literature

The Beast within the Lady (Black ButlerxReader)

Deviation Actions

AshcloudAngel's avatar
Published:
4.5K Views

Literature Text

PLEASE READ DESCRIPTION FIRST!!

A lady shouldn't do this. A lady can't do that. That is most certainly not a thing young ladies are to do in polite company!
Ladies don't speak unless spoken to. Ladies don't have opinions. Ladies are to obey their betters.
All your life, these idiotic phrases were told to you by your parents. To become the perfect, marriageable young woman, to be shaped and molded into perfection, these were things you were expected to learn.
A lady couldn't. A lady shouldn't. A lady wouldn't.
Even now, years after your parents' death, those hated phrases were still being pushed upon you by the butler your father left to care for you should something ill befall him.
"Miss (f/n), a young lady of your breeding should most certainly not be wearing the clothes of a young man, let alone be caught climbing the branches of a tree. Whatever would your father say, were he here?" Angrily you glared down at the top of his salted deep brown hair, the strands groomed back to perfection, accenting his black spectacles and stern face to a tee.
"If my father were here, he'd say quite the same thing, Mr. Charles Burnham. But that does not mean that I would've complied with his wishes either." As if to prove your point, you pulled your slight, thirteen year old frame higher within the elderly branches of the gnarled oak, successfully hiding the tall figure of the bothersome servant.
It had been this way since the mysterious disappearance, and later found, death of your mother and father. The (l/n) estate had been left in your young, nine year old hands, along with the entire staff. Which included the middle aged man that now stood glaring up at your hidden figure from down below, his immaculate attire barely visible through the heavy foliage adorning your hiding place.
At first, their deaths had been hard, but you had quickly overcome your sadness upon discovering the freedom you now had. In spite of the many attempts of the household staff, your wild nature had only blossomed in the absence of authority, and day by day it grew worse, which frustrated Charles to no end.
"Miss, am I going to have to come up there after you? I would much prefer not to, but considering your important meeting later, I will do what must be done." The serious threat beneath his tone drew a frustrated sigh from your lips, all elation evaporated at his softly spoken words.
Bravely you rose to your feet, walking along the thick, bark covered branch until you reached it's base, where you lowered yourself down with long practiced ease. Then you dropped down, falling the ten or so feet to land gracefully upon your tiny feet, beaming up at the glower directed down at you from your flustered butler.
"What? You wanted me down, Charles. You didn't allude as to how you wanted me to get myself down." The response cheeky, every word simply deepened the furious expression upon the older man's face.
Admittedly, when he got that deep glare and tight lipped frown, he did frighten you a little, but you were far too stubborn to back down.
But he was absolutely just as stubborn. "Miss, were I your father, I would seriously consider a form of severe punishment. But considering the fact that I am but a mere servant to you, I can only request that my young mistress refrain from doing such a reckless activity again. Ladies do not do such things."
And there it was again. Ladies don't.
Frustration filled your every pore, flying from your lips in an exasperated groan as you angrily brushed your (h/l) (h/c) hair out of your face. You were most certain that the glare shimmering within your (e/c) orbs was one to match your petulant butler's cold grey glower.
"Fine. Do I have a bath drawn? I'd like to clean up before meeting with my company representative." You turned away from him with a flip of your (h/c) locks, not waiting for an answer from the stoic man as you stalked towards the house.
But, like always, he was right at your side, matching your fast steps with his long strides. "Of course, miss. Oh, and one more thing? It's 'would have' not 'would've'. A proper lady should speak properly at all times, even when addressing servants."
His snide tone made you want to scream out in frustration, but then you'd have to hear about how ladies didn't raise their voices, no matter how lowly the company. So you settled for stomping your 'borrowed' oversized boys work boots across the immaculately polished birch wood floors, leaving smears of mud and grass across the mirrored surface.
The sight brought a brief flicker of joy to you; you hated the perfect, pale way your family mansion was decorated. Everything was soft and white, with not a speck of bright color to be found. Even the rich brown and stark green of the muck and grass you'd left upon the floor was an improvement to the bland way the place usually looked.
A groan came from your frustrated butler at the sight, and you could practically see the glower deepen upon his weathered features. You had to stifle a giggle at the flustered tone, quickly turning away before the annoyed servant could catch your faint grin. “I’ll be taking my bath now; don’t bother with sending Jenny up to help me. I can undress myself.”
With a flip of your (h/c) locks you started forwards, aiming to head for the towering staircase, but not before a soft breath caused you to turn back to face the man.
