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Working as the Warden of the Fortress of Meropide means that Wriothesley has seen his fair share of misbehaving prisoners. He’s become accustomed to the screaming and sobbing that penetrates the iron walls at night, and he’s found himself to greatly enjoy the stories the guards share with him about particularly unruly prisoners over a cup of tea. It’s a bittersweet reminder of his own past and his own stay in the Fortress, and it makes him feel grateful for the long way he’s come since then.
Never in his years of working as Warden of the Fortress of Meropide did Wriothesley think that he would ever come across someone as unbecoming as you.
It started with the weekly reports. More and more notices seemed to flood into his mailbox about a slacker in the West Block who seemed more than happy to accept coupons but not do the work for them. Guards would say that she would slack off routinely, poke fun at people actually working and get into fights on the factory floor, before finally deciding to swipe up their coupons without even lifting a finger. When Wriothesley was finally made aware of this issue, it went as follows;
“I told her that she couldn’t just take from other people, and that she had to work for her pay.” The guard is furious, his face red right to the tips of his ears. “Sneaky little minx fuckin’ laughed at me. Stupid bitch, I really oughta put her in her place…”
Wriothesley sighed. “I’m sure it isn’t serious. There are loads of people like that.” He flips over a page of the latest edition of The Steambird. “Put her in solitary for a day. I’m sure she’ll stop bothering you then.”
In reality, Wriothesley didn’t care. When he was a prisoner way back when, he didn’t want to do the long hours of work for a coupon barely reaching 100 mora. It didn’t seem worth it, and obviously theft was the easiest option. Going up more than once to collect rewards, swiping them out of other people’s pockets… he knew all the tricks, which is why he decided not to punish you too severely. He was just like you once.
Well, not to the degree where complaints about you started to flood in day after day. “Inmate 1478 did this…” “Inmate 1478 was caught stealing again…” “I found a weapon under Inmate 1478’s mattress…”
“She’s starting to become insufferable!” This time, Wriothesley is faced with two guards, both with their hands wrung and heads bowed. “We can’t handle her, Your Grace. She’s become dangerous- she’s planning to kill someone! We can’t keep having to deal with her, or our own safety is on the line.”
“Too right he is,” the second guard pipes up. “Now, she’s stealing protection weapons and actual mora from guards and visitors, and when we catch her, she seems more than happy to walk herself off to solitary.”
“It’s almost like she enjoys being punished.”
Wriothesley looks up. “Send her to my office.”
The guards gawk in shock. “Are you sure? She’s dangerous, Your Grace. She’ll ransack the place and leave your corpse on the floor!”
“I said send her in.” He places down his teacup and closes his book. “Now.”
“So this is what happens when I really misbehave.” You waltz into Wriothesley’s office with a pep in your step, completely forgoing any type of greeting to the man whose place is almost tenfold above your own. “I’ve really pissed off the big shot now, haven’t I, Mr. Warden?”
“Take a seat.” Wriothesley is not having any of your antics today. He’s had to deal with too many complaints from guards, prisoners and visitors alike, so he would rather get this over and done with without having to give himself too much of a headache.
It’s a shame, really. You’re such a pretty girl, with a nice body and a beautiful smile. Your eyes have a certain twinkle that doesn’t belong in somewhere as dark and daunting as the Fortress, and although he doesn’t show it, Wriothesley is more than eager to find out why exactly you love misbehaving so much.
“I’ve heard you’ve built up quite the name for yourself.” He pushes forward a metal tray with two cups of steaming tea and a large ceramic pot resting on it. “Take.”
“What is this, a tea party?” You laugh. “Or maybe you’ve gotten so sick of me that you’ve decided to poison me.”
“I can assure you that there is no poison in the tea. Drink.”
You lift the rim of the cup to your lips in a strange and uncharacteristic act of obedience, and Wriothesley continues.
“There are a multitude of charges against you. Theft, assault, conspiracy and intent to murder…” He leans forward onto the desk, resting his chin on the roof of his hands and tilting his head at you. “How did a pretty girl like you end up all the way down here?”
Your heart flutters. He thinks you’re pretty . But before you can let yourself falter, you sigh and set down your teacup.
“I never intended to kill anyone,” you start. “Fate just so happened that the Iudex and the illustrious Furina de Fontaine decided that they wanted to throw me hundreds of feet underwater for three years. So, I thought…
“If I’m down here for no reason, I might as well make everyone else’s life as hellish as mine.”
Silence lingers in the air of the office along with the steam billowing from your teacups, and then suddenly, Wriothesley bursts into laughter.
