06-14-2022, 12:35 AM
(CW - Adult themes)
She knew she had a somewhat safe place to be when it came to the Diamond Pony. She wasn't being forced into it, she wasn't owned, and she had yet to take money for a roll in the sheets. Indeed, even after the party, her virginity was, alas, still intact. She had been fretting too much over the mistress who had disappeared during the ball. But that could not be helped. The young miss sat alone in the parlor, nursing a brandy but barely sipping on it.
Octavia had plenty to think about but she didn't want to think about it. She was feeling a little down about how her life had taken such a turn that she chose the life of a courtesan over clearing her name. Nobody believed fallen women even when they weren't fallen. Her reputation was in tatters all because she refused to bed the smelly old fart of a laird who had one eye and no teeth. For that, she had been branded a whore.
Her eyes half closed as she tasted of the nectar that was brandy, the amber liquid no longer burning on it's way down to her stomach. She then downed the rest and set the crystal tumbler down, tipping it so she could look at the bottom where the remaining droplets glistened. She reached for the decanter and poured herself another. She promised that would be the last taste of spirits she would get, but God damn, did it take the edge off of the anger she felt toward Laird McAsshole. She gave a sigh and set the tumbler down firmly, pushing it and the decanter away, standing up, sticking the side of her thumb in between her front teeth.
She knew she had a somewhat safe place to be when it came to the Diamond Pony. She wasn't being forced into it, she wasn't owned, and she had yet to take money for a roll in the sheets. Indeed, even after the party, her virginity was, alas, still intact. She had been fretting too much over the mistress who had disappeared during the ball. But that could not be helped. The young miss sat alone in the parlor, nursing a brandy but barely sipping on it.
Octavia had plenty to think about but she didn't want to think about it. She was feeling a little down about how her life had taken such a turn that she chose the life of a courtesan over clearing her name. Nobody believed fallen women even when they weren't fallen. Her reputation was in tatters all because she refused to bed the smelly old fart of a laird who had one eye and no teeth. For that, she had been branded a whore.
Her eyes half closed as she tasted of the nectar that was brandy, the amber liquid no longer burning on it's way down to her stomach. She then downed the rest and set the crystal tumbler down, tipping it so she could look at the bottom where the remaining droplets glistened. She reached for the decanter and poured herself another. She promised that would be the last taste of spirits she would get, but God damn, did it take the edge off of the anger she felt toward Laird McAsshole. She gave a sigh and set the tumbler down firmly, pushing it and the decanter away, standing up, sticking the side of her thumb in between her front teeth.
