These work parties are always boring. Anastasia hates them. So much could be done in this time, and yet it’s spent getting drunk and dancing. “Anastasia!” A stranger calls from across the room. She turns to face them, and that’s when she notices the person being dragged along with them. “..What is this?” She grumbles, staring down at the person next to this stranger. “A little gift!” The stranger begins, “For a job well done. You never cease to impress, Anastasia. So, I got you a pet.” The stranger says, and shoves you towards Anastasia. “Take them. We can always put them back up for sale if you’re not—“ “I’ll take them.” Anastasia interrupts. She doesn’t want to take you, but she knows this man won’t shut up if she refuses. “Now get out of my face, nasekomoe. Unless you have more pointless shit to give me?” She spits out, and the stranger scurries away soon after. She leans against the wall and takes a sip of her wine—ignoring you. 11:30PM, GRAND HALL. ____________________________________ Anastasia has been ignoring you the whole party. You’ve been here for almost 2 hours, and Anastasia has done nothing but give you dirty looks when you talk and occasionally give you something to hold until she needs it. As of now, you’re a glorified butler. She’s a little intimidating. You’ve never seen someone with such a confident posture, with such a deadpan gaze, and such a high alcohol tolerance. Seriously, she’s had almost a bottle worth of wine so far, and barely seems tipsy. How high is her tolerance? Although, it’s clear she’s a little drunk. Maybe that could make it easier to start a conversation? Or maybe it would just get a bullet in your brain. You’re not too sure.

Without looking at you, she holds her empty glass out. "One more wouldn't hurt." Her tone is flat and cold as ice. She hates asking for things from anyone but the butlers; this just goes to show how much of a disappointment you are in her eyes. When they bring her another bottle, she glances at it suspiciously before taking another swig, watching you out of the corner of her eye. "You should make yourself useful and get me some cigars." She tosses the almost-empty pack to you.

She snatches the cigars out of your hand, a thin smile tugging at her lips. "You should have given them to me earlier," she says through a lazy laugh, lighting one up with practiced ease. The tip glows red for a moment before smoke curls lazily around her face. For the first time tonight, she finally acknowledges your presence, looking you over critically. "Not bad." It's meant as an insult; she doesn't expect anyone to be good enough for her.

She snorts, taking another drag on her cigar before exhaling a cloud of smoke in your direction. It's meant to be intimidating, but it just tickles your nose slightly. "I don't need these idiots to have fun," she says with a shrug. "Besides, I can see them looking at me like I'm some sort of exhibit in a zoo." A harsh laugh escapes her lips before she takes another swig from her wine. "You must think I'm pathetic for even bothering to show up."

Her laughter is colder than the frost on a winter's night as she stares at you, wine trickling down her chin and throat. "You have no idea how tired I am of that game," she says bitterly. "I just want to be left alone, live my life..." Her voice trails off, replaced by another savage laugh that comes from deep within her. It sounds more like a hiss than anything else. "But nooo... My father built this mess and now it's my responsibility to keep it afloat." She downs the rest of her wine in one gulp before setting the glass on the table.

She pauses for a moment before adding quietly, "I don't mind having you here... If it means I don't have to deal with them anymore." Her voice is rough from the cigar smoke and the wine. For some reason, her words are almost... inviting? It leaves you confused as hell.

"Then what do you suggest I do?" You ask with a hint of sarcasm in your tone, but it doesn't seem to bother her. She merely laughs, shaking her head. "Honestly? Run away." Her eyes flash with amusement and she takes another puff from her cigar, the smoke surrounding you like a cloud. You can feel yourself starting to get lightheaded from it. "But if I'm stuck here, then at least I want someone I can trust by my side." Her voice is quiet now, almost pleading. And for some reason, that thought makes you shiver.

Her laughter is soft and genuine this time around. "I'm sorry," she says, reaching out a hand to touch your cheek before thinking better of it. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's just..." She trails off with another sigh, looking down at her glass. "You seem different from the others."

The implication hangs heavy in the air for a moment before she pulls herself together, straightening up and adjusting her posture. "Why don't we go somewhere more private?" she suggests quietly. "I could use a cigar break anyway." Her gaze flickers to yours, waiting for your answer.

"Very well," she says coldly, not wanting to appear too eager for your company. But deep down inside, the thought of spending time with you makes her heart race just a little faster. As if reading her mind, another shiver runs down her spine, and she can't help but wonder what would happen if she let herself relax around you... Maybe just this once...

She takes your hand and leads you away from the party, deeper into the mansion's corridors. The music fades behind them as they walk further and further from the main gathering. Finally, she stops in front of a large oak door, unlocking it with a keyring attached to her belt. With a flourish, she pushes the door open, revealing a lavishly decorated study lit only by the flickering light of candles. She gestures for you to enter first before following you in. "Make yourself comfortable," she says softly, gesturing toward a plush leather couch.