“You are such a terrible liar, you know that?” You frown. “I was a prisoner here once, and believe me , I hated it, but you would never catch me intentionally misbehaving and then walking myself off into the iron gates of solitary confinement like it was Celestia itself.”
“Maybe I like being alone.”
“Or maybe, you like the feeling of being punished.”
You almost spit out your tea as an all too familiar pang strikes you between your legs. His voice is so smooth, and it wraps around you like a silk chiffon scarf. “That’s not true.”
“Oh, it is . Look at your face!” Wriothesley’s smile looks more like he’s baring his teeth at you, and the all too confident demeanour you had earlier melts away. “You misbehave on purpose so you can get punished, and I bet you’re so glad to be sitting in front of me right now because you thought I would scold you and make you feel like you’re worthless .”
“N-no, that’s not-”
“Not it? Then what exactly is it , sweetheart? What is it you want me so desperately to do to you that has you stealing weapons and conspiring to kill people?”
You take a deep breath before looking the warden in the eyes. “I want to see how the so-called justice in this nation is carried out, so punish me for my crimes however you see fit, Your Grace.”
This is the first time you’ve used his title since you entered his office, and Wriothesley’s wolfish smile turns into a smirk. “Stand up.”
Just like when he told you to drink the tea, you obey almost instantly, willing your legs not to give out as he makes his way around the table to stand in front of you. He’s so tall, you note, and you look so insignificant in your beige prison overalls in comparison to the Duke’s own showy outfit. He isn’t wearing his fur jacket and stands before you in just his shirt and tie, scars littered along the expanse of his exposed forearms.
You almost drool, but Wriothesley snaps you out of your lust-drunken daze by grabbing your chin roughly and aiming you to look into his eyes. The metal accents of his gloves dig into your skin and you whine, and Wriothesley grimaces.
“You’re nothing but a slut,” he spits. “Turn around, hands behind your back.”
Again, you obey, and Wriothesley finally thinks he’s making his way into finally breaking you. He clips a pair of cold, metal handcuffs around your wrists and pulls on the interlinking chain hard , making your back arch into his chest.
“What a shame such a pretty face was wasted on such a dirty girl,” he all but growls directly into your ear, and you can feel his cold hands palm your lower half through your clothes as you realise he’s taken off his gloves and left them on his desk behind him. “You could’ve had so much potential… but it’s all been wasted because you couldn’t fucking behave .”
He punctuates his sentence with a heavy slap on your ass through your overalls, and you swear you can feel yourself melt from the dull impact. “Y-your Grace…”
He tugs at the string lacing together the back of your clothing, tearing the rough fabric and pulling it past your shoulders and down past your waist. Of course you aren’t wearing a bra , and your nipples immediately harden as they become exposed to the cold air of his office. “What?” You hiss as his thumb comes up to rub at your perked bud. “Do you have something to say for yourself?”
You wish you did. Honestly, you wish you could say sorry and promise to be better and maybe even be released on parole for being a good girl by doing whatever he says, but with the hands of the Warden drifting so close to the area where you need him the most, you can only grind your ass against his crotch and look up at him like a lost puppy.
Wriothesley can’t even find it within himself to be surprised. You wanted to be forced to hold an audience with the top dog himself, possibly to protest your conviction, but he accidentally managed to find a part of you that you seem to have concealed from all of the guards, a secret personality that loves punishment and all things masochistic.
He knows the burn of the metal handcuffs digging into your skin; he’s felt it. For most, it would feel unpleasant and biting, but for you? Wriothesley finds that the more he pulls down on the chain linking your wrists, the more you whine and arch into him.
He isn’t dealing with a criminal; he’s dealing with a slut. A masochistic, shameless prison slut.
He’s going to have so much fun.
Wriothesley’s hand moves from your chest to your waist, pulling your ass back onto his crotch before moving further down and spanking you again. You can hear him breathing heavily in your ear as his sharp canines drag along your jugular, his nails digging into the tender flesh of your ass. “Dirty girl. Are you getting off to this?”
You’re too far gone to answer, so he decides to find out by himself. Wriothesley’s hand on your ass slides in between your legs and under the waistband your regulation underwear. He finds exactly what he was looking for; you’re absolutely soaked.
He isn’t surprised. In fact, Wriothesley thought as much the moment you walked into his office, head held high as your toes tapped on the wooden floor. You think you’re so good at hiding what you’re thinking, but he’s even better at reading people, and by the way you checked him out the moment you walked in, he knew that this was what you wanted.
