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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
+++++++ Please see disclaimer & story notes in chapter one ++++++++

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

I fly beta-less. Please forgive the typos.

As always, thanks for reading!

 

+

Gilded

Chapter 6

+

Although her ribs were healing nicely, and the cuts on her lips were nearly gone, Gilda’s left leg was still an issue.

Ever since I had brought her home, I saw to it that she got a daily massage immediately after each sponge bath, as per her physical therapy requirements. She had finally allowed me to clean her more efficiently during the sponge baths, but I noted that after the incident with the violin she was much more comfortable with me touching her.

Perhaps that is not the correct way of putting it. In point of fact, she was lording it over me. A few days after our impromptu duet, she watched from the salon’s French doors as I released some new koi into the wishing pool. When I came back in and she asked me what had happened, I was forced to tell her the truth. Her ‘guffaws’ were bad enough, but then she had the nerve to tease me about it.

“Jeez, Alex! Temper much? You go off and kill a bunch of harmless fishies just ‘cause I won’t let you fuck my brains out?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I could, literally, do just that.

But I was miffed, and I had to get back at her somehow. So I turned up the heat during her leg massage.

I selected a different massage oil this time, not one as prescribed but one from my personal stores. The scent was strong, evocative of musks and flowers, and it was known to stimulate blood flow and cause a warming sensation. I don’t remember exactly which plants it was made from, but Agni, servant to Prince Soma, had introduced me to it after we became friends.

“This is a very powerful love oil. It puts his highness in the most glorious of moods. Yes, indeed!”

Love oil. Glorious mood. That was a good start.

After drying her skin off. I put her t-shirt and panties back on her, as she was still insisting to be naked as little as possible in front of me. Taking the bottle of oil in my hand, I poured a teaspoon or so into my palm. Gilda immediately commented on the scent.

“That’s pretty,” she said, gazing up at me and toying with a chunk of her pretty hair like a coy little bitch. “What is it?”

“An ancient blend, known to improve blood flow and… relieve crankiness,” I said.

What? How was that a lie?

“Relieve crankiness?” she quipped. “Very funny.”

I smirked, and got down to business. Distributing the oil from one palm to another, I took her thigh in my hands and gently spread the liquid over her skin. This time, I would give her my undivided attention, putting my all into getting her where I wanted her.

When the oil was distributed properly, I began the deep tissue massaging. My strokes started out soft, knowing it was best to build up to these things. Starting at her knee, I pressed my thumbs into the top of her thigh, and stroked upward very slowly. When my thumbs reached the junction of her hip and thigh, I reversed direction and pressed my fingers into the back of her thigh as I returned downwards to her knee. Over and over, neatly avoiding touching anything above the invisible line of oh-no-you-don’t-Alex as I went. Her skin began to warm under my hands, and she closed her eyes while sighing in bliss.

I had longed for a moment just like this since contracting with her. Her soft sighs were a lovely sound to my demon ears. It was a sound that made me reconsider, if only for a moment, what I was about to do.

No. She needs to be taught a lesson.

That invisible line beckoned, and with the next upwards stroke, I crossed it. My thumb grazed her hip, and I saw her eyes snap open to stare at the ceiling as I soothed my way back down.

“Alex?”

“Hmm?” I asked, pretending not to notice anything was amiss.

Up, down, and again, gaining no ground, but not relinquishing any, either. Again.

“Never mind,” she said, closing her eyes. She threw an arm over her face, relaxing further.

Up, closer this time. And again. A slight gasp escaped her pretty lips, but she didn’t protest. My thumb grazed across her hipbone, and she trembled as though she had been tickled. The next time I came up, I nudged the edge, just the edge, of her bikini panties. She inhaled a sharp breath.

“Does this feel all right, Miss Gilda?” I asked on the way back down.

For a moment, she was quiet. “God, yes,” she finally breathed. Her head lolled to the side of her pillow.

I pushed it just a little further the next time. Down again, her thigh was slick, oily and hot under my hands, then up again… each time going further and further until finally I was brushing her sex through the thin cotton panel on the front of her panties with each upward pass. The cotton became damp, and I could feel her flesh beginning to swell, so I kept going. Her eyes clenched shut and she began gripping the sheets under her fingers. I watched her, smug with satisfaction, as she writhed.

“Alex,” she moaned, torso rising, nipples hardening under her t-shirt. “Please don’t stop,” she begged.

So I did.

“Wha…” she said, sitting up slightly and breathing hard. She opened her eyes to find me wiping the oil off of my hands. I smiled at her sweetly as I tossed the towel aside and rolled my sleeves back down, buttoning the cuffs.

“What the hell are you doing? You’re leaving?”

“Yes, to prepare your lunch, Mistress. Your thigh muscles feel quite loose now. Why don’t you take a nice nap?”

I turned on my heel and left her there, hot, bothered and alone, and pointedly closed the door behind me. Poor thing. She either didn’t know or didn’t care that I could hear her angry grunts as she finished herself off while I made her next meal.

+

“You have washed your hands, yes?” I asked a bit later, lowering a tray onto her lap. She sat up and looked straight ahead, eyes ‘bugging’ out. “Because I am serving finger sandwiches for lunch,” I said, pouring it on thick.

Tease me, will you?

Ah, revenge. Spontaneous, fleeting… but so very sweet.

+

Around one thirty-six in the a.m., I heard Gilda hobbling out of bed. I assumed it was to use the toilet; her leg was still giving her some pain, but she had been getting around a bit by herself, and frankly she needed the practice doing these things on her own, so I this time left her to it.

To my surprise, however, she made her way down the hall to my private room. I looked up from the papers on my writing desk when she knocked softly on the doorframe. I kept my door – really, all the doors in the manor – open. Even the door to Gilda’s bedroom, and especially at night. There was no need for such strict privacy as our retainers were not live-ins and it was just Gilda and myself most of the time. And, I hoped, it would promote a stronger sense of openness towards me on her part.

“Mistress? Can you not sleep – are you in pain?” I got up immediately and went to her, taking her by the elbow and helping her towards a chair.

