Hi there folks! I know its been a while but I've had lots of work on. Here's another chapter for you all. I hope you enjoy. I've been working hard on it.
Warning: Contains a mild attempted rape scene.
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.
Chapter 9 – I Could Never Hurt You
It was a particularly early start that morning for the servants of El Palacio. In tight formation, they moved around the great manor house, tidying this and that, fixing the tiniest of imperfections and trying their damndest to make everything pristine. Those who weren't cleaning were in the kitchens, fixing up dishes and platters that could put even the finest dining to shame. Outside, lined in a row of three were massive trucks filled to the very top with the most expensive of alcoholic beverages. Marching in and out of the open doorway were delivery men, carrying in crates of exotic fruit, rich, nutty chocolates and other sweet delicacies that most folks would only dream of experiencing.
Brittany looked down at the erratic preparations for the big party and shook her head in dismay. It all seemed a bit too much, especially for the mere celebration of some silly contract her Mistress had made with a well-to-do diamond company. It was hardly fair that the servants had only learnt of this arrangement today. They had been woken up well before dawn and had started planning almost immediately, all exhausted, but too afraid to question or argue with Miss Santana.
Thinking of her Mistress sent Brittany's head alive with heat and bewilderment. Turning around, the blonde set herself down on the edge of her bed and breathed out a heavy sigh. What had happened last night? How did they get to the point in which kissing felt so natural? Brittany was terrified of Santana and didn't understand why they had done what they had done but at the same time...it felt good. It felt real.
Another thing to question was Miss Santana's behaviour. Brittany had no idea she could be so gentle. Her touch had been so reassuring...so comforting. It was as though someone had taken the woman she had always feared and replaced her with a soft and very human Santana Lopez. Brittany wasn't sure if she liked it. She wasn't even sure if she could accept it but ultimately, it had been wonderful.
Oh if only she hadn't hesitated. Brittany hadn't meant to pull back but her surprise, combined with unease had gotten the better of her. On the other hand, she was glad she had ended it the way she had. Miss Santana was her superior and she, Brittany, had nothing to offer but her service. Beside, to kiss Santana like that implied that...that...no! It made Brittany into something she most certainly wasn't! No. She didn't like women! Of course not. That was ridiculous. Wasn't it?
...GLEE.
It was around about midday when Brittany finally had the time to stop for a well deserved break, and though she wanted nothing more than to escape to her bed for the next half an hour, she found herself, in fact, heading to Quinn's room for comfort and a shoulder to cry on.
Slipping down the corridor that led to her destination, the young blonde did her best to avoid the other servants. She was fearful of meeting their gaze in case they knew of what she had done last night. She was frightened that it would be written all over her face or imprinted in her eyes. She couldn't be sure so it was best to hide away.
Reaching Quinn's door that was slightly ajar; Brittany prepared to knock but was struck still by the manly voice that reverberated through the tiny opening.
"Please, just listen to me." It was Mr Puckerman. He was pleading. He sounded desperate.
"I've told you time and time again," Quinn's replied angrily, "I want nothing of your explanations."
Brittany leant closer to the door, straining to listen. It was strange to hear Quinn in such a rage. Although she could not see her friend, she knew that the look on her face must be one of great disgust. The real question was, however, why she was shouting at Mr Puckerman in the first place?
"If you would just let me try," Puck said quietly, "perhaps you would understand."
"Understand?"
"Yes," he continued, meek as ever, "I only –"
"Understand?" Quinn said again, the word coming out in a ruthless spit, "how can I ever understand what you did to me? You took away my only happiness in this depressing, good for nothing world I'm stuck in."
In an attempt to better see, Brittany stepped into the open doorway a little more and peered inside the room, curious and very anxious. Then she saw them: Puck and Quinn, standing not too far from one another, a picture of true animosity. Quinn stood with her back to Puck, arms folded over her chest, glaring ahead with eyes filled with tears. Puck appeared more submissive and hopeless. His handsome gaze was upon the delicate young woman before him, somewhat desperate and pitiful.
"I'm sorry," Brittany heard him say, "I know you don't believe me but I mean it. I've never regretted anything more in my whole entire life."
"Then why did you allow Santana to dictate to you what you should do," Quinn said, shaking her head, "we could've been happy. You could've convinced her that –"
"I know," Puck cut her off, dejected.
Stepping forward, he reached out for Quinn, his hands cupping around her shoulders gently. For a moment, Brittany saw the way Quinn relaxed and smiled. There was something genuine and natural in the way they acted around each other – even when they were arguing – and it was quite wonderful to witness. Then, some of Quinn's anger returned and she wrenched herself out of his hold.
"I'd kill you if I could get away with it," she hissed through clenched teeth.
"Of course you wouldn't," Puck laughed.
"Yes I would," Quinn growled. She rounded on him and began to pound his chest with her fists, hard and fast. Puck took the attack as if it were nothing, allowing the servant woman to do as she pleased. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"
It was quite unbearable to watch. Quinn's punches only seemed to grow more frenzied and the more frustrated she became in the knowledge that she wasn't actually harming Puck. Eventually, exhaustion got the better of her and she slowed down to a defeated, breathless stop.
"I'm sorry," Puck whispered again.
"Get out," Quinn cried, refusing to look at him.
"Please," Puck muttered, "please just let me –"
"I said get out! Can't you just for once do as I ask?" Quinn's voice was strained from crying.
Mr Puckerman sighed but nodded reluctantly. He looked as if he wanted to move towards Quinn again but didn't. Instead, he walked slowly across the room to the door, sighing sadly as he went.
Brittany leapt back when she saw Puck approaching and quickly pressed herself up against the wall, trying to blend in as much as possible. Puck was completely unaware of her as he opened the door and turned in the opposite direction. It was as if Brittany wasn't even there as he stormed down the corridor, muttering incoherently under his breath, shoulders hunched as he left the scene.
Brittany watched him retreat in a dizzying haze of confusion. She found she couldn't pull her eyes away, even after he'd rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. She stood for quite some time, pressed up into the wall. She wanted to move but for some reason her feet felt as though they were anchored in place to the ground and moving would be damn near impossible to do.
So focused on trying to move, Brittany didn't notice the door swinging open – not until Quinn was standing directly beside her, tear-filled eyes gazing up at her inquisitively.
"Brittany," she sniffled, "what are you doing?"
"I'm sorry," Brittany answered, feeling embarrassed at having been caught, "I came by to see you but then...but then I heard –"
"Noah and I arguing," Quinn finished with a sigh.
