ruined.”

“Not yet. Be patient. I know what she’ll do when she finds out he’s gone.”

The second one looked towards the first one’s voice, with narrowed, critical eyes.

“You’re very confident in your assumptions. With what, exactly, do you back your theory up?”

The first one knew of the second one’s unreasonably demanding nature when it came to logic and order, so just saying ‘I have a gut feeling’ wasn’t going to suffice.

“History is on my side.”

+

I had been in Hell, moping at my neglected desk, for what seemed like over a month when I heard Gilda call for me the second time. There was no way of telling how much time had passed for her – it could have been less, it could have been more. That’s how it ‘works’, if you will.

The mark on my hand was still intact, as was the one on Gilda’s tummy, I had no doubt. But mine, and likely hers as well, was fading, as they had wont to do when a contract was in a slow state of dissolution. After we were in Hell, Ciel once told me that he had panicked when he had woken up in Paris that morning and found me gone. Finding his way to the bath, he had looked in the mirror and saw that the mark in his right eye was suddenly muted, and although he could see perfectly well, he’d felt as though he had been blinded.

I’d hated hearing that from him then, and now I blanched at the thought of Gilda alone in that manor, trying to figure out what she was going to do next. I had no doubt she was forcing herself to not think about me or the details of the contract; given her tenacity she was more than likely just trying to come up with a short-term plan for coping.

When I’d decided to leave her, I simply drove the limo back to the manor, parked it in the garage, and disappeared from your plane of reality. I really wasn’t sure if Gilda would ever call for me or not. Back in London, I was very confident that Ciel eventually would, especially when you consider what a dangerous life the boy had led. But Gilda was not Ciel, and her life was not particularly dangerous. Not anymore, that is; not since her father had lost the ability to hire thugs to kill her.

As I said, this was the second time she’d called. I heard her call once before, in what was a couple weeks ago for me, which I’m guessing had been during the evening on the same day I had left her. I had ignored her. My mark had ached a bit that time, but I could tell it was nothing serious. All I could assume was that she had been despondent, crying perhaps, at my abandoning her, and had simply blurted out her name for me.

This call was different. My contract mark tingled again, but this was a sharp, insistent sensation, almost painful. She was likely in trouble, and I, despite the fact that I was disgusted with myself for doing so, did not hesitate to come to her aid.

I’ll be the laughing stock of Hell should my co-workers ever find out about this.

+

When I popped back to earth and located Gilda, the site waiting for me was not a good one.

I had no idea how she had gotten home that day, or what had happened to her since, but the little fool had attempted to drive the limo to who knows where in the middle of the night in an ice storm – such a stupid girl, she’d never driven that vehicle, or a car of any sort, not a single thing before in her life – and it had fishtailed off the road. Luckily she’d wound up in the parking lot of a small bait and tackle shop, narrowly missing a large garbage receptacle on the side of the building. I arrived just as she was climbing out of the driver’s seat. She wore a pair of silk pajamas and fluffy slippers, with no coat. While the winter up till then had remained uncharacteristically mild, it was still quite cold, and now it was pelting ice as well. She wiped her face off, and I could see by her skin tone and her red, puffy eyes that she was exhausted and had indeed been crying.

Gilda took a few shaky steps, and I knew she was about to fall down. Suddenly very angry with her for taking such a silly risk, I rushed to her side and grabbed her, clenching her upper arms in my hands before she collapsed. At the sight of me before her, Gilda gasped and said my name again, and the mark burned on my hand just as it had the first time she’d said it, right after our agreement had been made solid.

The ice was still coming down and her silk pajamas were already soaked. I hauled her away from the limo by one arm, stopping when we were under the shop’s awning, and glared at her with my demon eyes.

“Foolish, reckless child! What were you doing? What were you thinking?” I yelled.

Her shock and relief at seeing me again was, as expected, short lived. “I was trying to go back to where we first met! I was thinking I didn’t want you to leave!” she yelled back at me.