“No, no – I’m okay.” She placed a hand on my arm but refused the seat. “But I can’t sleep. I keep hearing something.”

I frowned. What could her human ears possibly notice that mine wouldn’t hear first? Still, it made me tense. “What do you hear, then?”

“It sounds like a gurgle… or a pump. Something pumping water. I don’t remember seeing one, but do we have a sump pump in the basement? It rains a lot this time of year around here.”

“This manor has no need of a sump pump, Miss,” and I said the word as though it were the sludge it eliminated. “I assure you that the basement of this house is fully waterproofed and finished.” The basement was partially exposed with its own doors to the outside property, as the back end of the manor was built onto a hilly slope. However, I had a feeling I knew what she was hearing. And I would have to compliment her on her sharp hearing. “I think you are hearing the pump for the pool in the sub-basement.”

She raised her eyebrows, confused. “We… we have a pool? Really?”

“Yes. Off the main basement is another room, set slightly lower, with a built-in pool.”

“You’re kidding me!” Her eyes lit up so fiercely I thought they may have had an electrical source. “Take me to it, right now!”

I picked up Gilda in my arms, and we carefully tread the stairs down from the first level to the main floor, then from the main floor to the basement. We strode past a collection of arcade-style gaming machines, pool tables, a comfortable sitting area with a sound system and flat screen televisions, then past the bar and across the small dance floor, until we got to a door at the back of the basement.

“I never even saw this door the first time you took me down here,” Gilda murmured. She also hadn’t been in the basement since that day, apparently having no interest in what I had done with the place.

I had thought of festive parties, you see.

“My apologies for neglecting to show you,” I said, honestly. I pushed through the door backwards, leaning on it with my back, and the overhead lights came on as we entered. Her jaw dropped open.

“Your swimming pool, Mistress.”

It was a regulation-sized pool, complete with competitive lanes and a deep end with diving boards. There were also a few round, shallow pools with jet streams connected to the main pool but set off to the side, for the more social sort of swimmer. Setting her to her feet, I turned to the master panel on the wall just inside the door, also connected to the intercom and security system.

I would not spare any expense for either her comfort or enjoyment, but the entire manor was also a secure facility. Gilda was my prize, the first of her kind since Ciel. I was taking no chances with her and this manor was armed, as it were, for bear.

With the flick of a few switches, the jets came on in the social pools, the filtration system kicked in, and all of the underwater lights lit up. The pleasant sound of bubbling water and a bright, safe light filled the room, dancing across my Mistress’ eyes and beckoning her to jump in.

Along the tops of the room just below the ceiling were glass-block windows letting in plenty of light – during the day, anyway – on three sides. Down one long side of the pool was a door to a room marked ‘private’, and two public changing rooms were next to that, one designated for ‘gentlemen’ and one for ‘ladies’.

Again, wonderful parties had been in my thoughts, ones where I could watch my mistress interact with her friends… and more importantly her enemies. She had to have some, being as talented as she was. Since bringing her home, however, I lost hope of that sort of thing ever happening. Perhaps this would change her mind.

“Oh my gawd!” She yelped, and her voice echoed across the water and bounced off the walls. “Why didn’t you tell me we had a pool?”

“Again, I am sorry,” I said, smiling at her happy reaction. What a surprise to see her so enthralled by something other than that damn piano. I hoped, someday, she’d be just as enthralled by me. “Given your lukewarm response to the rest of the basement, I didn’t think you’d have any interest, Mistress.”

“What – stupid TV and video games? Are you kidding? There’s no comparison! I love the water. Oh, Alex, it’s not so very late… and I haven’t been swimming in years. Please, can I go in for a bit?” She put on her best begging face, which was rather cute if she only did it for a short time, and clasped her hands together.

An idea struck. One that would possibly kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. And I know she’d enjoy as well if she’d just allow herself to relax.

“Mistress, the hour does not affect me whatsoever, and you yourself do not have to get up early for anything yet. And to tell you the truth, this would be very good therapy for your leg. But,” and I gave her the most sympathetic smile I had in my repertoire of facial expressions, “I have yet to order you any swimwear.”

I wasn’t lying. I truly hadn’t.

“Well, I guess I could swim in my undies.” She wrinkled her nose and I wrinkled my in response. “Yeah, that’s never really comfortable.”

I went in for the kill. Tossing my idea out to her, I quipped, “Why not skinny dip?” She bit her lip, eyeing me. “Well, it’s not like I haven’t already seen you in your altogether.” Now she looked worried. “I’ll tell you what, then. I happen to love a good swim myself. I’ll show you mine since you’ve shown me yours.”

She blushed, and grinned, finally, and I knew that we were going swimming. I went back upstairs to get several clean towels as I hadn’t stocked the changing room with supplies yet. The pool was stocked, of course, with blow-up toys and rafts and cup holders and lawn chairs, but no fresh linens.

I was on my way back down, looking forward to getting naked with my prey, when I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from where I’d left her. Quick as a wink, I was at her side. Apparently while I was gone she took it upon herself to venture into the ladies changing room. She was leaning heavily on a doorjamb, favoring her leg as though she had barely made it there. When she saw me, she climbed into my arms and whined.

“Mistress! What is it? Are you hurt?” I said sternly, ready to tear apart another demon, or worse.

“Sp… Spispi… spider,” she finally got out, climbing higher into my arms and pointing towards the toilets. “And it’s fucking huge!”

I had to keep myself from laughing. Setting her down, I told her to stay put, and opened the door to the water closet she had pointed at.

We were in the North Eastern United States, upstate New York to be exact, although what was either new or Yorkish about it, I had no idea. In any case, the forests of these regions had plenty of bugs to go around. Given the manor’s property spanned one hundred and sixty-seven acres, and most of that was forest, there was little doubt we’d eventually see something slightly more exotic than what was commonly found in a suburban American backyard. This was a Cross Spider, a female, and she was heavy with eggs. The white cross on her back stared at me, daring me to do something about it. The insect must have crawled in from the garden outside looking for a place to hide near a water source as she prepared to make hundreds more of herself.