"Who's Noah?"
Something of an amused smile flitted across for half a second, "Mr Puckerman."
"Oh...him...yeah." Brittany nodded.
"Come on," Quinn beckoned with her head to her room and stepped back for Brittany to move inside, which was obeyed in an instant. She set herself down on the edge of the bed and watched as Quinn strode back and forth, back and forth across the room, anxious and fidgety.
"Quinn," Brittany mumbled, "what's wrong? What's going on between you and Mr Puckerman."
"It's a long story," Quinn replied, "one that I'm too tired to explain right now." Stopping, she cast her gaze upon Brittany in a way that was curiously still. "What's happened with you?"
Now that she knew Quinn had her own problems to deal with, Brittany wasn't so keen on seeking comfort and advice.
"It's nothing," she answered.
"Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about absolutely anything, right?" Quinn said encouragingly.
"Yeah, I know," Brittany replied with a nod, "thanks. I guess I just needed some company."
Quinn came to sit beside Brittany on the bed, smiling in a manner that was softly patient. She set her hand down on Brittany's knee and rubbed it, trying to be consoling. Brittany closed her eyes at the sensation, relaxing in an instant. She knew that being with Quinn would make everything better. The woman just oozed maternal charm and she was exactly what Brittany needed to feel herself again.
Opening her eyes, the troubled blonde took a moment to take in Quinn's fine face. She was absolutely beautiful. In fact, it could even be questioned that she held more beauty that Miss Santana. Her features were simply flawless. Her face was small yet those eyes of hazel were bold and bright. Her nose was dainty; her skin was smooth and most likely very soft to the touch. Her pink lips were incredibly pretty to gaze upon. Actually, so staggered was she by Quinn's beauty, that it left Brittany wondering what it would be like to be kissed by Quinn. Would her friend be softer than that of her Mistress? Santana had certainly been gentle in her attention of kissing Brittany – a surprising experience indeed – but did it compare to other women?
"Tell me what's bothering you," Quinn asked, disturbing the quiet.
"It's nothing," Brittany muttered again, suddenly ashamed with her own thoughts. Why was she doing this? Why did she suddenly want this sort of thing? It was wrong.
"Come on," Quinn said, leaning forward and gazing up at Brittany through her long blonde eyelashes, "you know I won't judge you."
"I'm scared that you will," Brittany sighed, "and to be honest, I don't think I meant to say anything."
"Why?" Quinn frowned, "has someone upset you Brittany?"
Shaking her head, Brittany wanted to convey all that had happened between herself and her Mistress last night but knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was forbidden to speak of it. She was still focused on Quinn's lips and how they might feel against her own. Did she dare to even wonder? The idea of lusting after a woman in such a way made Brittany strain back to her forgotten past. Had she been like this before? Maybe she was attracted to women and had always been? Maybe that was why she wasn't interested in Sam's advances. She truly didn't know.
"Come on sweetie," Quinn said, "talk to me."
It came as a bit of a shock to Brittany but she just couldn't help herself. She had to know the truth. So, encouraged by the voice in the back of her tortured thoughts and that aching confusion within her gut, she brought her head down to Quinn's level and quickly caught the other woman's mouth up in a terrified yet swift kiss.
Quinn gasped at the contact and jerked back a little, startled, breaking the contact between them immediately. Her eyes were wide and questioning and she wiped her mouth as she took in the daring young servant opposite her.
At the mere sight of those searching almost disapproving eyes looking back at her, Brittany lost all her nerve. She threw herself up and away from Quinn and stumbled back, her cheeks flushed and her entire body shaking with embarrassment.
"Brittany," Quinn said, pulling herself up off the bed, "its –"
"I'm sorry," the blonde whimpered, "I'm so sorry."
"No," Quinn mumbled, "it's fine. Please, wait –"
Brittany couldn't wait, however. She felt sick to the stomach. She couldn't believe that she had even tried her luck. She must've looked like an idiot. Of course Quinn wouldn't be interested in her. Beside, the kiss may have been short but it didn't compare at all to Santana's hungry yet gentle touch. With these thoughts rushing through her head, the youngster fled the room, ignoring Quinn's calls.
"Brittany! Please. Stop. I'm not mad. Brittany, come back."
...GLEE.
"Tada!" Santana said to Puck as she stepped out of her walk-through cupboard in a dark red, knee-length tight dress, "what do you think?" She turned twice on the stop, holding up her arms so he could better see.
Puck whistled low, nodding in appreciation, "hot as hell!" He said.
"You think? I'm hoping to get a little action tonight," Santana said, grinning as she made her way over to her vanity mirror to retrieve her ruby earrings. They would go perfectly with the outfit.
"Seriously," Puck chuckled, "you're not gonna fail if you're wearing that sexy little number. Who you planning to score with? Brittany?"
"Course not," Santana rolled her eyes, "just one of the women at the party maybe. I haven't fooled around in months. My beds starting to grow cold. I need someone to help me warm it up."
"But I thought you and Brit –"
"Puck please," Santana cut over him. She looked at her friend through the reflection of the mirror, trying to act indifferent, "she's just a silly, stupid thing. Besides, I'm not sure she would even know how to please me. She doesn't seem all that experienced."
"That shouldn't stop you," Puck said.
"Hmm," Santana sighed, "you're right." She thought of all things she wanted Brittany to do for her and a shiver of satisfaction rippled down her spine at a delicate speed. Then she remembered how scared and nervous the servant had been last night and thought better of pushing her too soon. The kiss had been enough. No. She would need to bide her time. Only for a short while. Then Brittany would be the ultimate pleasure toy. "it doesn't matter at the moment." She abruptly shook her head, "I'll find someone else to play with tonight."
...GLEE.
Brittany did her damndest to avoid Quinn for the rest of the day. Whenever she saw the other servant she would quickly duck away before Quinn could get a word in edgewise and she had never been more grateful for having long nimble legs that could carry her away speedily before anything could be said.
It was safe to say she was still flushed with shame. Brittany truly felt as though she had betrayed her friendship with Quinn. She knew thing would be awkward from now on and wished sorely that she had thought before she had acted on her own mixed up emotions. If only Santana would stop messing with her head. Why would she want Brittany in that way anyway? She was a servant – nothing more than a possession amongst a million other possessions in the house. What use was she other than servitude?
