Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: Ibgy (Comment if you wish, or pm, feedback's always appreciated.)

It was as though nothing would have ever mattered if she hadn't met her mother for coffee. This was where she was validated, this is where she felt that anything she had ever done had some meaning. A fraction of a moment where that piercing, fixed, unflinching stare from those dull brown eyes that was anything besides indifferent was all she wanted. It had been all she had wanted since the stroke. Her hands rattled a cup against the saucer as she lifted it. Who has saucers under cups for coffee? She asked herself several times before she finally got the fit back into the center. It was either the cups were too large, or the saucers too small, a purposefully game of equal cruelty and frivolity in its exercise. This was not how it was to go, she was to sit down, look across the table and say these words with confidence. If her mother had been a hateful bitch these last few years, this would be easier. These things wouldn't have to be so hard, her hands wouldn't tremble and twist within themselves like the knot forming in her mind to find these words. How could she say it to that impassive glance? It would have been a tremendous relief to simply feel a stinging strike to her cheek when she had begun, a tender caress of a hot glob of phlegm, or the refrain of harsh words cursing her name, and being. It was none of that, simply acceptance before those thin, still, almost dead lips parted across the table. Its time for me to move on isn't it? The voice was frail, but steady. Her mind reeled at the idea of potentially making the wrong choice, but she couldn't afford to make this draw out any further. Yes Her voice was stronger, but trembling, marked by a hesitation in it. The hesitation you feel when going into the company of strangers, or walking into a dark room with no knowledge of a light switch. The tremendous fear of a harmless but still strangely crippling moment. She looked down to her cup, studying the brown black depths surrounded by white porcelain, the creeping receding sway of small waves that moved up and down the edges of an oubliette of Columbian roast, or was it French. I'm sorry the coffee is... She began before looking up, she was now alone, a neat empty cup sitting top down on the saucer before her. The chair tucked in, and what had been there gone. No footsteps, no door, no car, just emptiness, herself, and her barely warm cup. ...shit
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

1563 The Manse Delacroix was a rather new building, scarcely twenty years old, erected in the heart of Paris at tremendous expense. Many considered the heavy gothic architecture more suited to a cathedral than to a Baron's mansion, but perhaps it made for an easier transition from the countryside castle that Lord Delacroix had all but abandoned. It was hard to say if the Delacroix who had commissioned the Manse was the same one who governed it now. No one had heard of the Baron's death or any ceremony of succession, but the current lord of the manor could not have been more than thirty--or if he was, he was very blessed indeed. Some people reported that he had confided in them, that he was the same Baron, and that the secret for his youthful appearance was this or that or that it was his father who had commissioned the castle, when he was a boy of ten, or five, or before he was born or that he was a bastard or some sort of interloper who had taken over the Baron's name and title with no one the wiser. These claims never held up, of course the men who made them and they were almost always men had never even been invited to the Manse. Of course, even without demanding to see proof of invitation or correspondence, anyone who had met the Baron could have told you the claims were false. Not because Delacroix would not have shared the details, but because no one would ask. Those who had spoken to Delacroix and these were almost all women would tell you that there was simply no prying into his affairs. When they were around them, the thought would banish itself from their minds. Some might admit that most thoughts left them when they were with the man. And so Baron Delacroix was a remarkably public enigma. No one knew his age, or even his name no one knew his family's history or how he maintained the enormous fortune that allowed him to throw extravagant parties, sometimes as many as twice a month. But everyone knew about the parties, knew they were more lavish than the King's own although people were of course, careful not to say this where their words might reach His Majesty. Delacroix provided the finest food, wine, opium and entertainment to his guests. What most nobles did not know, or rather did not notice, was the amount of labor that went into preparing these parties. But the commoners noticed--there were always job openings at the Manse Delacroix. The pay was not much, but it came on top of room and board, and that was enough for most to take the job. It was enough for most to overlook the rumors, of servants disappearing. Of course, you could ask any of the staff and they'd tell you, oh yes she was sent off and it was always a she to the old castle, out in the countryside. The master only goes there sometimes in the summer, but they like to keep the place in good shape just in case, no mystery there. No mystery, save perhaps for why she had been transferred so suddenly, without a chance to say goodbye to anyone. The servants tended to overlook that, for a roof over their heads, a meal in their belly, and a bit of coin in their pocket. They couldn't afford not to.
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