“Clearly…” He barely uttered the word under his breath, but your young ears caught the derisive breath easily, bringing a dark scowl upon your face, one that brought the older man down upon one knee before you, his head lowered in shame. “Please forgive me my Lady. I spoke out of turn.”
“Provided it does not happen again. Go, leave me.” The cold tone in your voice would have made many others tremble with fear, but considering who it was directed at, the older man simply rose to his feet and turned away without another word.
For a brief moment, you quietly regarded the stoic servant, from his immaculate black suit to his slick white flecked brown hair, a few strands of which were brought about by you. He was an amazing butler and a perfect servant, but you hated him all the same. He tried to tame you, to make you into that which you despised most.
Angrily you turned away, taking the steps two at a time as you ran up the two flights of stairs to the third floor. And as with the ground level, everything was decorated in the same palette. Pale holds, creams, and stark whites dressed the area, from the birch wood floors, to the pale wooden paneling, all the way to the wallpaper along the upper walls, which reached graceful, tender fingers towards the white ceiling. Not a speck of color was to be found, leaving you feeling cold and empty. The hues depressed you, reminiscent of the stark emptiness of winter, filled with fear and death.
And you weren’t allowed to change it. Oh no, Charles was instructed to keep the place exactly the same until you were married and there was a new head of the household. And then it would’ve been his decision.
Absentmindedly you trailed your long, piano playing fingertips along the wall, tracing the designs along the trim of the molding like you had for years, ever since you were a child. But unlike when you were a child, you no longer had your mother walking calmly at your side, her meek and quiet demeanor still a bother to you even now.
She had been considered the very image of a well bred woman; soft spoken and timid, beautiful but fragile, and the perfect thing for your overbearing father to push around. Even to this day the thought sickened you, and you once more felt the urge to destroy something at the very memory of the poor treatment that the delicate woman had received.
So you did. Angrily, you forced your fingers between the molding that separated pale cream paneling from stark white wallpaper, and with a sharp tug, you tore it loose. Splintered shards fell with tiny clatters to the hardwood floor, the panel now hanging haphazardly from its prior position by a few clinging shards, the sight an absolute horror.
Joyous laughter flew from your lips at the sight of the chaos, and with a graceful bound, you flew over the debris, mud and grass flying every which way from the sudden motion.
Still running, you didn’t stop until you reached the open door to the bathroom, sliding through its open embrace with one last gleeful shout. Then you slammed the heavy slab into its frame, happily sliding down to the floor against the hard surface.
As before, the colors that lie within the room were soft creams and bright whites. But unlike before, there was another hue to the palette, albeit a monochrome one. Patterned black marble tiles mixed with white all across the floor, creating a sleek, checkered design that you absolutely adored, making this one of your favorite rooms.
Soft beige curtains draped gracefully over the windows, creating a dull, warm light that gave the entire room a comforting, soothing tone; one that instantly relaxed the tension that had quickly built up in your shoulders from being around your butler. Accenting that feeling were the sweet aromas of different bath salts and soaps, every scent wafting together in a beautiful, lulling symphony.
And in the center of it all was a massive, claw foot tub, steam rising up from the bubbly water that resided within its porcelain walls. The very presence of the imposing thing demanded the attention of all that entered, and you were no different.
A squeal of barely contained joy flew from your lungs at the warm, soothing vision before you, one that you couldn’t wait to enter. In spite of everything else that you hated about being forced to act like a proper lady, you couldn’t deny how much you loved the feeling a warm soak in the tub gave you.
So you quickly stripped of the clothes that you had taken from the stableboy’s room earlier that day while he had been out in the barn, leaving the dull brown outfit in a pile next to the filthy boots you had worn, eagerly stepping over to the porcelain basin.
Carefully you stepped over the side, a pleased sigh leaving your lips as you lowered yourself into the steaming liquid. Gentle and soft, you ran your long, nimble fingers across your pale skin, rubbing free the dirt and grime you had gathered from your adventures outside.
It was bliss, the feeling of washing away all of that filth, and once you had deemed your skin clean, you ducked your head beneath the water’s surface. Gently you tugged loose the knots in your (h/l) (h/c) locks, scrubbing your fingers down to the roots. Your body screamed for air, but, as usual, you refused to surface until you were pleased with the cleanliness of your delicate (h/c) strands.
After all, a lady should appear groomed to perfection at all times.
