Preface:
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What will you find in “Elise’s Letter”? A short, two-part piece of fantasy erotica that focuses on psychological and physical power dynamics. It includes:
- Cheating / Cuckolding.
- Dubcon / Coertion.
- (Mentions of ) Chastity and Chastity Cages. Even though no one is actually caged, chastity does play an important role in the story.
- A long-distance relationship.
- A hung, arrogant bully.
- An average-to-small innocent and clueless victim.
- A guilty girlfriend who can’t help herself.
Even if fantasy isn’t your thing, I’d urge you to give it a shot. There’s no magic or dragons. The fantasy here acts as a simple backdrop for the characters to interact, and those interactions are not dissimilar from what one might find in today’s world!
Part 1:
Elise stared absentmindedly out her window.
Her trance-like state was broken when something —a bird?— caused a shadow to flicker through the panorama. She blinked repeatedly and shook her head lightly. She sighed and turned her attention to the blank page that rested menacingly in front of her. She would’ve called it deja-vu, had she not been acutely aware that she’d repeated the motion nearly a dozen times that afternoon.
She let out a distinctly unladylike curse when she saw she’d been holding her plume near the edge of the paper. There was no anger behind it, though. Just the resignation of a wasted evening. The utensil had dripped enough ink to blotch the paper and render it unusable. Like she’d done before that very day, she replaced it by a clean sheet, and stacked on top of a worryingly high stack of pieces like it.
How does one even begin such a letter?
Deep down, she knew she should start it as she would any other letter to her betrothed. After all, there weren’t that many greetings one could realistically use. But putting ink to paper felt so monumental… this wasn’t a simple love letter, nor a check-in nor one of those very coveted announcements of her visiting home. This was a request. A very particular one. One that bordered on being an order.
When staring at the paper felt too overwhelming, she took her eyes back to the window. The meadowy panorama of the university’s outskirts would never stop stunning her. She thought of home, a tiny village in a forgotten, forested county. The vistas there hadn’t been ugly by any measure. But it was hard to see further than three or four spans, for the pines covered all. The meadow where the Imperial University had been built was so spacious, and offered panoramas that reached into the very horizon.
Elise thought of Matty, her one true love. The would-be recipient of her letter. They’d been best friends since childhood, a connection that had filled Elise with joy, and one for which she’d always been thankful. Ask any resident of a small town or village about loneliness…
As they grew older, their friendship had blossomed into something else. A deeper connection. Before even learning the proper words to describe their feelings, they’d fallen in love. Matty had deflowered her, and she had been his first lover as well. In retrospect, it’d been an awkward, shameful, fifteen-to-thirty second ordeal that finished as soon as Matty did. And yet, she couldn’t help but look at it fondly. Their mutual inexperience had rendered their movements even more tender.
Elise smiled at the memory. Whenever Matty and her could find a moment alone, usually in some secluded clear of the forest east of their village, they went at it. Slowly, they learned how to make each other feel good together. Matty tended to finish too quickly to get her off, but she’d always appreciated his eagerness to try. More than once she’d slipped him a little white lie when he’d asked about his performance. Had they had more time, Elise was sure she could’ve taught Matty to work within his… performance parameters.
But, alas, their time together had been cut short. Unbeknownst to them, while they were going at it like rabbits, their kingdom had been fighting a vicious war against the Empire. Naturally, they’d lost. Months after the peace talks, caravans of Imperial men had gone round the forests, rounding up men and women who showed academic promise. They offered them an opportunity in the Imperial University. The “open invitation” was anything but. Had Elise not agreed to join the caravan, she would’ve been forced to.
Matty had laid the flower crown at Elise’s feet —what the Imperials would describe as a pagan engagement ritual— days before she parted, with immense joy and sorrow she put it on.
She’d always dreamed her betrothal would be an amazing thing. A day that would forever live in her memory. A spring day, with naught a cloud in the sky. A day adorned by the lovely melodies of the birds that made of the conifers a home. And it had been! —well, maybe less poem-like— But there was the undeniable sting of her soon departure.
