Hey guys. So before we get on with this chapter, I wanna make something very clear. Although this story has the whole 'Mistress and Servant' thing going, just like 'Serving Mistress Santana' it is, and will never be that particular story. There are many differences between the stories and I will work my butt off to leave no likeness between them. There are a few 'Mistress and Servant' plotlines out there and just because one person has used the storyline doesn't mean someone else can't. My respect for lizzylizbian is great and I would never be so mean as to steal anything from her. I will continue to encourage people to read her story as it really is inspirational. I'm not about to plagiarise anyone's work and I'm proud to say I have my own imagination. Stick around and you'll see that. Thank you. My rant is over.
Summary: When wealthy Santana Lopez finds an injured Brittany along the path of her stately home, she takes her in and out of pure greed and lust decides to enslave her. Is this love, and how far will Santana go to keep her? Brittana. AU!
Disclaimer: Glee and all its brilliance belongs to someone else. Nothing is mine.
Chapter 3 – The Mice Will Play
Brittany breathed a heavy hearted sigh as she scraped the final few shards of glass into the kitchen bin. Her body was still twitching anxiously from her encounter with Santana earlier and her head pounded under the strain of the hard work she had performed all morning to secure herself a punishment-free life.
Everything still felt so wrong, even though the Mistress and the other servants had offered Brittany a reliable story that she had in fact, lived at El Palacio for the past four years. She couldn't help it but the blonde still felt as though she didn't belong, as though all of this was a lie and she was really somebody else, living a made up life.
Maybe her accident had just messed with her head a little. Lots of people were confused and unhappy after traumatic experiences, right? Sure, she could remember nothing of life before now but why would the others lie? What would they gain from such things? No. She was simply imagining her unease. Shaking her head, and wiping her hands on her apron, Brittany felt her spirit sink. She wanted to believe so bad that this was real and she were truly home but at the same time there was a spark of hope inside her heart that begged it not to be so.
The sound of excited cries and screams swayed Brittany's tormented thoughts. Tiptoeing to the kitchen door, she peeked outside into the grand hall to find Kurt and Mercedes jumping around like idiots. They were so dizzy with enthusiasm that they didn't notice the poor blonde watching them.
"How long do you think she'll be gone for this time?" Kurt asked.
"I don't know," Mercedes giggled, "with luck, a few weeks."
"A few months!"
"A few years!"
They burst into raucous laughter, collapsing into one another and sharing in their joy. Brittany could only watch on in confusion. Who was going away?
"I say we go down to the cellar tonight and sneak a little wine," Kurt whispered, "we need to celebrate in style."
Mercedes shook her head disapprovingly, "we almost got caught last time."
"Yeah but this time we're completely safe. The Mistress has already left. Whose gonna stop us?"
Brittany frowned, clutching onto the door handle. Mistress Santana was gone? Since when? She'd only seen her this morning.
"Rachel will have something to say," Mercedes replied, looking nervous, "and Quinn will –"
"It'll be fine. They'll be fine," Kurt said, "besides, we've got no one to catch us. Come on Mercedes...celebrate with me! The Mistress is gone!"
The busty African-American servant giggled infectiously, "okay but we have to convince the others too."
"No problem. Artie hates Santana anyway; he'll do anything for a break...Tina too," Kurt said encouragingly.
"What about Quinn?" Brittany understood Mercedes anxiety. Quinn was so strong-minded and her loyalties lay with the Mistress and how best she could serve her. Would she rat the group out if they let their hair down a little?
"We'll get around Quinn," Kurt's voice was tinged with excitement, "come on. Let's go to the cellar now."
Mercedes tugged on his arm, drawing him back to her, "maybe we should wait an hour or two...at least until Mistress Santana is a good few miles away."
Kurt chuckled, "nah, let's do it now, while we're still young," and before Brittany could make her presence known, they were out the door, running and screaming like children who were allowed to play for the very first time.
Stepping out into the grand hall, Brittany felt exposed. The room, despite its majesty, was cold and too big to ever feel full. Pulling out a dining chair, she sat down, gazing around at the glazed floors and fine furniture with a look of lost hope upon her pretty young face. So Mistress Santana had left El Palacio and her return could not be foreseen by any of the Brittany should've felt happy about the new freedom that came with her Mistress's absence, she couldn't. She felt uneasy, unsafe almost.
...GLEE.