Sighing, Brittany reached for the pretty little dress that hung on the back of her door. It was the outfit she (and all the other women) had been instructed to wear for the night so that Miss Santana's guests would recognise her as a servant. Removing it from its bag she took to admiring its intricate beauty. It was long and flowing to about the knee, white in colour with a modern, black lace material bodice just under the breast line. It had no shoulder straps and was soft and smooth to put your hand upon and though Brittany wanted to dislike it, she couldn't. It was the greatest, most beautiful thing she had ever had the honour of wearing. Setting the dress up against her figure, the blonde wondered what Santana would think of the dress. Would she be pleased with Brittany? The idea of having her Mistress's eyes on her as she wore the dress left Brittany's stomach pulsing. Her body was suddenly raging hot! Why didn't Quinn have the same affect on her? Why didn't Sam even? Surely this wasn't right or normal.
A tapping at the door stopped her train of thought instantaneously. Turning, she found Mercedes standing in the open doorway, watching her anxiously.
"Uh...sorry to disturb you Brittany," she said, "but we have about an hour until the guests start arriving. We've got soup in the kitchen if you want something to eat now before we're all too rushed off our feet to function later."
"Thanks," Brittany nodded with a smile, "I'd love some soup."
"Cool," Mercedes said, "just pop in whenever you're ready." She made to walk away but stopped and glanced at the youngster from over her shoulder, "be careful tonight, okay?"
Frowning, Brittany cocked her head to the side inquisitively.
"Just try and stay with someone at all times," the African American woman advised, "some of Miss Santana's guest can be...they can...they can be...well," she trailed off, "just watch yourself. They're not exactly nice people."
"Oh...okay," Brittany said, grateful.
"Good," Mercedes sighed, looking more at ease. She smiled a bright smile at Brittany and disappeared through the door, her footsteps echoing down the corridor, calming the servant woman's mind as she listened.
...GLEE.
Santana stood with her arm linked with Puck's and watched as guest upon guest entered the grand hall. Everything was set up in absolute perfection for the evening's festivities. Music played dramatically overhead by a small orchestra. Servants flitted here and there with trays of delicious canapés and flutes of expensive champagne. Every surface of the hall gleamed with polish. In the far corner of the entrance was a group of contemporary dancers, shifting and moving in the most exquisite of ways and above, arranged in absolute precision were twinkling lights of gold and silver. It was all Santana had hoped for and more. If all went right, the party would be a celebration to be remembered for years.
"Look," Puck said, motioning with his head to the right, "Jesse St James is present and accounted for."
"Ugh," Santana grimaced at the sight of tall gentlemen dressed smartly in a tuxedo with dark wicked eyes and fluffy brown hair, "I invite him every time but I never want him to show up."
Jesse St James was a man of extreme power. He was perhaps even on the same par of wealth as the Lopez family. He specialised in the selling of slaves, particularly those of the sexual nature and was feared by many for his calculating violence and easy manipulation of his victims. He lived in an estate not too far from El Palacio – one that was filled from top to bottom with slaves – and though she put up with him, it was not a secret that Santana in fact, loathed everything about the suave, arrogant businessman.
"Who's that he's got with him?"
Santana leant forward to better see. Hanging timidly on Jesse's arm was a young woman who was no older than eighteen years old. Everything about her screamed exhaustion. She was thin to the point in which her clavicle could be seen protruding from her neck. Her eyes were hooded in defeat. Her face was sunken in and her hair, though arranged in pretty ringlets had little shine to its soft blonde texture.
"Is she the new flavour of the month?" Puck chuckled.
"No," Santana said and there was a hint of sadness in her voice. She caught sight of the girl's wrists and saw the evidential tight, red markings of them once being bounded with a rope, "she's a slave." It felt almost hypocritical to be pitying this small, defeated creature but pity her Santana did for though she could sometimes be a cruel and frightening Mistress, she had never once neglected her servants to the state of which this girl had been reduced. She looked very near death.
"Hmm," Puck's amusement changed at the realisation. Tugging on Santana's arm, he began to lead her across the room, "come on. We'll get a drink and you can mingle with your new business partners."
"Good idea," Santana said, smiling and she allowed herself to be drawn away from the disgrace that was Jesse St James.
...GLEE.
It is said that times flies when you're having fun and this statement was never truer as hour upon hour passed into the night. The guests at El Palacio had shared in a party that had put any other extravagant affair of the year to shame. Santana was well and truly pleased. She strutted about her stately home, engaging people in conversation, proposing new deals and merely enjoying herself to the fullest. Success was on her shoulder and she felt as though she were on top of the world.
"What a beautiful dress Santana," Mr Green, one of her favourite clients remarked as they danced along to the soft jazzy beat that had started up only a few seconds ago, "my wife has spoken of nothing else all night."
"You're wife has excellent taste," Santana said, allowing her dance partner to guide her around the room.
"You must find it hard to run such a big household on your own," Mr Green said, "have you not thought about settling down? It's the Lopez way."
Santana smiled, indulging in the small talk. Mr Green was a sweet old man and she preferred his company to most in the room. "I'm afraid I'm not as tuned into my family traditions," she caught sight of Brittany serving one of her guests and her smile widened, "besides, I'm a woman who enjoys pleasure. I'd suffocate if I were tied down."
Mr Green chuckled, "you are so like your mother. She was restless too."
Santana felt something clench in her chest at the mention of her mother. There was little that she wished to remember about her and that was fine but every now and then, the Latina would be washed away in a memory of her and she would pine and ache in confusion...somewhat lost.
"Are you okay my lovely?"
Santana shook her head, baffled by her own thoughts, "yes, thank you. Um...if you would just excuse me?"
"Of course," Mr Green said and he stepped away, releasing Santana who immediately retreated across the hall, needing a few moments alone with her own thoughts. Trying to be casual, she slipped out of the hall and into the nearest room within her reach – one of the sitting areas. Sighing, she entered its darkened shell and collapsed with a sigh into one of the chairs, breathing deeply. Oh how she wished someone hadn't brought up her mother. It seared so many unwanted memories into her mind. It wasn't unknown that the Lopez family were a cold collection of beings and child-rearing had never been their strongest point. Santana had always –
"Mistress, is everything alright?"
Looking up, the Latina found Sam standing in the doorway, watching her curiously.
"I'm fine," she told him, shrugging her shoulders, "just worn out."
"Would you like me to bring you some painkillers?" Sam asked.
"No, it'll pass in a few minutes," she leant on her hand, sighing, "go to the kitchens and tell the others to prepare dinner."
Sam nodded.
"And inform the guests."
