Work Text:
Amelia had been reading in the common room when there was a knock at the front door.
“Barbatos! Come on in!”
He bowed, burdened by a fairly large package that had been wrapped in yellow fabric tied at the top. “I went back to the house and gathered up your laundry. It’s cleaned, pressed, and folded.”
She clapped with delight. “You didn’t have to do that! That was so kind of you, Barbatos!”
He gave her one of his enigmatic smiles and handed her the package. “The Young Master asked me to invite you to dinner this evening, as well, so I have, as they say, killed two birds with one stone. May I tell him you accept his invitation?”
Amelia pantomimed having a difficult time making a decision, drawing forth another smile from Barbatos, and finally confirmed that she’d be there.
_________
He saved his genuine smile for after he’d returned to the castle. Amelia had no idea how much it had pleased him to launder her clothes. The first few times, he’d been much more discreet and selective about what he did, but seeing that she’d made no comments about the items she’d gotten back - or the ones she hadn’t - he’d been emboldened.
He checked on the staff, making sure dinner preparations were going smoothly, and informed them that he was going to retire to his room for an hour because he was suffering a mild headache. It was an excuse that would guarantee no intrusions and raise no concerns.
With his door closed and locked, he walked over to his dresser and lifted the panel in one of the drawers that covered a secret compartment. Inside was a multicolored collection of delicate, silky fabrics. He pulled out three pieces, the most precious to him because they still held the scent of their owner.
Amelia had no idea he had stolen her panties, and kept them, unwashed, for his pleasure.
Hers were particularly delightful, because she was so frequently aroused and satisfied while wearing them.
He carefully removed and hung his uniform and slipped into a lavender pair that was slightly less audacious than the others. It meant that it covered more of him when he wore them, so his fantasy could play out a little longer.
Amelia was not the first to provide undergarments for his enjoyment, but the others had been so long ago that the mistress who dominated him no longer had a face. Now that she wore Amelia’s, the story that played in his mind was much more exciting.
He stood in front of the mirror, trying to fit his cock and balls completely in the small bit of fabric. As soon as he pulled it to cover his balls, it would slip down and expose his root and pubic hair. And vice versa.
His imaginary Mistress Amelia scolded and humiliated him for exposing himself. She called him horrible names for not being able to accomplish the simple task of keeping himself in his underwear.
As he fantasized that she would spank him, grab his balls and roughly arrange them in the panties herself, his erection popped out. Trying to put it back in, over and over, was part of the game. Of course, he’d fail, and of course, his mistress would verbally humiliate him for his lack of control.
Now that his narrative included Amelia, and Diavolo wanted her so much, he was able to add to the story - as mistress of the castle as well, she would be so disgusted with him that she’d order him to wear her panties under his uniform.
He began to stroke himself as these thoughts of submitting intensified his arousal.
He would have so much trouble with intrusive, uncontrollable erections during work that he would need to excuse himself to masturbate, and the mistress would punish him each time, because she would notice each incidence.
It was finally time to take the other panties and wrap them around his swollen, twitching cock. The fabric slid against itself, and he loved the sensation that was both dulled and heightened at the same time. He stopped watching himself in the mirror and surrendered to this one sensation until he exploded into the fabric and soaked it through.
If he rinsed them carefully, he could preserve some of her scent for another round while getting most of his own out. He knew, though, that even with actual washing, there might be some traces left behind in the fabric. It pleased him to think of the tiniest remains of his semen being left in the fabric that nestled up against her labia.
Because he had, naturally, done this with all the other panties he’d just washed and returned to her.
__________
When he returned to the kitchen to continue dinner preparations, he was revived and refreshed, and everyone who commented said they were glad he’d fully recovered from his headache. His secret was still safe, and he had work to do.