Adalene rushed through the dimly lit halls, the Baron always preferred having the torches burned low. The poor lighting circumstances weren't the greatest for maids such as herself, however, as she often found herself tripping on loose planks, stone, or tearing her skirts on upturned nails. But today it wasn't the prospect of tripping over rough terrain that made her stride through the Manse at a quickened pace, it was her first meeting with the Baron himself that made her move so quickly. The young maid had worked in the Manse for nearly a month by now, but she'd not once seen the Baron who the other maids often whispered about. She'd heard all the rumours, all the stories, but as a cynic they had little effect on her. Though it was strange how it was only the new maids who spun tales and gossiped about the Baron, or the Manse itself as the older maids who'd been here for far longer barely uttered a single phrase to the newbies unless it was a command. The maid swept the thoughts aside for now, she needed to concentrate on the meeting that would soon occur. She went over the procedures in her head, what to say, how to respond to questions, she had to make a good impression of course. How else was she to get any higher in this job? Perhaps if she made a grand presentation of herself today she would soon be promoted to a higher tier of maid. The girl had dressed to make such an impression. Her black and white outfit was freshly washed, pressed out to look all neat and new. She'd taken the gamble and decided the Baron would be into newer, more risque styles and chose the top with the looser cleavage to better show off her breasts. She had a bust to brag about, even though she was only sixteen they had grown to be quite sizeable. She'd paid great attention to her face, ensuring her makeup was evenly distributed across her pale skin, her eyebrows neatly trimmed to form a nice curve over her cute doe-like pale blue eyes. She elected to show her pious side, and her small iron cross now dangled joyfully atop her chest as she quickly moved through the halls. At first she was confident of the meeting, she was sure it would go well. But then as she got closer and closer to the Baron's chambers the whispers of the other maids grew louder in her mind, all the tales of the Baron's cruelty, his mysterious nature or the foul things they said of maids who no longer enjoyed servitude to the Baron. They couldn't be true, could they? She doubted the other newer maids had even seen the Baron, as they always gave conflicting stories of his looks and attitudes. But maybe they had, maybe they weren't telling lies to gain favour with their coworkers. The thought sent a shiver down her spine and her pace began to lose its haste. Finally, the large delightfully carved wooden doors of the Baron's chamber stood erect before her. Her heart throbbed in her chest, and though it was hard for her to bring herself to do it, she finally sent her knuckles to fall upon the door in a quick quiet knock. She awaited for her master's call to enter, at which point she would walk in to look upon him for the first time.
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

The maiden froze as the voice sounded from somewhere in the room, goosebumps immediately forming on her skin. Her muscles clenched and she found herself unable to move, his voice just had such a powerful quality to it, and it struck her like lightning. She took in his looks as he moved to stand before her, noting how handsome he was, and quickly dispelling the thought as inappropriate. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, were the maids telling the truth, the whole truth, not just partial truths? She hoped not, she didn't want the cruel stories to be true. She was so consumed in thought she didn't respond for several seconds, and forgot her courtesies. Adalene gasped as she remembered, dipping her knees and bowing her head in a curtsy before speaking Yes, my lord, to confirm her name before quickly thanking him for his welcomes. It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord, she said shakily next as she kept her head bowed. Her body betrayed her nervousness as she shifted subtly on her feet, goosebumps spread across her normally smooth and pale skin.
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

Delacroix almost chuckled to see the girl freeze up, if only for a few seconds. Less than a minute in his presence, and already she seemed helplessly overwhelmed. How delightful. Still, he held in his laughter. He didn't want to give her the wrong impression. Or rather, he didn't want to give her the right impression just yet. He wanted to play a little longer. When she lowered her head, and could no longer see his face, his eyes narrowed as he appraised her hungrily. His lips curled into a predatory grin. She was beautiful, but he had already known that--and how dare the head maid keep such a lovely creature from her master's eyes for so long. But now what Delacroix was noting were her clothes and makeup, how she had decided to present herself to him. She had clearly taken great pangs with her appearance, and he could hardly find fault with her vanity. Why shouldn't the beautiful be vain? He certainly was, and did not apologize for it. Besides, Delacroix was far more interested in the fact that she had put in all this work to impress him. That was good. She was a perfect cocktail of dread, desire, and a desperate need to please. And he was very pleased. The cross was... not a problem, and he hesitated even to call it a challenge. It was a diversion, and a welcome one at that. Like the ties on a lady's bodice, the delay it caused would only give him more time to savor her. Delacroix wondered, idly, if she had been advised to wear it when meeting him. Surely none of his more experienced staff would have bothered to warn her even if they thought it would do her any good, they were all far too broken to care. Too beyond saving to ever attempt to save another. But, he knew there were rumors, among the newcomers, among the common folk of Paris. He enjoyed them, encouraged them even, but he hadn't heard any of them that might suggest one should confront him with crosses. If that was the case, he couldn't say he minded. But it might simply have been for show. It didn't cross his mind that she was simply devout enough to wear a crucifix as a matter of course. Not when she had chosen that dress. He reached out to cup his hand under her chin, lifting her face to gaze into her eyes. His expression had reverted to the gentle smile from before. His fingers were slightly cool against her skin, and incredibly soft. You've been with us for a month now, yes? How are you settling in? He pulled his hand away from her and turned his back to her, but with one finger beckoned her to follow him as he approached the bookshelf. Tell me a little about yourself, Adalene. Have you always lived in Paris? Do you have any family?
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