"Right away," Sam said. He made to bow but stopped and turned back to look at Santana, "I was wondering whether I could talk to you about Brittany."
The Mistress fought off the desire to roll her eyes, "I've told you that I haven't the time to listen to your chatter Sam. Another time."
"It would only be –"
"I told you no!" Santana snapped. She would not think of Brittany tonight! One problem was bad enough.
Sam must've seen the fire in her eyes (or perhaps it was because he knew she was already upset) for he scampered off before Santana could bark out another order. Sighing and rising from her chair, the Latina smoothed out the creases in her dress and made her way back through into the hallway, trying to contain her emotions and pushing her past to the back of her mind.
"There you are!" Looking up, Santana found Puck moving towards her down the hallway, smiling invitingly, "I've been looking for you for ages. Dinners up."
"I needed a few minutes to myself," Santana replied, shrugging.
"You okay?" Puck asked, touching her arm.
"Yeah," Santana lied, "I guess all this party planning has finally gotten to my head."
"Well fret no more beautiful," Puck said with a chuckle, "I've got news that'll make your head ring."
"Ooh," Santana perked up at the enthusiasm in her friends voice, "tell me."
"Sugar Motta," Puck said, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Hmm, really," Santana's body flushed. Sugar Motta was a wealthy young woman who Santana liked to fool around with every now and then. They had never particularly been friends but Santana found that she didn't hang around Sugar because she enjoyed her intelligent conversation. No. It was more of a physical thing. They used each other for pleasure.
"She's been asking about you," Puck said, catching onto Santana's mood, "and she's looking hot."
"Well," Santana had already forgotten about her mother and Sam and Brittany. It was a blessing, for everything felt lighter again, "I'd best go and make an appearance then."
She sauntered down the hallway, smiling to herself as she heard Puck exclaim in excitement, "yes! Girl on girl action!"
...GLEE.
Brittany felt as though she were a lost cause in the middle of all the splendour of the party. She wandered amongst the crowd of finery, offering drinks and trying her best to blend in. It wasn't really working if she were honest. The dress she wore was a symbol of her servant-status and whenever she approached Santana's guests she was offered a sneer, a sharp word and little gratitude in her service. She tried desperately to let the hurt and shame slip to the back of her mind. She must've done this a million times before the accident but she just couldn't remember if she had dealt with it better than she was doing now. She probably had. The clear-headed, non-amnesia Brittany must've brushed aside all the disgust with a smile and a curtsy...so why couldn't she now?
Having caught sight of Quinn advancing towards her, Brittany tried to duck away, embarrassment drowning her senses. This is turning into a great night, she thought sarcastically, if I'm not being disregarded like a piece of trailer trash, I've got Quinn tailing me like some lost puppy dog.
"Brittany wait," Quinn said in hushed tones, "let's talk about this."
"There's nothing to say," Brittany murmured, almost barging past a guest.
"Of course there is," Quinn was hot on her heels, whispering, "you kissed me."
"It was a mistake. It never happened."
"Oh yeah," Quinn challenged, "so why are you running from me now if it never happened huh?"
Brittany halted and the glasses that were balanced on the tray in her hands suddenly went sliding across its cool surface and went tumbling to the floor, where they smashed and splattered all over the floor. Every eye in the room was suddenly on the scene, watching and muttering in disapproval. Kneeling, Brittany set about to fix the problem with Quinn following close behind. The women worked quietly, trying to sweep all the glass up with their hands, ignoring how the guests watched them in disgust, clearly unimpressed.
"Brittany," Quinn said softly, looking up at the anxious blonde, "I don't –"
"What's going on here?"
Brittany didn't even need to lift her gaze to know that Miss Santana was standing in front of them. She recognised her voice instantaneously. Licking her lips and trying to push down the butterflies that were flitting around in her stomach, she stood and bowed.
"I'm sorry," she said, "I dropped the glasses. It was an accident."
"You've made quite a mess," Santana replied, "just make sure it's all cleaned up. Dinner is about to start so be quick about it."
"Yes Mistress," Brittany said, grateful that Santana hadn't made too much of a fuss over the spillage. Leaning forward, she scooped another pile of tiny piercing shards towards the second pile in front of her knees, eager to prove that she was doing her Mistress's bidding in speeding up the process in which she cleaned.
"Brittany," Quinn sighed, "I know that you don't want to talk about what happened earlier and I understand that you're embarrassed but really, all I've been trying to tell you all day is that I'm not mad that you kissed me."
At those words, Brittany looked up, meeting Quinn's gaze for the first time since the kiss, "really?"
"Yeah," the other blonde nodded, "and what's more, I'm not going –"
"Enough talking you two," Rachel bustled in with a brush, scooping up the glass and sliding back out as quick as a bullet from a gun, "the dinner's being brought out. Come on."
Brittany's relief sunk, "oh right. Yeah," looking at Quinn, she smiled and shrugged her shoulders, "we'd better get back to work."
"Sure...but can we talk about this?" Quinn asked, "later?"
Brittany nodded.
"Good," Quinn said, her smile growing wider. She leant across and pressed a kiss to Brittany's forehead, completely reassuring the other blonde that nothing had changed between them, "I'll see you later then. Come to my room after the party."
"Okay," Brittany answered.
Quinn stood and made her way out of the hall, the conversation obviously at an end. Brittany watched her go, somewhat placated by her encouragement. Everything felt a little lighter now, even if the world was still clouded over in hazy confusion.
...GLEE.
It was easy to feel powerful when you were sitting at the head of a table whilst basking in the company of many, many equally powerful people and for Santana, such a moment was regular but always welcomed. Reaching for her flute of wine, the Latina sipped, feeling pleased, and gazed down at the sumptuous traditional Venezuelan meal that had been prepared especially for the night – Chivo En Coco (shredded goat, cooked in coconut milk and topped in fried, mashed green bananas). It looked absolutely delicious and she knew it would taste just as good. Looking up, she turned to Puck who sat on her right hand side and smiled warmly. Surely this was impressive to say the least.
"I hope you all enjoy the meal," Santana said, addressing her guests.
"It looks fantastic," Puck exclaimed.
"I agree," Jesse St James said from three seats down, lifting his fork in salute, looking as slimy as ever, "you've done yourself proud Santana."
Santana nodded in Jesse's direction, grimacing, "thank you."
"And I must admit," Jesse continued, "you're servants get prettier and prettier by the second." He turned to admire the women around him, smiling wickedly at Rachel as she passed by and then in turn at Quinn, "blondie has always had a little something-something going on there."
