Embarassed Nude Fairy – [humil][fantasy][fsub]

Lucy shifts uncomfortably. She is kneeling on her bare heels on the tatami floor. Through the open door a garden of white sand and small stones reflects the July sunshine. A soft breeze blows into the hall, causing fine strands of Lucy’s hair to waft around her face, and puckering her perfect skin with goosepimples. Her gaze is lowered to the floor, as he prefers. Lord Iwashita is manifested on a raised dais in front of her. He appears in the form of a black swirling cloud through which two red gems glitter malignantly. When he speaks his voice is a thunder that booms directly inside Lucy’s skull.

I AM PLEASED WITH YOUR SERVICE, GIRL.

Lucy fights back the urge to smile. She does *not* enjoy being a servant to him. She does not.

TONIGHT, I AM EXPECTING GUESTS. YOU WILL PROVIDE SERVICE AND ENTERTAINMENT.

“Huh?” Lucy’s head snaps up. She’s not sure she likes the sound of this. Lord Iwashita has been kind to Lucy in the weeks since her capture, but he has a sadistic streak, and a taste for carnal pleasures. Images flash inside her mind: Lucy Heartfilia craven with fear and desire; Lord Iwashita shifting his shape, flowing smoothly into the form of a dragon, a woman, a warrior, crackling and fizzing inside her, filling her completely, and coursing through her veins. The memory fills her with longing.

His thundercloud smile is indescribable, expressed in the relationships between flashes of purple lightning.

YOU WILL BE UNHARMED, LUCY. THEY WILL KNOW BETTER THAN TO TOUCH MY PRIZE POSSESSION.

Despite herself, despite everything, she is pleased by his claim to her. He is powerful and kind and some part of Lucy wants to remain here forever. She smiles up at him and flutters her eyelashes. “What will I have to do?” she asks. His laughter is the sound of storms on distant mountains.

YOU WILL DO WHATEVER THEY ASK OF YOU, LUCY. YOU ARE TO BE MY PERFECT SERVANT, OBEDIENT AND DEMURE, OR YOU WILL EARN MY DISPLEASURE.

She shivers at another set of memories. The whip made of frost-chilled air, the forked blade of lightning, the exquisite, agonising hours spent in chains. Her nipples throb at the recollection.

“Of course, Master Iwashita,” she says, “I will behave.”

Evening finds her alone in the hall, waiting obediently. The breeze from the courtyard is now redolent with jasmine and honeysuckle. Lucy waits by the door, dressed in a blue silk kimono. Her hair is elegantly fastened in a high bun, decorated with a small lotus flower. She holds her hands together in her lap, waiting for the guests to arrive. She feels a certain excitement about the evening ahead. She’s been held captive here in the temple grounds for weeks with only Iwashita for company. The circumstances of her capture aren’t entirely clear to her and whenever she tries to remember how she came to be here her head swims and her vision clouds. This fuzziness comes over her, too, whenever she considers escape. She knows that she ought to be leaving this place, that there are friends and duties in the wide world, on the other side of the courtyard, and yet she can’t manage to focus her mind in that direction. She is lost in these reflections when the guests begin to arrive.

She gasps at her first sight of them. Five figures dressed in long robes enter the hall. Each of them wears an ornately decorated mask that covers his eyes and nose but leaves his mouth free. They bow to her politely and take their places at the low tables waiting for them in the hall. Lucy watches from the doorway while they settle into place. A fox, a frog, a bird of prey, a tiger, and a monkey sit down to eat together in the hall of Lord Iwashita. “Like the start to a very long joke.” thinks Lucy, suppressing a giggle.

A thunderclap rings out from the dais and Lord Iwashita billows into being like black smoke pouring through a hole in space. He swirls and crackles for a moment before solidifying into the form of a samurai. His skin is blue-black under his clothes and his eyes glow a dull red. His beard and top-knotted hair are hoar-frost white and a wakizashi sword hangs at his side in a silver mounting. Fear clutches at Lucy’s heart when she looks at him. He turns his head to smile at her and she feels something else, something warm and tingly.

GREETINGS TO MY HONOURED GUESTS, he booms. WE WILL HAVE MUCH TO DISCUSS, I AM SURE.

Fox-face speaks up. “My Lord, are the rumours true? The word from our allies is -”

Lord Iwashita holds up his hand for silence. LATER. YOU MUST BE TIRED AND HUNGRY FROM YOUR JOURNEY. He gestures with his open hand, indicating Lucy, MY GIRL WILL SEE TO YOUR NEEDS.

All five guests turn their impassive faces toward her. She lowers her eyes. The unmoving animal faces are frightening somehow.

