Violets & Roses
Chapter 4
by GigglingGoblin
Tags:
#cw:ageplay
#cw:CGL
#cw:noncon
#cw:sexual_assault
#D/s
#dom:female
#f/f
#f/m
#humiliation
#sub:female
#bad_end
#begging
#bimbo
#bimbowned
#brainwashing
#breast_fixation
#drugged
#fantasy
#girls_rule_boys_drool
#hypnosis
#hypnotic_kiss
#lipstick
#mind_control
#misandry
#multiple_partners
#petplay
#pov:top
#sub:male
"Oh no! I've been chained up! Whatever will I do, Rose~?"
Rose rolled his eyes and continued weeding the flower bed. "I know that's one of the trick sets, Kitten. I saw you take it from the lab. You'd better put it back."
The garden shed had three pairs of trick handcuffs, actually. Agents of the Weaver's Guild often carried them for certain mind control techniques, and Violet was quite fond of subduing Weaver agents, brainwashing them, and taking their stuff.
Kitten giggled, and with a click, the ex-cat burglar escaped her handcuffs. "You're all cranky today!"
"Yes, well." He moved on with his rake to the next patch, scowling at the dirt.
"Are you still mad about yesterday?"
“They just won't let up. They're insufferable! And Mistress always believes them over me!"
"Well, duh." Kitten stuck out her tongue. "Girls know best!"
“Girls know best,” Rose echoed helplessly. He shook himself. “Y-Yes, well—well, they'd better—”
He frowned down at the patch of lullaberry vines.
"They'd better what?" Kitten chirped.
Rose bent down, ignoring her, and touched a strand of vine. "This has been cut.” He put a finger to the tip of the cut, noticing the fresh sap. "I didn't cut it."
"You probably just forgot.” He could hear the smirk in Kitten’s voice. “Maybe Mistress came out and made you humiliate yourself while you were out here, then brainwashed you to forget the whole afternoon?"
"Why wouldn’t Mistress let me remember something that humiliated me?" Rose flushed, hearing how that sounded. He straightened. "Lullaberry... you're not really supposed to, um, pick it. I mean, it's mainly useful if you’re planning to make wine with a lot of it, and the fermentation process takes..." He wracked his brain. The former Toxin Ranger had always been good at this sort of thing, but his mind was much more cluttered than it had once been. "... at least six months. Unfermented, the berries on their own carry too many side effects."
"Side effects?" Kitten batted at a butterfly with one hand, head tilted cutely to the side.
"Y-Yeah. Like, um, the berries are a powerful aphrodisiac, but they also cause paralysis. Mental numbing."
"Sounds like fun~"
"Yeah, well, numbing is... I mean, if you want to use the berries to brainwash someone, numbing's the last thing you want. They'll actually resist mind control better." He bit his lip. "I mean, aside from being paralyzed and uncontrollably horny. But the wine's a lot more useful." He ran his finger beneath the delicate strand, careful to avoid the thorns. "Why would someone..."
"Oh, Ro-o-o-o-ose~" chimed Violet's heavenly voice from a window.
Rose straightened hurriedly, blushing furiously. He tried to ignore Kitten's little giggle as he went to put away the tools and—as Violet called again impatiently—hurried inside to see to his Mistress's needs.
~ ~ ~ ~
Esneci smirked, watching from her scried view of the throne room as the Brat Baroness toyed with her little pet gardener. Excellent. That would keep her busy for a while.
The Weaver made her way down the passages of Violet's castle, stolen keys jangling at her side. Gods, this place was tacky. So many of the paintings on the walls were of Violet herself, or were ostentatious as hell, or both. All the curtains were the same blue as her eyes, and the windows were all stained pink glass that cast rosy sunbeams over the gaudy paintings—no doubt costing a fortune.
As soon as Violet was safely under the Guild's thumb for good, the first thing Esneci would do would be to put all these adorable thralls of hers to work redecorating. She rather liked the idea of taking Violet's place here.
Esneci was so preoccupied with thoughts of just what she would make Violet do for her once the Baroness was humbled, how she would enjoy breaking Violet’s will when Violet was on her knees at long, she wasn’t fully paying attention as she reached to open the door to Violet’s personal bedchambers.