Puck growled threateningly.
Jesse chuckled, "Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of touching her my friend. I'm not one to satisfy myself on damaged goods, "he dipped his index finger into his wine before casually slipping it between is lips, sucking it in a suggestive manner, "besides, I'm sure Santana wouldn't mind letting me play with a different servant."
Santana tried to contain herself. She cut into a piece of the goat meat and brought it to her mouth, chewing hungrily. If she didn't ignore Jesse she might find herself speaking ill of him and though she had no problem in doing so she still had guests in which she wished to make an impact on.
"Most of these servants came from my company did they not?" Jesse queried.
"A number of them, yes," Santana replied.
"I thought so," Jesse nodded as though deep in thought, "you can just tell by simply looking at them. They are all of good stock, obedient, work hard and are easy on the eyes. Take Rachel for instance," he motioned to the brunette who was at the far end of the room, serving the meal to a couple immersed in conversation, "she's always happy to help and smiles and bows whenever she's required to. What's more, though I never got the chance to try myself before I sold her to you, I'll bet she's absolutely amazing in bed!"
"That's enough Jesse," Santana said, setting down her fork and standing.
The handsome young man hardly seemed affected by the order. He merely dipped his head in acknowledgement and muttered a short apology under his breath.
"Sticking to the topic of servants," Puck said, "where has your aid tonight? She's disappeared." Santana could see that he was trying to keep calm but that was damn near impossible when Jesse had already angered him by showing interest in Quinn.
"I've sent her to sit out in the car," Jesse shrugged his shoulders, careless; "she was boring me."
"How many servants do you have now?" Santana asked.
Jesse chuckled, "too many that I know what to do with. I get so excited about the new purchases that are brought into my business that sometimes I can't help but take a few of them for myself. It's safe to say that my stately home often gets overrun."
Santana didn't need to ask what happened when the house got too full. She imagined that Jesse disposed of the servants that outlived their uses. She couldn't bring herself to think of what fate awaited them but she knew it couldn't be pleasant.
"Would you like another glass of wine sir?" Brittany appeared at the table, bringing the conversation to an end.
Jesse glanced up at the timid blonde and frowned, his eyes suddenly clouding over with something like recognition.
"White wine," he demanded and then, turned to look at Santana, "is she new?"
"New?" A spark of fear spread up the Latina's body. Her eyes locked with Brittany and she saw the confusion and curiosity there. A voice in her head suddenly screamed out in panic. She had to lie. Keep lying! "No...no...she's been here for years."
Jesse wasn't convinced. Reaching for his newly filled glass, he twisted around in his seat and looked Brittany up and down, drinking in her pretty figure.
"Did you buy her from me?"
"No." Santana's answer was short. Abrupt.
"Hmm," Jesse reached out a hand and took hold of the bottom of Brittany's dress, brushing the material in a sickening, tasteless manner. Santana held back the desire to nudge Brittany aside and out of the way of his watch. She truly disliked the way he appeared to be inspecting her. "She looks somewhat familiar."
"So?" Puck sneered. He must've seen the look of horror in Santana's eyes, "you've see one servant, you've seen 'em all."
There was quiet for a moment or two as Jesse took in Brittany's obedient form. His eyes were locked upon her as though he were imprisoning her in his gaze. It was an intense thing to watch...suffocating, and it drove Santana crazy to know that somewhere in the back of Brittany's mind was a switch that, at any time, might flick into reality. She was terrified that Jesse and his questions would bring the servant out of the land of obscurity.
"Brittany," she said, her voice deep and demanding. The young servant looked to her Mistress with an anxious, questioning grimace, as though Santana had in fact just shouted at her, "serve the drinks. Now."
"Yes Miss Santana," she answered and she shuffled away, attending to the guests.
"I'll admit that Quenn –"
"Its Quinn –" Puck interjected.
Laughing, Jesse continued, "Quinn is pretty but that one right there," he motioned to Brittany with his head, "is sex on legs! I'd fuck her so hard. I would make her cry –"
"Enough," Santana ordered, losing her patience again. No one would touch Brittany. Never. She wouldn't allow it.
"Relax, relax," Jesse held up his hands submissively, "I'm just joking."
Santana was aware that many people were watching the exchange, measuring what the brunette would do. She was only glad that Brittany was oblivious to what was going on. The servant was at the far end of the table, serving and attending to the guests, too much at a distance to know that she was being discussed in such a way.
"Keep your jokes to yourself," Santana didn't look at Jesse at all but kept her gaze upon Brittany, "and your hands too. What's mine is mine and no servants will be touched by any guest in this house tonight or any other night. Am I clear?"
A wicked smile danced across Jesse's face. There was little understanding in his eyes or perhaps the understanding was there and he simply chose to ignore it. Nevertheless, he lifted the glass he was holding and toasted the Mistress of El Palacio.
...GLEE.
Attending to the guests as they ate dinner was a tedious business and so Brittany was more than relieved when it was over and she and the other servants were left to clear up the table. She watched the exchanges between the people in the party, intrigued indeed by how they behaved. They really were aristocrats. Every inch of them screamed wealth in a way that left Brittany actually numb with her own inferiority. The only thing that kept her from wanting to hide away in her room was the idea that her fellow servants probably felt exactly as she did – small...unimportant...empty.
"Ugh," Artie suddenly snorted in disgust, "Sugar Motta is on the prowl again I see."
"What's a Sugar Motta?" Brittany queried.
"That is Sugar Motta, "Artie pointed across the room to a woman with fine shoulder length brown hair that curled here and there in lovely spirals. She was a pretty woman (her body encased in a very tight dark blue dress, and the heels she wore enhanced her average height) but Brittany knew that her beauty did not reach inside her heart for her face was one of arrogance, and that made her somewhat ugly to look upon.
"Who is she?" Brittany watched as Sugar strolled towards Santana, smiling seductively, and felt, suddenly, as though someone had kicked her hard in the gut. It was the way in which Santana returned the smile – all welcoming and excited – that simply left the young blonde aching in all the wrong places. What was this?
"She is one of Miss Santana's lovers," Artie explained and as though fate was stepping in to prove that he were not telling a lie, Santana immediately took Sugar's hand and began to drag her over to a small bench, tugging the woman down to sit with her. There, in the dim light, the women leant towards one another, muttering in soft undertones as they hands drifted here and there over one another's bodies, not remotely sexual but sexual all the same, "kind of makes you feel sick huh? Santana is fond of sleeping around."