More of you? Not in this manor, my dear.

Gilda probably didn’t like spiders because, well, she was a human girl. I didn’t like them for entirely different reasons. I destroyed the bug in one swipe, obliterating her body and any young inside her to their basic molecules.

“Gone,” I said happily, emerging from the water closet and smiling at my Mistress. “Would you like to tinkle now?”

Tilting her head sarcastically, she said, “No, I was just poking around.” She cleared her throat. “Alex?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“I have an order for you.”

I smiled excitedly. They were rare.

“Splendid! What is it?”

“I order you to destroy every single insect that is inside this entire house tomorrow, and you are to maintain a general bug-free-ness in it from here on out. Do you understand?”

I bowed low, my hand to my black heart. “Yes, my dear Mistress.”

Oh, thrilling! It wasn’t much, but she’d actually ordered me to do something, and it involved killing!

When I stood back up, she was biting her lip and blushing. Smiling, I picked her up again and carried her to the private room. “This is the changing room for Miss, not the other,” I said pointedly, and she noticed the difference immediately. Those other two rooms were more like what one would find at a public pool. This was a changing room for Gilda’s personal use, one that I had lovingly appointed specifically for her with a phone line, intercom, couch and chairs, and a small kitchen, as well as the expected full bath.

I set her to her feet again, and began to remove her sleeping attire. Her night to pick, so it was a t-shirt and those cute, androgynous panties called ‘boy-shorts’. The t-shirt was too plain for my tastes but I adored her in boy-shorts! She offered no resistance, and was nude before me within moments as though she’d done so a thousand times before. I folded her clothing and set it on a soft chair. When I started to unbutton my black shirt, she came up to me and swatted my hands away.

“Turnabout is fair play, Alexander,” she said quietly, and proceeded to undress me. There were no rude comments, just a small smile playing about her mouth as she fiddled with buttons, sleeves, undershirt. I caught her admiring the smooth plane of my chest muscles for a moment, then she moved on to shoes, socks, belt, zipper, pant legs. When she got to the boxers, she hesitated.

“You’re sure?” she asked softly, looking up into my eyes. “Once we do this you can’t take it back, you know.”

“It’s meaningless,” I said. “It is just a body. I am perfectly comfortable with nudity no matter what form I take. You are the one that has to be sure, Miss Gilda.”

“All right then, here we go,” she said, a nervous smile on her face. I saw her close her eyes as she dragged my silk boxers down. She held them as I stepped out from the legs, freeing me from all clothing. Tossing the boxers onto the pile of my clothes – and I had a strong urge to fold them properly but I ignored it – Gilda stood up and turned to face me. A pretty blush came over her whole body.

“Look all you want, Miss. You own it.”

For now.

“Alex, don’t,” she said, smiling fiercely.

To be clear, it isn’t like I walk around trying to impress her by sporting a giant erection all day long. That would be vulgar. But this was new territory for us, and she was reacting pretty much as I had expected her to. It was sensitive ground that needed to be covered if I were to get any further with her sexually, and a naked swim was as good a place to start as any. A great place, even.

Gilda blushed harder and closed her eyes. I walked up to her and put a finger under her chin, making physical contact without asking permission. I knew she found me attractive, I could smell it growing stronger on her day by day, but now was not the time. When she opened her eyes and looked up at me, I simply said, “Let’s go for a swim.”

I carried her to the shallow end and descended the stairs. Even though I introduced her to the water slowly, she still gasped at the coolness once it hit her.

“Too cold?” I asked. “I can adjust that.”

“Not right now. I’ll get used to it. But I’d like it warmer next time, if you can.”

“You can have anything you want, Miss. Do you plan to swim often?”

“You bet,” she said, grinning.

“Then we need to see what you leg can do. Do you swim laps?”

“I can, sure. Let me try.”

I set her free in the five-foot depth, and she gripped the wall. Positioning herself, she pushed off and swam away from me to cross the width of the pool one time. I walked in tandem behind her, ready to support her if need be. She did so well I expected her to push off from the wall and keep going, but she stopped.

“Does it hurt?”

“A bit,” she said, wiping the water from her face and pushing her hair behind her ears. “But not enough to stop. I need to work the muscle.”

She did five more laps, stopping between each at the pool’s edge, until she said her thigh was throbbing a bit and she had to stop. Her swimming was very good; just the standard breaststroke, of course, no ‘butterfly’ or anything fancy, but she was strong and consistent and could save herself from drowning if need be.

“No more laps tonight, you just relax a bit.” I moved closer to her, and bade her hold on to the edge while I massaged the thigh under the water. “You’re doing very well, you know,” I said quietly, close to her ear. “This leg will be better in no time.” The muscle eventually relaxed, and so did she. I smiled, pulling her away from the edge by her hands and wrapped them around my neck.

“Let’s go to the center and play a game.”

At the five-foot depth, she stood on her own with her head just out of the water. I had her close her eyes and listen to where I was in the pool. After silence ensued, she had to guess and swim to me, not opening her eyes. She got it right less than half the time – I confess gave her plenty of false hints. I am quite sneaky, and able to swim great lengths underwater, having no actual need to breathe (although I do it to make you humans more comfortable), and at speeds you cannot possibly achieve.

When I searched for her, of course I always found her.

Once last time I waited under a diving board in the deep end, and she had stopped and opened her eyes while still in the lanes. “That isn’t fair,” she whined, turning to face me and trying not to giggle. “You’ve got super-senses. I can’t compete with that.” I swam up to her, and when I got close enough, she placed her hands on my shoulders.

“Ah, but I never said I would play fair, Miss. I only promised not to lie.”

She feigned pouting, and I narrowed my eyes at her. Sighing, she put her head on my chest and draped her arms around my neck, allowing me to spin her about in the refreshing water.