She realized too late that she’d picked the wrong door.
The room was occupied. Three gorgeous blondes sat on the bed, apparently having been interrupted mid-conversation.
They blinked up at her, then at the keys at her side.
And they grinned.
Inwardly, Esneci sighed. She started running over her group enchantment spells. This would necessitate a… change in plans.
~ ~ ~ ~
A few days had passed since the broken bottle incident, and Rose had continued to notice herbs going missing from the garden—especially the ripe lullaberries vines. He was getting frustrated. He knew he was the one who was going to get blamed for the thefts.
He kicked the dirt. Someone had cut into the dizzygrass this time—a rare plant from the Northern Isles known for its mind-spinning scent.
It was the barmaids; he was sure of it. He didn't dare accuse them, though. Violet would just believe them over him and punish him for making false accusations. Plus, she'd find out the cuts were missing, and punish him more for that.
Regardless, it had him in a sour mood, and that made him less wise than usual when Amber came up from behind him and gave his ass a pinch.
He jumped, dropping his trimmers, and spun around. His face reddened as he saw the barmaid laughing. "Excuse me," he snapped, "I'm trying to work here!"
Amber giggled and patted him on the head. "Sure you are!"
"I am!" He felt indignation rising in him, and it pushed out words he immediately regretted. "Not that you'd know anything about work."
Her eyes gleamed. Rose’s breath caught.
She leaned in.
"Oh?" she purred.
Rose bit his lip, squirming, knowing he ought to back down immediately but unable to help himself. "I—I just, I spend all day tending Mistress's gardens, and all you seem to do is... is make it harder for me to do that!"
"Aww, am I making it harder?" Amber pouted sympathetically. When Rose flushed and ducked his head, she took two fingertips under his chin and made him meet her eyes. She giggled. "Sugar, this ain’t real work, you know. Mistress just gives you this to keep you busy." She leaned in very close, and Rose gasped as she cupped his ass, pulled him close to purr in his ear, "And to keep you nice and accessible for us~"
"N-No," Rose whimpered, "no, my work is... I'm the..."
"Oh, sugar, boys can't do real work," Amber said smugly. "The only thing they're good for…"
She pressed her hot, curvy body up against him and grinded her hips against his. He couldn't hold in his soft cry of pleasure.
"... is giving their brains to their dumb cocks," she cooed, "and cumming them aaaaall away~"
Rose panted, trying to muster some sort of objection, some sort of human speech.
"The real work is clearly all done by pretty girls," she sang, grinding a little harder. "We're so much awfully smarter, stronger, better. The real work is us capturing new toys for Mistress. That's what she really cares about."
Rose wanted to object—wanted to bring up all the reasons he knew this wasn't true, knew his work was important and real—but right now, actual words felt like slime slipping between his fingers. He was already grinding back, soft cries escaping him with every rock of his hips.
Amber beamed. "Gosh, just look at you," she crowed, caressing his cheek as he moaned and humped away. "See why you can't be in charge? See why you could never do real work like us girls?"
"Yes," he whimpered in humiliation, knowing this word would mean Amber would keep letting him grind, and he needed more, needed to feel more of her soft, supple body pressed against him, needed to submerge his melting mind beneath her heat. "Yes, yes, yes..."
Amber laughed at him, pulled him closer by the collar, and took him in a passionate, dominant kiss.
Rose melted into her embrace. He grinded and humped against her leg, unable to care about how humiliating this was, how shamefully he was behaving. Her kisses were as soft as clouds, her plump, pouty lips smacking lewdly against his skin as she moaned into his mouth. Her tongue slipped past his lips, and he half-collapsed right into her arms.
She pulled away with a loud, satisfied sigh, and smiled at him as he swayed there, panting for breath, his vision clouded in a rosy haze.
"I think that proves my point~" she cooed, and gave him a light shove.
Rose squealed as he fell on his ass in the middle of the dizzygrass.
Instantly, puffs of pollen surged up around him like a swarm of angry bees, and he couldn't help but take in a breath.
And his world spun round and round like a gyroscope.
