Mark of The Demon

Of Corsets and Contacts

Sapphire finished tying her hair into delicate knots and though a bit rusty, found it was a skill that wasn't easily unlearned. She was done with her basic look for the day and already felt her body getting stiff at the hips from the corset fixing her posture so accurately. Still she had jobs and tasks to get to, she jotted out of the room and headed to the study. A place where in the lone past she had only visited when hoping to pester her father or if her father needed to pester her. 

It was just as she remembered it though, the mahogany table with books stacked on the right and loose papers on the left. In the center was a wax seal and a quill and writing ink. Walking her fingers through the supplies she found there, she allowed her eyes to rise and take in what was now effectively her personal study. This was the head of the household's work room. She was the only person in said household now.

The bookcase to the right was filled with books on laws, sublaws and other very complex subjects she had only ever glanced at. On the opposing wall was a set of shelves and a long desk with cubbies and drawers. These were filled with supplies, and all kinds of important documents. These things she had never seen before. A rush came over her as she took in her new job. She was so grateful she was educated against what her uncle had thought was proper, she remembered sitting down at the kitchen table so many years ago while her uncle screamed that she should not be allowed to read or write, and most certainly not study the subjects of men. He said such things would only lower her worth as a female. 

Pulling herself out of her musings she returned to the desk and sat down in the fine and extremely comfortable chair. It was a bit awkward to sit in though with her rigid posture. She was starting to think maybe the corset could wait a few days before she started wearing it regularly. She flipped open her father's itinerary from a year ago looking over all the information to be found in it. He had been a very busy man and the first steps would be touching bases with her father's properties, allies, and business partners. She quickly set to work writing the same letter nearly a thousand times but each slightly different depending on the name of the recipient and what the recipient was exactly. Each letter stated that the Sinclair family was returned to its normal status with Ms. Sapphire Sinclair claiming ownership of all its investments. 

A quick call to the bank on the phone line had her  accounts unfrozen and many congratulations on her return and her ownership. She then made a few more calls to the most prominent members and allies of her father. Those that needed to be quickly in the know. Nearly all wanted to meet the new master of Sinclair household and legacy. Especially since they were all certain it had been burned to a crisp. It worked well though as they each and all needed to make oaths to her. If they didn't reswear loyalty to them stock market rates would increase, taxes and selling costs would go up and banishment from her properties would be quickly in tow. If this happened it wouldn't be a fall out for her. The extra charges brought to them could go to stuffing the family wallet since they hadn't collected taxes in a years time. Yet they also had spent any money in this time.

Though as with all nobility and rich people, nothing could be simple and sweet. She had to pull out a calendar and play the wives game as well as the husband, she needed to write down who could come at the same time as who, and who couldn't come at the same time as who and play the match making and dating game. It quickly became a jumbled mess of numbers and details. She began to actually organize the people into proper fitting dates as the nights darkness began to fall and a headache long been nursing arose. Time had quickly gotten away from her. It was so dark she couldn't see anymore. That was why her head hurt so much she had been straining her eyes, dulled by the insatiable desire to be done with the stupid oath charts. She realized she needed to light a candle. How was that possible though!? She barely scratched the surface of what needed to be done! She sighed and leaned back in the chair placing her marked hand over her face. As she leaned back she felt a sharp pinching on her spine. Not like a skin pinch, more like a nerve pinch. She suddenly realized with a ferocity that she was UNCOMFORTABLE. Not necessarily in pain but she was hot all over in all the worst ways. Her flesh felt a bit bruised and a sensation of panic began clouding her mind. 

She needed to break in the corset before attempting a days work in it. She knew they shouldn't hurt and it was most likely just her body swelling in its grips. And when she was sitting and working, the corset would need to be loose.

"Ugh."

 Feeling her skin crawl under the tight pressure, she opened the door to the darkened house.

"Jacques are you home? I-i need you." 

She frowned and then slipped into her room, going promptly to the  mirror and began attempting to remove the accursed cloth binding. She unbuttoned her bodice of the dress and pulled it down to expose her upper torso. Her hands reached round her body and fumbled with the neat bow Jacques had made for her. She had  managed to get the strings, tugging on them made the bow unlace. Yet that didn't make it loosen at all. She fumbled more tugging and pulling at the neat spine like laces. Oh no it was knotting. Somehow she was actually making the corset even tighter and now unevenly tight. Her breasts felt squeezed. 