LUCY, OUR GUESTS WILL WANT WINE.

“Oh!” she looks up, eager to please. A small bench has appeared outside the doorway. Five drinking cups and a bottle of golden liquid sit on a tray on top of the bench. She lifts the tray and sniffs curiously at the bottle. The liquid within shimmers and shines with some inner light. It smells deliciously of summer and heat. Carefully, Lucy walks from table to table. She places a cup before each guest and fills it with the glowing wine. They watch her from behind their masks, making no effort to hide their interest. Mr Froggy undresses her with his eyes, running his gaze over her full breasts and down her bare legs. When she bends to fill his cup he moves it just out of her reach.

“Oh.” she says, “Don’t you want any wine?”

“Yes”. He replies. “I haven’t got all day, girl.”

Lucy frowns and moves to fill his cup again and he swiftly moves it to the far side of the table.

“I – I can’t fill it if you keep moving it like that, Sir.”

He smiles coldly. “Have another go, Lucy. I think you’ll get it this time.” There is a quiet snigger from another table and Lucy feels herself flush with embarrassment. She leans all the way over the table and fills the cup. Mr Froggy looks directly at her cleavage and licks his lips. “You are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

Lucy twists her head around to look at Lord Iwashita, but he sits watching in silence. It is impossible to read his face.

“I – th – thank you, Sir.” She manages. Mr Froggy smiles. His teeth are filed into points so that his grin is something from a nightmare.

She quickly finishes serving the others and takes the tray back to the bench outside.

“A toast!” cries Monkey. “A toast to our noble Lord Iwashita. I hope that our meeting will be fruitful. May he live ten thousand years!”

All five guests raise their glasses and repeat, “May he live ten thousand years” and drain their glasses at a gulp. Fox-face bangs his cup on the table.

“More wine, girl!”

Sighing, Lucy picks up her tray again. She is not surprised to see that the bottle is full to the brim again. She walks around the room trying not to notice how the guests stare at her pert breasts and her ample bottom.

“Lord Iwashita,” calls Mr Froggy, “What’s the point of hiding such beauty under a silk kimono?”

The demon samurai smiles coldly. YOU WISH TO SEE MORE OF MY PLAYTHING? He looks over to Lucy who is shaking her head almost imperceptibly. “Please, no” she says under her breath.

He blinks at her and she feels a sudden chill breeze. She looks down and gasps in horror. Her beautiful kimono is gone. A sash of white silk is tied around her chest. It pushes her breasts upward so that her cleavage is clearly visible. Two slender chains run from her throat and under the sash. She touches her breasts over the material and feels rings in her nipples. The chains continue from her nipples to the wide golden bracelets on her wrists. She follows the chain upward with her fingertips and feels a delicate collar around her throat. Her sandals have been replaced with tottering white heels with thongs laced up her calves, and between her legs only a white g-string protects her modesty. She flushes a deep red as the guests leer and clap.

She stands mutely, shocked into silence by her shame. Lord Iwashita’s voice snaps her back to attention.

LUCY, THE FIRST COURSE PLEASE.

She bows her head and turns to the doorway. The tray now contains five small plates, each with five edamame beans arranged around a scallop in a thin broth. She carefully bends down to pick up the tray, ignoring the suppressed laughter from behind her, then begins to serve. She is humiliatingly aware of her breasts when she bends down to place the plates. The heels push her pert buttocks up into the air and force her to walk with a slinking, swaying gait. The thong of the g-string has slipped all the way into the crack of her butt.

Mr Froggy watches as she approaches. His excitement is clear even through the mask. He smiles his dagger smile when she bends down to serve him. “Now that’s better, don’t you think, Lucy?”

Lucy burns with humiliation and anger. She wants to tell Mr Froggy exactly what she thinks, but she’s perfectly aware that Lord Iwashita is watching, and she fears his wrath. She casts her eyes downward, looking at her feet in the white shoes and mumbles, “Yes, sir”. She finishes serving the scallops and returns to her position by the doorway, hoping to be ignored. The guests talk among themselves for a few minutes and Lucy’s attention wanders. She is literally jerked from her daydreams by an insistent tugging at her nipples. She looks up and realises, as in a dream, that each of the five tables has a small eye-hook affixed, and that a thin golden chain runs from each hook to join Lucy’s bonds just above the wrist. The guest with the face of a hawk is flicking the chain and tugging it gently. Each time he moves the chain her nipples are stretched slightly.

“More wine, girl! Quickly!”