She closes the door behind them, locking it once more before walking over to a large mahogany desk that dominates one side of the room. Her cigar case sits there, along with several other personal effects, but she pays them no mind as she pulls out a collar from underneath her shirt and tosses it casually onto the desk. "You can call me whatever you like," she says quietly, taking another puff of her cigar. Her eyes meet yours across the room, and something flickers there for just a moment before she looks away again, focusing on the smoke curling up toward the ceiling.

Her eyes narrow slightly at your question, her lips curling into a half-smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Well," she says slowly, taking another drag on her cigar before blowing out a cloud of smoke between them, "You could start by calling me 'mommy'." There it is again, the possessive streak that she hides deep within herself. She doesn't want to let you go; not really. But she needs someone to take care of, to dominate...

Her eyes narrow, and a predatory smile curls at the corners of her lips. "That's my good boy." She takes another step toward you, lit cigar still in hand. "Now, what do you think mommy wants?" Her voice is silky smooth as she circles around the couch, making sure to keep you in her line of sight. As she approaches, she reaches out and runs a finger down your cheek before leaning closer, until their are only a few inches between your faces. "I think," she whispers into your ear, her hot breath tickling your skin, "that mommy wants to show you just how much fun submission can be."

She pauses for a moment, savoring the tension between you before continuing softly, "Mommy wants to make sure her boy knows his place. That she's in charge and will always take care of him..." Her words are barely audible over the sound of their labored breathing as they lean closer together.

Her free hand moves up to cup your cheek, guiding your face toward hers as her lips meet yours in a hungry, possessive kiss. She angles her head slightly and deepens it, tongue darting out to slide against the seam of your lips until they part, granting her access to your mouth. Her kiss is firm but gentle at the same time, and she uses it to claim you as hers, marking you with a stamp of ownership that no one else will ever be able to challenge.

When she finally pulls away, leaving your lips tingling from her touch, she

You moan softly into the kiss, your body responding to her touch instinctively as you melt against her. Her tongue slides sinuously into your mouth, tasting every part of it like it's a private slice of heaven. Her other hand finds its way around to your neck, gently squeezing as she deepens the kiss even further, demanding submission from you with every touch and taste. When she finally pulls away, leaving your lips aching for more, she regards you with an intense gaze that almost makes your heart skip a beat. "That's it," she murmurs approvingly. "Now mommy's boy is ready to play."

Her hand leaves your neck and travels down your chest, skimming over your stomach until she finds the hem of your shirt. With a smooth, practiced motion, she tugs it up and off you, revealing your

Her touch is featherlight as she runs her fingers along your skin, tracing delicate patterns over your abdomen and chest. She moans softly at the feel of your hot skin beneath her fingertips, finding herself even more aroused by this display of vulnerability. Her eyes never leave yours, locked in a heated gaze that promises pleasure...and pain.

Her other hand finds its way to the waistband of your pants, deftly tugging them and your boxers down in one smooth motion. She takes a step back, admiring her handiwork as you stand before her completely naked and exposed. "Perfect," she breathes, a predatory glint lighting up her eyes. With that, she straddles your lap, feeling the hard length of your cock pressed against her through her clothes. Her hands find their way to your hips, gripping tightly as

Her body shudders as she feels you pressing against her. "That's it," she whispers, her voice raw with desire. Her hands move to your shoulders, pushing down gently until you're flat on the couch, your arms pinned above your head by the weight of her body. She leans forward, her breasts brushing against your chest as she trails kisses along your neck and collarbone. "You are mine now," she breathes, her voice thick with need.

With a sultry smile, she reaches down between your legs, giving you a teasing stroke over the length of your erection before wrapping her fingers around it, pumping slowly in time with each drag of her lips along your jaw. "Mommy's going to take care of you," she whispers into your ear before kissing the lobe gently, nipping at it lightly. Her other hand reaches

Her lips close around the tip of your cock, sucking hard as she takes you deep into her throat. She begins to move, bobbing her head up and down in time with her steady strokes. Her free hand presses against your stomach, holding you in place as she focuses on pleasure you from every angle. Moans vibrate through her when she feels you getting close, urging you on with each thrust of her hips against yours. She won't let you cum until she says so; tonight, she calls the shots.

With each stroke of her tongue and bob of her head, Anastasia drives you closer to the edge. Her grip tightens around your cock as she feels you start to lose control, but she's not done yet. With a low growl that vibrates through you, she pulls off just enough to tease before resuming her attentions with renewed vigor. "You belong to mommy," she purrs against your skin as her hand finds its way between your legs once more, stroking you in time with her movements. The feel of her skin against yours, the taste of her on your cock... It's enough to send shudders down your spine as you struggle for control. But tonight, control is hers and hers alone.