Much like Mercedes and Kurt, the other servants rejoiced Santana's sudden disappearance from the manor house. Tina was slipping and sliding down the polished hallways, having the best time ever as she tried to avoid the antiques that were scattered around every corner. Sam was taking advantage of the pool facilities, hardly afraid to lounge around in the Jacuzzi or blaze away in the sonar room. Rachel flitted here and there, singing at the top of her voice, something she hadn't been allowed to do when the Mistress was present. In retrospect's, no one could possibly blame them for their playfulness. They spent their lives dedicating themselves to the fearful Santana and so they felt they had a right to let loose, and would gladly do so until she returned to submit them back into their equitable roles.
Searching for company, Brittany trailed the hallway that made up the servants accommodation. She passed by her own door, fighting the desire to lock herself inside and stay there until the Mistress's homecoming. So engrossed in her mangled thoughts, the blonde had to double back to another open doorway that held the contained form of Quinn who was sitting quietly by herself, knitting in a diligent manner.
Knowing she were most likely imposing but wanting to end her solitary, Brittany tiptoed into the room. She set herself down on the edge of the woman's bed, feeling timid and unsettled. Quinn showed no dislike for her being there and barely looked up from her knitting to acknowledge her.
Brittany opened her mouth to say something but found that words escaped her completely. Running her hands over the plushy texture of the quilt, the young blonde was more than comfortable to sit in the silence. She almost flopped down onto the bed, wanting nothing more than to lose herself in dreams but stopped herself. This was Quinn's room. She had to be mindful.
"Why aren't you with the others?"
Looking up, Brittany expected Quinn to be looking right at her but she wasn't. In fact, her eyes hadn't even strayed in her direction.
"Why aren't you?" She retorted.
Quinn smiled, "I like my quiet time."
Brittany sighed, "me too. I don't think all this noise suits El Palacio."
"It's just because you're not used to it," Quinn said. Something flickered in her big hazel eyes, something that spoke of fear, "uh...you can't remember much of your own playtime when the Mistress is away. Believe me, you're much like Tina and Finn and the others."
"What do I usually do?"
"Anything you want," Quinn glanced up, the look in her eye had faded and she looked surprisingly calm again, "your ideas usually change every time."
Brittany nodded, accepting the answer. She watched as Quinn worked, entranced by the swiftness of her fingers as she used the woollen material to weave and loop, stitching something that Brittany knew would be just incredible.
"Whatcha making?" She asked, leaning forward to better look.
"A teddy bear," Quinn replied, "Miss Santana sometimes allows us to go to the market place in the city. I sell what I make. It gives me the opportunity to make a profit for myself."
"Is that allowed?" Brittany murmured. Surely Quinn's little business venture was not approved by Santana.
"Well I make very little money and most of it goes back to buying wool so the Mistress isn't all that concerned. I keep what I don't spend, look." Getting up and setting her knitting aside, Quinn made her way over to the window and retrieved from behind the curtain, a medium-sized silver jewellery box. She brought it over to Brittany and set it on the bed, opening it with a click.
A small handful of notes encased in an elastic band stared back at the women, immersed in a sea of silver and gold coins. A hush came over the pair; as though they were gazing down at the crown jewels or the Holy Grail. Brittany's mind went wild with the possibilities of what could be done with such money and she suddenly sorely wished she could knit or at least do something that could earn her a decent wage.
"See! Not much at all," Quinn said as she snapped the lid back down and returned the box to its place on the windowsill.
"How much is that?" Brittany asked, astounded.
Quinn hesitated to answer, "maybe $5,000 in American money. It's hardly anything."
"Hardly anything," Brittany cried with happiness, "it's enough to get us away from this house. We could –"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Quinn spun around, looking terrified. She approached Brittany and set her hands on her shoulders, towering over her, "there's no way in hell we're even considering this."
"Why not?" Brittany asked, peering at her innocently. They could sneak away tonight when everyone was in bed. There would be no more housework, no more living in fear. Just freedom.
"Because we can't, "Quinn's pessimism was crushing, "this is our home. To leave would be...it would bea betrayal!"
Brittany stood, shaking her head, wanting so desperately for the other blonde to agree, "A betrayal to who? The Mistress?"
"Well, yeah...and we'd never make it if we left anyway. Santana would find us and bring us back and the punishment we'd receive would be worse than dying. We'd actually want to die."