Swaying violently, he blinked up at Amber. She gave him a little princess wave. "Have fun, sugar~" she said with a gooey-sweet smile, and twirled to make her exit.
"Amber!" he cried, but then he couldn't see her, couldn't see anything but the swirling colors of the blurry world behind him. He breathed in again, and he didn't even realize he was falling until the back of his head reached the soft, silken grass.
His cock was throbbing in his pants, but even lifting his hand felt impossible. All he could do was buck as beautiful hallucinations danced before his eyes—gorgeous girls giggling and cooing down at him, tickling him with feathers and fingertips, tormenting him with delicate little kisses all over his back
Before long, Rose was moaning freely and loudly, bucking and drooling. On the waking level of his mind, he prayed one of the nicer maids along along before one of the more mischievous servants like Kitten found him.
But as he heard the clicking of heels coming down the path, Rose knew luck was not on his side today.
"Oh. My. Gods," Violet's eyes were wide, and there was a big, delighted grin stretching across her gorgeous face as she came to stand over him. "Wow, just look at you. You really are a mess."
"A-Amber," he moaned.
"Yes, she told me everything." the Brat Baroness giggled. "Sounds like someone's been a naughty boy~"
"N-Nhgh..." Rose tried to speak, but the whole world was still swimming, and seeing Violet's gorgeous form just made him want to buck and squirm even more.
"Playing in the flowers," Violet cooed, extending one delicate high-heeled shoe and grazing the toe over his imprisoned cock. "I should have known this would be, like, way too much for a dumb boy to manage on his own."
Rose whimpered and babbled his incoherent panic. She was going to take this job away, he just knew it, and then he'd be no use to her.
Not except maybe as a full-time playtoy.
"I think I'd better do something about this," Violet said thoughtfully. "You know, as your smart, sexy, mature Mistress. Don't you?"
"Gguhhhh..." No, no, he couldn't bear this...
"I know!" She brightened. "I'll follow Amber's super-cute idea!"
Rose froze.
Oh, no.
"I-Idea?" he managed to slur.
"Uh-huh!" The Brat Baroness giggled and clapped her hands excitedly. "It's soooo smart and clever. I mean, I basically thought of it, but she was really, like, my muse, you know?” She arched an eyebrow, leaning down over him and daintily pressing her toe a little harder against his place of need. “Aren’t you so glad your Mistress is so much smarter than you dummies?”
He whimpered an assession.
"I know you are." She smirked. "So, I think you need a supervisor. Someone to keep you from getting up to trouble." Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "And guess who volunteered?"
His blood went cold.
He tried to muster a rejection, a protest, anything. His lips slurred the words, his dizziness stole seconds from him, and it came out garbled and nonsensical.
Violet seemed to misunderstand his excitement—or, just as likely, pretended to. "Oh, you're excited, huh?" She looked quite pleased with herself. "You're so excited your Mistress thought of such a smart idea for you, aren’t you?"
His protests died. He meekly nodded.
"Good." She giggled. "Now, quit playing around, bimbo boy, and go thank her for being willing to put up with your dumb boy brain~"
She spun on her heel and left.
Rose lay there bucking and squirming for another hour still.
Then Kitten found him.
~ ~ ~ ~
Rose was still finding bits of pollen clinging to his clothes as he stumbled up the steps to the barmaids' play room. Normally they spent most of their time at the tavern in town—where they'd so nearly ensnared him long ago—but they'd been in the castle a lot lately. Violet had given him an order. He had to follow it.
And maybe, while he was at it, he could get down on his knees and beg for mercy.
He swallowed. It wasn’t much of a chance, but it was better than nothing.
Rose hesitated as he reached the door. Swallowtail, monarch and crystalwing butterflies fluttered in his stomach.
Aching with embarrassment, he raised his hand to knock.
Then he smelled it.
At first, Rose didn't fully register what he was smelling. It was too much, too many scents all muddled together in a cocktail of sensory overload. He was still in a daze, even after Kitten had thoroughly ‘cleaned him up’. But he knew these scents well.
It was the sickly sweet-and-sour scent of dizzygrass. And there, underneath it, was that the sweetness of lullaberries?
His heart slammed into his chest. I knew it. Before he could think to stop himself, he’d swung the door open.