"Really?" Brittany was hurting. Santana had kissed her last night and yet here she was now, kissing someone else for the whole world to see. It made Brittany question whether she had not enjoyed the kiss and this was the reason she had looked elsewhere. Was she a bad kisser? Was Santana ashamed of what they had done?
"Are you okay Brittany?"
"Um...yeah, I guess," Brittany muttered. She saw how Sugar dipped her head into Santana's neck, nibbling at the Latina's dark skin playfully. It was Santana's giggly response however that dug into the deepest contours of Brittany's soul. Was she really not good enough? Why had her Mistress toyed with her if she wasn't interested?
"You're not looking so good," Artie said.
"I'm actually feeling a little peaky," Brittany replied. It was true. Seeing Santana and Sugar together had left a sickness in her stomach that just wouldn't go away, "do you mind if I go and have a moment to myself? Maybe get a glass of water?"
"Not at all," Artie shook his head, "do you want me to get Quinn or Rachel to come with you?"
Brittany smiled, tearing her gaze away from Santana to look down at her friend whose face was the picture of concern. "I'll be fine thanks." She set the plate she was holding in her hands down on the tray Artie was balancing in his lap, undid the apron around her waist and made her way out of the hall with a soft, breathy sigh, not trying to look at her Mistress and wanting so desperately to ignore the pounding of her tired heart.
Wandering down hallway upon hallway, Brittany's thoughts went wild with abandon. Santana was toying with her. She meant nothing. She was just a servant designed as a means to do her Mistresses bidding. She knew she had no right, but she was angry. Although Santana terrified her very being to the core there had been something remarkable about last night that had made her feel almost...well...special. Now, however, Brittany felt cheap. More than cheap. She felt used and somewhat betrayed. It left a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and no matter how she deep she breathed it just wouldn't go away.
Entering her room, Brittany sat down on the edge of her bed and rubbed her aching eyes, sleepy and upset. She only hoped Santana and the guests wouldn't notice her absence. After all, she was just one servant amongst many, right? Nestling down on the quilt, the young blonde murmured contently and closed her eyes. What if she just napped for a little while? It would help her forget her pain, if just for a few brief moments of unconsciousness. With these thoughts brushing through her mind, Brittany curled over onto her side and tucked her hand under her head, trying to get comfortable. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that she didn't hear the footsteps moving across the carpet of her room, resolute in their path. In fact, she was only aware of another presence when she felt someone tapping on her knee lightly. Jerking out of her sleep-position, Brittany yelped in surprise and looked up to find one of Miss Santana's guests – a handsome dark haired man – standing over her, watching her keenly.
"I'm sorry," the young man said in a tone of voice that hardly seemed apologetic at all, "did I frighten you?"
"No...no...I didn't know you were there, that's all," Brittany recognised him instantly. She had served him his dinner that evening. He had sat close by with Miss Santana and apparently (though Brittany had no idea how) he had upset the Mistress, for she kept reprimanding him throughout the meal, "can I help you sir? Have you lost your way?"
"Oh no, no," the gentleman smirked, "I know exactly where I am."
An uncomfortable flutter overcame Brittany. She didn't like this – not one bit. Standing, she made her way over to the far end of the room, wanting to put some space between herself and this strange man.
"I'm Jesse St James by the way," the man said, "and you are?"
Brittany said nothing. She didn't know what to say but then again she didn't want to say anything either. She ran her hand along the window frame, gazing at the world outside. She hoped that avoiding eye contact would make him leave quicker.
"Come now," Jesse crooned. Brittany couldn't see him but she knew he was walking towards her, getting closer and closer, "how can we exchange pleasantries if you don't tell me your name?"
Swallowing, she replied, "its Britt...Brittany sir."
"Ah, such a beautiful name," Jesse was closer yet again. Something was so violently wrong here, "and such a beautiful girl."
"I...I think you should return...to...to the party now Mr James," Brittany stammered, "someone will realise you're...missing." She didn't have to turn around to know that the gentleman was standing directly behind her now. Shivering, she felt his hand come up to slip into her hair, touching and caressing her golden locks.
"There really isn't any need," Jesse crooned. His other hand came up to cup Brittany's left side, "besides, no one has noticed I'm gone."
No one has noticed I'm gone!
No one has noticed I'm gone!
No one has noticed I'm gone!
The words were horrifyingly loud in Brittany's already tired head. They made her tremble and feel sick. Please God, don't let this end the way she believed it might.
Jesse seemed to sense her unease and it fed his excitement. Slipping his hand down her side, his fingers gripped onto her dress like a vice and laughing wickedly, he spun the startled blonde around and rammed her up against the wall.
"No," Brittany sobbed.
"Don't worry sweetheart," Jesse sneered. His mouth lifted to capture hers and she struggled to break free, wrenching her head from side to side.
"No!"
"Yes," Jesse pulled back and laid a smack to Brittany's cheek, stinging and hard, "servants are made for two reasons! Serving and fucking! Do you understand me?"
Brittany did not reply and so Jesse, growing in frustration, raised his hand a second time and smacked her again, harder. Brittany cried out, pained. Struggling, the endangered servant, tried her damndest to shift out of Jesse's hold but was unsuccessful in every means. With one hand, he held her to the wall and with the other, he began to unbutton his expensive, black pants, unzipping the zipper and grinning in a way that spoke of all the things he was about to do to Brittany.
Ramming himself up against her, Jesse forced Brittany to feel the weight of his erection upon her leg, terrifying her into a weak slump, "I'm going to take you so hard right now. God, you're a lucky, lucky girl." he whispered, husky and excited.
"Please don't," Brittany pleaded.
"Don't fight it," Jesse's tongue was in her ear, hot, foreboding, "just relax and enjoy it sweet cheeks."
Wriggling and kicking, Brittany shook her head against Jesse's attack. She would not allow him to do this to her, not now not ever. Every inch of her was shuddering against the touch of this horrible, disgusting pig of a man but the more she felt his travelling hands, the more determined she became to get away from him.
Jesse chuckled, his sinister laugh vibrating against Brittany's chest. He dipped his head again and captured Brittany's mouth in a harsh, forceful kiss. The blonde squeaked, tasting him and wanting nothing more than to vomit. His hand came up to cup her breast, squeezing so hard that it physically hurt and it gave all of Brittany's strength not to beg him to let her go. She would not give him the satisfaction.