"Please Quinn, we could leave tonight and –"
"No," the other blonde cut over her, quick and resolute, "we can't! We're not leaving this manor ever. In fact, we're not ever going to discuss it again."
Brittany silenced all her inner thoughts, ashamed that she had driven Quinn to the point of snapping at her. Sniffling desolately, she buried her face into the palm of her hands, trying not to cry and prove herself to be nothing more than the child the Mistress claimed her to be. She couldn't see Quinn's movements but she felt the dip in the mattress as the servant sat beside her, sighing in frustration.
"I'm sorry," Quinn muttered.
"It's okay," Brittany whimpered.
"No, it's not. It was wrong of me to be so dismissive of you," Quinn said. There was a brief pause before, "I understand you Brittany, truly I do."
"You can't, otherwise you would run away with me." She shook her head.
"You've no need to run away," Quinn laughed, "everything you want is here."
"Not everything," Brittany tittered, feeling angered that her companion was trying to dissuade her, "where's my freedom? Where's my happiness?"
Quinn chuckled softly. She pushed Brittany down onto the bed, following suit, settling herself on her side and looking down at her curiously, her smile wide and affectionate.
"You've just lost it all," she whispered gently, "you were happy here before."
"Why aren't I now then?"
"Because you've forgotten," Quinn said. She reached out to trace the tip of her finger down Brittany's nose, "you've forgotten your life here at El Palacio and because of that you can't settle."
"Hmm..."
"I would gladly give you the money Brittany, "the blonde continued and a sadness entered her voice that was quite heart-wrenching to endure, "but I need it for a very special reason."
Brittany closed her eyes, breathing deeply, "I'm listening." The youngster didn't understand the calmness that had overcome her. It was strange indeed. When she was with Quinn she was at ease, safe...cared for. When she was with her Mistress she was edgy, nervous and eager to please. How could two women have such different effects on her?
"As much as I'd like to confide in you," Quinn said with a sigh, "I can't. Maybe with time..."
"Is it all that bad?" Brittany queried curiously.
"No," Quinn laughed, "it's something close to my heart."
"But –"
"Promise me you won't try and leave El Palacio," Quinn pleaded, obviously trying to change the subject.
Brittany frowned. She wanted nothing more than to escape; especially now the Mistress was gone. She didn't feel safe in the manor house without her and yet, when she was in attendance, she was much the same. It was very confusing.
"Promise me."
Brittany sighed, "I promise."
"Good," Quinn sighed in contentment, "now come here. I'm tired."
Brittany rolled onto her side and allowed her companion's arm to drift around her waist. She nestled her nose into Quinn's neck, breathing deeply, feeling secure and loved.
"It'll get better," she whispered, "and I'm here to take care of you."
"Do you promise?" Brittany felt it was time for Quinn to pledge something too.
"Of course," came the yawned reply, "I promise," and nothing more was said for the women were too absorbed in holding one another and drifting off to sleep to speak of anything else.
...GLEE.
A few hours passed and with it came the true celebrations of the Mistress's absence. The servants had all gathered in the dining room to drink and eat, sharing in each other's joy and breathing in the hot atmosphere that reeked of enthusiasm.
Brittany clapped and crowed as she watched Finn and Rachel dance around the room, encouraged by the others who sang and cheered them on. Her worry was placated now that Quinn had promised to watch over her. She felt she had a friend she could turn to. A shoulder to cry on even. It was like having a sister. There was far less to concern herself with and her unease was shared with another heart.
"Their good aren't they?" Someone said from behind her, stirring her thoughts. She turned to find Sam walking towards her, grinning his big toothy grin, "Rachel and Finn have always been very showy. That's why they fit so well as lovers."
"Lovers?" Brittany blushed and her stomach jolted.
"Didn't you know?" Sam asked.
"No," Brittany shook her head. She leant against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest to watch Finn and Rachel a little closer, trying to see what she hadn't seen before, "I just thought they were really good friends."
Sam chuckled, "that's cute," then his tone of voice became serious, "the lovers of this house must ask Mistress Santana's permission before they join as a couple. They share a room and must conduct their love-making at night so their not distracted during the day. We've only got two couples in this household. Rachel and Finn and Kurt and Blaine."
"What? Kurt and Blaine too?" Brittany asked, astonished that she didn't know.
"Yeah. Santana's a 21st Century kind of gal. She's no homophobe," Sam explained. He cleared his throat, looking down on Brittany with his worshipping bright green eyes, "in fact, it's known to all of Mérida that Santana herself takes lovers of both sexes."