Adalene flinched slightly as his oddly cool fingers stroked her chin, it was a hot summer's day after all. She kept her eyes from meeting with his, something about them just put her off. You are correct, my lord, she said shakily as Delacroix turned around, prompting her to follow him. She eyed the room once more briefly once she was safe from his gaze, and then quickly looked his form up and down. He had such a slick and calculated way of moving, he was such an odd man, though she couldn't quite finger why. No, my lord, my family lived in Normandy, though we weren't Normans, she explained as she moved delicately behind him, checking her steps to ensure she didn't trip in the dim light. My mother and father and I moved here because father got a job painting churches and ballrooms, she continued, Though, father hurt himself when he fell from a scaffold, so I had to find a job to help out him and mother she went on, it soon became apparent that the girl had a way to rave on. If not stopped by the Baron, she would continue on to detail her father's back injury, her mother's grief, her mother's loathing of her daughter's new job, even their small little two room home in the poor area of Paris. She would gain confidence in her speaking, losing herself and forgetting who she was talking to.
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

The girl snapped to reality with Delacroix's cackling. Suddenly, all the feelings of dread and anxiety flooded back into her twofold. She went to speak, to apologise for her rambling but the Baron beat her to it. The maids heart dropped and sunk ever lower aa he spoke, that limb freezing fear returning to her. She flinched to his touch as he slid his fingers into her long black wavy hair, neatly tied back into a large high ponytail. Out of view, she closed her eyes and prayed she wouldn't lose her job over a foolish choice of attire. She had just wanted to seem pious, but clearly it was a mistake. Suddenly, her head was jerked back by the hair, a small whimper escaping from her as the Baron issues his command. O-of course, my lord she stuttered in fear, shaking hands reaching upward to unlatch the cross at the back, struggling heavily. Finally though, the latch released and Adalene dropped the chain, allowing the cross to clutter to the floor. She felt naked now, as though she had lost some layer of clothing.
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

Nothing happened as she fumbled with the necklace, when she unclasped it, pulled it away from her neck. Even as it slipped from her fingers, nothing changed. Only when the tiny piece of metal hit the floor did the fog roll into her mind. It was a thought, or a feeling, too immense to think and too intense to feel, and it made everything fuzzy. Everything except the Baron. Whatever it was flooding her mind, it was about him , and while it was a struggle to process the world around her or to organize her thoughts, focusing on Delacroix was easy. The feeling of his had in her hair was crystal clear as he released his grip and began to stroke her scalp gently with his fingertips. When he spoke, now in a satisfied murmur, the sound cut cleanly through the fog. Excellent.
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

Adalene's brow furrowed in confusion as her mind began to fall cloudy, thoughts beginning difficult to process. She raised a few fingers to her forehead to find that she had started to sweat slightly, she hadn't noticed in this haze she found herself in. But there was one thing clear - Delacroix. All her thoughts led to him, or originated from him, he was the only important thing in her mind. She felt those thin cold fingers gently probing through her thick black hair, sliding across her scalp. It felt so clear, so relaxing, so good . Gulping, she closed her eyes and embraced the feeling as her limbs relaxed.
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

Delacroix sighed with satisfaction as Adalene seemed to relax slightly. That's good... my obedient servant. His fingertips slipped down the back of her head, past the base of her skull, tracing her spinal column. He slipped his hand around to the front of her neck, three fingers gently wrapping around her throat as his forefinger reached up to lay across her chin, settling his fingertip on her lower lip as his thumb traced her jawline. She was so soft... so wonderful. His other arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her gently to him, pressing her warm back to his bare chest. Through her dress, she probably could not feel the same coolness of his skin as she did with his hands, but neither was there any warmth. He leaned his head forward, burying his face in her hair, his breath rolling through the dark locks and over her scalp. He shifted forward and planted a gentle kiss to her temple. He pressed his palm against her waist and slid it up her stomach, shifting to the right as he reached her rib cage. Soon he was cupping her hand over her breast. Because of the low cut of her dress, his thumb and some of his palm settled on her bare skin as he squeezed her gently, experimentally. She was quite impressive... he lowered his head and gave her another kiss, this time high on her cheek, just below her eye.
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