This time, the scents hit him like a tidal wave.
He slammed the door shut and spun to lean against the door, breathing heavily. This was... this was bad. This was very, very bad.
He hesitated, then turned and opened the door again.
The barmaids' room was, unlike most rooms in the castle, not decorated by Violet. The barmaids were her favorites, her trusty spies, and so were trusted with enough autonomy to decorate themselves. It was lavish, but tasteful, with dark blue hanging drapes blocking all light, a single great four-poster bed with three pairs of plush pillows—two pink, two white, and two blue.
The smell was almost overpowering in here. He had to lean against the wall for balance. It was coming from the walk-in closet. That was where the stolen herbs were being kept.
Rose swallowed, pulled up his shirt to cover his mouth and nose, and edged a little closer.
He could swear he could hear something behind that door. It sounded like…
… a woman’s voice.
A woman’s moans.
The moans of a woman panting for breath.
Fear almost stayed his hand there. This was a bad idea. He was going to interrupt the girls at play, and then they'd have him fully at their mercy when they were already in a mood.
But he had to know. He didn’t have a choice..
His hand went to the doorknob, turned it, and pulled the door open.
The woman lying inside was alone. He didn’t recognize her—at least, not well. He vaguely knew her as a new recruit to the castle. He couldn't forget a face like that, with shimmering copper curls, thick lashes over big brilliant gray eyes, a pleasingly round face, and a curvy, enticing frame currently on full display.
She was naked. Silk scarves bound her hands and feet, and two were wrapped around her head as a gag. Rose realized the latter two scarves were stuffed full of bundles of dried dizzygrass, which they held right in front of her nose. She was being forced to breathe in nothing but sweet, tainted air.
The new recruit was bucking, whimpering, moaning, panting for breath. Her whole body was red and sweaty with exertion. She was dripping, drooling, her eyes heavy-lidded.
Rose stared, briefly lost in her jiggling curves, in the so-rare sight of a pretty girl who had been totally humiliated.
She looked up at him, and her eyes widened. "Mmm! MMMMF!"
"I..." Rose hesitated. The barmaids would surely be back soon, wouldn't they? He knew from experience that if he interrupted their game with this new employee, he'd become part of it.
But something about her desperation made pity override good sense, because he lingered. Trying not to stare, he looked about for something to cut the cords with. "I, um, are you..."
His eyes settled on something resting on a dresser. A set of maid's clothes, neatly-folded and pressed. He reached for them. These were surely her...
He stopped. He reached, slowly, for the folded letter that rested next to the clothes.
He heard the woman's cries arch, her desperation rising. "NNN! NNNMF!"
He unfolded the paper carefully, just in case it contained anything toxic—old habits died hard.
To Esneci of the Pale Strings, by order of the Weaver's Guild,
He recoiled from the note, heart racing faster than a scared rabbit's. He looked with wide eyes at the note. He felt like he was staring at a coiled, venomous snake.
But the snake was behind him.
Rose heard movement behind him just before Esneci tackled him to the ground.
He landed among the cushions, struggling desperately. The fine pollen was all over her, all over this room, and without his mouth covered it was flooding his lungs with every breath he took.
She rolled him over and stared down at him. She was still bound, and normally he'd be easily able to overpower him, but
a pretty girl
was humping
His lap.
Rose's mouth went dry. "N-No," he groaned, but she pressed in close, bringing her face up close so he could share in the scent of her drugged gag. "No!"
But she was so pretty. So desperate. Her eyes glittered with amusement tinged with desire, and she pressed in tighter, moaning softly in his ear. He couldn't tell if her focus was on subduing him or fulfilling her desires, but right now she was doing both easily.
"S-Stop!" he cried, breathing in more of that scent. “Get o—MMF!”
She’d pressed her face against his, ‘kissing’ his lips with the gag. He inhaled reflexively, and his head spun with uncertain reality.
He went limp in her arms, and she smiled brightly. Her gag melted away, and then her lips were on his, soft and luscious, and his cock was throbbing, pulsing, and
He thrashed beneath her, whimpering as he snapped back to reality. He raised his hands and managed to shove her off of him, but she felt so heavy, and—
"Be a good boy," she cooed, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him to her breast. "You know you can't resist. You know girls always win."
