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Beauty was the foremost distinction between those who deserved power and those who could wallow in the deep trenches of mediocrity. Elias of Stravos held the opinion -- or rather, the untold fact that those who were beautiful belonged in their own graces outside of the limitations of society, with the stipulation that their intellect need meet their beauty in equal measure. The Stravos usurper was certain beyond the capacity for doubt of both of these measures of a human being in himself, and it was why above every other man, woman, or child in this world: he deserved the best.
Elias of Stravos laid claim to what he wanted, how he wanted, and who he wanted. His reach extended past the veil of marriage, through the curtain of refusal. The Stravos was a conniver and all that fell before him were righteous victims destined for the fate they received. Whether they fell to their doom or to their knees, it was irrelevant. And this day, he would prove time and again that the desires of Elias of Stravos were not so easily quelled. Fervent was the hold that pleasure whirled about him, a vise that sought to encroach his senses as his thoughts dwindled into nothingness and he simply allowed himself...
To feel.
Of course the Stravos saw how looking upon his face rendered Elysia so subservient, how the desire for him to cease ended on her lips as they parted and the breath culled into her lungs. Then, when he took her, those enchanting eyes of her fell shut. A leg whipped about him and the Stravos took it as his sign that she desired more. Of course she did. The moans that elicited from Elysia's lips only caused the Stravos' length to swell within her, his pace sheathing himself within her to withdraw to the tip. Every thrust sought to engulf him in all that she offered, his lips half-lidded but his gaze drifting in half-hearted exploration of her.
Every kiss the Stravos laid upon her flesh was a claim, a show of strength that the royal held every bit of control. Every thrust was a weapon to use against her, driving her into the wall as he ravished her without concern for her words. They were lost breaths that wilted within his ear, to be shelved when his want relinquished enough of a hold on his mouth to separate it from her flesh. However, he claimed her lips anew after she spoke, taking to her tongue and winding it about his own.
Elysia of Aetaea was a game for the Stravos to play, her body the board upon which the pieces that were his hands, lips and cock explored and conquered without concern for such pitiable excuses as marriage. He grinned against her flesh, his chest meeting her breasts as his fervor wound higher and higher. His pace had the woman's weight hitting the wall with his every movement, and a brief flicker of concern for the woman's home shifted within him. He let a chuckle escape his lips as he at last deigned it proper to answer her, as his length unsheathed from within her.
Elias of Stravos pulled her off from the wall, letting her feet fall to the floor. One hand circled about her waist, intent on turning the woman to face away from him. His rigid girth throbbed between her thighs, his slow movements wedging him against the lips of her sex as his hands sought to roam along the expanse of her flesh for a brief exploration. Then, he pressed her into the wall, one hand at her back to pin her into place as the other guided her hips backward. Then, he impaled her anew, taking to a slow rhythm that gradually grew in pace.
"This is exactly what I want it to be, Elysia. Your assertions fall on unsympathetic ears."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Beauty was the foremost distinction between those who deserved power and those who could wallow in the deep trenches of mediocrity. Elias of Stravos held the opinion -- or rather, the untold fact that those who were beautiful belonged in their own graces outside of the limitations of society, with the stipulation that their intellect need meet their beauty in equal measure. The Stravos usurper was certain beyond the capacity for doubt of both of these measures of a human being in himself, and it was why above every other man, woman, or child in this world: he deserved the best.
Elias of Stravos laid claim to what he wanted, how he wanted, and who he wanted. His reach extended past the veil of marriage, through the curtain of refusal. The Stravos was a conniver and all that fell before him were righteous victims destined for the fate they received. Whether they fell to their doom or to their knees, it was irrelevant. And this day, he would prove time and again that the desires of Elias of Stravos were not so easily quelled. Fervent was the hold that pleasure whirled about him, a vise that sought to encroach his senses as his thoughts dwindled into nothingness and he simply allowed himself...
To feel.
Of course the Stravos saw how looking upon his face rendered Elysia so subservient, how the desire for him to cease ended on her lips as they parted and the breath culled into her lungs. Then, when he took her, those enchanting eyes of her fell shut. A leg whipped about him and the Stravos took it as his sign that she desired more. Of course she did. The moans that elicited from Elysia's lips only caused the Stravos' length to swell within her, his pace sheathing himself within her to withdraw to the tip. Every thrust sought to engulf him in all that she offered, his lips half-lidded but his gaze drifting in half-hearted exploration of her.
Every kiss the Stravos laid upon her flesh was a claim, a show of strength that the royal held every bit of control. Every thrust was a weapon to use against her, driving her into the wall as he ravished her without concern for her words. They were lost breaths that wilted within his ear, to be shelved when his want relinquished enough of a hold on his mouth to separate it from her flesh. However, he claimed her lips anew after she spoke, taking to her tongue and winding it about his own.
Elysia of Aetaea was a game for the Stravos to play, her body the board upon which the pieces that were his hands, lips and cock explored and conquered without concern for such pitiable excuses as marriage. He grinned against her flesh, his chest meeting her breasts as his fervor wound higher and higher. His pace had the woman's weight hitting the wall with his every movement, and a brief flicker of concern for the woman's home shifted within him. He let a chuckle escape his lips as he at last deigned it proper to answer her, as his length unsheathed from within her.
Elias of Stravos pulled her off from the wall, letting her feet fall to the floor. One hand circled about her waist, intent on turning the woman to face away from him. His rigid girth throbbed between her thighs, his slow movements wedging him against the lips of her sex as his hands sought to roam along the expanse of her flesh for a brief exploration. Then, he pressed her into the wall, one hand at her back to pin her into place as the other guided her hips backward. Then, he impaled her anew, taking to a slow rhythm that gradually grew in pace.
"This is exactly what I want it to be, Elysia. Your assertions fall on unsympathetic ears."
Beauty was the foremost distinction between those who deserved power and those who could wallow in the deep trenches of mediocrity. Elias of Stravos held the opinion -- or rather, the untold fact that those who were beautiful belonged in their own graces outside of the limitations of society, with the stipulation that their intellect need meet their beauty in equal measure. The Stravos usurper was certain beyond the capacity for doubt of both of these measures of a human being in himself, and it was why above every other man, woman, or child in this world: he deserved the best.
