Page 60 of Tangwystle
The memories of Baz’s cock in my mouth lingered all night and day. The feeling of his pulsing cock releasing his semen.
I rubbed at my shoulders after finishing one of my tasks when I felt a cool breeze against my skin. Not just slidingaround my shoulders, helping my sticky neck. Baz’s whisper of elemental magic curled around my bare pussy.
For the first time in hours, the Manor sat silent.
I picked myself up off the floor, leaving my bucket and tools by the fireplace. I wiped soot off my face and followed the gentle path of magic.
I passed a naked Gretel, sitting on her knees, her nose almost touching the wall. Her head inclined just the slightest, but she made no further move to acknowledge my presence.
Ducking under an arched doorway, I found Baz in one of his favorite spots in the Manor. The room had a high ceiling with tons of framed paintings hanging along the walls. It was a part of the house that shouldn’t be so stately, but how else could a Manor of such Gothic, grand scale be anything less?
It was also one of the few rare spots in the house that allowed sunlight to stream through.
That’s how I found Baz that day. Sitting on a red-cushioned bench, against the dark paneling of the wall, in his suit. He’d lost his jacket, but he wore his trousers and a buttoned vest over his dark long-sleeved shirt.
The sunlight glinted off of him.
He leaned back, his knees far apart, one arm stretched along the back of the bench. Black tousled hair and dilated pupils.
I walked straight to him, needing no direction. I kneeled at his feet. For one second and then two, I stared at the red rug. He didn’t move, but I swore I felt his silent command. Lifting my chin, I met his hooded eyes, brimming with desire.
My stomach dipped.
“I much prefer this uniform, fairy,” he said, his voice made of gravel. I caught sight of his hands, the same ones that had spent hours punishing Gretel, and shivered. “Your ass should always be displayed to me.”
I bowed my head again.
He took my chin, making me meet his eye. “You know you’ve been bad.”
I nodded.
“I count on you to guide Gretel right.” A delicate heat sparked on my cheeks, and if he saw my mind working, he tsked. “Fairy, you know you can speak to me at any given moment.”
But getting my tongue to move, my words to form, had always been the problem. I didn’t know how to voice the embarrassment and wants that routinely drove my mind mad.
“Fairy.” The one pet name told me he knew exactly how much I struggled. I hated it, yet loved that he could understand my anxiety. “Let’s have a conversation.”
He forced me to stand and then patted his thigh.
I bit my lip when the rough wool of his trousers rubbed against my pussy.
“I don’t even have to look down to know you’re ruining my pants,” he said, still using that low, brooding voice. “Tangwystle. . . do you want me to fuck your pussy?”
I nodded, but he merely raised one eyebrow.
“Y-yes, please sir,” I replied softly, my stomach tightening the longer I stared into his eyes.
“You know I’ve been desperate too, fairy,” he said, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Since the moment you tried to slam the door in my face.”
Something like a surprised laugh tried to bubble up. The image of snowflakes falling onto the stone floor scattered through my memory. Baz with all his ridiculous luggage.
Then the flashbacks turned to us sitting in the kitchen eating. Baz trying to help me despite his dreadful ability to clean. The pair of us reading in the library.
The memories only got brighter and fonder when Gretel appeared, no matter how awful the circumstances were.
This time, something lighter held us together, but somehow so much more powerful, as I peered at him.
This was Baz. My Baz. I realized that being nervous wasn’t the same as being afraid.