She smiled ruefully. She could all but picture her love on the meadowy field she saw through her window. She imagined Matty there. A young man her age. He had a slight build to match her own. He was somewhat scrawny, but not overly so. He was smiling. He had this… boyish charm —mostly because of his unforgettable dimples—.
Had he been there, Elise was sure he’d be holding the smithy’s hammer proudly. He’d be all but daring anyone to tell him he couldn’t become a master tradesman of his own due to his size. She grinned. The hammer truly was too big for him. It probably weighed more than he did, and it probably more likely than not was a futile career path. He may be a bit of a foolish boy, but he’s my foolish boy.
Elise was lucky she didn’t worry about her and Matty’s economic future, though. By the time her studies finished in a few years could take a job as a nobleman’s scribe and make more than enough to support the both of them. So even if he insists on being a blacksmith when I get back, I’ll be able to support us, she thought. She didn’t think Matty was one of those hardheaded men who wouldn’t let their wives help them economically. Or maybe I’m becoming too worldly here…
Elise tried to lead her thoughts back to Matty, but that inevitably made her think of the horrible letter she had yet to write. A pang of guilt. Not just for what she’d be asking Matty to do for her, but also for not having gathered the courage to write it yet. Why is this so damn difficult? It’s not like I’ve reached the paragraph in which I ought to make the request of him… this bit is just the greetings! But try as she might, she was not able to force herself to write that momentous first word.
Before she zoned out again, however, she was startled by the sound of her door being unlocked. Her heart skipped a bit. She turned around in dread and nearly spilled her ink vial. After a second, though, she realized she wasn’t in any danger. She relaxed and tried to will her heart to slow.
What an insufferable asshole, Elise thought to herself. Would it kill him to knock? Does he have to come in like this every time? She knew she’d have to find catharsis in her thoughts, for she’d never give them voice. She shuddered at the thought of what the consequences might be for her if she did.
When the door swung open, she laid eyes on him.
Darius.
It was almost outrageous how handsome he was. His jaw looked to have been chiselled from whatever golden marble-like material they’d used to make him and all the other Imperials. He was slightly older than her, maybe in his thirties? She’d never asked. He wore his black hair cropped shirt, and there was the tiniest hint of grey on its sides.
He favored her with a smile that made her already fast heartbeat quicken. Her breath came close to catching when they locked eyes. It wasn’t a friendly smile, she realized. There was a fiery mischief behind his eyes she’d become well acquainted with.
“I thought I told you to have the letter written by the time I came over, tiny,” he said in a bored monotone. The voice she pictured he used during long business meetings.
Though he kept his smile through the phrase, Elise knew there’d be consequences. This was a man used to getting his way, and more than willing to punish those that prevented him from that. Worse than that, he seemed to have a penchant for finding the most effective punishments for each particular individual.
“I-”
“Quiet.”
Elise complied, but was annoyed at herself for it. And yet, I didn’t even think it through… it was just instinctual.
Darius was tall —so much so that he nearly had to duck to come through the door—. He was broad and had the strength to back it up. Though he wore the black robes of a university councilman, she knew beneath it hid a well muscled figure. Had he been described to her by a bard or a loremaster, she would’ve dismissed them as charlatans, enhancing the story and its characters to get some silver out of her. But he’s real. And he’s not off in a far away land slaying a dragon; he’s right here in my room!
Darius closed the door behind him, locked it, and quickly slipped the key into his pocket. She hated that he had free access to her living quarters. Even worse, she hated that there was nothing she could do about it. She’d had the fancy or wrestling the key out of him. Using the element of surprise to surpass his physical advantage. But I freeze whenever he comes in, without fail. It was as if he exuded power. Trying to fight against it was simply unthinkable.
To say a man other than her fiance being alone in a room with her was proper would be comparable to saying a sword lunge through the heart wasn’t deadly. Elise had tried to rationalize it before: He’s one of the most influential men in the University, she’d think. His family has riches beyond what my village has seen in generations. Who decided propriety was the end-all-be-all? If he earnestly wanted to get in my room (or any room, for that matter), no one could or would stop him.