“N-No,” he cried, realizing his arms had gone limp and she was back atop him, so warm, so soft, her skin so smooth as she ground against him. He writhed until he managed to roll her onto her
back, and her legs wrapped around his, and he could take it no longer, he was plunging into her, moaning, listening with rapture to her squeals as he panted his mantra, “Girls rule, boys
“drool,” he whispered. Reality flowed back into him. She was trying to loop her bound arms around his neck, to pull him in close, but he flung himself back and scrambled to his feet.
Dizziness washed through him. He nearly collapsed, but he somehow made it all the way to the closet door. He heard her moving behind him, moaning, pleading, but he stumbled out the door—basically clinging to the doorknob just to stay standing—and slammed it shut as hard as he could.
Instead of clicking shut, it bounced back a little from the frame. Stupid cheap locks! He kicked it firmly shut.
It took him a long moment to recover enough balance to hobble out of the barmaids' bedroom. He closed this door, more carefully this time, and locked it.
His heart was pounding. His head still felt airy and light, like a sponge cake that had risen too high in the oven.
The barmaids had captured an agent from the Weaver's Guild. Had they told Violet? Surely not—she'd have been left in a separate area for reconditioning.
The barmaids had disobeyed a direct order to bring any spies to Violet directly.
A thrill of excitement and hope raced through him, followed quickly by anxiety and fear. Everything fell into place in his mind. This was why they'd been stealing from the garden, and why their thefts had gotten more brazen recently. They'd been stockpiling their own private supply for their own private little games.
Rose’s knees felt weak. He slid to the floor and, not even fully thinking about it, started rubbing. Boys that thought too hard needed to edge and make it harder.
If he... he bit his lip. If he told Violet, the barmaids would lie. Violet would believe them over him, and she'd punish him for lying. And that was to say nothing of the punishments his new ‘caretakers’ would have for him.
He rubbed a little faster, thinking about how bad that would be. How they'd torment him, punish him. They'd already become determined to 'put him in his place' for defeating them once—how wicked could they become if he snitched?
But surely... surely if he just privately told Violet that he'd found something in the barmaids' room, Violet would go and see for herself first.
That way, the barmaids would never have to know who had found them out. They'd assume it was one of the maids, which made him feel a little bad, but not as bad as he'd feel if he made them vengeful.
Or as… good as he’d feel.
He rubbed harder, humping a little, whimpering softly in the hallway. The barmaids were so pretty. There was nothing he'd be able to do to resist.
He'd be totally vulnerable.
They might tie him up naked and leave him in the maids' quarters, or maybe even take him to the menagerie and introduce him to some of Violet's pet fey. Feeling his cock beginning to pulse with the promise of climax, Rose slowed his touches, shivering. Or they'd just have him walk right into Violet's bedroom and start gooning his brains out in front of her.
His mind began to sink into a squishy, gooey pleasure-dumb haze. There were so many ways those pretty girls could toy with him, and he'd let them do all of them, because boys were weak and girls were strong.
Girls ruled, boys drooled.
Boys were dumb and needed to cum.
Dumb, dumb, dumb, cum, cum, cum...
He could vaguely hear footsteps passing down the hallway. Clicking heels. He was drooling, imagining Kitten getting hit with her kittencow trigger and pinning him down on the bed, cooing and giggling, such a silly slutty bimbo pet as she effortlessly broke his mind and encouraged her little boytoy to suckle his mind away at her nice, bouncy boobies...
He heard delicate, feminine voices, and these voices merely added to the menagerie of beautiful women who could so easily control him, dominate him, fill his head with nice triggers that just felt so good, made him so dumb, because boys were dumb and needed to
“... cummm..."
The footsteps stopped. He was edging desperately, leaning forward, imagining Amber shoving him between her legs, under her arm, between her breasts, drugging her on her sweet, musky scent, her taste, her voice, her control, her...
"Oh. My. Gosh."
Rose's head shot up. His eyes widened.
Violet—sweet, adorable, beautiful Violet–stood right before him. Above him. Her eyes shone with evil delight, perfect pink lips parted in a growing smile.