I tried to control my temper, but to no avail. Clenching my teeth, I grasped her other arm and pulled her closer to me, shaking her hard. “All you needed to do was to call for me from the manor! When will you ever understand this?”

“Because you wouldn’t have come! I tried that two hours ago, and you didn’t come!” she screamed at me, just as angry.

So it was slightly longer than a month for me, but just one evening for her. Never can tell. One would think that such a long absence from her person would have made me less anxious to touch her. One would think. All I wanted to do right then, after shaking the hell out of her for another few minutes that is, was to ravage her until we both passed out.

And she was right, of course; I hadn’t come to her aid the first time. And had she not put herself in such danger, I wouldn’t have answered this call either. That only left the question as to why I did respond.

The ice began to let up a tad, and it would likely turn into snow if it continued. I released her arms. Looking down, I closed my eyes. What on earth was I going to do with her?

Suddenly I felt her grab me, hands fisting the front of my black shirt, her cold fingers like steel. “Don’t you ever leave me again, do you hear?” she yelled. Her voice was cracking, and I couldn’t tell if the drops on her face were from the weather or if they were fresh tears.

“Is that an order?” I hissed through my fangs, and she didn’t even flinch. She didn’t answer me, either. “This cannot continue. I will spoil you.”

“You are my loyal butler, for fuck’s sake! You’ve been spoiling me since you contracted with me!”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Then instead of running away, try explaining yourself.”

She asked for it.

“Your soul will spoil because you are falling in love with me.”

“And? So I’m falling in love with you, so what?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. Stupid girl. “Your heart will get broken.”

“You can’t know that,” she spat. “No one can.”

“You are mistaken. I know because I am a demon, Mistress. I will never fall in love with you. I cannot return those feelings.”

“All right, so you’re incapable of loving me, fine.”

“I never said I was incapable of love. I’ve told you that I care about you. But I am a demon, and I do not experience love the way you do. I’m incapable of falling. That is a human emotion.”

She gaped at me. “That’s what’s had you worried all this time? Are you kidding me?” I didn’t answer, and looked away. “All right,” she started, and her voice was less angry. “So… you do love?”

“I can. Yes… I have.”

She nodded. “But do you?

Well.

Here we go…

“Yes, Miss. I love you.”

Ice water. It was as though my demonic soul had been dunked in ice water.

“Because I’m your precious meal?” She asked, matter-of-fact.

Joy, a life preserver! “Exactly, Miss. You see–”

“You got any other reasons for loving me?”

Bitch.

When I didn’t answer her, she barreled on.

“Look, I never expected you to fall, Demon. But this is what I mean. I need for you to answer the question I am actually asking here. I need to know. Can you want me, like me, just a little bit–”

“But I already do, Mistress, and far more than just a little–”

“Without it having to be about making me taste better when you eat me?” she said, smiling and glaring at me at the same time. “To feel that way on your own, just because that black heart of yours led you there… and without me having to order you to do it. Get it?”

“Yes. And I…” I started, cringing. “I already do, Miss.”

Dammit. Damn. Hell. Fuck fuck fuck!

This little human girl, so young. I had over twelve thousand years on her, for pity’s sake. She was so weak, and fragile… and she’d cut right through my carefully constructed curtain of plausible deniability like it was made of wet newsprint. She’d shoved aside my barriers and taken a look for herself, and had finally seen the things I’d been hiding from her all these months…

And she still wanted me.

“Then what is all this crap about?” She asked, flailing her arms about wildly. “Seems to me like we don’t really have any issues here, Alex! Why are you leaving me?”

Exhaling heavily, I became annoyed again and grabbed her upper arm, shaking her. “Think back on the way you have been acting!” Leaning in to her face, I whispered hotly, “You are no good to me with a broken spirit.”