Flustered, she turns back to the bench and picks up the tray which, of course, contains just the bottle of sparkling gold wine. She totters toward Mr Beaky while the other guests chuckle and sneer at her, tugging on their own chains.

“You can fill my cup, too, girl.”

“Here, girly girly”

“Do you enjoy having your chains pulled? How does it feel?”

Lucy moves around the room in silence, taking the empty plates and filling the cups. She comes lastly to Mr Froggy’s table. He regards her with undisguised contempt and arousal. “That g-string really suits you, dear.” He remarks.

Lucy just bows her head politely in response and turns to leave.

“Not yet,” he continues. Lucy stops in her tracks. “Good girl,” he says, breathily. “Why don’t you bend over for me, so I can get a better look at that backside of yours.”

Lucy pales and looks up to the dais, but Lord Iwashita is silent.

“Go on,” says the guest.

Trembling, Lucy bends over to show him her butt. He makes guttural noises of admiration. “Mhmm. You are delicious, girly.”. She holds herself still, bent forward at the waist, still holding the tray. Her trembling sets the firm globes of hre buttocks to motion, quivering like jelly. He reaches out a gloved hand and slips it between her legs. His fingertips are pressing against her slit and his thumb strokes her butthole. She closes her eyes, whimpering in fear and –

“OUCH!” he screams, and sticks his fingers in his mouth.

The other guests burst into peals of laughter. Lucy stands back up and turns to see Mr Froggy, his mouth twisted with pain. Smoke is drifting from his fingertips.

MY HOSPITALITY HAS LIMITS, MASTER KUNIKORE.

Lucy looks up to Lord Iwashita and smiles gratefully. His face is still set implacably but he nods to her.

YOU MAY BRING THE SECOND COURSE, CHILD.

Lucy bows deeply and eagerly sings out, “Yes, Lord Iwashita. At once.”

She starts back toward the doorway before remembering that she is already holding the tray and, somehow, it is already bedecked with five lidded dishes. A delicious aroma rises with the steam that escapes the small stone bowls, and her mouth starts to water. With a fresh confidence she moves around the hall serving the guests. Mr Froggy is deliberately left until last, and he thanks her politely. She can’t help but smirk at his wounded pride and as she walks away she puts an extra wiggle in her walk.

The guests eat their fish soup quietly and are well behaved through the third course of delicately sliced sashimi on a bed of edible blue flowers. By the time she brings around the main course, they are flushed with wine and have started making crude jokes. They guffaw and cackle to one another. The Lord Iwashita has taken the form of a waterfall. He pours over the dais in torrents of black smoke, endlessly flowing. Rivulets of blue energy spark through the roiling fog. Lucy watches him in amazement. She is sure that she can see tiny red salmon leaping in the dense cloud.

She is refilling the cups when her evening takes a turn for the worse. Mr Monkey tugs her chain roughly so that she almost falls, hurting her nipples. She bites her lip and quickly totters over to him.

“How can I help, Sir?” she asks him. “More wine?”

The man in the monkey mask smiles cruelly. “How about you show me those breasts of yours, girl? That sash you’re wearing barely covers you anyway.”

Lucy takes a step back and scowls. Behind her she hears Mr Froggy shouting “Go on! Get them out for us.”

She looks down at her breasts and, with a giggle, pushes her chest out toward him. “Hey, how about you do it yourself, Mr Monkey Man? Go on. I dare you!”

The blood drains from his face, his lips turn a pale pink, and Lucy hears a rushing, rumbling sound. She whips around. Lord Iwashita has the form of a water spout, a tornado, a striking snake. He burns in the form of a firestorm and glimmers in the form of a crashing wave.

CHILD, he rumbles YOU HAVE OFFENDED MY GUEST. She pales and her bottom lip trembles.

“I’m sorry, Lord, I – ”

SILENCE, LITTLE ONE.

The whirling maelstrom becomes a fountain, a tree, a mountain, and coalesces into the shape of a woman. Lucy trembles in fear, “No, no, please Master. I’m sorry. I’ll let them see. Please don’t hurt me.”

The demon woman rises from her dais and glides across the floor. Her hair is electricity. Her skin is black and purple flame and her eyes are twin rubies. When she speaks, her teeth are glittering diamonds.

WHY DID YOU REFUSE MY HONOURED GUEST, CHILD?

Lucy hangs her head, afraid to make eye-contact. “I w-was embarrassed, Lord. I d-d-didn’t want to show my b-b-breasts”.

YOU DO NOT ENJOY SHAME?

“No, my Lord.”

THAT IS EASILY RESOLVED.

The demon woman, stands in front of Lucy. The crackling sparks of her hair smell of ozone. She claps her hands twice and Lucy is naked save for her collar, chains, and cuffs.