Amber, he realized, was right behind her, along with Kitten.
"What are you doing?" Violet exclaimed, laughing. "Oh my gosh! I told you to find Amber and I found her first! Like, you couldn't even make it through their front door!"
Humiliation flooded through him, sweet, intoxicating humiliation. "I—" He panted and squirmed. "I, um—"
"Omigods, are you still touching? You're literally so broken.” Violet smirked. “Just humping yourself in right front of me! This is why you need Amber to take care of you. You're just such a useless boy without a pretty girl to tell you what to, like, do and stuff."
"B-But I—" No, he had to wait! He couldn't tell Violet here. Not in front of Amber.
He humped a little faster. Not in front of beautiful, sweet, adorable, evil Amber.
"Oh, yes," Amber purred, stepping up and admiring him. "Don't you worry, Mistress. We'll take good care of him."
Violet giggled. "Kitten, be a total sweetie an, like, take him to his room for now. We can't have him being such a dumb boy in the hallway."
"Yes, Mistress!" Kitten chirped. As Violet and Amber picked their way around Rose, still laughing, she darted in to grab him by the arm. "C'mon, sweetie, let's go have some fun in the..."
Rose's edge-dumb mind was stumbling forward as quickly as it could. He'd go talk to Violet later, when the barmaids were busy in town. Actually, maybe he'd tell one of the maids—one of the nicer girls whom Violet favored, who didn't go out of their way to torment Rose too much. They could get the credit, and he'd be safe from Amber's revenge, and Violet would...
He realized Kitten had gone still. She frowned at him, sniffing the air and blinking rapidly.
His heart leaped into his throat. Oh, no. "D-Don't," he squeaked, but his voice was so weak, so breathy, he needed to stop edging—
"Mistress," Kitten called, "he smells funny!"
Violet turned. "Huh? What do you mean?"
"N-Nothing," Rose squeaked, finally forcing his hand away. "She's, um, it's just the herbs I always—"
"He smells like..." Kitten pouted, thinking. Rose wanted to interrupt her, but it went against all his training to interrupt a pretty girl. "Like those dizzygrass plants! The ones he said were going missing!"
"Oh, really?" To his horror, Violet's heels were clicking back towards them. "Plants were going missing?"
"I—" Rose squirmed. "I-I was just, um, I was going to tell you, but—"
"But what?" Violet's eyes narrowed.
"He probably just smells from when the silly boy fell into the dizzygrass earlier," Amber cut in, hurrying over. She stared at him meaningfully. "Isn't that right?"
Kitten frowned. “But I—”
"Y-Yes!" Rose cut in, nodding desperately at Amber. This was bad. This was so, so bad. He'd have to think of another way to tell Violet later, but he'd figure it out, he just had to keep Kitten from mentioning he’d taken a bath, keep from letting slip— "Yes, that's it. Things weren't—I was just—"
As he tried to compose a half-truth—because he could never lie, not to Mistress, not ever—he pushed himself back to his feet, using the door as a brace.
And the barmaids' bedroom door swung open, and the smells of sweet, wonderful dizzygrass spilled out into the hallway.
Stupid… cheap… locks…
He sank back to the floor and fell onto his back. For a moment, he didn't have any worries—just sweet dizzy bliss, a return to that lovely floaty spinny world. Enticing hallucinations of Violet, Amber and Kitten wrapped around his mind like ribbon eels and gently squeezed.
"What's that smell?" he heard Violet asking. "Is that..."
"Dizzygrass," Kitten said.
Violet giggled. "Duh, like, obviously." A pause. "But why's it in your room, Amber, sweetie?"
Rose snapped back to reality. He forced himself to sit up, stammering for some sort of explanation.
Amber's cheeks were red, her eyes wide as Violet stared at her, a question on Violet's perfect pink lips. "It's, um." Amber visibly swallowed. "It's just the silly boy! He got the room all full of that stuff."
"Oh?" Violet blinked at her, then at him. "Is that true?"
"Um." Rose squirmed under her gaze. He couldn't lie, but he couldn't... he couldn't...
