The Succling and Her Dues

[Victorian District, 2018] Pulling up a posh, gold-stitch embroidered chair from the side of his bed, Trenton Welkers strode toward the center of the room, planting the chair on a crimson rug. His hands gripped the headrest, gesturing for Anara Manlen to sit. His eyes roamed her elegant figure and lingered on her curves that were hugged by colorful fabric. She scrutinized his offer, her protest but a simple eye roll. Her nose scrunched from what reeked of sweat and faint coolant. The stench permeated from an embellished king’s bed, adorned with ancient bedspreads befitting a widowed grandmother, stationed behind Trenton’s built frame. Avoiding his gaze, she made note of the rather open enclosure. The heat that radiated from the cobblestone fireplace in the corner of the rich 1800s-styled boudoir, as its smoke stretched toward the domed ceiling—painted with sun-gold clouds and grape-filled spider vines—and clung to the white marble pillars etched with succulent demonesses dancing up a ladder of golden rings. And when her pupils lingered on the rug under them, she noticed the deep violet glows that haloed a pair of velvet armchairs before the dancing flames. She pursed her lips, gazed at Trenton, straightened herself, hiked the ends of her dress, and then calmly sat in one of the armchairs. Relief washed over her face. Thankful for the bright embers casting their light her way, Trenton would not notice the creeping tints of apple across her cheeks. Nor would he discern her core saturating her undergarments. “Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked sweetly. Baffled, Trenton chuckled as he sat in his chair. “There is not much for me to say.” He reached his hand out for hers, with a wicked grin plastering his face. “Come closer, so that I may drink you in.” She eyed his fingers, her bottom lip quivering. “Please, don’t.” She locked her gaze with him. “I-I can’t—” Tugging at her arm, Trenton’s eyes darkened. “You look radiant tonight, love. Please, come here.” “...” Her cheeks ripened further as she attempted to pry his hand off her. “This was a mistake. I have to go.” As she turned to leave, he shot up from his seat and drew her close, their chests almost touching. “Was it, though?” he questioned, bitterness rooted in his husky voice. “Or is it that you’re afraid you might enjoy yourself in the company of a man who would worship every inch of you?” Frozen, with her mouth agape, Anara bewilderedly stared back. Words were faint to her tongue as a lump caught her throat. Noticing her teary sideways glance, Trenton softened his posture and gleamed at her. “I apologize. I’ve…” He gently glided his fingers across her cheek and sighed. “I don’t know what’s come over me. One moment I dreamt of what it would be like, and the next—you’re here. Truly, my life’s wish has come to fruition. Just… tell me. Are you nervous?” She nodded. “I’ve only ever done this once before.” Anara searched for a glint of a promise that suggested he truly wanted her. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.” Once, he thought to himself. How lucky am I to be your second? “I won’t.” He lifted the top layer of her dress and shook his head. Though shaping her well, the layers of gold silk and peekaboo of aqua and foam polyester hid most of her radiant sun-kissed glow. “Why is it that you wear extravagant gowns that are heavily layered?” he asked. “It’s as if you want to torture me while undressing you.” “Why try when I had help getting into something like this?” she remarked. “I do believe it flatters my figure.” He smiled and leaned in, whispering, “Not well enough. Though, I think your birthday suit will be much better to slip into.” He winked. “Now, turn around.” Blushing, she twirled to her right, exposing her backside. Along her spine was a rather peculiar birthmark: a skeletal hand reaching down to pluck an exotic lotus flower. Trenton rubbed his eyes for a moment. Examining her back once more, not a single blemish or mark was in sight. It’s just a smooth surface. He shrugged it off and stepped closer to Anara. Trenton’s fingertips danced on her shoulders and slipped the gown’s straps down her arms. “Have you done this before?” she asked. “With other women, I mean?” “Do you mean sleeping or undressing?” “Either? Both?” Trenton smirked. “Perhaps it’s something you’ll need to figure out on your own.” Anara gnawed her inner cheek. “I see… I do hope I satiate your carnal desires. I’d hate to be ushered away from poor performance on my part—.” “No, no, no.” He shook his head, spinning her around. His hands pressed firmly around her forearms. “We are just getting started. Stop selling yourself short. I may be a man, but when I choose to be intimate with someone, it’s because they are worth it.” “Did someone break your heart?” His jaw clenched. Forcefully whipping her around, he closed his eyes. Images of chocolate curls, wine lips, hazel eyes, and rosary beads clinging to a bare chest floated through his mind. Wanting to forget, he thought of Anara’s confession. “I find it strange