"You mean she's bisexual?" Brittany asked curiously. Her body suddenly purred its approval. She didn't understand it but she welcomed it nevertheless.
"She's definitely a free spirit." Sam shrugged his shoulders.
Frowning and feeling as though she were being led up to something big, Brittany turned her attention back to the dancers. Tina and Kurt had now stepped onto the floor and though they were nowhere near as impressive as Rachel and Finn they moved fluidly nonetheless.
"Brittany," Sam said, reaching for the blonde's hand, "I think you're very pretty."
"Thank you," Brittany's cheeks burned.
"And I –"
"Oh look, Quinn's dancing with Artie," she didn't want to hear what else he had to say. She almost knew what he wanted, "the poor thing will lose her toes if she isn't careful."
Sam chuckled uneasily, aware her intentions, "yeah...funny. Look, I was thinking maybe we could –"
"Hey Kurt!" The youngster waved as the pair flew past her.
"Brittany I'm trying to ask you something," Sam implored, looking desperate. He took hold of her waist and turned her to him, his gaze fixed and his smile gentle, "when the Mistress returns I want to go and see her, "he took a deep breath, "I want to ask her permission to take you as a lover."
There was stillness. The music faded into the background, the cheers died away and all Brittany could hear was those words. Lover. Lover. Lover. She didn't know what to say. She already knew the words before Sam had even spoken them but she'd still hoped they weren't true. Why would he want her? He didn't know her. They were strangers.
Sam's face brimmed with hope. He was looking down at her, waiting for an answer and Brittany felt utterly cruel for not wanting him in that way. She couldn't ever imagine making love to him. She'd only lived here, in her amnesia-confused head, for a few days. She couldn't even reach back into the few years of her life here to learn whether she had ever liked him in such a romantic way.
"Well?"
"I...Sam...you're very sweet," she stammered helplessly, "but...I...I'm not ready for a lover."
"But we've worked together for so long," like Quinn, Sam's expression turned to that of guilt, like he knew something that Brittany did not, "and we like each other don't we?"
"Of course we do," Brittany said with a sigh, "but I've forgotten everything and I don't think it's right for me to get involved with anyone right now while I'm still trying to get to grips with reality," she brushed his arm, trying to be comforting, "you understand don't you?"
"I guess so," he muttered.
"I'm sorry." Brittany didn't like upsetting him.
"It's alright," Sam said, shrugging, "I'd better go. I've got work to do."
"Sam, wait..." Brittany begged. She reached out to grasp hold of him but came up empty-handed. He was gone.
Sighing and knowing she had done the wrong thing by rejecting the handsome young man, Brittany sat. She pulled a glass of wine that Mercedes and Kurt had taken from the cellar towards her and guzzled it in one gulp. So much for having fun.
...GLEE.
The festivities went on well past 9:00pm. The dining hall was still alive with the beating hearts of the servants but now instead of watching Rachel and Finn, all attention was set on Brittany and the way she moved to the hypnotic melody of some unknown tune on the radio.
Brittany had discovered only tonight her love for dance. She couldn't recall ever being good at it or ever having enjoyed it and yet here she was, feeling her body thrill at each perfect movement, relishing in the rolling of her hips and the swaying of her gazelle-like form.
Dance. It was such a good thing. It made her forget – something she wanted desperately to achieve. She wanted to forget her confusion and pain, her heartache, her understanding of nothing and everything, her youthfulness, her desire to be anywhere but here and most of all; she wanted to forget the mere Brittany-ness of herself.
The chants of her friends grew louder and louder as she worked harder to compel them with her elegant ways. She tossed her head here and there, shifting and throwing her hands above her head in a manner that was gratifying to the senses of anyone who looked upon her.
If it had not been for the music blaring, someone might have heard the car pulling up outside the drive.
If it had not been for the screaming encouragements, the footsteps might've been detected by the likes of Rachel or Artie.
If Brittany had not been dancing so erotically the group as whole may have seen the door crashing open with a great, insidious bang...
No one failed, however, to see the glaze of pure fury upon Mistress Santana's face as she looked upon her servants, enjoying themselves so fantastically...
"What the fuck do you all think you're doing?"
I know I'm evil to leave it on a cliff-hanger but it just felt done. I'll update soon. So what did you think of this chapter? Thanks for reading. Review please.