Violet leaned down over him, and Rose's world stopped to bounce and jiggle as her breasts fell before his eyes, barely contained by her dark corset. "Is it true, sweetie?" she cooed. "Did you make the room smell this way?"
Rose stared at her breasts. "N-No," he whimpered, bucking into the air.
Violet looked startled. Then she smiled, a wide, wicked smile. "Aww. It sounds like someone’s still able to lie to me! Does my silly boy need some extra conditioning?"
"N-No!" he whimpered. "It's—"
He didn't think before his eyes drifted toward the closet. It wasn't a conscious choice at all.
Unfortunately, Violet noticed.
"Hey, what's in there?" she asked, pointing. "It smells awfully strong."
Rose couldn't move, couldn't speak, as the Brat Baroness walked over, click-click-click, and opened the door.
She looked at what lay inside for a long moment, then closed the door and turned.
Violet had a big, wide smile on her face, a smile that made Rose's blood turn cold. It was her wickedest smile, her punishment smile, her someone-dares-challenge-me smile.
It took him a moment to realize it wasn't directed at him.
"Kitten, go and fetch the other barmaids," she said sweetly.
"Yes, Mistress!" Kitten giggled and raced away.
Amber was sweating. She took a step back, and Violet took a step forward. "Mistress, I was g-going to, um—"
"Gosh," Violet cooed, "what's wrong, silly slutty butterfly?" Rose watched Amber shiver, and realized that he'd just witnessed one of her triggers. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? You know I'm, like, way smarter than you, right?~"
"Y-Yes, Mistress!" Amber squeaked. She backed out into the hall and up against the wall next to a pink stained glass window. "B-But I didn't—I mean, it was Rose, he—"
Violet closed the distance, pressing her up against the wall. "Aww, blaming the Rose?" She turned to Rose with a wide, indulgent smile. "Are you smart enough to do something like this, dummy boy?"
Rose saw Amber glaring daggers at him. He swallowed. "I, um—"
And then Violet was in his face. Right in his face. On top of him. She straddled his hips, and oh, fuck, it had been so long since she'd... she was so soft, so warm as her luscious ass grinded against his imprisoned cock... "Well, sweet boy?" she whispered. Her lips brushed his. "Whose fault is this?"
Rose whimpered. He bucked, and he heard Violet giggle. "Good boy. Such a good boy. Tell me~"
He saw Kitten coming back. He trembled, seeing Crystal and Rana following behind. All three barmaids’ eyes were locked on him, glittering with white-hot anger.
"It was—"
Violet reached down and pulled down his trousers, and his cock sprung free. She shifted, and her hips rose right above, and he felt her slick entrance under that gorgeous short skirt. "Tell me!" She giggled, wiggling her hips teasingly. "Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!~"
"I-It was—them!" Rose cried. "I c-came here, and I saw her, and I was—she's a Weaver, Mistress, she was a s-spy, I saw the—the letter's in there, it—"
His words broke into a squeal of pleasure as Violet plunged down atop him, drawing him into blissful pink oceans and pulling his head right under the surface. He bucked helplessly, moaning, drooling, and Violet seized him in a deep, passionate kiss. He felt her tongue in his mouth, conquering, claiming, felt her bouncing up and down on his cock, moaning, gasping. Her lip gloss was sweet and sugary, just like everything about her. Sticky. Irresistible. Addictive.
He melted.
She pulled back from the kiss with a faint pop, smiling gleefully down at him. "Good boy," she cooed, stroking his hair, bouncing faster "O-Oh, my god, good, dumb boy~!"
"Yes!" he slurred. "I'm ddummm..." He bucked upwards, and everything in him seemed to turn molten and gooey as he came to those humiliating words of praise, thrusting into her.
Violet’s eyes closed as her own climax took her. She pulled him into another desperate, hungry kiss as she bounced faster in his lap. Rose submitted utterly to her, as he always would.
The climax seemed to stretch into eternity. Violet was kissing over his neck, her lips soft and wet, overwhelming him with pleasure. Rose could only moan and mindlessly accept his reward.
But as his vision turned misty pink with pleasure, he caught a glimpse of the three barmaids standing behind Violet, waiting patiently for their punishments to be administered. Their eyes were on him.
And they did not look pleased.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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