Adalene made no resistance as the Baron explored her body. Her heart thudded in her chest, her flesh flushing red with warmth as that warm fuzzy feeling filled her. She kept her eyes squeezed shut as his cool lips brushed against her skin in delicate kisses. The baron's hand crept up her flat stomach, sliding over the smooth fabric of her dress and creeping up onto her soft and malleable bust. The room around her faded into nothingness, all she could think about was him. But then was a thought, a sudden grasp at piety as he begun to squeeze her breast. M-my lord, she uttered breathlessly as she tried to softly pull away from him, this is not proper. She knew it was wrong, to do such a thing with a man out of wedlock, perhaps he was testing her? Seeing if she was impure? She couldn't take the risk, she couldn't disappoint him .
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

Adalene's attempt to pull away seemed half-hearted, even with the feeble strength of her slim body. Delacroix didn't even really need to tighten his grip to keep her in place. He did it anyway. Fingers dug into her breast, the nail of his pinky leaving a slight tear in her dress, and his hand tensed slightly around her windpipe. He didn't completely cut off her air, but he certainly made breathing hard. Proper? he hissed into her ear. I decide what's proper in my house, Adalene. Don't you think that's proper? That a man be master in his own home? That a servant in that home submit to her master? Then he eased his grip on her throat and bosom, sliding his hands instead to rest on Adalene's shoulders. He kneaded them gently, then began to shift his hands back and forth, dragging the neckline of her garment with them. First he would expose one shoulder, then cover it again as he slid her dress to the other side to bare the other. All the while, gentle, cool kisses traced their way down her cheek and throat.
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

Adalene whimpered as he took a tight grip, a slight pain tinging in her breast as his nails dug in. The tearing noise of her dress seemed far off and irrelevant to her as she whispered again, still out of breathe, A-apologies, my lord, you are quite right, she uttered. Relief washed over her as he loosened his grip, delicate hands shifting to her shoulders and toying with her dress. The warm air brushed against her smooth, pale shoulders as the Baron examined them. She shivered as the cool lips danced on her flesh, prickly goosebumps often emerging as the lips took their leave. She felt so exposed, powerless, yet it was beginning to feel so right, like she truly wanted this. Wanted him . Her arm found itself drifting upward, probing upward for his hair, to probe her little fingers through his scalp as he had done. She leaned back into him, head resting against him as he continued to kiss her. Finally, her mouth opened to take a sharp breathe, that cute little hissing sound emerging from her maw as she sucked in some air. The maid was beginning to succumb to her sudden lusts.
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

I'm always right, he murmured in reply. Delacroix gave a soft, contented groan as she pressed herself against him. Oh, she was perfect. Delacroix had his pick of high society, and indulged in their company frequently. In his bed at this very moment, in fact, were a Comtessa and the daughter of a Marquise, both envied beauties of the royal court, both utterly lost in the raptures of the flesh. He doubted either of them remembered their names yet, let alone their families. And yet neither compared to this peasant girl from Normandy--they may have been her match in beauty, though not her superior, but there was no competing with the way she worked her fingers into his hair. No whorish moan from a noblewoman could instill the desire Adalene did with her innocent little gasp. Her want was infectious, even to a man like Delacroix. But before he could give her what he wanted, he would have to take. But surely she wouldn't object. She already belonged to him, after all. He opened his mouth wide, the teeth of his lower jaw scraping against her skin. They were sharp, impossibly, inhumanly sharp--the only warning she got before he bit down into the soft tissue of her shoulder. Blood poured freely from the wound, aided by her racing heart, and he gulped it down ravenously. As he did, his own heart began to beat more vigorously, flooding his body with warmth. For the first time, his skin felt feverishly hot against Adalene's.
Thread: Blood by the Cross (Morathor/Hamadryad)

Adalene was lost in the moment, heemr mind swimming in all sorts of teenage fantasies about her master. Was this what love was like? She had fancied boys before, but she nor then had ever acted. Never had she been this close to a man before, never been felt in this way. But she likes it. It was all perfect for a long while in his arms, until she felt the scrape of thoaw inhuman teeth. The maid gasped as some clarity returned to her mind, but it was too late. Pain shot through her torso as the Baron sunk his mandibles into her. She writhed and wriggled and squealed in frightened pain as she tried to escape his grasp, but his grip was vice-like and his strength inhuman. Blood trickled down into her dress, staining the white frills of hee upper hems blood red. She cried outward as tears welled in her eyes.