Finally, once you felt that your hair was clean all the way to your scalp, you broke through the surface with a gasp, gladly filling your starving lungs with oxygen. Water sloshed out of the tub in waves from your sudden emergence, falling to the floor in shimmering tides, crystalline droplets flying to the far corners of the room, the sparkling sheen left upon the floor beautiful in the late afternoon lighting. The glittering ripples tempted you to splash more of the soapy liquid upon the checkerboard marble floor, but you knew that such an act would earn you an incredibly long lecture on how ladies didn’t do that from none other than your pesky, bothersome butler, so you settled for watching the way the water reflected glowing, wavering light on the ceiling, its pattern ever changing.
Your skin, now pink and clean, gladly soaked in the warmth radiating within the steaming cocoon that was your bath. It was bliss, the rippling heat that undulated beneath the water, tickling against your skin and washing away all stress and tension in your body; all of which had been brought about by your frustrating butler. Gladly you reclined back, resting the back of your head against the white porcelain lip of the tub, closing your eyes and relaxing in this brief calm.
Bathes were also one of your favorite times of day for one other reason: none bothered you here. No one told you how to act, how to clean yourself, how to behave. It was you and you alone within these four tiled and marbled walls, and that gave you the freedom to do as you pleased, even if it was only for a short while.
Slowly you closed your eyes, your (h/l) (h/c) hair drifting about you in the water like long, wispy threads caught in a breeze, soaking up every moment of peaceful silence that you could.
All to soon your brief moment of tranquility was brought to a close as a sharp rap upon the door drew you out of your calm and forced you to open your eyes with a glare at the cold voice that drifted through from the other side. “Miss (f/n)? Are you about finished? It is time for you to begin dressing for this evening.”
“Fine.” A sigh, frustrated and bothered, left your lips with the softly uttered word, and in an already annoyed state, you sadly brought your arms from the water’s heated embrace. Gracefully you pulled your lean figure to rise from the tub, slender fingers gripping tight to the porcelain sides, lest you slip. Upon standing, you gingerly lifted one leg over the edge, ensuring that you had good footing on the slick, puddled surface of the cold floor before bringing the other to follow.
For a moment you stood there, shivering, before bringing yourself to shuffle the few steps to where your oversized towel lay, wrapping its long, soft body about your own. Then you turned to face the door, uttering a barely legible allowance for the older butler to enter your sanctuary. “Come in.”
And he didn’t waste one moment either, swinging the door open the moment your words fell from your lips. Sure footedly he strode over, in spite of the thin layer of water that coated the smooth marble floor, to rest his hands upon your trembling shoulders. Gently he turned you around, softly pushing you towards the slightly ajar door that led into your dressing room.
It was a massive room, filled with clothing from wall to wall, from finely crafted gowns to more relaxed dresses suited for everyday wear, any woman would’ve coveted such a fine collection.
But not you.
It wasn’t the fact that your wardrobe consisted of only dresses. You actually never had a problem with them. It was the colors that they had been seen in. You hated nearly every shade, from the bright, stainless whites to the pale, childish pinks, none were tones that you cared for.
Nearly every dress and gown had been bought for you by your controlling father, especially made for you in those sickening tones. Even now, Charles still had your gowns sewn in those same variations, which frustrated you to no end.
But you did have a select few in your favorite shades; deep, rich sapphire blues, pure, heavenly crow blacks, and a couple of very fine dresses in the most brilliant of crimsons. These colors were your favorites, and they always had been. And not a soul alive could change that.
Even now, as you stood in the back of your closet watching Charles out of the corner of your (e/c) eye, the butler was pulling out a soft pink and white dress for you to wear, as he always did.
Frustrated, you turned away, fingers trailing along the hem of one of your favorite gowns; a delicate, lacy crimson piece that was almost too revealing for a young lady for yourself, but that was part of the fun. With a determined flash in your (e/c) gems, you tugged the fabric free from the hanger, carrying it over to your preoccupied butler.
Confidently you stopped before him, holding the deep ruby gown out for him to see. “Put that pink dress away, Charles. I’ll be wearing this tonight.”
After a moment, he turned to face you, his incredulity at your choice evident in his raised brows and tight lips. “I should think not, young mistress. That gown is barely fit for polite company. A lady would never-“
“Charles, shut up. I will be wearing this dress tonight, whether you approve or not. The one you have is far too childish. I would much rather that my company representative see me as the owner of the company, rather than some petulant child that he has to report to. Now, help me dress.” The commanding tone you had assumed stunned the older man into silence, his eyes wide and jaw slightly agape. A moment passed before he gathered his composure enough to do as you asked, but then he was as efficient as ever, if a little cold.
No time at all seemed to pass as he helped you into your corsets, tightening the long strings quickly and efficiently from long practiced ease. Afterwards, he slid the smooth, soft fabric of your delicate crimson gown over your head, its long tresses easily falling to the floor about your feet.