Elias of Stravos laid claim to what he wanted, how he wanted, and who he wanted. His reach extended past the veil of marriage, through the curtain of refusal. The Stravos was a conniver and all that fell before him were righteous victims destined for the fate they received. Whether they fell to their doom or to their knees, it was irrelevant. And this day, he would prove time and again that the desires of Elias of Stravos were not so easily quelled. Fervent was the hold that pleasure whirled about him, a vise that sought to encroach his senses as his thoughts dwindled into nothingness and he simply allowed himself...
To feel.
Of course the Stravos saw how looking upon his face rendered Elysia so subservient, how the desire for him to cease ended on her lips as they parted and the breath culled into her lungs. Then, when he took her, those enchanting eyes of her fell shut. A leg whipped about him and the Stravos took it as his sign that she desired more. Of course she did. The moans that elicited from Elysia's lips only caused the Stravos' length to swell within her, his pace sheathing himself within her to withdraw to the tip. Every thrust sought to engulf him in all that she offered, his lips half-lidded but his gaze drifting in half-hearted exploration of her.
Every kiss the Stravos laid upon her flesh was a claim, a show of strength that the royal held every bit of control. Every thrust was a weapon to use against her, driving her into the wall as he ravished her without concern for her words. They were lost breaths that wilted within his ear, to be shelved when his want relinquished enough of a hold on his mouth to separate it from her flesh. However, he claimed her lips anew after she spoke, taking to her tongue and winding it about his own.
Elysia of Aetaea was a game for the Stravos to play, her body the board upon which the pieces that were his hands, lips and cock explored and conquered without concern for such pitiable excuses as marriage. He grinned against her flesh, his chest meeting her breasts as his fervor wound higher and higher. His pace had the woman's weight hitting the wall with his every movement, and a brief flicker of concern for the woman's home shifted within him. He let a chuckle escape his lips as he at last deigned it proper to answer her, as his length unsheathed from within her.
Elias of Stravos pulled her off from the wall, letting her feet fall to the floor. One hand circled about her waist, intent on turning the woman to face away from him. His rigid girth throbbed between her thighs, his slow movements wedging him against the lips of her sex as his hands sought to roam along the expanse of her flesh for a brief exploration. Then, he pressed her into the wall, one hand at her back to pin her into place as the other guided her hips backward. Then, he impaled her anew, taking to a slow rhythm that gradually grew in pace.
"This is exactly what I want it to be, Elysia. Your assertions fall on unsympathetic ears."
To say she was annoyed that she was enjoying this was an understatement. He was a means to an end...well, two ends. She loved her husband more than anyone else in the entire world. Not even her children were as important. But Cicero’s primary interest in her lay in her ability to solve puzzles and to assist him with whatever scheme or notion he’d concocted. They rarely lay together as husband and wife in the proper sense of the term. If Elysia could get Cicero to do more than sleep beside her most nights, she’d have put up much more of a fight against Elias’s momentary interest. As it stood, sex meant absolutely nothing to her emotionally if it wasn’t with Cicero. If it was a little fling like what was happening right now? Then it was just for fun. A necessary release of tension, though, though, she had designs on Elias; a willingness to let him do what he wanted with her if she could gain secrets from him in return. Whether that plan would work or not was the gamble, but what a pleasurable gamble it was thus far.
She closed her eyes, lips parting, sighing as his lips trailed across her skin, leaving heated trails in their wake. The unromantic nature of the encounter made it all the better and she liked when her back hit the cool wall, breaking her focus for a few seconds. A smile of delight lit her features as Elias removed himself from her in order to turn her around. Bracing herself against the stone, she arched her back to give him a better angle, and lay the side of her head against the wall as he took her again.
"This is exactly what I want it to be, Elysia. Your assertions fall on unsympathetic ears."
Elysia grinned, looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes focusing on his lips as he spoke. “Yes, my lord,” she breathed and turned her face away from him again, her features taking on the pleasured frown as he brought her closer, by the very cold way he spoke. Maybe she was a little bit sick, but she got off on being spoken to that way. He could say all he liked, but the hard cock between her legs betrayed that he liked what was happening too. She shivered a bit with the cool stone against her breasts, the weight of his hand pinning her, and the knowledge that he probably wouldn’t allow her to make him stop if she decided to try. Yes, she decided. She was most definitely a little bit twisted in this aspect. But who needed to know?
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To say she was annoyed that she was enjoying this was an understatement. He was a means to an end...well, two ends. She loved her husband more than anyone else in the entire world. Not even her children were as important. But Cicero’s primary interest in her lay in her ability to solve puzzles and to assist him with whatever scheme or notion he’d concocted. They rarely lay together as husband and wife in the proper sense of the term. If Elysia could get Cicero to do more than sleep beside her most nights, she’d have put up much more of a fight against Elias’s momentary interest. As it stood, sex meant absolutely nothing to her emotionally if it wasn’t with Cicero. If it was a little fling like what was happening right now? Then it was just for fun. A necessary release of tension, though, though, she had designs on Elias; a willingness to let him do what he wanted with her if she could gain secrets from him in return. Whether that plan would work or not was the gamble, but what a pleasurable gamble it was thus far.
She closed her eyes, lips parting, sighing as his lips trailed across her skin, leaving heated trails in their wake. The unromantic nature of the encounter made it all the better and she liked when her back hit the cool wall, breaking her focus for a few seconds. A smile of delight lit her features as Elias removed himself from her in order to turn her around. Bracing herself against the stone, she arched her back to give him a better angle, and lay the side of her head against the wall as he took her again.
"This is exactly what I want it to be, Elysia. Your assertions fall on unsympathetic ears."
Elysia grinned, looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes focusing on his lips as he spoke. “Yes, my lord,” she breathed and turned her face away from him again, her features taking on the pleasured frown as he brought her closer, by the very cold way he spoke. Maybe she was a little bit sick, but she got off on being spoken to that way. He could say all he liked, but the hard cock between her legs betrayed that he liked what was happening too. She shivered a bit with the cool stone against her breasts, the weight of his hand pinning her, and the knowledge that he probably wouldn’t allow her to make him stop if she decided to try. Yes, she decided. She was most definitely a little bit twisted in this aspect. But who needed to know?