This was good. Naked or not, she was enjoying being close to me. Her skin was slick and warm under the water, and I took advantage of our positions, running a palm over her smooth back. I have to confess to you here and now that I cannot get enough of her back, it is absolutely addictive, from her neck to her shoulder blades to the bumps on her spine. It is very difficult for me to keep from entering her room at night just to remove her top and stroke the skin there with my bare hands while she sleeps. As a demon, I could do it, you know, without waking her. But I am her butler. So until I am invited, or ordered…

I pulled her in against me and encouraged her to hold on tighter. She complied – good girl – and I swam backwards leisurely almost the entire length of the pool while she lay against me. “This is nice,” she finally said, and I could not argue the point. “The water feels good.”

That wasn’t the only thing that felt good. She, however, seemed absolutely unconcerned that we were naked, and that my genitals were making the occasional contact with her body.

I had to keep reminding myself about certain facts. One was that I enjoyed intimate relations with humans, very very much, but while under contract, sex was basically a tool for me to get my way. Experiencing an orgasm was lovely now and then, but to be honest, I didn’t do much of it. When intimate with my prey I tend to concentrate on their pleasure, because the bliss I instill in them makes their scent blossom. If I can keep their attachment to me strong until the end, it produces a juicier meal.

I wanted very much to use sex as a ‘weapon’ with this prey – that sounds quite mean, actually – but sexually, Gilda was far more complicated than Loius, or any of the other humans I’d been with before her.

I do not count Ciel here, because we are discussing sex. I never had the pleasure of being with him. I would not have been his first sexual experience, but I would have been the first to take him gently, and with a good measure of affection. I regret that I failed to give him that.

Now lingering about in the deep end, she finally spoke. “I’m sorry I was so weird in the changing room.”

I smiled at her. “Nonsense. All new things take getting used to.”

“You didn’t have to get used to my naked body.” She shifted in the water so that she could face me as we spoke.

“Ah, but I am your butler Miss. And a demon. While my employ with you demands that I not be affected by such things, my true nature guarantees it.”

“Well… whatever you are, you’re kinda beautiful. So I didn’t want to stare.”

How thoughtful. And unnecessary.

I stopped myself from reiterating that she had the right to stare all she liked. Rushing Gilda was going to get me nowhere, and she had finally taken another step forward with me. Tonight was not about sex. Intimacy, yes, but not sex. I put any salacious thoughts from my mind and concentrated on the moment.

After awhile I got out, leaving her treading as she held securely onto a ladder. If she had watched me walking around naked, I wasn’t going to embarrass her about it. I grabbed a few retrievable objects and tossed a floating lawn chair into the deep end where she waited for me. Getting back in, I played lifeguard on the chair, while Gilda swam like a fish and retrieved the objects from the bottom as I tossed them into the pool.

I had no doubt she was going to be sore as hell the next day. No matter; she’d simply need a longer, more thorough massage, and I would happily provide that. I’d force Gilda out of the pool later, when her fingers had sufficiently pruned, but for now I crossed my legs and relaxed, watching my little water baby play about.

+

Two steps forward, one step back, as your kind says.

Two days later, late in the morning, I came upon her making a racket in her bedroom – on her knees, her sweet rear end jutting up as she rummaged through one of her closets, pulling things out and tossing them aside as she desperately searched for something.

I am going to have to clean all that up.

Sighing, I entered the room. “Mistress, what on earth are you looking for?”

Her head popped out of the closet, and the expression on her face reminded me of a mouse being caught by a cat. Quite appropriate, actually.

“There was a box… A box I had in here. Did you move it?” She sounded angry. And guilty.

Of course, I knew what she was talking about. May as well get this over with.

“Are you referring to those items you bought off the internet last week? The lock box, and that sexual appliance – a ‘life-like silicone dildo’ I believe was the terminology that was listed on the receipt – and some water-based lubricant?”

“Oh God in heaven,” she whined, hiding her face in her hands. “How in the fuck do you know…”

She trailed off, but I continued, confused as to why she was so embarrassed. I thought we were past all of that. “Once I broke the lock off, it was simply a matter of opening the lid and looking inside. I threw it all away–”

“What?! You had no right to do that! That was private,” she said, gritting her teeth.

“I assure you, Miss, there is absolutely nothing you can keep private from me.”

Her mouth – the ‘o’ – ah, lovely. It would be so easy to–

“Why did you throw it away? It was mine!” She stood up and walked over to me.

“You have no need of such things. Not anymore.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I know that you masturbate. I know when you touch yourself. You close your door and ask for privacy, but I can smell it, and I can hear it. Obviously, since you have purchased a sex appliance, you have a need for something more satisfying than what your hands alone can provide. You do not need fake a penis to achieve that. I tell you once again that as your butler, I will gladly provide–”

“Stop oh my gawd just stop!” she screamed.

My goodness, what a little brat. She had interrupted me twice already. I despised being interrupted. If she did that a third time I just may have to spank her.

“Mistress, I do not understand your difficulty with this. I’ve kissed you, passionately, so you know I am good at that.” I conveniently left out the fact that she was just as good at it as I was. “You were on the verge of an orgasm the other morning during your leg massage.” Also conveniently leaving out the fact that I completely manipulated her that time, and then left her to her own devices before properly finishing her off. “And our little adventure swimming naked in the pool together provided you with plenty of visual evidence that I am more than properly equipped to–”

“Gaaaaah!” she screamed, clamping her hands over her ears. “Get out get out get out I order you to get out! Jesus Christ!” She clenched her eyes shut, and pointed at the door, so I left.

I am never going to understand your species.

+

Later that day, Gilda received a phone call on her new ‘cell’ phone from a woman named Nancy Sorenson. My Mistress was at work in the salon at the time, quite embroiled in her composition as a matter of fact, and I was not going to tolerate an interruption when she was making such headway. I took a message, getting the woman’s phone number. I gave the message to Gilda when she was finished for the day, but before I handed it over, I looked up the woman on the internet.

There was precious little information, save that she lived in Boston, Massachusetts, and from what I could tell, in a small apartment in a not-so-nice neighborhood. The staff had reported in that day, and I took Uncle Rafael aside and inquired about this Nancy Sorenson with him, but he had no idea. Concerned, he asked if he should ask Fortunado about it, but I told him to wait until I had more information.