Pleased with yourself, you admired the way the deep hue accented your blossoming curves in the mirrors that lined the back wall, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “Oh, and Charles? I want you to put my hair up with those hairpins my uncle sent from the Orient. Even if I am the furthest thing from being a lady, I should at least look the part. Go, fetch them.”
You could see him staring at your back, his visage reflecting in the mirror you stared in, a blank, hazy look in his grey pools, his expression one of utmost shock. Stiffly he turned away, walking over to the dresser that housed all of your hair accessories and jewelry.
Your grin widened, drawing a breathy giggle from your lungs at the look of sheer confusion upon the older man’s face. Normally, you never spoke in such a commanding tone. But tonight was different.
To tell the truth, you had been planning this evening for a long time, and nothing was going to mess it up. You planned on enjoying tonight.
Oh yes, you planned on having a grand time.



Over dinner you met with your company’s representative, a Mr. Jacob Hensly. He was a heavyset, balding man with beady little brown eyes, but he spoke cordially and with the utmost of manners as the two of you discussed business over the delicious meal served to you both by Charles.
Consisting of roasted lamb with mint jelly, tender, fresh garden vegetables, and a light raspberry torte for dessert, everything was scrumptious. Though, the way Hensly gluttonously scarfed down his portions turned your stomach and greatly diminished your own appetite. Every grunt and slurp brought the acrid taste of bile to the back of your throat, but with great effort you managed to hold down what you’d eaten.
The two of you were comfortably seated in the large room that served as the dining area, a long, birch table situated directly in the center of the grand room. It matched with the polished hardwood floors and chairs with its soft beige tones, accented by the white wallpaper that seemed to govern the shading in every room of the mansion. The low lighting of the afternoon sun flooded in through the long, ceiling to floor length windows, turning the normally bland shades to that of first orange and brilliant, blushing pink, a sight which you found far more pleasing to the eye.
Rather than sit at the head of the table and force the portly fellow to shout from across the room, you had ordered Charles to seat the two of you in the middle of the table, you at the back, with the light of the sun shining brilliantly behind you, somewhat blinding the man that attempted to stare at you as he ate, speaking gutturally between mouthfuls.
Time passed slowly as the two of you talked, every second seeming to crawl by as you listened to him drawl on about tedious, insignificant details about production issues that you knew he could very well fix on his own.
Your company, (l/n) Toys, was the very embodiment of industry, ranked at second in all of Europe for your toys and sweets. You were only beaten out for the top ranking by your rival competitor, the Funtom Company, led by the mysterious and illusive Lord Ciel Phantomhive. But you knew, that with the right incentive and coercion, your company could knock Funtom right out of the rankings.
After all, you could be quite cutthroat when you wanted to.
The conversation did take a depressing turn when you heard of the mysterious and sudden death of Madam Red, otherwise known as Angelina Dalles. It saddened you; she had been a woman that you had looked highly upon, her bright and outspoken personality as colorful as her rich crimson clothes, the very same shade that matched her beautiful red hair, akin to spider lilies dancing in the summer breeze. Even her eyes had once danced with that lively, blood hued shade, filled with a mischief and teasing so rarely found in ladies of high breeding.
Truly, you had thought of the woman as a member of your own family, like a close aunt.
A small, sad sigh left your lips, and you turned a sad smile to your company, watching as he gazed hungrily upon your every move. “It’s such a shame. I shall truly miss her, she was a dear friend.”
His beady eyes stared for one more lingering moment upon the upper hemline of your gown before flicking them up to gaze into your saddened (e/c) orbs. “It seems fitting that you were wearing that color upon hearing the news. She was such a vibrant woman…”
“Thank you for informing me, truly. Such news is never welcomed, but it is better to be told face to face than to learn of something like this second hand.” You watched as it took a moment for the words to register in the distracted man’s mind, his eyes once more tracing the lines of your body.
He started, as if something frightening had jumped out before him, his hand bringing an old, worn kerchief from his pocket to wipe the beading sweat from his brow. “Oh, quite, Lady (l/n). I would much feel the same, were it a dear friend of mine. But, if it isn’t too bold to suggest, would you mind if we spoke of something a tad more pleasant. I feel that the atmosphere has been brought far to down by all of this morbidity.”
You let a faint smile play at your lips; honestly, the news of the woman you had most looked up to dying had been the most entertaining thing spoken of all evening, but you were playing nice, for now. So you nodded in allowance, giving the man permission to ramble on about topics that you found absolutely no interest in.