But whatever narrative Elise came up with, no matter how realistic, felt flimsy. Deep down she knew that if she really set her foot down, she could get him to destroy the copy. It would take having a plan and making a scene, but it’d probably be possible. She just didn’t dare go against him so openly.
He crossed the room in a single step. Elise’s quarters weren’t exactly palatial in size, but for her to cross them in one step would’ve forced an undignified, leg-stretching, balance-threatening ordeal. For Darius, it was effortless. It didn’t even warrant notice. Damn imperial genetics with damn long legs…
Darius loomed over her. He was perfumed, as noblemen tended to be. It was intoxicating. His eyes were downcast and the look he was giving her was akin to that which he might give to a particularly cute lamb. Such a demeaning prick… Elise knew she should’ve voiced her outrage at the open condescension, but she found it impossible. Whenever she caught Darius looking at her like that… Like she was his property, and like he was in charge… It became difficult to feel anything other than the buzzing warmth that spread throughout her body. No matter her initial annoyance.
He placed a big hand on her hair, half-caress and half-headpat, and suddenly her mind became fuzzy and thinking turned to be a near impossible ordeal. Elise tried to meet Darius’ eyes, but she was stopped by his hand on her hair. He tussled it, scratched it, and generally made a mess of things. It was not unlike what one would do to a friendly dog.
Elise hated when he did that! It took her nearly an hour to tame her wild hairs each morning. For a… brute like him to just come around and destroy her hard work… ugh! And he knew just how much it bothered her. That’s exactly why he does it every time… She had half a mind to complain, but his last command still echoed in her mind. Quiet. He must’ve liked her look of frustration, for he gave her a chuckle.
“You’re too cute to stay mad at, tiny,” Darius whispered. “Doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences for your tardiness. But at another time.”
She saw him place… something… on the table. A surprisingly elegant metallic contraption, composed of three distinct pieces. A heavy looking padlock, a ring with some fixtures near what she’d identified as the top, and a weird tube-like piece. The latter was the most complex bit of metal, having been worked so that it showed a few slits on the sides, as well as on the closed end. It was slightly bent, and it couldn’t have been longer than one of her fingers.
“There we are. My present to your beloved. Thankfully, my silversmith doesn’t share your issues with deadlines.”
“This whole thing is silver?” Even for Darius’ seemingly bottomless pockets that seemed a bit excessive.
“No, tiny, it’s not,” another caress that resembled a pet. He chuckled. What a patronizing asshole. “I imagine you don’t have silversmiths where you’re from. It makes sense. No, little one, it’s steel. And good quality at that. I took it to a silversmith because it required a hand more delicate than that of a common smithy.”
“May I…” she reached towards the cage.
“Go ahead, tiny. Play with the toy.” She started rolling her eyes, and took in breath to sigh in outrage, but Darius’ hand tightened around a clump of hair, and she controlled herself. This earned her a grim chuckle and a murmur about being a good pet.
She grabbed the… device. It was surprisingly heavy, and it felt… tough. Like the kind of thing one couldn’t break, no matter the kind of tool one had access to. Foolishly, she hadn’t pictured the thing as escape-proof when Darius had first told her about it.
It was a chastity cage, as Darius had called it when describing it to her. Apparently, a similar device was used in prisoners of war by Imperial soldiers. Even without knowing the name, the purpose was painfully obvious. She could see how the tubular piece had been molded to fit the male anatomy snugly. And the fact that there was no key for the vicious looking padlock didn’t escape her notice either.
How am I supposed to ask Matty to wear this for me?
“Darius… please. I… how could I put Matty through this?” She asked, her tone more tender and vulnerable than she had expected.
“I won’t force you, Elise. But I’ve made my position clear.”
That he had done. Elise knew that the second she stopped playing along, Darius would leave. There would be no consequences —no real ones, anyway—. He’d gone to painful lengths to make her know he was being honest in that regard: From signing documents preemptively forbidding him from grading her exams, to making it clear with the gentry that slanderous comments regarding her, though a commoner, wouldn’t be tolerated.