"Come on baby," Jesse murmured, trying to slip his tongue into Brittany's mouth as he continued to force himself against her, "I want you to cry out my name. Go on. Cry!"
Brittany yanked herself away, shaking her head, "no," she whispered.
"Cry!" Jesse demanded.
"No." Brittany tried to push him off of her, desperate, terrified.
Jesse slapped her again, making her cheek burn with heat, "I said cry you fucking whore!"
Something snapped inside of Brittany – something that came bubbling to the surface after all the pain and confusion that had spiralled from the day, or maybe from the last couple of weeks. It propelled her forward and with all the remaining power in her body, she shoved against Jesse St James, sending him to the ground with a thud. Shock reflected in both Brittany's and Jesse's eyes as they looked at one another, one from above and the other from the floor. Then Jesse's face turned stony with anger.
"You little bitch!" he scrambled to his feet but Brittany gave him no time to catch her. She darted out of the room as fast as her legs could carry her, slipping around corner upon corner. No speed could stop her from hearing Jesse's cries however. "Come back you stupid piece of shit. I'm not done with you yet."
Brittany darted into a random room, eyes searching for somewhere to hide. At the far end of, whom she believed to be Rachel's room, was a walk-through cupboard. Scurrying over, she threw open the doors and hurried inside, closing them behind her before proceeding to press up into the walls, hoping to conceal herself in the darkness. There, she waited, listening, praying that Jesse would just return to the party and forget her.
It felt like an eternity of waiting but it came nonetheless as Brittany expected – footsteps – and then the sound of the bedroom door opening. Sucking in her breath, the blonde was terrified of being found, that breathing too deeply would give away her hiding place.
"Where are you?" Jesse's voice was laced with seething rage, "when I get my hands on you I'm gonna teach you a lesson you'll never forget."
Brittany closed her eyes tight and then re-opened them again, praying that this experience was all just a horrible dream that she was about to wake up from. When Jesse spoke again, she knew she was in fact, awake.
"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" He chuckled, "I'm gonna tie you up to the bed and I'm gonna take you and take you and take you until you're nothing more than a quivering mess – until you're too weak to even cry out, and then, I'm gonna turn you around and I'm gonna take you from behind and believe me, sweet little girl, it will hurt so much that you'll be begging for mercy. Just think," Jesse said, a grin in his voice, "no one will come looking for you because you're just a worthless pathetic little servant and no one has yet to notice I'm gone which gives me ample opportunity to play with you all night long."
Brittany cowered into the wall as Jesse's footsteps grew ever close. This was it. He was going to find her. Every dreaded moment of her life had led up to this and now, she was going to know what it felt like to experience true, unadulterated pain.
Then...
"What in the world are you doing in here?" Brittany almost gasped out her relief. Yes. She knew that voice. It was her Mistress. Santana was here. Oh thank God. She was safe as long as the Mistress was here.
"Santana," Jesse sounded surprised and annoyed, "I was just...uh...just looking for the bathroom."
"Up the next flight of stairs," Santana answered abruptly.
"Oh," Jesse laughed, "well...that's good then. Thank you."
Brittany was sure she heard his retreating footsteps. She was so overcome with her relief that she burst into tears there and then, forgetting instantly that her Mistress was still in the room, and could most probably hear her. Of course, this was proven true when suddenly, the cupboard door swung open, revealing Brittany's saviour, still as beautiful as ever in her fine red dress and looking on in confusion at the scene before her.
"Child," Santana stepped into the cupboard, her eyes searching, "what in the world are you doing in here? Wait? Are you crying?"
Brittany's sniffled, shaking her head.
"Yes you are, now tell me, what's wrong? What's happened?" There was a strange panic to Santana's voice. Kneeling the Latina, took hold of Brittany's trembling hands and squeezed them reassuringly.
"I...he...I couldn't...and then...no...touched me...he...pushed him...and...and...and...ran away and –"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Santana cut over the servant, "you're not making any sense, slow down."
Brittany took a deep gulping breath and said as calmly as she could, "Mr St James tried to...he tried to rape me."
"What?" Santana pulled back, her fine features suddenly masked in a frown.
"I hid from him...you came in...and...and...oh Mistress thank God you came here when you did," Brittany sobbed, "I thought he was going to find me."
Santana's arms immediately enfolded around Brittany drawing her in, surprising the young servant. It was strange for Brittany because she wanted to be scared and angry at her Mistress for leaving her to suffer this way but at the same time, she felt nothing more than comfortable and safe in her arms. Nestling into Santana's neck, she contented herself in being held and cared for.
"It's alright," Santana whispered, "your safe now. I have you."
Brittany shook her head, "but he's gonna come looking for me...he's gonna try again, I just know it."
"No," Santana pulled back, all seriousness, "he will never touch you again," straining her eyes, she leant in closer to Brittany, inspecting her face, "what's happened to your cheek?"
"Oh," Brittany touched the slightly raised skin on her face, feeling how it stung, "I guess he struck me a few times."
"What?"
Brittany didn't know how else to answer but she had little time. Her Mistress was suddenly on her feet and yanking the blonde up, she began to drag them out of the cupboard, through the room and into the corridor, where they stormed here and there through the hallways, fast and unrelenting.
"Mistress...Mistress what are you going to do?" She implored.
Santana said nothing. She dragged Brittany through the grand hall, parting the guests who looked on in interest and bewilderment and then, suddenly they were storming towards Jesse St James and then Santana had let go of her hand and smack! Jesse went flying to the floor for the second time that night, his glass of champagne falling from his hand and spilling all over him. Santana was like a wild feral beast. She threw herself down onto the floor, reached for the empty champagne flute, smashed it so its edges were jagged and then forced it up against Jesse's neck.
"You absolute bastard!" She cried, "how dare you touch what is mine! How dare you!"
Jesse was terrified and held up his hands in defence, "I didn't do anything. What are you talking about?"
"You know very well what I'm talking about," Santana hissed, "and after I warned you to stay away from her too. These are my things, not yours!"
"Oh please," Jesse sneered, "I wouldn't dream of touching such a pathetic scraggly excuse for a servant. She doesn't look like she even knows how to open her legs!"
There was silence in the room. Not one guest moved or spoke as they watched the exchange between Santana and Jesse. For a moment, it seemed to be over and Santana looked as though she were about to move but then, surprising everyone, she rebounded back on Jesse and with the broken champagne flute sent a swipe across his cheek, breaking the skin so that blood poured out like a crimson river.