that you’ve been with only one man, but I find myself quite lucky. I will say, seducing me is easy.” He chuckled. “It’s you that will be… challenging.” “Challenging?” she drawled. She’s heard that before. Not in that manner or phrase. It triggered a pang in her chest. “What is it that you find difficult about me?” Trenton pulled her dress down. Her silky smooth caramel skin glistened against the fire’s light. “It’s your body… how much it affects someone like me. I want to know if the feeling is mutual.” He murmured the last part as he tucked his panted bulge to the side, gulped, and then strolled around her. “Does my body please you, Mr. Welkers?” He halted beside Anara and glanced at her strained shoulders. He pursed his lips, pondering her question. Anara’s patience wore thin, so she added, “You are more than welcome to take a closer look. I find that possessing a kaleidoscope helps magnify and multiply certain features. You don't seem like the kind of man to own one.” “Huh.” Trenton pocketed one of his hands, the other brushing against the stubble of his chin. “Who said I didn’t? Seems like someone’s roamed about in the short time I was predisposed.” Shivers ran down Anara’s spine. It was by fortuity alone that she suggested it. And now, she wondered what else there was to him. Not that she could afford to. The grandfather clock above the fireplace chimed, and time was slipping away from her. “Answer me this,” Trenton continued. “Does your body please you?” She pulled back, her orbs full of doubt and conjecture. “What I think of myself doesn’t matter. You still haven’t answered—” “I think you already know.” His fingers gently nudged her chin up, body pressed against hers, with his bulge grinding below her navel. She gasped, her body overwhelmed by his touch. Memories sprouted from her encounters with a previous lover—one that sent butterflies through her stomach and heat from her core—just like Trenton. And when his face crept closer to hers, she imagined his lips being as soft and full of hunger as the other from her past. But the kiss never came, and her heart sank. Instead, he pulled her hair back and played with the loose strands. “What are you doing?” she asked, perplexed by his actions. “Does it bother you?” “…No. I—” “You’re more beautiful when your hair is in my hands. When I do this…” He tugged her hair down, forcing her chin up. “I can see how flustered you are.” Her breath hitched when his teeth grazed across her neck. “Uhh, please…” One of her legs gave out, so she clung to his shoulders. “How your posture weakens when I touch you.” “Stop it,” she begged. “What is it that you want?” He smirked and let go of her, smacking his hands together as if a lightbulb switched on in his brain. “Strip me.” “What?” Like an eagle, Trenton spread his arms, smiled, then spun around and faced the bed. “Strip me down. There’s no need for you to rush, either.” She gulped, cautiously approaching him. Her hands stretched toward the collar of his suit jacket, but they halted and drew back. In a way, she found it amusing. He was her doll to disrobe. She salivated over the notion of seeing his skin. However, the hissing from the flames egged her to take him. To claim his heart. Deciding to start with his trousers, she wrapped her arms around his waist, her breasts squished to his back. Her left index finger and thumb gripped the button, while the digits from her right hand unzipped the metal teeth containing his engorged member. Tittering, Anara replied, “If that is what you desire, then I shall try to indulge in your rather strange request.” Trenton spun around, taking large strides forward. Panicking, Anara matched his speed going backward until her back was glued to the cool brick wall. His hands slammed on either side of her head, caging her in. “It’s either you do or you don’t, Ms. Manlen,” he muttered. “If you were a walking dictionary, ‘try’ would have been erased and replaced with ‘tease.’” “And am I to do exactly what you say? I am no sleeping maid nor bedding slave.” Her eyes pierced through his like daggers. “Ahh, but there’s no better way to entertain.” His left hand slid down to her waist, while the other gripped her chin. “Would you like to play the role and let me be your Master?” She scoffed and pushed him away. “I will do no such thing! I hardly know you. Why—” “I believe you meant to say that we’ve known each other for five years.” He reigned her back in, his hands grappling her waist and thigh. She squirmed a bit, taken back as his nose brushed against hers. He groaned and let out a subtle chuckle, adding, “ Which, by the way, is quite a long while.” Anara turned her cheek, her eyebrows furrowing. “That’s beside the point. Why would I stoop so low as to entice your grotesque fantasy? One, I too, believe is overdone?” Turning a blind eye to her remarks, Trenton clasped his hands together and chuckled. “How can you say we don’t know each other? I know so much about you already.” She faced him, her irises glazed by the hues of fire from the rising embers. “How much?” He smirked and