To say she was annoyed that she was enjoying this was an understatement. He was a means to an end...well, two ends. She loved her husband more than anyone else in the entire world. Not even her children were as important. But Cicero’s primary interest in her lay in her ability to solve puzzles and to assist him with whatever scheme or notion he’d concocted. They rarely lay together as husband and wife in the proper sense of the term. If Elysia could get Cicero to do more than sleep beside her most nights, she’d have put up much more of a fight against Elias’s momentary interest. As it stood, sex meant absolutely nothing to her emotionally if it wasn’t with Cicero. If it was a little fling like what was happening right now? Then it was just for fun. A necessary release of tension, though, though, she had designs on Elias; a willingness to let him do what he wanted with her if she could gain secrets from him in return. Whether that plan would work or not was the gamble, but what a pleasurable gamble it was thus far.
She closed her eyes, lips parting, sighing as his lips trailed across her skin, leaving heated trails in their wake. The unromantic nature of the encounter made it all the better and she liked when her back hit the cool wall, breaking her focus for a few seconds. A smile of delight lit her features as Elias removed himself from her in order to turn her around. Bracing herself against the stone, she arched her back to give him a better angle, and lay the side of her head against the wall as he took her again.
"This is exactly what I want it to be, Elysia. Your assertions fall on unsympathetic ears."
Elysia grinned, looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes focusing on his lips as he spoke. “Yes, my lord,” she breathed and turned her face away from him again, her features taking on the pleasured frown as he brought her closer, by the very cold way he spoke. Maybe she was a little bit sick, but she got off on being spoken to that way. He could say all he liked, but the hard cock between her legs betrayed that he liked what was happening too. She shivered a bit with the cool stone against her breasts, the weight of his hand pinning her, and the knowledge that he probably wouldn’t allow her to make him stop if she decided to try. Yes, she decided. She was most definitely a little bit twisted in this aspect. But who needed to know?
It was such a shame, for there to be a world where even the busiest of men such as Elias of Stravos had the time to entertain the wives of the men so consumed in their careers as to neglect them physically. At least, a shame for the wives. Elias of Stravos relished in the situations that drew the bodies of such women closer to him, that wove his machinations and brought success to his efforts to bed them, Elysia of Aetaea was certainly the most beautiful of the women he'd seduced into pulling at the sensibilities of a husband, and the conquest of her was a trophy he'd keep well after they pulled away from one another. However, it wasn't yet the time for such a tragic parting. Elias of Stravos was keen to indulge further, to turn Elysia of Aetaea and take her in the more dispassionate position he'd thrown them in.
Yes, my lord, she murmured as she turned away from him and he was keenly aware of the heady pleasure he took in the easy submission of her actions. The Headlord of Stravos wasn't entirely sure of what Elysia was thinking in the moment, if at all, but he reveled in her all the same. He pinned her to the wall with one hand, the other guiding his length between her legs and he impaled her with an easy motion. Rocking hips pushed him deeper within her, his thoughts of her motivations wilting away into nothingness as indulgence took precedence over any sort of understanding. His hand moved from the middle of her back to knot firmly into her hair, pressing the side of her face against the wall with an easy transition. Lips settled on the back of the woman's neck, his pace growing more and more ardent. Elias' other hand quickly shifted from Elysia's hips to circle about her pelvis. His touch was dangerous, delving along the flesh before he found the swollen pleasure nub and began to toy with it.
As he took her, Elias of Stravos had every intention of making this woman a slave to her desires, to associate the Headlord with her own satisfaction. What a thought it would make, if the Spymaster Cicero whenever he even deigned it appropriate to lay with his wife, couldn't satisfy her. He had no motivation to drive a wedge between their marriage aside from the physical reward of it, the continued indulgence and the trust that might form from it. Just as he suspected Elysia wanted to use her body to ingratiate the lord to her sensibilities, he too sought to leverage the pleasure he offered and the tremendous power he wielded from behind the scenes. Elias of Stravos lorded his position and his expertise over Elysia, more than content to render her panting and needy if his efforts were successful.
As he toyed with her, he felt himself loom closer and closer to his own satisfaction. Yes, Elysia's body was a delicious thing, a flawless if somewhat aged form that slipped the time away from the Stravos' awareness. He'd been in her company for hours and yet it seemed as if the time stood still. He relished in every ounce of pleasure that she could deliver to him, but Elias wasn't so much of a fool as to paint that pleasure within the coiled vise of the woman's sex. Rather, as Elias felt his resolve wane and his ability to control himself simmer into nothingness, he withdrew from the woman. The pace of his digits increased to compensate for the emptiness he left within her, his other hand shifting to stroke at his length to keep himself close. The Headlord drew the woman closer to him, pulling her off from the wall.
Once Elysia was properly parted from the wall, he turned her towards him, a heady breath escaping his lungs as he breathed into the woman's ear, "Yes, Elysia... I think our association will be a sweet one, indeed. Kneel," he'd command her next. Elias of Stravos, after all, was a greedy man and had no intention of reaching for his chiton while the danger of his seed staining it was present. He sought to lay her low one final time. Either way, the woman seemed to relish in being used by him.
Let her savour it a bit longer, he mused.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It was such a shame, for there to be a world where even the busiest of men such as Elias of Stravos had the time to entertain the wives of the men so consumed in their careers as to neglect them physically. At least, a shame for the wives. Elias of Stravos relished in the situations that drew the bodies of such women closer to him, that wove his machinations and brought success to his efforts to bed them, Elysia of Aetaea was certainly the most beautiful of the women he'd seduced into pulling at the sensibilities of a husband, and the conquest of her was a trophy he'd keep well after they pulled away from one another. However, it wasn't yet the time for such a tragic parting. Elias of Stravos was keen to indulge further, to turn Elysia of Aetaea and take her in the more dispassionate position he'd thrown them in.
Yes, my lord, she murmured as she turned away from him and he was keenly aware of the heady pleasure he took in the easy submission of her actions. The Headlord of Stravos wasn't entirely sure of what Elysia was thinking in the moment, if at all, but he reveled in her all the same. He pinned her to the wall with one hand, the other guiding his length between her legs and he impaled her with an easy motion. Rocking hips pushed him deeper within her, his thoughts of her motivations wilting away into nothingness as indulgence took precedence over any sort of understanding. His hand moved from the middle of her back to knot firmly into her hair, pressing the side of her face against the wall with an easy transition. Lips settled on the back of the woman's neck, his pace growing more and more ardent. Elias' other hand quickly shifted from Elysia's hips to circle about her pelvis. His touch was dangerous, delving along the flesh before he found the swollen pleasure nub and began to toy with it.