It went on like that for a good while, long after the both of you had finished dessert and Charles had cleared the table.
Suddenly, you feigned a surprised gasp, pretending to notice for the first time the failing light, when in fact you had been watching the sun’s light fall from the sky the entire time, every second seeming to drag on for far too long. “Oh, my! Mt. Hensly, it would seem that I have kept you here for far too long! The sun has nearly completely vanished. It would be a terrible thing for me to send you away now…”
Watching the sudden shocked look on his face, you would think that the overweight man was just as surprised as you had acted, but a brief, triumphant glimmer in his beady, rat like orbs told a different tale. Like you, he had been dragging on the conversation as well. “So it would seem, my lady. Would it be… Improper of myself to request a room to stay for the night? I simply fear the danger of travelling the countryside at night, my lady.”
Furious, Charles opened his mouth to respond with an open dismissal, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand, a somewhat smug grin playing at the corner of your mouth. “It would be a terrible thing for a hostess such as myself to send a guest out into the night! Especially with robbers and thieves prowling the night. Charles will prepare a room for you. Oh, Charles?”
You turned to face the livid man, watching with pleasure as he struggled to maintain his composure at your impropriety. Softly you smiled at the impeccably dressed butler, though the expression held no warmth. “Give him a room on the third floor. I’ll sleep easier knowing that my guest is safe and sound nearby.”
If his face was incredulous before, the man was furiously in awe of your bold and outspoken request. But even with his boiling rage, the servant knew better than to speak out against your wishes in front of a guest.
So he simply bowed in response, his grey eyes giving you fair warning that you hadn’t heard the end of it. Then he straightened himself, gesturing with a flourish towards the doors adjoining this room to the main grand hall, his voice cool and cordial. “If you will, Mr. Hensly? I shall take you to your room.”
Hastily the man rose to his feet, the chair he’d been seated in making a loud screech across the wooden floor from the sudden motion. He gave you one more lingering glance, hunger evident in the depths of his brown pools, before turning away to waddle after the long strides of your butler.
You watched them leave for a brief moment, before throwing back your head and letting loose a soft laugh of ecstasy. Oh yes, tonight was indeed everything you had expected.
After several long, enjoyable minutes of utter silence, in which you gazed happily out the windows upon the dark skies, the soft click of your butler’s shoes upon the wooden floors announced his arrival. To which you lazily removed your gaze from the shadowed stars and fast approaching clouds to face the infuriated, stern look of your servant.
He approached quickly, dropping down upon one knee before you to stare directly into your (e/c) orbs, his own eyes filled with reprimand and warning. “And just what exactly are you playing at, miss (f/n)?! Do you have any idea of the impropriety you’ve just committed?! No lady in her right mind would-“
“Shut up. I know damned well what I’m doing, Charles. If you think that I’m some naïve and idiotic little twit of a girl, I would suggest that you remove your head from your ass. I won’t  having you messing things up, so not another damn word on the subject. Do you understand?” Unable to stand another second of his ceaseless lecturing, you cut the man off with your quiet, yet demanding words, once again stunning the impeccable butler into silence.
After a moment in which you began to wonder if he was going to disobey your wishes, the older man gave a small nod of acceptance, gently placing his white gloves hand over his heart for a brief moment before rising to tower above you. “Yes, young mistress.”
“Good. Now, take me to my room; I’m weary from my long day.” Without waiting for an answer, you came to your feet, gliding past the stoic man without another word. As always, he easily kept pace with you, a candle held in his tight grip the only guiding light it the dark, shadowed mansion.
Idly, you let your eyes wander as the pair of you began to climb the tall, winding staircase to the top floor, every detail highlighted by the moon’s cold gaze. It was this time of day that you truly didn’t mind the pale, pasty hues of your family mansion.
For this was when the cool light of the moon’s glow touched gently upon everything in reach, turning all to a soft, delicate shade of icy blue, one that faded into the deep, inky embrace of the darkest of shadows. Everything seemed frozen, like it was carved in cold, unforgiving ice.
Or like a beautiful, unmoving war between evil darkness and soft, heavenly light.
Finally the two of you reached the top floor, and for a moment you paused, regarding the odd way your house was built. Empty space stretched out beyond the pale, Birchwood railing, gazing openly all the way down to the ground floor, creating an open, flowing space. It was beautiful. And dangerous. Maybe even deadly.
The sound of a throat clearing a ways down the hall drew you back out of your admiration, sending you scurrying back over to Charles' side. He gave you a long look before continuing onwards with you in tow, the flickering flames dancing lively atop their hosts, casting vicious, threatening shadows upon the walls.