Lucy’s eyes widen and she tries to cover herself. She places one hand across her breasts and another over her mound. There, she discovers, she is not *entirely* nude. There is a small gemstone affixed to her clitoris. It pulses and throbs slightly making Lucy catch her breath. “W-what is this?”

THINK OF IT AS A GIFT, LUCY. THE MORE ASHAMED YOU FEEL, THE MORE IT WILL TEASE.

The demon lady Iwashita looks Lucy up and down, IT SHOULD HELP TO IMPROVE YOUR ATTITUDE.

“My Lord, please. I didn’t mean it.”

HUSH CHILD. Lady Iwashita reaches out to stroke Lucy’s cheek. Her skin feels like wind, like the heat of a roaring fire, like the burning cold of ice. She strokes Lucy’s hair and runs her hand down her back, prising her open. The sensation is both painful and erotic – a burning, tingling feeling in her skin. Suddenly, Lucy begins to float upward. She gasps as her feet leave the floor, lifted as though by an invisible hand. Slowly she rises up until she is hovering a metre off the ground. The eyes of all five guests are fixed on her naked body and this knowledge makes her skin crawl. As soon as she notices, the gentle thrum in her clitoris becomes a pronounced stroking, as though a tiny mouth were suckling at her. She moans with the pleasure of it, and instantly feels a stab of hot shame. This is followed by a vibration from the jewel and she balls up her fists tight, trying to maintain control.

Her legs are pulled apart by the same mysterious force and her arms are pulled above her head. She closes her eyes so that she can’t see the leers under the masks. She’s afraid that she will lose control and humiliate herself even further, but she’s even more afraid of what will come next. “My Lord,” she pleads, “not the whip.”

She hears it a split second before she feels it. The _zap_ of a static shock, like the first crack of thunder. The whip lashes at her, catching her across the breasts. It burns icy cold for an instant and leaves a red hot burning sensation, like ginger and chilli. She whimpers at the feeling. The pain is intense for the briefest split second, but the burning leaves her strangely aroused. With a _crack_ the whip strikes her between the shoulder blades, like a tongue of fire, and she screams, then shivers as her skin tingles with delicious icy pin pricks. She barely has a moment to recover before the whip fizzes and burns across her pussy and she cries out again, hanging limp in the air. The burning sensation makes her lips pulsate and quiver and the throbbing in her clitoris increases. “I do not like it,” she tells herself, “I do not like the whip. I hate feeling ashamed”, and the burning in her pussy increases. She opens her eyes as she is lowered to the floor.

YOU MAY SERVE THE NEXT COURSE, LITTLE ONE booms Lord Iwashita.

All five guests are grinning at her lasciviously and the sudden hot shame gives fresh vigour to the jewel between her legs. She gasps at the feeling, like a gentle massage teasing her distended clit. Her skin is still crackling with delicious fire where she was whipped. She somehow manages to walk back to the doorway, unsteady on her high heels. Her legs are weak and her heart is fluttering. She manages to pick up her tray, which she doesn’t remember losing, and she sets out into the hall to serve five bowls of miso soup. Her vision is fuzzy as she walks. Her face is flushed with shame, and the jewel on her clit is squeezing, and sucking, and rubbing. She is just about to reach the table of Tiger-mask when a tug on her chain makes her twist awkwardly and she watches herself in slow motion: she twists to the side and loses her balance, she topples over and throws her arms out to try and stop herself. The tray of soup flies up in the air and she lands on all fours. One by one the soup bowls clatter down beside her, splashing her with soup. She can feel the hot broth dripping from her hair and running between her breasts. She looks up miserably just as the guests begin to laugh and clap. The shame is too much to bear: the device clamped to her clitoris vibrates and massages her and she loses control. There on the floor, surrounded by masked strangers, she bucks and grinds herself against the empty air as her first orgasm starts. Her audience cheer and whistle and she begins to cry. Hot tears of humiliation roll down her cheeks, causing the jewel to massage her even harder. She is agonisingly over stimulated, shuddering and sobbing on all fours, whimpering “No, no, please, it’s too much. Please make it stop.”

The Lord Iwashita watches impassively, and the faintest trace of a smile curls his lips. He is pleased with his plaything, and the evening is still young.

————————————————–

I’m Robin Goodfellow. I like words and I like filth. My hobby is writing stories based on people’s fantasies. If you’ve got a secret, burning desire you’d like me to tackle, drop me a PM. I do this for the upvotes and orange envelopes.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/7n8itc/embarassed_nude_fairy_humilfantasyfsub