It was infuriating. He’d left her no plausible deniability. No hiding behind their power differences outside the bedroom. Whatever I do… whatever order of his I follow, I do so out of my own volition.
“Don’t say it, please!” Elise wasn’t ready to face the truth of their relationship. Not when the subject of their argument was Matty.
“Interrupting me? Feeling fucking brave, aren’t we?” Darius exploded. She shrunk onto herself, meek and quiet. “Answer, tiny.”
“No,” she whispered. “S- sorr-”
“Oh, do be quiet,” he rolled his eyes. “We’ll see if you keep that tone after I cane you.
Her breath caught. She looked at him, pleading. Not the cane, please. He simply smirked, delighted in her mortification. She felt like a rabbit being stared down by a wolf. I’m his prey.
“As I was saying: it’d mean no more sex. No more getting pinned against the wall, no more being bound to the bed, definitely no more picking you up while I’m still inside of you.”
Each sentence brought up numerous fiery memories. A wave of shame and guilt overtook Elise. It was true, of course. Darius had bedded her. Many times, in fact. They had done all the things he’d described. And so many more… she thought with a sickening mixture of embarrassment and lust.
The fact that she was betrothed hadn’t stopped either of them. From what she could read of her obnoxious lover, it’d been almost an incentive for him.
“In short: No more knee-shaking orgasms for you, tiny.”
The second Darius had started courting her —if his pursuit could even be called that—, Elise knew they’d share a bed eventually. She’d tried to resist it as much as she could, but there was something primal begging her to accept Darius’ cock. She tried hiding her betrayal of Matty behind as many rationalizations as she could come up with. They ranged from his rank as noble, to the classic arsehole argument of “what Matty doesn’t know won’t hurt him”. But when he says it so crudely… There’s no denying I’m complicit.
Darius seemed to thrive on her guilt and her conflict. He’d bring up Matty often during their lovemaking. Bringing her to the brink of excitement, keeping her there with the skill of a master at their craft, and then making her think —or worse: speak— of her fiancé back home just as he pushed her over the edge. He wouldn’t let her pretend their tryst was anything other than what it was: an affair.
As any time she was overcome with remorse over it, she thought to herself: He’s an asshole who gets off on my shame. On making me feel small and powerless. So why can’t I stop it? And she didn’t like the answer. The instinctual answer that her whole body gave her every time. The one that didn’t line up with her heart’s desires. He’s too good a lover to quit. And no matter how patronizing he could be, she craved his approval like a drug. She actually liked feeling helpless and claimed and his.
Darius was so… commanding. So in charge of the situation, no matter what it was. There was simply no denying his power. Darius, unlike Matty, is the kind of man you obey. Not the kind you talk to as an equal. You don’t reason with him, you don’t request he explain his motives, and you certainly don’t contradict him, if you know what’s good for you. A thrum of desire ran through her. When he says you do something you just… do it. And you’re glad he picked you to do it. It was ferral. A primal animalistic truth.
And the fact that Elise could realize this didn’t mean her feelings for Matty were any less meaningful. Matty’s love and devotion were of a breath and depth that came comically out of reach for Darius. And just like Darius could never compete with Matty for her heart, she knew her fiancé would never match Darius’ skills as a lover. He didn’t have the personality for it. Nor the… physical attributes, she thought with a pang of guilt.
She couldn’t see herself, but she knew she was bright red. She wanted so badly to reply. To be permitted to speak! To protest! To have any damn agency at all! Darius, naturally, knew this. He rejoiced in her discomfort, condescendingly petting her hair a few times before relenting and absentmindedly gesturing that she may speak.
“Sorry I-” she began, her tone a near whisper
“Speak up, tiny.”
“S- sorry I interrupted.”
“Good pet. I like how weak and cute you look when you apologize.”
Elisw sighed. “Why do you want to do this to Matty, Darius? We… I can be very good. You know that! I know I… I’ll concede that I misbehaved a lot today, but why punish him?”
“It’s not a punishment, tiny.”
“Well, why then?”
He exhaled. “Honestly, tiny? Because I can.”