But the sight didn’t frighten you. No, not at all. In fact, you loved the vicious way things had of looking in the shadows. It made everything seem to spring to life, even things that bore no pulse.
Seconds seemed to drag on as the silence stretched on between you and your butler, broken only by the distant sound of thunder announcing its presence in the distance. A quick glance at the stoic, older man’s face revealed that tight lipped glower he only wore when he was truly displeased, the fact of which brought a ghost of a smile to your lips.
At long last the two of you came to a stop before your door, but Charles hand lie still upon the knob, his fingers wrapped tight around the cold metal. Then he let his hand fall away, leaving the door shut tight, as he turned to face you. “Miss (f/n), I would request that you remain inside of your room tonight. Please, don’t wander the halls as you usually do. It may not be safe tonight.”
For one brief, fleeting moment, upon seeing the worry shining brightly within his grey pools that resided within the weathered lines of his face, you felt sorry for the rude way you had treated the older man. But his next softly spoken sentence sharply cut off any form of regret that had been building within you. “Besides, a young lady should not walk around in the dead of night; it’s not proper.”
Little did the man know that he had just created one of the most threatening women to ever grace the streets of London.
Determination steeled within your (e/c) gaze, and you turned towards the door so that Charles wouldn’t see the faint, evil smile that had been gently forming upon your lips. “Don’t worry about me, Charles. I’ll be perfectly fine tonight. Goodnight.”
With that, you wrapped your own slender fingers around the knob and pried the door open just enough for you to slip through, effectively cutting anything else your butler had to say short. Gently you leaned your small frame against the hard surface, shutting the door with a soft, final click.
For a moment, the light from Charles' candelabra still pooled out beneath your door, wrapping around you in a warm glow. The yellow of the flames seemed to engulf the soft blue of the moonlight, burning fiercely as it devoured every soft, cool tone within its grasp.
Then the harsh light began to fade, retreating with the man that held it’s leash.
In truth, you weren’t the least bit tired, adrenaline flooding your veins and making all of your senses like that of a wild beast. You sat there, still dressed in your evening gown, bare shoulders pressed to the cool wood of the door as you waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, after what felt like hours, you heard the all too familiar shuffle of feet against the hardwood floors, the occasional soft creak of the old boards breaking the pattern. A grin once more found it’s place upon your soft lips; he was playing excellently well.
Softly, you slid back up the door, as silent as the night herself. Just as soundlessly, you cracked the door open and slithered through, with an ease that came from years of practice. Every step softly whispered against the floor, carrying you over to the railing that surrounded the gaping maw of nothingness that led down to the first floor.
Slowly you gazed around you, eyes peering into the darkness for the form that belonged to those shuffling steps. The lighting began to fade, the first thin fingers of the incoming storm snaking their way across the moon and snuffing out its gentle rays, making your task all the more difficult.
Then, just as the first few drops of rain began pelting against the window panes, you found the squat, hulking figure of Jacob Hensly standing down the hall, his gaze just as intently focused upon you. Drunkenly he began tottering towards you, his steps slow and uneven, but he was still inching closer, all the same.
For a meeting moment, once you’d finally gotten the man in your sights, your confidence wavered. What if something screwed up? What if you did something wrong? If that happened, he’d…
No, nothing was going to go wrong. You were going to succeed with your plan. Everything was going to work out perfectly.
Steeling your confidence, you returned your attention to your surroundings, only to find Hensly towering over you, his portly form illuminated in a brilliant flash of lightning. Thunder drowned out the squeal that flew from your lips as he wrapped his thick, meaty hands around your waist, shoving you into the railing at your back.
“Well, if it isn’t little miss (f/n)? What’s a pretty thing like you doing wandering about at this hour? Going to give your guest a little extra attention, girl?” Putrid, foul breath washed over you as he slurred his words in your ear, his fingers trailing along your slight curves, fondling every inch of your body within his reach. He punctuated his words with a disgusting thrust of his hips against your slight waist, drawing a squeal of dismay from your lips.
Angry at your response, he brought his hand hard across your face, leaving an angry red welt upon the soft, porcelain skin of your cheek. “Little bitch! Aren’t you s'posed to be a lady?! Ladies respect their betters! Now, I’m a man, and I demand your special attention!”
Another flash of lightning quickly succeeded by it’s loud and booming twin punctuated his sentence, leaving you standing there, fumbling for a train of thought. A moment of sheer silence passed between the two of you, his anger still raging as he waited for your eager response.