As he took her, Elias of Stravos had every intention of making this woman a slave to her desires, to associate the Headlord with her own satisfaction. What a thought it would make, if the Spymaster Cicero whenever he even deigned it appropriate to lay with his wife, couldn't satisfy her. He had no motivation to drive a wedge between their marriage aside from the physical reward of it, the continued indulgence and the trust that might form from it. Just as he suspected Elysia wanted to use her body to ingratiate the lord to her sensibilities, he too sought to leverage the pleasure he offered and the tremendous power he wielded from behind the scenes. Elias of Stravos lorded his position and his expertise over Elysia, more than content to render her panting and needy if his efforts were successful.
As he toyed with her, he felt himself loom closer and closer to his own satisfaction. Yes, Elysia's body was a delicious thing, a flawless if somewhat aged form that slipped the time away from the Stravos' awareness. He'd been in her company for hours and yet it seemed as if the time stood still. He relished in every ounce of pleasure that she could deliver to him, but Elias wasn't so much of a fool as to paint that pleasure within the coiled vise of the woman's sex. Rather, as Elias felt his resolve wane and his ability to control himself simmer into nothingness, he withdrew from the woman. The pace of his digits increased to compensate for the emptiness he left within her, his other hand shifting to stroke at his length to keep himself close. The Headlord drew the woman closer to him, pulling her off from the wall.
Once Elysia was properly parted from the wall, he turned her towards him, a heady breath escaping his lungs as he breathed into the woman's ear, "Yes, Elysia... I think our association will be a sweet one, indeed. Kneel," he'd command her next. Elias of Stravos, after all, was a greedy man and had no intention of reaching for his chiton while the danger of his seed staining it was present. He sought to lay her low one final time. Either way, the woman seemed to relish in being used by him.
Let her savour it a bit longer, he mused.
It was such a shame, for there to be a world where even the busiest of men such as Elias of Stravos had the time to entertain the wives of the men so consumed in their careers as to neglect them physically. At least, a shame for the wives. Elias of Stravos relished in the situations that drew the bodies of such women closer to him, that wove his machinations and brought success to his efforts to bed them, Elysia of Aetaea was certainly the most beautiful of the women he'd seduced into pulling at the sensibilities of a husband, and the conquest of her was a trophy he'd keep well after they pulled away from one another. However, it wasn't yet the time for such a tragic parting. Elias of Stravos was keen to indulge further, to turn Elysia of Aetaea and take her in the more dispassionate position he'd thrown them in.
Yes, my lord, she murmured as she turned away from him and he was keenly aware of the heady pleasure he took in the easy submission of her actions. The Headlord of Stravos wasn't entirely sure of what Elysia was thinking in the moment, if at all, but he reveled in her all the same. He pinned her to the wall with one hand, the other guiding his length between her legs and he impaled her with an easy motion. Rocking hips pushed him deeper within her, his thoughts of her motivations wilting away into nothingness as indulgence took precedence over any sort of understanding. His hand moved from the middle of her back to knot firmly into her hair, pressing the side of her face against the wall with an easy transition. Lips settled on the back of the woman's neck, his pace growing more and more ardent. Elias' other hand quickly shifted from Elysia's hips to circle about her pelvis. His touch was dangerous, delving along the flesh before he found the swollen pleasure nub and began to toy with it.
As he took her, Elias of Stravos had every intention of making this woman a slave to her desires, to associate the Headlord with her own satisfaction. What a thought it would make, if the Spymaster Cicero whenever he even deigned it appropriate to lay with his wife, couldn't satisfy her. He had no motivation to drive a wedge between their marriage aside from the physical reward of it, the continued indulgence and the trust that might form from it. Just as he suspected Elysia wanted to use her body to ingratiate the lord to her sensibilities, he too sought to leverage the pleasure he offered and the tremendous power he wielded from behind the scenes. Elias of Stravos lorded his position and his expertise over Elysia, more than content to render her panting and needy if his efforts were successful.
As he toyed with her, he felt himself loom closer and closer to his own satisfaction. Yes, Elysia's body was a delicious thing, a flawless if somewhat aged form that slipped the time away from the Stravos' awareness. He'd been in her company for hours and yet it seemed as if the time stood still. He relished in every ounce of pleasure that she could deliver to him, but Elias wasn't so much of a fool as to paint that pleasure within the coiled vise of the woman's sex. Rather, as Elias felt his resolve wane and his ability to control himself simmer into nothingness, he withdrew from the woman. The pace of his digits increased to compensate for the emptiness he left within her, his other hand shifting to stroke at his length to keep himself close. The Headlord drew the woman closer to him, pulling her off from the wall.
Once Elysia was properly parted from the wall, he turned her towards him, a heady breath escaping his lungs as he breathed into the woman's ear, "Yes, Elysia... I think our association will be a sweet one, indeed. Kneel," he'd command her next. Elias of Stravos, after all, was a greedy man and had no intention of reaching for his chiton while the danger of his seed staining it was present. He sought to lay her low one final time. Either way, the woman seemed to relish in being used by him.
Let her savour it a bit longer, he mused.
She drew in an unsteady breath as he pinned her with a hand on her back, and let it out in a rush once he was inside her again. Pushing her body backward against him, she was thinking mostly of making sure that he liked what was happening. That was of tantamount importance, but she forgot as soon as his hand fisted in her hair and forced her head to the side. The shivers his lips sent down her spine as he kissed along her neck made her squeeze her eyes shut, trying and failing not to let out a gasp of delight. This was not the first time she’d done something like this for information, but it was definitely the first time with someone as integral to Athenia as Elias of Stravos. If she could bend him how she wanted, gain his trust in some way-
“Stop, don’t,” she gasped, eyes flying open the second his fingers found their way between her legs. Her hand gripped his arm and her body writhed back against him, trying to get away from the ripples of pleasure he was creating. “I don’t want you to,” she panted, her free hand reaching back and taking hold of his hair as she leaned into him. But he didn’t stop and she found the desire to make him take his hand away waning fast. Of course she could and did take care of this part herself, but there was nothing like having someone else do it, all the while being filled by a man. Her words turned into moans and she didn’t fight him anymore. Not until he pulled out of her and replaced his cock with his fingers.