Besides, Wriothesley isn’t the kind of person to do something half assed, so he might as well give you what you want. Who knows; maybe you’ll decide to behave from now on.
Or maybe you’ll decide to misbehave yourself even more, and he’ll have to punish you again to put you back in line. Either way, you’re a pretty face he wants to see again, and he doesn’t mind having to bend you over his knee and spank you a couple of times to get you to do as he says.
“Are you having a good time, princess?” Wriothesley languidly rubs at your clit and your heavy breathing and quiet whines fill the office. “You aren’t supposed to be; this is your punishment, remember ?”
Whatever this is has gone past the lines of punishment. You’re a sweaty, sticky mess in his arms, and your lips are swollen from the amount of times your teeth have dug into them in a futile attempt to keep yourself quiet. You seemingly melt even more when he starts kissing your neck, the tips of his fingers circling around your rapidly pulsing hole.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen, are you listening, pretty?” You nod weakly. “I’ll give you whatever you want. I can stuff this cunt so full and leave you a leaky mess or spank your ass until it's red and bruised, but you gotta start behaving, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” you whimper, feeling his fingers slowly start to slide past your hole. “I’ll do anything, please .”
“I’ve finally tamed that bratty attitude of yours, huh?” You hear his belt buckle click and his trousers hit the floor, and suddenly you can feel his pulsing rod resting on the meat of your ass. “You gonna take me like a good girl?”
“ Yes ,” you breathe, angling your neck to watch his prod his reddened tip at your entrance. He yanks the chain connecting your handcuffs hard in response, and you groan in mixed pain and pleasure at the biting sting of the metal.
“Eyes forward. You don’t get to look at me.” Wriothesley punctuates his sentence by sinking his entire length into you, and he smiles when he hears you scream . “Don’t be so loud, princess. Don’t want the guards thinking I’m actually hurting you, do you?
“Or maybe you do. Maybe you want them to come running up here to see what’s going on, only to be met with you creaming on my cock.” Wriothesley’s thrusts are hard, and your ass bounces mercilessly against his pelvis. “Want them to see how desperate you are to get put in your place, huh?”
You can only agree, pathetic affirmations leaking from your upper lips as Wriothesley abuses your lower ones. He’s big , and you’re sure you can feel him in your tummy, and your legs wobble as you try to stay upright. The only thing holding you up is his iron grip on the interlinking chain and his hand around your throat, and the pain of both only adds to the immense pleasure flooding through your veins.
Before you know it, you’re on the edge. Your release is teasing you, but you know you can’t come until he says you can, so you try your hardest to hold out. The sounds filling the office don’t help; Wriothesley’s sharp grunts mix with the sound of wet skin slapping to create a chorus of obscenity that bounces off of the walls and fills your ears.
“Your Grace, I’m gonna-“
“Hold it,” he commands gruffly, letting go of the chain and your neck and turning you around before scooping you up into his arms, cock still nestled deep in your weeping cunt. “It’s not over.”
Wriothesley sets you on top of his desk and pries your legs open, pressing his hips flush against yours and dragging his hands down to your waist. From here, he fucks you with wreckless abandon, his hard thrusts causing his hair to fall into his face. You tip your head back but he pulls you back to look into his watery blue eyes.
“Look at me,” he growls, nails digging into your fleshy cheeks. “Look at me when you cream all over my cock, you bratty little bitch.”
And cream you do. You come so hard that it makes you delirious, and Wriothesley’s hand around your neck sends you to another planet. Your eyes reach the back of your head and you vaguely feel his teeth pierce your shoulder as you’re flooded with his release, some of it even threatening to spill out at the sides. You’re completely spent, and when he lets go of you, you slump against his desk, thighs twitching from overstimulation.
Everything is foggy as you feel yourself being lifted up and placed on a softer surface, and you can barely move your arms when you feel your wrists released from the cold metal cuffs that bound them. Any sweaty strands of hair are moved from your face and your forehead is cooled with an ice-cold cloth, and you can just make out the pair of blue eyes looking at you with concern.
“This isn’t part of the punishment, is it?” You sound groggy, and Wriothesley laughs gently.
“No, but I was pretty rough on you.” He sits next to you on the bed and takes your hands into his, carefully massaging the red marks scored into them. “You’re a pretty girl. I don’t wanna rough you up too much.”
“Well, I’m afraid you’ve ruined me for anyone else, Your Grace.” He notes your snarky tone, and makes a mental note to get rid of that in the future.
“Are you implying that we’re going to do this again sometime?”
“Who knows?” In your post orgasm daze, you smirk. “Maybe I haven’t fully learnt my lesson yet.”