𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚

𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱, 𝘃𝗶𝗼𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 , 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵. 𝗗𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲.

𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴

𝘔𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘴' 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘭, 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘔𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥. 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.
"𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵?" 𝘈 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥.

"𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦." 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘭𝘺.

"𝘈𝘩 𝘯𝘰. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵." 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥, 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘶𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦.
𝘏𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘪 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘭. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭?

**************
Marcellus entered the room as I was cleaning the floor. He dropped something on the floor, and as I was picking it up, my dress slid down near my shoulder and I saw Marcellus staring at me.

I smirked to myself.

I bent down a little more so my dress slides downs more, exposing my naked shoulders.

"Filthy girl." He said, his voice deep and grave as always.

I looked up at him, and suddenly he pulled me by holding my hand, his grasp tight around my wrist.

"I know what you're doing. It won't work on me." His voice dropped to a whisper as he pulled me closer to him, his gaze intense like he was seeing something in me he never saw before.

"What am I doing?" I whispered back, not taking my eyes off his.

"This........" He let go of my hand slowly, letting his fingers drop on my waist, slowly grazing the corners of my prominent curves.

"Am I?" I whispered, taking a sharp intake of breath as he grabbed my waist tightly all of sudden, grasping it fiercely and then pushing me away.

I let out a moan longingly.

"Do your work, filthy girl." He stood up, prepared to leave.

His eyes seemed cold, emotionless but at the same time I could see a tinge of lust emerging in his eyes. So there was desire even in his freezing cold heart, after all.

This awakaned something in me. I felt a fire I haven't felt for a long, long time.

I wanted him to whisper my name like he was worshipping his goddess, I wanted him to touch me like he was performing a sacred ritual only he was capable of, I wanted him to yearn for me like I was the only thing in the world he needed, I needed him to look at me like he could destroy everything else just to be able to touch my plumpy, eager breasts, my wide, striking hips and my flawless curves.

I wanted him to kneel down in front of me.
**************
After finally finishing my chores, I went to the little space I was allowed and stood in front of the mirror, slowly taking off my dress.

There were bruises and scars everywhere on my body, bearing my past, carrying the tale of my life.

I touched the long scar on my waist.

His lips slowly sucking the skin on my waist, following the scar.

I touched the one near my left breast.

His warm breath lingering over there.

I slid my hands down there, touching and rubbing my clit with two fingers.

His tongue playing around my most sensitive spot.

I kept rubbing, thinking of his voice, eyes, touch.
I let out a loud gasp as I felt a rush of pleasure coming, my body slightly trembling.

His rock hard cock entering me.

I closed my eyes, breathing heavily, wondering when I'd be able to make him groan my name.