“What do you mean?”
“I like the idea of making your Matty suffer simply because I can. It thrills me to have the power to torment a boy like him just because I decided one afternoon that it’d be a fun thing to do
I know he’ll feel the cage every day. It’ll feel uncomfortable and heavy, and it’ll weigh his little cock down all day long. He won’t be able to forget about it. Ever. It’s designed specifically with that purpose in mind. But me? It’ll probably cross my mind once per moon cycle. At most.
I love picturing him yearning for you trapped inside the cage. He’ll spend so many sleepless nights craving your body, remembering how soft you felt those few times you laid together. His cock will fight and strain against the metal, but the steel will not relent…”
His hand slid down from her hair to her chin, which he cupped. He used his thumb to brush across her lips.
“… The longer I make him go without a chance to relieve himself, the more often he’ll dream about you, sexually. It’ll get to a point where he won’t spend a single waking hour unburdened by his desires.
And while he goes through that hell, I’ll waltz into your room whenever I so please. With but a few choice words, I’ll have you kneeling for me —sure, maybe with a bit of resentment in those adorable eyes of yours— but kneeling nonetheless.
You will service me in a way you never did service him. You’ll spend all your sexual energy on me. You’ll hang off my every word. Because you know that hearing me say good pet no matter how infuriating, does more for you than a week worth of Matty’s little cock”
Elise deeply resented her body at that moment. Darius had just spent the better part of ten minutes belittling her and her lover. His words were beyond cruel. He was an evil, evil man. One who’d make her love suffer just for his amusement. And yet… she felt like a cat in heat. She needed Darius on top of her. He’s insufferable, condescending, and terrible to Matty! Why are my thighs drenched? Why do I feel fire between my legs? How does he have me so bewitched?
“Look at you, tiny…”
Darius’ hand went even lower, gently if firmly wrapping around her neck. It made her let out an involuntary, high-pitched mmmm sound. If her thighs had been drenched before, this gesture had flooded them.
“…It’s adorable how determined you are to save Matty from this suffering. I can tell how much you love him.”
“So much,” Elise whispered. She wasn’t sure if Darius heard.
“…But now your eyes have been opened. I’ve made you realize that your betrothed, no matter how loving, simply cannot compete. It’s not in his nature: he’s too small, too meek, and probably spurts after a minute inside you,” he chuckled mirthlessly. “He and I were born to fulfill different roles in life.”
“It’s… it’s not fully like that,” she said. He ignored her.
“So now there’s this delicious contradiction inside of you… your heart shouts at you to be loyal, but your body…” Darius tightened his grasp once more. Just a smidge, but it was enough to make her vision blurry with fear and pleasure.
Her breath was heavy, and she did not want her lust to betray her, so Elise thought her next few words very carefully. She settled on the safe: “Can you blame me?”
“No, I guess I can’t,” Darius laughed.
Darius released her neck suddenly, and took a step back. Elise could see none of the passion with which he’d just been speaking. It was often that way with Darius: one second, Elise was the focus of all of his attention. The next, she was forgotten, discarded. And as soon as his attention wasn’t on her, Elise craved nothing more than to have it back. She wanted his impressive figure to be as close as it’d been. She even yearned for the controlling, reaffirming and infantilizing pressure to be back on her neck.
“I’m off to the courier now, tiny,” he said nonchalantly. “Your tardiness will cost me dearly in silver. The lad I’d hired to get that letter and the cage to your village boy has surely departed with other business by now. I’ll make arrangements for it to be sent tomorrow’s dawn. Understood?”
She nodded.
“Use your words, tiny.”
“I understand.”
“Good pet. I’ll be back after dark. I expect to find you considerably more well behaved, and wearing considerably less clothing. Meanwhile, you make up your mind. If by the time I come back later tonight that letter isn’t written, our arrangement —the whole thing— is over. Will you think about it very carefully for me?”
“Y- yes,” she said. Overwhelmed didn’t come close to describing how she felt.
He didn’t even wait to fully hear her reply. By the time she was done talking, Darius had already let himself out unceremoniously.