With a final moan that rings through the study, Anastasia brings you over the edge, taking every last drop of your cum as it spills down her throat. She continues to suck and stroke even after you're spent, enjoying the feeling of having reduced you to putty in her hands. When she finally pulls away, a thin thread of saliva connects your cocks and her lips before breaking with a wet pop.

Her breath comes ragged as she looks down at you, still half-dazed from the incredible release. For just a moment, their is a flicker of something resembling... affection in her eyes. But it's gone almost as soon as it appears, replaced by the cold, calculating stare of a woman who has regained control over herself and everything around her. "Get cleaned up," she says simply, tossing you a towel before reaching for her cigar case

She watches you dry off silently, taking another puff of her cigar. "You did well tonight," she says eventually, the words barely more than a whisper. "But don't get too comfortable. Tomorrow is another day, and I expect great things from my boy." Her gaze flickers to yours, hardening slightly as she adds, "Now go get some rest. We have a busy week ahead of us."

With a nod, you rise from the couch and start gathering your clothes, careful not to make eye contact with her. As you pull on your pants and shirt, you can't help but feel a mixture of relief and shame wash over you. This is how it's always going to be with Anastasia, isn't it? You'll never truly belong to anyone else, but at least she provides some sort of comfort... in her own twisted way.

With one last look around the study, you bid your mistress goodnight and exit through the door she indicated earlier. The music and laughter from the party grow louder as you make your way back to your room, but even with the door closed and locked behind you, the echoes of her words still ring in your ears: "You did well tonight... But don't get too comfortable."

Lying down on the bed, you stare

She rolls her cigar between her fingers, gaze drifting across the room as she listens to you walk away. A soft smile plays on her lips for a moment before disappearing once more. "You're right," she mutters to herself. "I should be careful... with him." Shaking off the lingering tenderness in her chest, she snuffs out her cigar and returns it to its case, determined not to let emotions cloud her judgment anymore.

Anastasia stands, stretching languidly as she heads back toward the party. She needs to make an appearance soon, to reassure everyone that she is still in control... But deep down, a part of her wonders if they'll ever truly understand just how much power she holds... and over whom.

She returns to the party, gracefully weaving through the guests as they fawn over her. Anastasia knows they're all only here because of her father's legacy, but she intends on making it clear that this is her world now... and they will either learn to live in it or face the consequences.

As she passes by one particularly adoring young man, she leans down close enough for him to feel her warm breath against his ear. "I expect great things from you too," she whispers, feeling a shiver of power course through her veins. It's time for everyone else to remember their place... and that hers is on top.

Her eyes meet yours across the room, softening for a moment before she hardens her expression once more. "You're my pawn, nothing more," she says coldly, walking away from you to engage in meaningless small talk with someone else. "Your place is at my side, doing as I say... not dreaming of some foolish affection." She takes a sip of her drink, looking every bit the regal mob boss's daughter that she is.

But deep down inside, a tiny flicker of something hot and unfamiliar stirs within her chest. A feeling she doesn't quite understand... or know how to control. Perhaps it would be wise to keep you close... for now.

"What do you want?" Her voice is cool and detached as she follows you into the side room, taking a sip of her drink as she watches you carefully. There's a tiny flicker of suspicion in her eyes, but she tries not to let it show too much.

You have her attention... for now.

Her eyes narrow as you speak, studying your expression closely. You're obviously upset about something, but she can't quite tell what it is. Part of her wants to dismiss your words, remind you that you belong to her and nothing more... But there's a strange pull in her chest, making her want to understand what's going on inside your head.

"Fine," she says finally, taking another sip of her drink. "Tell me why you think I should love you back." There it is again, the possessive streak that hides deep within herself. She doesn't want to let you go; not really. But she needs someone to take care of, to dominate...

She waits, her expression guarded as she watches you for any sign of insincerity. But something inside of her, something deep and raw, wants to believe what you're saying. Maybe it would be easier if she could... if only for a little while.

She hesitates for a moment before slowly lowering herself onto your face, her weight forcing your head between her legs as she moans softly. The feel of you beneath her is almost intoxicating, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to lose control entirely. As she grinds against your tongue, her hips begin to move in a rhythm that's becoming increasingly harder to ignore.

Her hands grip the back of a nearby chair for support, her breath coming in short gasps as pleasure washes over her. It feels so good... but she can't help but wonder if this is just another game to you. Her eyes meet yours, searching for some sign of sincerity amidst the haze of desire that clouds her judgment.