“Elias,” she panted in warning. The warm, wet hardness of his penis against her back almost hurt but she was too close to care. The momentary distraction wasn’t enough to bring her down from the peak she’d nearly been at and somewhere between a few minutes and eternity, her breath hitched, her heart hammered, and pleasure burst within her. She shook against his hand, her own hands splayed against the wall, and she hated him in that instant, as she fought to regain control that was totally lost to her. She wouldn’t have been able to stand on her own but Elias was already pulling her away from the wall.
She let him turn her to him, instinctively looping an arm around his torso as he brought the two of them close together again, his breath hot against her ear. "Yes, Elysia... I think our association will be a sweet one, indeed. Kneel."
“Kneel?” she repeated, a little hazy, a little irritated that he’d made her lose herself like that. And then she looked down at the still glistening head resting against her stomach. Her eyes flicked back up to his. A small ‘uh huh’ sort of laugh escaped, in a smile that was too fixed to be genuine. Kneel. She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but that would render this entire thing pointless. Which she could stand less than letting him cum in her mouth, which was what she was positive he wanted.
With her hair a mess and her dress...she didn’t even remember where, Elysia gave him one last, long look. She held that look as she sunk all the way down to her knees on the floor, until she was level with him. Opening her mouth, she did not stop to consider that she would taste herself, that this was not what she’d had in mind at all, or that he was doing this for sadistic reasons; all things she’d think on later. Wrapping her fingers around his shaft, she smoothed her tongue first along the head, then took him wholly into her mouth. At least her mind was frighteningly clear now. She had all the time in the world to consider how much she disliked him, had loved what he did, and both hated and liked what he was making her do now.
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Check out their information page here.
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She drew in an unsteady breath as he pinned her with a hand on her back, and let it out in a rush once he was inside her again. Pushing her body backward against him, she was thinking mostly of making sure that he liked what was happening. That was of tantamount importance, but she forgot as soon as his hand fisted in her hair and forced her head to the side. The shivers his lips sent down her spine as he kissed along her neck made her squeeze her eyes shut, trying and failing not to let out a gasp of delight. This was not the first time she’d done something like this for information, but it was definitely the first time with someone as integral to Athenia as Elias of Stravos. If she could bend him how she wanted, gain his trust in some way-
“Stop, don’t,” she gasped, eyes flying open the second his fingers found their way between her legs. Her hand gripped his arm and her body writhed back against him, trying to get away from the ripples of pleasure he was creating. “I don’t want you to,” she panted, her free hand reaching back and taking hold of his hair as she leaned into him. But he didn’t stop and she found the desire to make him take his hand away waning fast. Of course she could and did take care of this part herself, but there was nothing like having someone else do it, all the while being filled by a man. Her words turned into moans and she didn’t fight him anymore. Not until he pulled out of her and replaced his cock with his fingers.
“Elias,” she panted in warning. The warm, wet hardness of his penis against her back almost hurt but she was too close to care. The momentary distraction wasn’t enough to bring her down from the peak she’d nearly been at and somewhere between a few minutes and eternity, her breath hitched, her heart hammered, and pleasure burst within her. She shook against his hand, her own hands splayed against the wall, and she hated him in that instant, as she fought to regain control that was totally lost to her. She wouldn’t have been able to stand on her own but Elias was already pulling her away from the wall.
She let him turn her to him, instinctively looping an arm around his torso as he brought the two of them close together again, his breath hot against her ear. "Yes, Elysia... I think our association will be a sweet one, indeed. Kneel."
“Kneel?” she repeated, a little hazy, a little irritated that he’d made her lose herself like that. And then she looked down at the still glistening head resting against her stomach. Her eyes flicked back up to his. A small ‘uh huh’ sort of laugh escaped, in a smile that was too fixed to be genuine. Kneel. She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but that would render this entire thing pointless. Which she could stand less than letting him cum in her mouth, which was what she was positive he wanted.
With her hair a mess and her dress...she didn’t even remember where, Elysia gave him one last, long look. She held that look as she sunk all the way down to her knees on the floor, until she was level with him. Opening her mouth, she did not stop to consider that she would taste herself, that this was not what she’d had in mind at all, or that he was doing this for sadistic reasons; all things she’d think on later. Wrapping her fingers around his shaft, she smoothed her tongue first along the head, then took him wholly into her mouth. At least her mind was frighteningly clear now. She had all the time in the world to consider how much she disliked him, had loved what he did, and both hated and liked what he was making her do now.
She drew in an unsteady breath as he pinned her with a hand on her back, and let it out in a rush once he was inside her again. Pushing her body backward against him, she was thinking mostly of making sure that he liked what was happening. That was of tantamount importance, but she forgot as soon as his hand fisted in her hair and forced her head to the side. The shivers his lips sent down her spine as he kissed along her neck made her squeeze her eyes shut, trying and failing not to let out a gasp of delight. This was not the first time she’d done something like this for information, but it was definitely the first time with someone as integral to Athenia as Elias of Stravos. If she could bend him how she wanted, gain his trust in some way-
“Stop, don’t,” she gasped, eyes flying open the second his fingers found their way between her legs. Her hand gripped his arm and her body writhed back against him, trying to get away from the ripples of pleasure he was creating. “I don’t want you to,” she panted, her free hand reaching back and taking hold of his hair as she leaned into him. But he didn’t stop and she found the desire to make him take his hand away waning fast. Of course she could and did take care of this part herself, but there was nothing like having someone else do it, all the while being filled by a man. Her words turned into moans and she didn’t fight him anymore. Not until he pulled out of her and replaced his cock with his fingers.
“Elias,” she panted in warning. The warm, wet hardness of his penis against her back almost hurt but she was too close to care. The momentary distraction wasn’t enough to bring her down from the peak she’d nearly been at and somewhere between a few minutes and eternity, her breath hitched, her heart hammered, and pleasure burst within her. She shook against his hand, her own hands splayed against the wall, and she hated him in that instant, as she fought to regain control that was totally lost to her. She wouldn’t have been able to stand on her own but Elias was already pulling her away from the wall.
She let him turn her to him, instinctively looping an arm around his torso as he brought the two of them close together again, his breath hot against her ear. "Yes, Elysia... I think our association will be a sweet one, indeed. Kneel."
“Kneel?” she repeated, a little hazy, a little irritated that he’d made her lose herself like that. And then she looked down at the still glistening head resting against her stomach. Her eyes flicked back up to his. A small ‘uh huh’ sort of laugh escaped, in a smile that was too fixed to be genuine. Kneel. She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but that would render this entire thing pointless. Which she could stand less than letting him cum in her mouth, which was what she was positive he wanted.