Gilda took the message, intentionally not looking at me or saying much about it. All I got was a curt response.

“You can let my cell phone calls go into my voice mail when I don’t answer them, all right, Alex?”

My demonic ass I would.

And yet, propriety forced me to ask:

“Is that an order, Miss?”

She paused before sipping her soup.

“It’s an order, demon.”

“Yes, Mistress, as you wish.”

Dammit.

She called the woman later, sneaking outside to use her cell phone in the garden. Of course, since she went so far out of her way to keep it from me, I simply had to listen. Perched in a tree above her, I heard her keep the conversation very short, asking the woman not to call her cell again, and promising she’d call her next week when she was back in school and could talk more freely. She ended the call and that was it.

I could not let this go. There was her safety to consider. We got into another row over it, unfortunately.

I finally pressed her later that night, after her sponge bath, pain pill and hair drying. She was sitting on her bed, with me kneeling behind her as I combed out her long, lovely locks.

“Leave it alone, Alex.”

“But is she a threat to you? Is that why you are being so quiet about it?”

“No. I said quit asking and I mean it. Leave this one alone!”

She was quite brassed off at that point, and not in the same way she had been during our previous spat that morning. Here I thought the dildo thing had bothered her – but my nosing about into this particular subject was bothering her much more.

As long as there was no immediate threat from it, I realized however reluctantly that I needed to leave it be. “If I have overstepped my bounds, Mistress,” I said gently, “you have my apologies.” I finished brushing her hair and tied a silk ribbon around it at the base of her neck. “Does Miss have any other needs I can attend to before she retires?”

“No.”

She lay down in the middle of the huge bed, turning on her side and giving me her back. The sight of her young body clad in a silk negligee that was clinging to her luscious curves was very provocative – I get to pick her sleepwear on my days as well – but her body language was making it clear that she was done with me.

“Very well,” I said, pulling the covers up over her and tucking her in, safe and sound. “Good night, Mistress.” I switched off the bedside lamp and turned to leave. But before I reached the door to her bedroom, she flipped over and called out to me.

I responded immediately. “Yes, Miss Gilda?”

There was a pause, then she said, “I’m sorry I bit your head off.”

I smiled. She really was quite vexing, but in an enticing sort of way.

“Not at all, Mistress. Pleasant dreams.”

+

It was well past midnight when I was pretending to get some paperwork done, musing about whether or not Gilda was warm enough in that fantastically sexy number she was wearing. I was seriously considering checking on her when I was startled out of my woolgathering. A huge crash that sounded like shattering glass and splintering wood was heard from Gilda’s room. She screamed my name, and I tore down the hall and burst into her bedroom to find–

“You wretched little whore! Bassie’s mine, I tell you!”

A streak of red flew towards her bed, but I flew faster. By the time Grell Sutcliff realized he was standing on her bed and sawing through a feather pillow, it was too late. Gilda stood safely behind me in her flimsy outfit, away from the crazy Reaper of my nightmares.

“Bitch!” he screamed, leaping off the bed towards us.

I growled, and my fangs popped out. I do not like late callers. “Sutcliff, you will leave immediately. My Mistress needs her sleep.”

Sensing my extreme anger, Grell backed away slightly, pouting for good measure. Gilda wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled up closer against me, I assumed out of fear. It felt very nice considering how little she was wearing, but it turns out that her real goal had been to lean sideways a bit to get a better look at her attacker.

Grell took one look at Gilda, in her skimpy red nightie, with her shiny red toenails, and her bright red hair ribbon… and gasped.

“She’s… She’s simply stunning,” he whispered, and I honestly thought the pansy was going to faint. I didn’t think the night could get any worse, but then Gilda spoke.

“Omigawd… Where did you get that coat? It’s so cool!”

“Oh, darling! Never mind that, I simply adore that negligee!”

I was, needless to say, stunned. She was not making girlfriends with the likes of him. No. I would forbid it.

“Geez, Alex, get out of the way already,” Gilda spat, pushing me aside and reaching out, to my abject horror, towards Grell the Gaudy Reaper. “My God, is this wool?” she whispered, gently grasping the lapel of that poor dead woman’s coat. Ciel, wherever he may be, must have been retching.

Grell immediately threw aside his Death Scythe, and began stroking the silk of her tiny garment. “Does this come in my size, do you think?”

I flinched. He was touching my Mistress.

“It’s so soft… And so red! This must have cost you a fortune,” Gilda gushed.

“You will never know!” Grell screeched, hurting my ears. “When I saw it, I had to have it, but of course I had to wait until it was up for grabs,” he said, waving his hands in the air like a fairy that couldn’t fly. “Then I pounced!”

Yes. Pounced. Like flies on fecal matter.

I could feel the bile rising in my throat and the fury rising in my gut. Grell must have felt the demonic change in my mood because he looked past Gilda and focused on me. The giant, stupid grin fell from his face immediately and he swallowed hard. When she noticed his discomfort, Gilda turned back to look at me. Seeing my eyes aglow, she produced a rather unlady-like snort and rolled her eyes.

Turning back to Grell, she said, “Oh, don’t worry about him, he always does that. Let’s go grab some junk food and look at my latest catalog – there’s a pair of high-heeled lace-up cherry red patent leather boots in there that’d go perfect with this coat. And I’ll buy ‘em for you if you let me borrow it! C’mon!” She tugged on his hand.

Disgusting!

“Only if you let me try on that nightie so I can model it for Bassie!”

Oh no…

“Who the fuck is Bassie?” Gilda asked, bewildered.

Sutcliff keep your damn mouth SHUT for once.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Grell sing-songed, as Gilda dragged him out of her room, not even bothering to put a robe on over her nightie. The one that I bought her, so that I could slowly peel it off of her some night… teasing her into oblivion.

Well. Nearly into oblivion. That would come later. Heh.

They moved down the stairs together, chattering like teenage girls the entire time. “Oh, Sebas-chan!” He called back to me over his shoulder, “I like this one! I do hope you intend to keep her longer than that little brat!”