After staring at me for a few seconds, I noticed with chagrin that Gilda was completely unperturbed by my rough handling of her. She smirked unpleasantly, and extracted her arm from my fingers. Rubbing her arm lightly, she said, “No, Alex, you think about who you are talking to here. I spent my entire childhood loving someone who didn’t love me back. I know how to do that, and you care about me a lot more than she ever did.” She tilted her head at me. “Besides… I thought you said I’d taste great just as long as my emotions are intense.”

“That is true, you will.”

“So… what do you care if I taste good because I’m in love with you, or if I’m despairing over you?”

Good Christ, she’d figured it out. I instantly regretted revealing that to her.

“Understand me. It wouldn’t just be a small hurt, my dear. You would not simply ‘despair’. I’d have to ruin you. It… It would not be pleasant. For either of us.”

“And you couldn’t have just told me this? You decided to run away instead?”

I paused. “Yes. I felt as though if things continued the way they were going between us, I would be forced into that miserable scenario, and I…”

I hesitated, and she eyed me. “You what?”

“I absolutely do not want to do that to you. So I left.”

“Why did you come back?”

“Because I am highly concerned about you. When you cried out for me this time, you were clearly in distress. Surely you must realize that I hold you in great affection, contract or not. As my meal or not.”

“And there you go! Jesus, Alex… I’m not sure what feelings you think you aren’t returning, but you’re fucking returning something. It may not be a romantic love, but it’s pretty damn good.”

Damn her astuteness. Damn her for being irresistible. Damn her unique, potent soul. And damn those wet, translucent fucking ivory silk pajamas that I had bought for her as she stood toe-to-toe with me in an ebbing ice storm. Agitated, I tilted my head at her. “Contract aside, I will never be yours. Not like that.”

“Dumbass, if what you’re feeling is as far as a demon can go with their prey, then you’re already mine.” She laughed at me, the little brat. “God, you are dense.”

I felt my demonic anger welling up, then I shook my head to clear it. “You are passionate, Miss. Your feelings run very deep. I do not believe that what I feel for you will satisfy. It will not be enough.”

Exasperated, Gilda put a chilly hand on my cheek. “As compared to what?” she asked, laughing bitterly. “The crap existence I had before you showed up? Like I said, I know how to deal with people who don’t love me as much as I love them. I’m enjoying how you make me feel. I’m falling. It’s nice. Just let me feel it, stupid,” she said, trying not to laugh.

I turned my face away from her. “Do you not think you deserve better?”

“Oh, what is this? Second thoughts? We made a deal, Alex.”

“There is still time to break it.”

“That’d doom me to hell, wouldn’t it?” Gilda grabbed my arm and shook it, pulling me back to face her. “You’d let that happen to me? After what I went through?”

“No. I would never. Breaking the contract is different than having it end unsuccessfully. You would still have your life in front of you. Your record would be tarnished, but there would be a good chance that you could work around it. There is a lot of time yet. You are still very young, Mistress. There is so much more you could accomplish–”

“After my final recital, I’ll have gotten pretty much everything I ever wanted.” I frowned at her. “I said, pretty much. What you’ve already done for me goes way past anything I ever expected out of life, Alex. Whether or not you ever start fucking me proper, you’ve touched me more in the last eight months than I’ve ever been touched in my entire life. Holding me, reassuring me… Do you even know how much that has meant?”

“Enough that you should try for more, and not from a demon. What about children? A family?”

“Oh, please, you are so old-fashioned. Be a little more sexist, why don’t you? You’re just asking me that because I’m a girl. Just because I have ovaries doesn’t mean I gotta use ‘em. I’d be a shit excuse for a mother and you know it – not just because I had a lousy example, but because I am obsessed with music. Most artists don’t go making babies because of that. Don’t you think I’ve thought this through? I am capable of complicated thinking–”

“All right. Miss. You have made you point.”