With her hair a mess and her dress...she didn’t even remember where, Elysia gave him one last, long look. She held that look as she sunk all the way down to her knees on the floor, until she was level with him. Opening her mouth, she did not stop to consider that she would taste herself, that this was not what she’d had in mind at all, or that he was doing this for sadistic reasons; all things she’d think on later. Wrapping her fingers around his shaft, she smoothed her tongue first along the head, then took him wholly into her mouth. At least her mind was frighteningly clear now. She had all the time in the world to consider how much she disliked him, had loved what he did, and both hated and liked what he was making her do now.
Stop, don't.
I don't want you to.
Of course the woman didn't want to be rendered a plaything by the Headlord of Stravos. It was a simple thing, to see what Elysia of Aetaea was doing. She wanted to use her body to sway his attentions, to draw herself nearer. What she didn't expect and likely knew very well by now was that the offering of her body was the exact way to be wrought into the Stravos' trap. Games of power and desire were games that Elias had played for all of his adult life, both played against him when he was younger and more malleable to the assessments of older woman and for him as he grew capable of turning their advances against them. It was an amusing thing, to listen to her pants, to listen to how as he failed to heed her indication, her complaints waned immediately.
Even the illustrious Elysia of Aetaea can be rendered silent by pleasure. The assessment, while solid in the moment, wasn't sure to last. Logic dictated that Elysia's machinations would continue past their point of meeting, that she'd seek out more from him and not in the physical sense that garnered his attention. It was a curious thing, to see ultimately how that game of theirs might end. Elias looked forward to it, but he was far too preoccupied in the moment to render her subservient to his desires. He'd felt the coil of her sex about his digits, the burst of pleasure that rendered her unable to stand on her own and how he laughed internally at her capacity to break down and obey. He relished it more than anything as his name dripped from her lips as a warning. Then, he commanded her to kneel and was curious to see how she'd respond to the utterance.
This was certainly no suggestion, nor an invitation. Elias of Stravos was not yet satisfied and her disobedience certainly would cause her to lose all good graces her body had put into place. He cast his gaze directly towards Elysia as she turned to face him, as she sank to her knees before him. Good, he mused just as her fingers wrapped about his length, as her tongue cast against the head of his cock. Then, she took him deeper and the Stravos felt the keen sense of pleasure at the moisture of her saliva coaxing his length. He throbbed within her maw just as her ministrations began. Elias of Stravos curled his fingertips about the back of her head. They wove into her tresses, pulling a handful of hair into his palm as he coaxed himself deeper. Already, her body has rendered him very close, but he'd maintained semblance enough of control to bring her to her knees and finish the ordeal on the ground.
Pleasure curled the Stravos' toes, his head tipped back as tongue and throat worked to his pleasure. The Stravos couldn't be sure if the woman lingered on the ground for moments or minutes, but soon enough the pleasure surged blank white throughout his skull, a disconnect from reality as a rope of his seed seeped into her maw. He let the low groan of the woman's name escape his lips, his fingertips loosening from the back of her head before he withdrew the length of his cock from within her maw. A thin trail of saliva connected length to lips, and Elias lowered his hand to draw his fingers along the flaccid girth. If he was inclined to, he could draw arousal to his young body and take her again. But, in truth, Elias of Stravos had other things to do.
Lingering too long would also draw further risk of alerting Cicero of Aetola to what's been going on. It's best to leave immediately.
Elias did not seek to help the woman to her feet. Instead, he let his digits play into her hair, a gentle caress of appreciation for her efforts before he turned away from her. With an easy motion, he took his chiton from the floor next to the kline they'd begun their indulgence on and the sash that held it to his waist. He cinched the thin garment, then worked the fibulae that held his chiton to his shoulder before he told Elysia.
"Well done, my dear. I must be going, but I look forward to discussing the details of our arrangement in the near future. Have a pleasant day," he told her, a chuckle on his lips as he made his way out of the woman's home without another word.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Stop, don't.
I don't want you to.
Of course the woman didn't want to be rendered a plaything by the Headlord of Stravos. It was a simple thing, to see what Elysia of Aetaea was doing. She wanted to use her body to sway his attentions, to draw herself nearer. What she didn't expect and likely knew very well by now was that the offering of her body was the exact way to be wrought into the Stravos' trap. Games of power and desire were games that Elias had played for all of his adult life, both played against him when he was younger and more malleable to the assessments of older woman and for him as he grew capable of turning their advances against them. It was an amusing thing, to listen to her pants, to listen to how as he failed to heed her indication, her complaints waned immediately.
Even the illustrious Elysia of Aetaea can be rendered silent by pleasure. The assessment, while solid in the moment, wasn't sure to last. Logic dictated that Elysia's machinations would continue past their point of meeting, that she'd seek out more from him and not in the physical sense that garnered his attention. It was a curious thing, to see ultimately how that game of theirs might end. Elias looked forward to it, but he was far too preoccupied in the moment to render her subservient to his desires. He'd felt the coil of her sex about his digits, the burst of pleasure that rendered her unable to stand on her own and how he laughed internally at her capacity to break down and obey. He relished it more than anything as his name dripped from her lips as a warning. Then, he commanded her to kneel and was curious to see how she'd respond to the utterance.
This was certainly no suggestion, nor an invitation. Elias of Stravos was not yet satisfied and her disobedience certainly would cause her to lose all good graces her body had put into place. He cast his gaze directly towards Elysia as she turned to face him, as she sank to her knees before him. Good, he mused just as her fingers wrapped about his length, as her tongue cast against the head of his cock. Then, she took him deeper and the Stravos felt the keen sense of pleasure at the moisture of her saliva coaxing his length. He throbbed within her maw just as her ministrations began. Elias of Stravos curled his fingertips about the back of her head. They wove into her tresses, pulling a handful of hair into his palm as he coaxed himself deeper. Already, her body has rendered him very close, but he'd maintained semblance enough of control to bring her to her knees and finish the ordeal on the ground.
Pleasure curled the Stravos' toes, his head tipped back as tongue and throat worked to his pleasure. The Stravos couldn't be sure if the woman lingered on the ground for moments or minutes, but soon enough the pleasure surged blank white throughout his skull, a disconnect from reality as a rope of his seed seeped into her maw. He let the low groan of the woman's name escape his lips, his fingertips loosening from the back of her head before he withdrew the length of his cock from within her maw. A thin trail of saliva connected length to lips, and Elias lowered his hand to draw his fingers along the flaccid girth. If he was inclined to, he could draw arousal to his young body and take her again. But, in truth, Elias of Stravos had other things to do.