“Again with the name stuff?” Gilda asked, annoyed, which made Grell giggle, high-pitched and annoying. “Alex told me some of his evil supernatural buddies would show up and try to kill me, but I just can’t see it with you. You’re adorable!”

Before I knew it, they had disappeared through the swinging door to the dining room. I stood there at the top of the stairs, fuming, as the door finally stopped moving.

So much for me controlling Gilda in her choice of playmates.

I took a deep breath and counted to ten, and I confess that when I exhaled there was a little bit of smoke coming out of my nostrils. Then I stomped downstairs into the dining room, because there was no way in my version of Hell or anyone else’s that I was going to leave her alone with him.

Grell stayed until the wee hours of the morning, their little party eventually moved back upstairs to Gilda’s bedroom, where they tried on every single piece of red clothing she had, from the hideous ‘punk’ things Gilda had bought for herself without my consultation, to the expensive, designer things I had painstakingly selected to go with her hair, coloring and body type. Neither Gilda nor Grell seemed disconcerted by the fact that they were undressing in front of each other, let alone me.

“Oh, please,” she said, gesturing casually to her now-nude body, “He’s already had his hands all over this!”

“Oh, you lucky girl!”

Unable to watch but determined to remain in the room, I busied myself with cleaning up the mess Sutcliff had made with his grand entrance and fixed the window with inhuman speed. When I turned back to them, I saw they were discarding every article of clothing on the floor like spoiled princesses – creating more work for me, of course.

All of the things Grell tried on would have to be laundered. Again. Even Gilda’s precious red panties had the unfortunate fate of directly touching his Reaper body. I will not soon forget the sight of Grell Sutcliff standing before me in women’s red satin bikini panties, crotch fairly bulging with unfamiliar contents, little bows on the sides jutting out over his thin male hip bones, with him happily screeching ‘does this make me look fat?’

Those, I planned to incinerate.

At the very least, I was grateful that the subject of my former name was not brought up again, lest I, or God forbid, Grell Sutcliff reveal details about my past contracts to my current prey. I tried to pick up after them as they barreled on, but I tell you now… giddy girls on a mission to plow through a closet’s contents are damn hard to keep up with.

When I could no longer take it, I insisted that the red bitch be on his way, as my Mistress was technically still recovering from her wounds and needed her sleep. Ignoring her protestations, I stuffed Grell’s naked being back into his stolen coat and balled up the clothes he came in with into his hands. Then I yanked him out of Gilda’s room by his red collar and dragged him down the long staircase. When I got to the manor’s front doors, I tossed him out on his tacky backside to the drive below, his clothes flying everywhere.

“But Sebas-chan!” he cried, wallowing half-nude on the pebbles. I loomed over him on the front porch, in a manner that at least I thought was dark and threatening… but the idiot simply went on with his tantrum. “We hadn’t even gotten to Gillie’s shoes yet!”

“Now you listen to me, you menace. Obviously my Mistress has taken a liking to you. While I cannot seem to do anything about that now, it is clear to me that you intend to call again. That being said, I will not be able to stop your,” here, I sneered, “friendship from progressing, but I insist that if you want to see Miss Gilda in future you make an appointment first!”

“Oh, Bassie!” he whined, and proceeded to start crying. It just made me hate him all the more.

“My name, you filthy pervert, is Alexander.”

The last thing I saw was a grotesque, petulant pout on his face as I slammed the doors shut, locking them for good measure. I thought it not possible for a demon, but right then I had a terrible headache.

I stood at the front window and watched as he gathered up his clothes and put them back on, slowly, dejectedly, sniveling like a baby the entire time. When I felt confident that he had finally left, I stomped up the stairs to Gilda’s bedroom.

Well. So much for establishing good bedtime routines. Gilda had already decided to pass out on her lavish bed, sans a second sponge bath and hair combing to get his stink off of her person. Yes, Sutcliff managed to see that even that small pleasure was robbed from me. I sighed, getting her under the covers lest she catch a chill, and silently cleaned up her room before leaving her for the night.

Grell didn’t show up again for some time, thankfully. But unfortunately he and Gilda had bonded. When the ridiculous boots she had ordered for him arrived, along with a clunky pair of penny loafers in the same awful shade for her own use, she ordered me to contact him so that she could, and I quote, “Give her a present. We’re like BGFFs Alex’, she’d said, whatever the hell that meant, ‘and you will be polite to her.’

Yes, you heard correctly. Gilda took to calling Grell a ‘her’. Gods…

Dreading the day of his return, I put it off for as long as I could. And when Grell Sutcliff did show up, I insisted that his superior William T. Spears escort him.

While Grell simply irritates me, I do not like William, as he despises demons in general and we have come to blows in the past. I find him dangerous. But he is an efficient and rule-abiding Reaper, well-mannered and concerned with the ethics of his profession – very much so like myself in that regard. I must say, however, that he did seem slightly distracted that evening, glancing at Gilda frequently. I guess even Reapers are susceptible to the charms of a pretty woman.

In any case, with the both of us playing chaperone, we managed to keep the let’s-try-on-my-shoes party to a short, if only slightly annoying visit.

It was troubling, I tell you. I didn’t relish having lost as much control over Gilda as I already had, but there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it either. She was a headstrong young woman. I added her friendship with Grell Sutcliff to the swiftly growing list of things that were eating away at me with regard to this contract.

+

Ahh… bath time. Finally.

A speck of dirt would be noticeable to my demon eyes, even a molecule of foreign substance was easy for me to smell on my most delicious prey. It did not belong on her person, I did not want it there, and that is the number one reason why I looked forward to bath time with the souls I contract with.

Even though she had clearly enjoyed our swim a few nights previous, I had been reluctant to rush her past the ease and gentleness (and the unique brand of intimacy) of her sponge baths to the coordination of getting her in and out of a tub. But now her leg was finally up to the challenge. We graduated to the real thing – a large cast iron number I had been fantasizing about since the day it had arrived at her door.

After a tentative few moments actually getting her into the tub, she was now steeped to her collarbone in hot, soapy water. It had to have felt nice soaking like that instead of being sponged off, especially after being laid up all this time. And I was, of course, fully prepared to take advantage of her ebbing fatigue.