“Not yet I haven’t. You listen to me, Demon. You’re not just hungry, you’re starving. I can tell.” How the hell did she figure that one out? “I made a deal with you, and you came through for me like gangbusters. Don’t get cold feet on me now, Alex. Now now.”

She bit her lip and looked up at me with earnest eyes. I sighed, frowning sympathetically.

“Look at it this way. This is the last relationship I will have before I die, right? It’s just lucky for me that it’s one hell of a relationship.” She smiled weakly. When I didn’t respond, Gilda laughed and turned away from me, then began walking towards the limo. The wind and the ice had died down, and large, fluffy flakes of snow were falling quietly in their place. Her damp slippers padded through a fresh, thin layer of white snow. “Let’s go home,” she sighed loudly. “You wouldn’t want me to get sick again, right? What a bad butler you’d turn out to be if that happened.”

I called out to her from where I stood, not yet moving.

“You are ordering me to return to service as your butler, yes Miss?”

She opened the limo’s back door, and turned. Taking a few steps back towards me, she stopped, and put a fist on her hip. “Oh, no. Uh-uh. Not this time. You left me, remember? And fuck you very much for that, by the way.” She grinned, eyes dancing in the harsh light of a streetlamp. “I’m not gonna make this easy on you.” Gilda chewed at the inside of her lip, then added, “You do what you want. I’ll be in the limo here, waiting for your answer. You know… in the back. You remember the back seat, don’t you Alex?”

She gave me a randy smirk. I stood my ground. I would be resolute. She hadn’t ordered me to do anything, had she? I would still leave, break our contract, go hungry… and her soul would have to fend for itself.

I would.

Then I found myself captivated by the wet silk of her drawstring pants, hips swaying just the right amount as she sauntered back to the limo in her wet slippers. Apparently, entering the vehicle like a lady was still out of the question. She climbed onto the bench seat and crawled her way across it. Her round, ivory-colored backside was very nicely illuminated in the light of the streetlamp, shining through the sunroof of the limo. Her perfect arse was also elevated in a manner that was surely meant to be taken as an advertisement.

Having made it to the far side of the bench seat, Gilda turned and sat up. She crossed her legs and draped an arm across the back, staring at me smugly.

She had deliberately left the back door open, the saucy little bitch. She knew I’d been watching her.

I sighed heavily, suddenly feeling all my long years. I walked back towards the limo with every intention of closing my Mistress’s door for her, getting in the driver’s seat and talking her home. Honestly, I really did. However, by the time I reached the vehicle, there was nothing for it.

After a torturously long pause that consisted of me standing there like an idiot with my fingers perched on the handle of the back door, I finally, begrudgingly, acknowledged my growing erection and got into the back, pulling the door shut behind me.

+

Just to clarify, I did not ‘penetrate’ her with my human penis, as you are probably thinking. The circumstances were not ideal for a milestone as significant as all that. Gilda’s emotions were still running too high for my liking, and believe it or not I do have some pride left when it comes to such intimate matters with my prey. I’ve no doubt that she and I will cross that bridge some time in the very near future; but when we do, it will be in a situation where she will be at my mercy, and I will control the outcome.

I did, however, perform just about every other sexual act on her that was feasible within the confines of a vehicle’s back seat, and permissible within state law – with the exception of a few that, technically, weren’t – before driving her home.

I suppose it was all dangerous… being that any sexual act in a public place is considered illegal. Damn silly regulation, if you ask me. However, local law enforcement rarely frequents that particular byway, so I was not worried about soiling my Mistress’s reputation. I concentrated on soiling her pinker parts.

What a joy to be told by someone who fully appreciates my efforts to do with her body as I pleased! When it comes to sex, I am nowhere near as disgusting as my co-workers, and certainly not as viciously cruel as some of you humans. Still, I am altogether thorough, and I do have a wicked streak that pops up now and then – I have been accused in the past of being ‘kinky’? I am not exactly sure what that means. But I have learned to be quite creative over the millennia.