Lingering too long would also draw further risk of alerting Cicero of Aetola to what's been going on. It's best to leave immediately.
Elias did not seek to help the woman to her feet. Instead, he let his digits play into her hair, a gentle caress of appreciation for her efforts before he turned away from her. With an easy motion, he took his chiton from the floor next to the kline they'd begun their indulgence on and the sash that held it to his waist. He cinched the thin garment, then worked the fibulae that held his chiton to his shoulder before he told Elysia.
"Well done, my dear. I must be going, but I look forward to discussing the details of our arrangement in the near future. Have a pleasant day," he told her, a chuckle on his lips as he made his way out of the woman's home without another word.
Stop, don't.
I don't want you to.
Of course the woman didn't want to be rendered a plaything by the Headlord of Stravos. It was a simple thing, to see what Elysia of Aetaea was doing. She wanted to use her body to sway his attentions, to draw herself nearer. What she didn't expect and likely knew very well by now was that the offering of her body was the exact way to be wrought into the Stravos' trap. Games of power and desire were games that Elias had played for all of his adult life, both played against him when he was younger and more malleable to the assessments of older woman and for him as he grew capable of turning their advances against them. It was an amusing thing, to listen to her pants, to listen to how as he failed to heed her indication, her complaints waned immediately.
Even the illustrious Elysia of Aetaea can be rendered silent by pleasure. The assessment, while solid in the moment, wasn't sure to last. Logic dictated that Elysia's machinations would continue past their point of meeting, that she'd seek out more from him and not in the physical sense that garnered his attention. It was a curious thing, to see ultimately how that game of theirs might end. Elias looked forward to it, but he was far too preoccupied in the moment to render her subservient to his desires. He'd felt the coil of her sex about his digits, the burst of pleasure that rendered her unable to stand on her own and how he laughed internally at her capacity to break down and obey. He relished it more than anything as his name dripped from her lips as a warning. Then, he commanded her to kneel and was curious to see how she'd respond to the utterance.
This was certainly no suggestion, nor an invitation. Elias of Stravos was not yet satisfied and her disobedience certainly would cause her to lose all good graces her body had put into place. He cast his gaze directly towards Elysia as she turned to face him, as she sank to her knees before him. Good, he mused just as her fingers wrapped about his length, as her tongue cast against the head of his cock. Then, she took him deeper and the Stravos felt the keen sense of pleasure at the moisture of her saliva coaxing his length. He throbbed within her maw just as her ministrations began. Elias of Stravos curled his fingertips about the back of her head. They wove into her tresses, pulling a handful of hair into his palm as he coaxed himself deeper. Already, her body has rendered him very close, but he'd maintained semblance enough of control to bring her to her knees and finish the ordeal on the ground.
Pleasure curled the Stravos' toes, his head tipped back as tongue and throat worked to his pleasure. The Stravos couldn't be sure if the woman lingered on the ground for moments or minutes, but soon enough the pleasure surged blank white throughout his skull, a disconnect from reality as a rope of his seed seeped into her maw. He let the low groan of the woman's name escape his lips, his fingertips loosening from the back of her head before he withdrew the length of his cock from within her maw. A thin trail of saliva connected length to lips, and Elias lowered his hand to draw his fingers along the flaccid girth. If he was inclined to, he could draw arousal to his young body and take her again. But, in truth, Elias of Stravos had other things to do.
Lingering too long would also draw further risk of alerting Cicero of Aetola to what's been going on. It's best to leave immediately.
Elias did not seek to help the woman to her feet. Instead, he let his digits play into her hair, a gentle caress of appreciation for her efforts before he turned away from her. With an easy motion, he took his chiton from the floor next to the kline they'd begun their indulgence on and the sash that held it to his waist. He cinched the thin garment, then worked the fibulae that held his chiton to his shoulder before he told Elysia.
"Well done, my dear. I must be going, but I look forward to discussing the details of our arrangement in the near future. Have a pleasant day," he told her, a chuckle on his lips as he made his way out of the woman's home without another word.
Elysia remained on her knees until Elias was gone. She waited until the door closed with a soft click to stand, her mouth full. On the low table, their glasses still sat, half filled and glistening ruby red in the afternoon light. Into Elias’s glass, she spit the contents he’d left in her mouth and then to rinse the taste, she downed the rest of her own wine, swishing, and spitting that into his glass as well. After that, she picked up the bottle of wine, put the opening to her mouth, and took several long swallows, staring up at the ceiling as she did it.
For a long moment, she stood naked in the middle of the room, her letter forgotten on the table, staring at her dress lying in a pool of fabric on the floor by the wall. Part of her wanted to leave it there and never touch it again, but she wasn’t some teenager and she didn’t have the same insecurities. It was just a dress and this didn’t mean anything. She moved to it, snatched it up, and walked with it trailing from her hand to the floor, still drinking the bottle, and nudged the door open with her toes.
Into the shadowed hallway she went, ignoring the servant who stopped and immediately stared at the floor in confusion. Elysia stopped in front of the girl, lowered the bottle to chin level, and said, “When your master is home, inform him that I would like to see him in my room.” Whether Cicero would actually come or not was a different matter. Most of the time he did, but sometimes he was too preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t listen to anyone - least of which a servant that he barely spoke to anyway.
”Yes, mistress,” the woman’s eyes had made it to Elysia’s knees but no higher.
“Clean my sitting room,” Elysia said and then continued to her room. Once there, she shut the door, dropped the dress into the nearest chair, and continued naked toward the wardrobe. She knelt before it, setting the nearly empty wine bottle at her side, and opened the doors to reveal a cascade of gowns in pale hues of silver, lavender, deep blue, sumptuous red, exquisite green, pure white. She didn’t reach for any of these to cover herself, instead reaching to the wardrobe’s floor, her fingers sliding to the very back and feeling along the seam. The tip of her finger touched the familiar divot in the wood and she pressed down. The wardrobe’s floor gave way and Elysia removed the false bottom to reveal a hollow square, inside of which sat several diaries, all filled with Athenia’s horrid secrets.