For the most part she let me scrub to my heart’s content, relaxing into my ministrations while I hummed and sponged the day’s dirt from her skin. Not a peep escaped her lips as I cleansed, stroked and soothed her back, knees, ankles, neck, breasts, nipples… It was delightful just to touch all that wonderful flesh and I made sure to use my hands as well as the sponge.

Oh, my lovely prey. The cleaner I keep them, the happier they are, and the tastier the final meal…

I honestly hadn’t been thinking of anything at all untoward, I was just progressing as I saw fit, when Gilda suddenly stopped me. Slender, talented fingers that belied their own strength were suddenly around my wrist, fiercely halting my hand from scrubbing any lower on her tummy than I already had. I stopped, my face inches from hers, and didn’t need to fake the look of confusion I wore.

“Mistress? Is there something the matter?” I tried to keep my tone neutral, but to be honest she had truly caught me off guard. Up until that point I had no reason to believe that she’d ever want me to stop.

Gilda smirked at me then, pulling my hand from under the water level and removing the soft sponge from my grasp. “I’ll take it from here, Alex.”

I smirked back at her. Two could play at that game.

“Is that an order, Miss?”

I leaned my forearms on the edge of the tub and eyed her playfully. Warm, soapy drops of water fell from my black fingernails to the surface of the bath water, and it was the only sound we could hear.

“I know what you’re playing at, Demon,” she finally muttered. “For some things, you should be mindful of getting my permission – before you try to do them.”

“I believe I already have your permission to buttle for you, Miss Gilda. That was part of the contract… or have you forgotten?”

She narrowed her eyes at me, just on the shallow side of playful. It was clear to me that we were having another stand off, but this one apparently wasn’t going to involve yelling.

“Oh? And was what you were about to do a part of standard buttling responsibilities?”

“What was I about to do?”

The smile, or what there was of it, fell from her face. “Did you feed me something for dinner that made me stupid?”

I couldn’t help it. I bit my bottom lip. Somehow my Mistress just made me guilty of calling her an idiot.

“That wasn’t what I–” I stopped myself, because saying that would be too much like letting her win. As with Linda Smith, I had to learn new ways to manipulate Gilda. “All right then, Mistress… What was so wrong with what I was about to do?”

“You mean aside from the obvious?”

“Are you referring to keeping you clean? Is that not one of my responsibilities?”

She pursed her lips. I could tell she was getting irritated with me but her blood was getting up again and oh Gods she smelled so exquisite… It made all the headaches she had given me worth it.

“Is that how your previous employers referred to heavy petting? Keeping them clean?”

“No,” I said, chuckling quietly, “It’s how I referred to it.”

Incensed, she nodded curtly before saying, “I’ll call you back in when it’s time to dry my hair.”

I stood up and crossed my arms, and I knew my eyes were slightly aglow. “Absolutely not. You are free to finish your bath on your own. But I will remain here until you are ready for me to help you exit the tub.” She looked up at me like she’d swallowed vinegar. “I will gladly turn my back until then, if it pleases my Mistress,” I teased, turning.

“Oh! For fuck’s sake, stop it!” she bellowed, slapping the water’s surface with her hand.

I twisted so that I could look down at her. “Yes, Mistress?” I asked, as sweet as you please.

She refused to look at me, and sounded rather bored when she responded. “I’m aware that I can’t get out of the damn tub on my own yet, demon.” Gilda lifted the sponge from under the water and held it up, indicating I was to continue servicing her.

I stood my ground. Despite how badly I wanted to get my hands back on her, she was going to have to tell me this time.

“So, you want me to… keep you clean, then?”

“Yes.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes,” she said snidely, and dropped the sponge.

Petulant child. Not really my favorite kind.

Calmly, I turned and got back onto my knees. I let the sponge drift in the water for a moment while I wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and splayed the fingers of the other hand across her collarbone, pushing gently to get her to lay back against the tub so that I could… well, keep her clean.

Now that she knew what was, ah… coming, so to speak… there was no sense in her not relaxing and enjoying it, correct?

Gilda’s hands held on instinctively to my forearm while I settled her into the fragrant water. She looked up at me with a vulnerable expression, and despite the fact that she had just ordered me to touch her again, her face gave me pause.

“Mistress?” I asked, still holding her in place.

“The last time someone went there it was by force,” she said.

Ah, yes. I had forgotten that. Or at least, I thought she had. “I would never hurt you, Miss Gilda,” I said, truly shocked.

“Until it’s time to eat my soul, right?”

I removed my hand from her collarbone and took the sponge again, but I kept my other hand where it was, supporting her neck. “I am your loyal servant, I will do your every bidding, until I fulfill the contract and you give me your soul. And, as I’ve told you, I will be gentle when that happens.”

She bit her lip, thinking a bit before saying, “Alex… You’ve never given me any reason to believe that you wouldn’t be gentle about everything you do to me.” She blushed then, and smiled coyly before adding, “A girl just likes to be asked, first. That’s all.”

I smiled at her. My new Mistress is a very complicated human, but at times she could just be so simple.

“Miss Gilda, do you want me to finish cleaning the rest of your body for you?”

“Yes, Alexander. You may proceed,” she giggled, doing her best imitation of my voice, which was in fact fairly horrible.

I still cradled her neck, wanting her to feel secure enough to drift off if she felt like it. When I dunked the sponge back under the water’s surface, I looked her in the eyes, making sure my intentions were quite clear. Gilda smiled and closed her eyes. Her head dipped to the side as she buried her face in the crook of the arm that held her, sighing sweetly. When she reached under the water and gripped the arm that was holding the sponge, this time she used both of her greedy little hands… and it was not to stop me.

I was finally able to hear her cry out my new name in the one way I will never tire of.

By the time I lifted her out of the tub, I dare say she was cleaner than the day she was born, and blissfully boneless. Was she getting things her own way? Or was I letting her have things her own way? Or… was I letting her think she was her having things her own way? It shames me to admit that I couldn’t tell.