“I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean to offend.” Slyly you raised your arm, trailing your fingers around to the back of your (h/l) (h/c) locks; the drunken fool mistaking the motion for a seductive pose.
Pleased, he grinned, the sudden parting of his lips sending another disgusting wave of his breath crashing down upon you, bringing the bitter taste of bile to the back of your throat. With an effort you swallowed it down, hiding the grimace with a long practiced smile, like that of a lady.
“That’s better. You really are quite the proper lady, aren’t you?” Once again his hands resumed their roaming; his rough touch leaving bruises to blossom upon your delicate skin. Then he leaned closer, his lips pressing into your neck, saliva trailing its hot and sticky tendrils down to your small breasts.
A cold, disgusted shudder ran down your spine, but it worked in your favor; the heavyset oaf mistaking the involuntary shiver as one of pleasure. He pulled back with a cheeky grin, his beady brown orbs gazing lustfully upon your sweet face.
“My lord, have you done this kind of thing before? Bring young girls to your bed, I mean.” For a moment, he looked taken aback by your outspoken question, his eyes wide and mouth agape.
But the look only lasted for a short second, quickly replaced by his earlier grin. “Oh. Of course. You’d be surprised with how easy it is too, getting those girls that mill about in front of your factories; all I have to do is offer them a few sweets or a toy and they follow me wherever I tell them. But I’m sure they didn’t bring me half as much pleasure as your beautiful and graceful body will.”
For months you had been trying to find the truth behind the rumors, only to have the very answer you’d sought given to you by the criminal himself.
For one sudden, brief moment, a wide grin of triumph took hold of your features, a look that seemed to take Hensly by surprise. Then it disappeared, replaced by a calm stare of serenity.
A lady couldn’t. A lady shouldn’t. A lady wouldn’t.
Oh, but you could. You should. And you would.
Then, in the sudden blinding light of the storm raging outside, you slammed your hand into the side of his neck, one of your long, metal hairpins held tight in your grasp.
The following roar from the heavens drowned out his gurgling scream with its all consuming rumble. Frantically he wrapped his hands around his throat, but you held tight to your shining weapon, keeping it lodged in his jugular. “No!”
Gently you leaned your lips up to his ear, a soft whisper coming out with every soft breath. “Mr. Hensly, it would seem that my company no longer has a position for you. I’m afraid that you are let go. Farewell, Mr. Jacob Hensly.”
Every word left your lips as cold as ice, and upon uttering the last syllable, you spun away from his grasp, pulling loose your hairpin in the process.
Crimson spurted in out from the wound, quickly seeping down his front and into the previously pristine white dress shirt he wore. Gurgling in terrible fear and pain, Hensly wrapped his fingers around the rushing wound, but thick, hot blood pooled through his fingers, running all down the front of his body. He took one shaking, hesitant step towards you, reaching out a blood covered hand in plea.
But you were having none of that.
Before the heavy, lumbering man could put his stained hand upon you, you shoved him away, his body falling back into the railing around the balcony. A loud, deafening splintering came from the delicate wood as it all but shattered beneath the heavy beast, sending him flying out into open space.
Another flash of lighting burst through the windows, illuminating the horrified, agonized stare of Jacob Hensly, his dumbfounded gaze directed upon you as he fell. Time seemed to suspend in that moment, freezing for one brief flicker as you drunk it all in.
Then all was darkness and silence.
Seconds passed as if they were dragging by, the sudden clap of thunder drowning out the sickening crunch of bones and slosh of wet flesh hitting the ground floor.
At least, it would’ve been sickening to others. To you the sounds were exhilarating, singing out in a gloriously chaotic symphony, every note dancing amongst the deep vibrations of the heavens. A giggle formed on your lips, joyous and childlike, as you peered over the gaping edge, down to the horrid scene below.
Hensly lie broken and bloodied upon the cold floor, crimson steadily pooling out around him to stain the pale grain of the wood with its ruby shores. Not a breath stirred his still body, the silence of his figure only heightening your joy.
Every fiber of your being felt more alive than ever before; you were giddy and flooded with a primal, animalistic pride. In that moment, when you had held life and death in your hands; nothing had felt better to you in your entire life. It was a heady sense of power, holding his life in the palm of your hand.
Throwing your head back, you let loose a howling scream of laughter, lightly spinning your body away from the edge in a joyous dance. Your feet seemed to take on a mind of your own as they led you in tight circles around the scene, rain your music and shadows your partner.
Bestial and elegant, you continued on in your primal dance, overcome with ecstasy at your actions.