She removed the newest one, replaced the false bottom, closed the wardrobe door, and trailed over to her bed. On the bedside table were writing implements ready to be made useful. Preparing the ink took little time and after checking the point on her stylus, she began to scrawl the things Elias had said, and things he hadn’t. She described his mannerisms, exactly what he’d done to her and for her, and the kind of wine he liked. An accurate description of his clothing, how neat he had or hadn’t kept his nails, and anything else she deemed necessary. Whatever Cicero would need to know went into this book, no matter how superficial it seemed. What was inconsequential to the laymen was not necessarily inconsequential to the Master Informer and his wife had learned long ago to trust his methods.
Once that was done, Elysia returned the diary back to its hiding place and called out of the door that she wanted a bath. Time to start the afternoon over fresh, and wait for her husband.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Elysia remained on her knees until Elias was gone. She waited until the door closed with a soft click to stand, her mouth full. On the low table, their glasses still sat, half filled and glistening ruby red in the afternoon light. Into Elias’s glass, she spit the contents he’d left in her mouth and then to rinse the taste, she downed the rest of her own wine, swishing, and spitting that into his glass as well. After that, she picked up the bottle of wine, put the opening to her mouth, and took several long swallows, staring up at the ceiling as she did it.
For a long moment, she stood naked in the middle of the room, her letter forgotten on the table, staring at her dress lying in a pool of fabric on the floor by the wall. Part of her wanted to leave it there and never touch it again, but she wasn’t some teenager and she didn’t have the same insecurities. It was just a dress and this didn’t mean anything. She moved to it, snatched it up, and walked with it trailing from her hand to the floor, still drinking the bottle, and nudged the door open with her toes.
Into the shadowed hallway she went, ignoring the servant who stopped and immediately stared at the floor in confusion. Elysia stopped in front of the girl, lowered the bottle to chin level, and said, “When your master is home, inform him that I would like to see him in my room.” Whether Cicero would actually come or not was a different matter. Most of the time he did, but sometimes he was too preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t listen to anyone - least of which a servant that he barely spoke to anyway.
”Yes, mistress,” the woman’s eyes had made it to Elysia’s knees but no higher.
“Clean my sitting room,” Elysia said and then continued to her room. Once there, she shut the door, dropped the dress into the nearest chair, and continued naked toward the wardrobe. She knelt before it, setting the nearly empty wine bottle at her side, and opened the doors to reveal a cascade of gowns in pale hues of silver, lavender, deep blue, sumptuous red, exquisite green, pure white. She didn’t reach for any of these to cover herself, instead reaching to the wardrobe’s floor, her fingers sliding to the very back and feeling along the seam. The tip of her finger touched the familiar divot in the wood and she pressed down. The wardrobe’s floor gave way and Elysia removed the false bottom to reveal a hollow square, inside of which sat several diaries, all filled with Athenia’s horrid secrets.
She removed the newest one, replaced the false bottom, closed the wardrobe door, and trailed over to her bed. On the bedside table were writing implements ready to be made useful. Preparing the ink took little time and after checking the point on her stylus, she began to scrawl the things Elias had said, and things he hadn’t. She described his mannerisms, exactly what he’d done to her and for her, and the kind of wine he liked. An accurate description of his clothing, how neat he had or hadn’t kept his nails, and anything else she deemed necessary. Whatever Cicero would need to know went into this book, no matter how superficial it seemed. What was inconsequential to the laymen was not necessarily inconsequential to the Master Informer and his wife had learned long ago to trust his methods.
Once that was done, Elysia returned the diary back to its hiding place and called out of the door that she wanted a bath. Time to start the afternoon over fresh, and wait for her husband.
Elysia remained on her knees until Elias was gone. She waited until the door closed with a soft click to stand, her mouth full. On the low table, their glasses still sat, half filled and glistening ruby red in the afternoon light. Into Elias’s glass, she spit the contents he’d left in her mouth and then to rinse the taste, she downed the rest of her own wine, swishing, and spitting that into his glass as well. After that, she picked up the bottle of wine, put the opening to her mouth, and took several long swallows, staring up at the ceiling as she did it.
For a long moment, she stood naked in the middle of the room, her letter forgotten on the table, staring at her dress lying in a pool of fabric on the floor by the wall. Part of her wanted to leave it there and never touch it again, but she wasn’t some teenager and she didn’t have the same insecurities. It was just a dress and this didn’t mean anything. She moved to it, snatched it up, and walked with it trailing from her hand to the floor, still drinking the bottle, and nudged the door open with her toes.
Into the shadowed hallway she went, ignoring the servant who stopped and immediately stared at the floor in confusion. Elysia stopped in front of the girl, lowered the bottle to chin level, and said, “When your master is home, inform him that I would like to see him in my room.” Whether Cicero would actually come or not was a different matter. Most of the time he did, but sometimes he was too preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t listen to anyone - least of which a servant that he barely spoke to anyway.
”Yes, mistress,” the woman’s eyes had made it to Elysia’s knees but no higher.
“Clean my sitting room,” Elysia said and then continued to her room. Once there, she shut the door, dropped the dress into the nearest chair, and continued naked toward the wardrobe. She knelt before it, setting the nearly empty wine bottle at her side, and opened the doors to reveal a cascade of gowns in pale hues of silver, lavender, deep blue, sumptuous red, exquisite green, pure white. She didn’t reach for any of these to cover herself, instead reaching to the wardrobe’s floor, her fingers sliding to the very back and feeling along the seam. The tip of her finger touched the familiar divot in the wood and she pressed down. The wardrobe’s floor gave way and Elysia removed the false bottom to reveal a hollow square, inside of which sat several diaries, all filled with Athenia’s horrid secrets.
She removed the newest one, replaced the false bottom, closed the wardrobe door, and trailed over to her bed. On the bedside table were writing implements ready to be made useful. Preparing the ink took little time and after checking the point on her stylus, she began to scrawl the things Elias had said, and things he hadn’t. She described his mannerisms, exactly what he’d done to her and for her, and the kind of wine he liked. An accurate description of his clothing, how neat he had or hadn’t kept his nails, and anything else she deemed necessary. Whatever Cicero would need to know went into this book, no matter how superficial it seemed. What was inconsequential to the laymen was not necessarily inconsequential to the Master Informer and his wife had learned long ago to trust his methods.
Once that was done, Elysia returned the diary back to its hiding place and called out of the door that she wanted a bath. Time to start the afternoon over fresh, and wait for her husband.