On the way home, I’d glanced at her frequently in the rear-view mirror, taking care to watch that she not fall back into a foul mood before we reached the manor. My judicious attentions must have done the trick though, as she remained quiet and smiled back at me with a satisfied expression on her lovely young face, languishing in the warmth of the limo’s heat, which was up full blast. When we pulled into the drive she was already half asleep, and she asked me to carry her up to her bed.

I would’ve preferred to bathe her before putting her back to bed, but she was already so drowsy. I removed her slippers and damp, bloody pajamas, peeling them from her body and kissing every exposed part as I went. I could smell her happiness, but her skin was cold again under my hands and lips, and she was shivering, which bothered me enormously. I started a fire, and wrapped her naked body in a thick blanket. I set her in a chair in front of the hearth while I removed most of the rain from her hair with a towel, and she complied easily. After a few minutes of this, Gilda hummed to herself as she only does when she is at ease with everything around her.

After removing all of my own damp clothing, I carried Gilda to her bed and tucked both of us under the covers, holding her close and keeping her toasty warm. It was the first time since we had gone skinny dipping together that she had ever been in such close contact with all of my bare skin. That had just been for fun. This time it was intimate.

She kissed me and stroked my skin to her heart’s content, claiming I was almost hot to the touch. She told me again, in drowsy, tender words, that I smelled like cedar. I made a note to get her to tell me why Spanish Cedar was so special to her. For the first time in my long history, the why of how I smelled to my prey was not obvious in the least.

I begged her to go to sleep, and she did so quickly and without argument. For the next few hours, I was intoxicated with her happy scent; it was stronger than it had ever been. What an idiot I’d been to think leaving her was the right thing to do. I do not know when she – not just her soul, but her – started meaning so much to me… Sometime before she’d drowned, obviously.

She reminded me of Ciel. Although he and I had been contracted together for far longer when it had actually happened, Ciel had also come to mean more to me than just being my dinner. I sacrificed my dignity and altered the stipulations of our relationship in ways that I never thought I would do for any prey. And now, here I was doing the same thing with Gilda.

It was trouble brewing, and I knew it. A landmine, just begging to be stepped on.

And I no longer cared.

It was now the following morning. I’d allowed myself a little sleep while holding her – I couldn’t help it! We were so very cozy under those downy covers and it felt wonderful. I woke long before she did, but I knew she could use more rest than what she’d already had. Finally I left her there, getting out of her bed to start our day.

Gilda was fortunate not to have any classes that day because she was having trouble walking when she finally dragged herself out of bed.

“Now then, Mistress,” I said cheerfully, gently pulling a soft midnight blue turtleneck over her head and arms. What a good little girl she was being for me, politely standing still in front of the full-length mirror. “You must be very glad right about now that we kept some of the new clothes I bought for you,” I teased. “I know you don’t care for this one, but you cannot deny how efficiently it covers up all the bite marks.”

Oh, do stop gaping. You must have been wondering why her pajamas were bloodied.

Gilda, my darling prey, had simply rewarded me last night with a little snack for coming back to her. And I’m pleased to report that I myself was feeling a bit stronger as well because of it! Of course, I wasn’t feeling as robust as consuming her soul will make me feel. But oh, her blood… especially in that moment, infused with her unwavering affection… It was positively scrumptious.

I smirked at her in the mirror and she blushed prettily, my sweet, shy young Miss. She averted her eyes and smiled while I pulled her long hair out from the back of her shirt and set about to styling it. Fortunately the bites on her neck and body were healing rather quickly. I hadn’t made them overly deep to begin with, and I’d taken the time to lick the puncture wounds impeccably clean before the blood had even begun to coagulate.

There’s no sense doing a thing unless you are going to do it right, I always say!

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tbc

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++++++++ notes ++++++++

To OhJazzy & Cannibal-and-Jamie: Thank you both for your continued interest.
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Gilded