I carried her to her bed, where earlier I had laid out some fresh, fluffy white towels, and set about to drying off her body, limb by slackened limb. Gilda remained the drowsy pacifist, gazing up at me as though the sun had decided to rise and set on my very shoulders. I confess that while my hands were busy with my prize, I didn’t care to reason which one of us had won the argument.

+

It had been a very rocky road, but Gilda’s first day back at school was finally upon us. I made sure the staff, who had all grown to adore her, were there – the fake cook, the fake maid, and the fake gardener, politely lined up at the front door and waiting to see their ‘Mistress’ off for her day.

Gilda skipped out into the drive, nearly leaping off the brick steps onto the pebbles. I bit my tongue as I noticed she had had destroyed the meticulous manicuring of her hair and make-up – it was my meticulous manicuring, damn it all, and on my day of the week to pick her clothes! She wasn’t wearing one stitch of the exceptionally coordinated clothing that I had dressed her in not twenty minutes beforehand. Her hair was now pulled back in a messy ponytail, and there was hastily applied, uneven black eyeliner around her eyes. She wore an old, plain black t-shirt with holes, which should have been in the rag bin three years ago, and it was so threadbare it did absolutely nothing to hide the bounciness of her brassiere-less chest.

God’s teeth.

On her feet were those hideous fire engine red penny loafers, short white socks and – the only decent piece in the collection – a short plaid skirt with a mix of dark pinks and greens, bright reds and white. Were it not for the garish colors, I would imagine it was rescued from a catholic school girl uniform… save that Gilda had hemmed it up well beyond any accepted high school regulations that I was familiar with.

And of course… that ghastly canvas bag.

I had to remind myself that not everything was going to go my way. Not with this prey. ‘Punk’ she calls this. I clenched my teeth. All right then… Student. Of. The. Arts. Yes, indeed.

She smiled at them, her fake staff. They smiled back and bowed just for the hell of it, then stood still, as instructed. At least they were following my orders. Gilda skipped up to the limo and came to halt where I stood waiting for her holding the passenger’s door open. She grinned.

“Out of all the uniforms you have worn thus far, Alex, I think I like this one the best,” she said, looking me up and down appreciatively, with a tendency to linger on the shiny boots. I could tell she was already planning to borrow them. Not if I have anything to say about it, you traitorous little bitch. When her eyes finally came back up to my face, she smiled, pointing at the hat. “Very nice.” Smiling, I bowed, and then motioned to the empty back seat with my gloved hand. “Very Bauhaus Seme,” she quipped as she threw her nasty canvas bag in ahead of her and unceremoniously dumped herself onto the buffed leather seat.

When I finally sat down in the driver’s seat, I was about to point out that she was mixing cultural metaphors, but then I realized she was absolutely correct. I’d steadfastly refused to update this particular uniform, and wore a version that was popular in the nineteen thirties – the only change being that it was, of course, all in black; the form-fitting chauffer’s jacket, complete with two angled vertical rows of shiny silver buttons (my favorite part, I’d personally polished each and every one of the night before), the cap, the gloves, and tasteful black jodphurs that tapered at the knee and were tucked into tall black leather boots. It definitely had a stormtrooper-dominatrix-sex appeal feel to it. All it was missing was a riding crop and someone to play spankies with.

And it had enticed my Mistress into earnestly flirting with me, not just for show, which was very good. Straightening my cap, I smirked and turned the engine over.

Gilda remained quiet during the ride to the conservatory, gazing out of the window at the passing scenery as I drove the seventeen miles to her school. It was nice that we weren’t bickering, and chauffer etiquette dictated that the driver was simply not to initiate a conversation with the passenger to begin with. But I wasn’t just her chauffer, I was one hell of a chauffer, and I didn’t like that lost look on my prey’s face. I assumed she was a bit apprehensive after being away from school for so long. She’d catch up in no time, of that I had no doubt, but I was determined to lift her spirits.

“All right then, Mistress. First day back at school!” I announced brightly, pulling up to the curb at the designated drop-off spot for parents and drivers and setting the limo’s gear into park. I smiled at her in the rear-view mirror. “Do you have money for lunch?”

Gilda stopped in the middle of tossing the strap of her bag over her head to look at me, and laughed. “Oh my gawd, Alexander! Lunch money. Really?” She rolled her eyes. “You wanna make sure I’m wearing clean underwear as well?”

I gaped at her in the rear-view mirror. She was smirking at me, and I will confess to you here and now that she was better at wearing that particular expression than anyone else I have ever known, myself the only exception. Miffed, I narrowed my eyes at her, and she giggled. She opened the door and bounded out before I could regain my composure and do my damn job as her damn butler, which was specifically to get out of the damn limo so that I could open and close my Mistress’s damn door for her.

I watched, feeling duped again, as her short plaid skirt bounced away from the vehicle and up the steps of the conservatory. More bouncing. First the tits, now the bum. Bounce, bounce… I tilted my head, mesmerized. And I still don’t know if they were clean or not, but those damn panties were the same garish color as her damn shoes.

When I felt the blood in my human body rushing to my privates yet again, I realized I might finally be in over my head.

+

“He’s bitten off more than he can chew, this time, I fear.”

“Well… you’d know all about biting off too much, now wouldn’t you?” There was a lilting, nearly indiscernible taunting tone to the second one’s voice that the first one didn’t at all care for. “In any case, you can see for yourself that the deal I am offering is legitimate. Do you want to intervene now?”

After a pause, the first one replied, “No, no. Not just yet. I truly want to see how far he gets with her.”

“He won’t do well with this mark.”

“He’s a very patient demon.”

“She’s a very impatient human. And she’s already expressed her authority over him in ways he didn’t expect. It’s left him flummoxed. Just think of those poor, unfortunate fish. And did you notice how aroused he became after that last–”

“Now, really. Must we discuss that sort of thing? It’s uncouth. Can’t you just say ‘she humiliated him’, and leave it at that?”

There was silence for a long time.

“I had no idea you were clinging to such prudish bearings. What a surprise.”

“Oh, sod off.”

+

tbc

+

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