Eyes of Blue, Heart of Stone (Baroness X Femme Reader)

The Room Where It Happens

"Why do we have to ruin something so blissful with my issues?" Victoria grumbled, stubbornly. "Because. I told you didn't want to regurgitate trauma." You replied, with similar stubbornness.

She sits at the desk and looks you in the eyes. "Hans." She stated. "He used to use that red room against me." She admitted. Her stance held no confidence or power and her eyes darted across the room with anxiety. The Baroness sniffled.

"I don't need you in there if you don't feel safe, love."

Victoria sighed. "I think I should tell you what happened, it's only fair."

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"Oi oi Vicky!" Harold hollered at the Deville's open window. Bethany had remained silent since the garden party, which was more than tolerable, but since her husband saw The Baroness in such a demeaning position, he felt obliged to cat call her.

Hans shot his wife a foul look, insulted. "Whore." He masked his repulsion in a cough. Victoria felt her face flush. She hated Hans, but she cared greatly about his opinion.

"Your lordship?" John called, from the front seat, reading the pain in Victoria's eyes. "Yes John?" Hans replied. "I apologise for the inconvenience but I am rather cold, may I close a window?" He asked. Victoria mouthed her thanks. "Of course my good man." The Baron smiled, with a kindness that made Victoria hurt inside.

Why did she crave his respect so much?

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"He was rather peeved, to say the least, that I was getting noticed, so punishment was due." There was an awful light laughter in her voice.

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The Baron had called her to his study and her stomach was heavy. She, obviously, couldn't control her pervert neighbour. Hans didn't care for those specifics.

"Hello Victoria." He greeted.

"You know what to do."

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"He did that often? Hurt you?" You asked, caring to make your tone soft and not accusatory. "Yes, he did." Victoria may have shrugged but in her eyes, you could see her pain.

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She met his eyes, feigning innocence to keep herself safe. "Hans, honey, I'm very sorry-" "Don't 'Hans, honey' me." He sneered, mocking her tone. She doesn't let people mock her voice, her hearty English accent.

He flung her against the wall by her perfect curls, grunting in pain, in a most unladylike way, when she hit the red wall.

Shortly after she hit the wall, a whip followed suit. Her eyes widened like a deer in the firing line. "Hans- I'm sorry-" she stuttered, fear flooding her as his waistband hit his ankles. "Suck." He commanded.

"Hans! Please- I'm sorry- I'm- please- PLEASE!" She screamed, trying to resist letting his dick pass her lips. "I told you Vicky. You suck my dick, I forgive you. We don't want to be punished, do we?"

She didn't want to be punished, of that she was sure. But at the same time, she was not a whore and she felt desperate to not be treated as such.

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You placed your hand on Victoria's long legs. "You don't have to keep-"

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"Good." He praised. It wasn't positive or pleasant praise. It was twisted and sick and repulsive praise.

He kept forcing his dick down her throat. Once he freed her mouth, he bound it to a new prison.

The round, tight ball gag left tight marks against her perfectly chiselled face.

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"John was kind enough to rescue me." Victoria looked into the room, at the cuffs hung on the wall.

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"Help me!" She tried to scream through the ball, but her words were slurred and gargled. "HANS I'M SORRY!" She pleaded.

John barged in.

"Your grace what has he done to you?" He took her into his arms. "Darling, darling, speak to me." He begged, undoing the gag around her mouth. The valet ran his hands along the marks it left along her face. "John-" she sobbed into his chest. Every bit of desire he felt for that man evaporated after seeing her like this.

He massaged her strained jaw. "You don't have to lie to me, you can talk to me." He reassured. She shivered in his arms. "P- please- please don't tell him." She pleaded, her cold eyes letting in warm unrelenting fear. Helping his boss up, John wrapped her figure in his jacket. "Come your grace." He whispered. "We'll get your wounds treated.

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"I guess I've always felt I've owed John the world after he protected me from the baron." Victoria mused. "And he developed an urge to protect me." She added. "I won't make you go in there." You promised. "You are a doll, Y/N, but I would love to spend intimate time with you in there-"

You took her by the arm, gently, to the chair and tied her down. She tried to hide her hyperventilation. You untied her. "That's proof." You stated. "Proof of what?" She asked. "Proof that you are not ready." You replied, softly. "I'm ready! I'm ready Y/N! I swear."

"You are allowed to not be ready." You smiled, hugging her tight.

"I might not be ready..." she sighed.

"And that is okay."