released her, then sauntered about the rug. “Where to begin?” he teased, glancing over his shoulders at the statuesque Anara. “I don’t believe words could ever measure time. I could say you’re a spoiled, closeted little minx. That out of all your siblings, your father puts you first. And for every rejection I’ve received from you, it occurred to me that you haven’t allowed yourself the time of day to become…” He approached her from behind, his lips masticated as he espied the twitching curves of her shoulders. How he craved her. Wondering if she tasted as sweet as the honeysuckle perfume she wore. “Become what?” She broke his trance. He smiled and responded, “The woman I see before me.” She stifled a laugh, whipping her hair to the side. Part of it fell over the right side of her face, covering her brilliant eye with swirls of sapphire and amethyst before returning to its natural chocolate color. Like the birthmark, Trenton found it rather peculiar but made no effort to admit what he saw to her. And her stare. It was as if they were pooled in sparkling dust. Full of desire and hints of sadness. “If only that were true.” Her words stung. “You know, it’s repulsive the way men, like you, think.” She strutted toward an angelic gold vanity, unaware of how hungry she made him. Oblivious to how much her naked body enthralled his throbbing c**k. Nothing mattered. Her time was running out, and his playful banter only made it more difficult. “Every one of you wants more than a typical woman can offer.” She pulled from under the table a plush ottoman and hastily sat down. “It's quite sad and pathetic, honestly.” “Don’t put words in my mouth,” he uttered. “Your sentiments do not apply to me. Besides, I’m as much of every man as you are the typical woman.” Contempt, Anara huffed and spun around. Her reflection struck back. Voices once again filled her head, imploring her to bed him. Averting her gaze to a collection of lip balms to suppress them, she tittered and plucked a small brush and a pomegranate-colored compact. “I suppose you’re more accommodating than most. Still… You’re a man who thinks with a second brain and not the former—” She jumped at his sudden appearance in the mirror. He stood directly behind her with a dejected smile. “That color suits you,” he remarked. “Try it on.” “W-Why are you ignoring me?” Trenton shrugged his shoulders, then combed his fingers through her curls, capering them. “What are you doing?” she projected. “Seeing if this is a dream. Turns out it’s not.” He sighed and trudged toward the closest armchair and plopped down. “It is not at all what I had hoped, but it’s everything that I can take. And my second brain, well… he’s made his bed and is waiting for you to join him.” He chuckled the last part, a twinge of melancholy in his voice. “I’m sorry…” Anara’s chest tightened, her guilt growing by the second. Her fists clenched tight. She left the vanity and walked toward him. “I never meant… You see—I’m not used to this.” She knelt beside him, clasping onto his knuckles. “I find myself wondering why. I’m not special, despite what you might believe. No experience from my past changes who I am at this very moment. You’re right.” She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. She shot up and positioned herself between his legs, ignoring the goosebumps that rippled along her arms and legs. Spurning the tingling sensations that pulsed within her protruding c******s. Fluids secreted from her vaginal opening, and her body yearned for release. Smitten with her confession, Trenton pulled her in and smashed his lips against hers. Their tongues collided, competing for space in each other’s fissures. As he thought, she tasted sweet; and she—she melted into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. But, she longed to converse with him before they continued their delightful escapade. “When did you decide?” He was confused at first but decided to entertain her question. “Five years ago, and every day since.” Wonderment blessed her pupils. Silence, however, corrupted their laughter, with the ever-growing crackles of embers flickering away from the fireplace. Faint whispers kissed Anara’s eardrums, saying, “Enough with the pleasantries, Tê klaré. Food was never meant to be played with. Get on with it and finish him.” Batting away an invisible force, she muttered, “Please stop.” “I’ll stop,” Trenton snickered. “No, that’s not—never mind.” She tucked away strands of hair behind her ear. “Remind me, again, of how we met?” “Let me get more comfortable, and I will.” She nodded, reluctant to move away from him. She went back to the ottoman, excitement laced in her hardening n*****s. Trenton unbuttoned his shirt, revealing faded scars across his pectorals and the muscles etched in his toned shoulders. His loins ached, filling with delicious confessions that solidified his growing desire for her under the confines of his trousers. And he watched her adjust in the chair and cross her legs. “Well…” He threw his shirt aside, memories of their first encounter flooding his cranium.