"Ah! Jacques!"  She felt her head spin. "Jacques! Get this thing off of me!"

She was breathing rather hard and felt as if she was going to pass out or possibly burst into tears. Maybe both. She wished her mother had warned her! She felt like she had walked a mile in brand new dress shoes, but with her ribs! She couldn't handle this anymore. The moon staring at her. A mocking eye in the sky as she struggled lamely without any guidance in her fancy family's mansion. 

Death by corset. She mentally groaned morbidly. 

What a lame, pathetic, death. I should have taken the cake. She thought as tears gathered in her eyes. 

"I swear. So dramatic."

She felt his return like a wash of relief down her spin. She knew him by voice alone already. But a glance in the mirror confirmed her suspicion. She wouldn't die in this thing today! Maybe tomorrow, not today though. Jacques was here. He came up to her and tugged the strings melting the object from her ribcage. Beautiful freedom was quick to come to her. She ripped the garment off her and threw it against a wall. She hated that thing and felt an intense desire to go cut it into pieces. She felt like stomping on it and teaching it a lesson for fighting against her! She felt like- she felt like… it represented how unready she was for this. How she would never be ready and if a piece of cloth nearly beat her, how would she ever beat the men that had beaten her father? It was also a reminder that she was alone in the world and only a demon intent on eating her someday was at her side. She really was pathetic. 

A sudden wetness made her realize she had started crying. She rubbed at her face trying to remove the stupid reaction from her, it kept coming back more wetness returned with each swipe of her hand. She needed to hide what was happening. He couldn't watch her cry. He had already seen too much of her. She was such a mess. She saw two  available options.

A. She could hug the demon, hiding her face on him. That sounded nice… it would probably make her feel better too. However, that wouldn't do at all. What if he decided she was too weak and just ate her now? She could do this! She could… she could. 

B. Run! 

She ran past him into her private restroom. Closing the door behind her and then pressing her back to it in hopes he was kept out by her weight. Then she sobbed and let all her sorrow out into her skirts. She hated this, she was all alone in the world. Many didn't even know she was alive, and when they found out she was alive, she had to lie about where she had been. She claimed she had gone away to a boarding school. The school withheld the accident to keep her focused on her schooling, to be a better heiress once informed. Now she was back, she was the sole heir, and she was on the rise. They ate it up but every voice had an edge, 'A girl taking the seat?' She was honestly a bit scared. She really needed someone to care about her, to actually care for her. Not to give her a false sense of security only to later, literally, devour her. She felt alone cast into a dark sea devoid of any life and the only person that knew about her, that really knew what had really happened to her, was a demon who probably hated her. His goal to consume her. He cared about her, about as much as she cared about a piece of cake. The most she could hope for is that in the end she tasted so good, that he wished he could eat her again. Just like a freshly caught doe, you only get one shot to cook and eat it, once she was eaten it was over.

Maybe she really had been broken in captivity, because that idea and line of thinking had honestly calmed her down greatly. She could have a good goal alongside her bloody one. Her newest goal was to be a good meal. He might be a demon, yet had come to save her from purgatory. He pulled her away from the Jaws of death, rebuilt her home, stayed by her side for nearly three months, and was going to give her back her family's legacy. He was giving her a hundred and ten percent. She could at least make sure she worked with him to make herself a delicate and tasty meal when it came time for her to pay up. 

She stood, looked at her half dressed form in the mirror and ugly red streaked face. Pulling her bodice back up and buttoning it down, shaking hands moved to the powder and cream. She prettied her red face up again, then sprayed some perfume on her torso to cover any scent of tears remaining. The dress was tight on her breasts without the corset. It didn't matter, she thought she looked fine. She then slipped out of the rooms and went down the stairs to sit in the study again, looking over her father's contracts one last time with a candle in hand. The candle light wasn't as good as natural sunlight but it did make the words almost appear to dance. 

Before long, Jacques informed her of dinner being ready.