The soft clearing of a throat behind you brought your gaiety short, and you spun around to find none other than Charles standing there, still in his butler’s garb as he stared wide eyed at the scene before him. For the first time in your life, you watched on in increasing joy at his lack of words; the man’s mouth moving but not a syllable uttered from his lips.
After a great deal of gesturing and soundless gasps, he finally managed to compose himself enough to shout at you, his tone louder than ever before. “What have you done?! You killed a man! What were you thinking?! This is unforgivable! Ladies do not kill!”
Slowly you walked up to the livid man, sliding your fingers gently up the front of his chest as you came to a stop before him. Taken aback, his eyes widened at your sudden and unexpected movement, body stiff at your touch. Ever so softly you slid your fingers around to the back of his neck, gently pulling the older man down to your level.
You inched your soft lips closer to his ear, letting your skin whisper against his as words sighed out with every breath. “A lady couldn’t. A lady shouldn’t. A lady wouldn’t. But I can. I shall. And I will. Goodbye, Charles.”
As before, you brought the long, thin piece of sharpened metal into the side of the man’s throat with all of your strength, bringing a small, wet gurgle from him as blood slowly trickled from the corners of his mouth. Several crimson drops fell from his chin to the floor with tiny splats, his breathing becoming ragged and gurgling as his life slowly pooled within his lungs.
Wide, betrayed grey eyes stared back at you, glazed in agony, as he began to sway on his feet, leaning towards you. Before you could become trapped beneath the towering man, you stepped away, leaving him to fall forwards, tumbling out over the open ledge to the emptiness beyond.
This time there wasn’t a crash of thunder to hide the dull, wet thud as Charles' body landed down below.
Gingerly you lowered yourself down upon the open ledge, your legs gently swaying as you dangled them out over empty space. A smile slowly spread upon your lips as you took in the bloody, horrific scene before you.
Everything had gone exactly as planned.
A burning flame of rapture kindled itself within your heart, and feeling free for the first time, you let loose the feeling with a cry of sheer joy, your laughter echoing around the large space in an eerie, dark way.
A sudden scream of terror brought your gaze sharply back down to find the trembling, fearful figure of your maid standing down below, staring terrified at the blood pooling at her feet, a small islet of bodies at it’s center. Wide, round hazel orbs stared on, framed by a frizzy mess of short brown hair, the woman in naught but her nightgown.
Slowly she lifted her gaze, to find you sitting like a creature of the night at the broken opening between rails, a dark, evil grin gracing your porcelain features.
“Jenny? Wake the others; it would seem that there’s quite the mess to be taken care of. Oh, and Jenny?” You waited a moment before directing the last part at the maid’s quickly retreating figure, drawing her back at your behest.
Grin widening even more so than before, you leaned forwards, resting your elbows upon your knees as you stifled a burst of laughter. “You’ll need to make a few calls tomorrow. It would seem that I’m in need of a butler.”
You were unable to hold in your fit of giggles as she finally retreated, her frightened cries heard throughout the sleeping walls of the mansion. Freedom tasted oh so sweet to your young tongue, and as time passed, it would only grow sweeter.
Maybe a lady wouldn’t. But you sure as hell were no lady. So you gladly would.
O-kay, so, this is actually my second time writing out this story. I kinda lost the first version due to... One too many back click of my tablet. Hopefully I managed to get it roughly the same, but considering the fact that my other version is lost to cyberspace, it'll have to do.
Anyway, I know the description usually has the guy you end up with listed, but I'm going to try something different with this story. It'll come out with two seasons. Season one will be a getting to know your character and how she interacts with the different guys. And season two will branch off into different arcs, the first of which will be the highest voted guy chosen at the end of season one!
Sorry that none of the boys are in this chapter, it's more of an introduction and back story chapter; a prologue, if you will. But I promise to start bringing in the pretties next chapter! Really, I do!
Rated PG-13 for blood, a little gore, violence, a bit of cussing, and allusions to a form of perversion... I think that about sums it up.
DISCLAIMER : I (sadly) do not own Black Butler or any of it's (awesome) characters. Or you. I don't own you.
Cover image design by Eurea of DA! Love it? Check out this epic person's profile for more great stuff!
Oh, and I've only ever seen Black Butler seasons I & II, so if I'm missing any important info from Book of Circus later on, let me know!
Anyway, if you read, please comment, and if you like it, please favorite! I accept comments, criticism, and feedback!
Enjoy!
© 2015 - 2024 AshcloudAngel
Comments10
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Santa956's avatar
This is incredible! Simply brilliant! I enjoyed every bit of this