"Ah," Jesse gasped, "what the fu –"
Slinging the glass aside, Santana reached her hands around Jesse's neck, meaning to choke him. Puck and some of the servants hurried forward, wanting to stop the Lopez woman from committing the likes of murder in front of all her esteemed guests. Brittany didn't know quite what to make of it. She had never seen Santana so angry and yet, she had no strength to stop her. She wanted Jesse to hurt. She wanted to see the breath leave his body.
"Stop it," Puck demanded, trying to grip Santana under the arms to pull her away, "this won't help."
"Yes it will," she growled, "I'll have no servant harmed by any man in my house. He tried to rape her," she turned to address Jesse, "didn't you? Didn't you?"
Jesse couldn't reply even if he wanted to. He was slowly starting to turn a murky blue, choking and writhing beneath Santana's hold. Brittany stepped forward, not wanting Santana to get into any trouble.
"Mistress, please," she murmured quietly, "don't hurt him. He's...he's not worth it."
Santana appeared to be beyond convincing and Jesse had gone beyond the colour of blue and was now in fact a very sickly green.
"Mistress," Brittany said again, her voice soft, "please. Stop."
Santana still showed no signs of stopping and Brittany and everyone else it seemed was sure she would eventually kill Jesse. Then, a few seconds passed and Santana released her hard grip upon the wealthy gentlemen beneath her. Pulling herself to her feet, she snorted in disgust and made to move away, leaving the scene behind her.
"Your mother would never have complained at anyone fucking a servant you know?" Jesse spluttered helplessly, trying to regain what was left of his dignity perhaps.
Santana froze and turned around to gaze down at Jesse. In her eyes shone the deepest traces of loathing and her body braced into a defensive stance.
"My mother was a great fool who thought nothing of anyone but herself," she growled, "I'm Mistress of this household now and I'll not follow into her ridiculous ideals." Brittany's respect for her Mistress grew in size from that moment on. Turning to her guests, Santana said strong and firm, "the party is over I'm afraid. If you would collect your coats, I'll have the servants see you to the door. Mr James will be escorted out personally. Finn, Sam, take care of him. Now," and spinning on her heel, Santana left the hall, not even bothering to look back as Jesse struggled to his feet.
...GLEE.
The shadows of night fell upon Mérida and sent a mass of nightmares into Brittany's fragile, shaky mind. Sitting up in her bed, she gazed around at her cold room, terrified that somewhere amongst the dark was some great hulking man ready to jump out her, ready to harm her as Jesse St James had done only hours ago.
Pulling herself out of bed, the blonde wandered through into the bathroom, breathing nervously. She switched on the light and made her way to the mirror, looking into its smooth surface with a frown. Her cheek was a sharp pink colour, bright with the bruise of every time Jesse had laid a hand on her. It made Brittany feel weak but then again the way Santana had defended her brought some of her lost strength back.
Thinking of Miss Santana was a comfort. Brittany still couldn't quite believe that she had stood up for her like she had. It gave the servant hope that her Mistress cared more than she let on. The way Santana had attacked Jesse had been brutal to say the least. It was as though she didn't care about the consequences and nothing but protecting Brittany had mattered in that moment. It made Brittany feel special – like Santana was defending her honour.
With such thoughts rippling through her mind, Brittany made her way back into her room, sighing softly. She had hoped to return to bed but she knew, without a shadow of a doubt that no amount of tossing and turning or counting sheep would help her drift back off into the land of dreams, for the nightmares were most likely still waiting there for her. Perhaps Quinn would allow her to sleep with her for the night if she asked. Both she and Quinn knew she would never try her luck again and their relationship was strictly platonic so Brittany was sure that if she asked, the other blonde would not refuse her.
Slipping on her dressing gown, Brittany hurried out of her room and tiptoed quietly down the corridor. Her pace was quick and deliberate and she dared not look behind her for fear of finding some foreboding shadow on her tail. It was strange how alarming the manor house could be in the night but then the nightmares hardly helped in easing her worry. It took all her restraint not to burst into Quinn's room the second she reached the door but then, she was glad she didn't when she heard the voices coming from inside.
It was like déjà vu all over again, exactly like this morning except now the argument between Puck and Quinn seemed more heated.
"You really don't give up do you?"
"No," Puck answered, anger sounding in his voice, "and you know I never will. Don't you understand Quinn? I'm sorry. I've been sorry ever since it happened."
Brittany pressed her ear against the door, listening intensely.
"You're not sorry for anything," Quinn murmured, "you feel nothing."
"Now hang on a second," Puck tried to defend himself, "do you think I would be standing here before you at every available chance I get if I didn't feel anything. I love you Quinn. I've loved you from the moment I set eyes on you and I'll never stop, not even when I'm dead and buried." Brittany gasped, allowing the words to wash into her system. Yes. It made sense. The reason why Puck's eyes were always following Quinn, why he was always trying to get her attention, why Quinn seemed to want to avoid him whenever it was possible – Noah Puckerman was head over heels, besotted and over the top in love with Quinn. Why had Brittany not seen it before?
Quinn didn't speak for quite some time but when she did her voice seared with something like hatred. "Then if you love me so devotedly Noah, why did you allow Santana to take our daughter away?"
No. Brittany didn't believe it. She couldn't believe it. Puck and Quinn had a baby together. There had to be some sort of mistake. And Santana? No. Surely she couldn't have done such a terrible thing.
"I didn't mean for it to happen," Puck whispered, "I was scared. I...I didn't think it would end the way it did. I wanted us to have a life together...to get married and...and –"
"Enough of your lies," Quinn cut over him, "that's what got me into your bed in the first place. God, I can't believe you led me on the way you did. I was this bubbly little bag of giggles around you, always itching for a compliment, always blushing when you looked at me and then you just took away all my light. Gave it away when you gave Beth away."
"Beth is safe. Santana assured me of that."
Beth. Brittany could only imagine what a beautiful child she must be. Quinn and Puck were both fine looking, intelligent beings – their child would be perfection.
"You can't know that for certain," Quinn was near tears. Brittany could hear how her voice strained with them – the true pain of a mother who had lost a child, "she might be out there right now, abused, neglected...oh God, I can't bear to think about it."
"I promise you," Brittany could just imagine Puck embracing Quinn now, "she's safe and I'm still trying to find her. I'll bring her home to you Quinnie I promise. Hey, listen to me," he said more seriously, "I promise, alright."
"What if you never find her?" Quinn sniffed, "you know, sometimes I just lie awake at night imagining where she is and what she's doing and if she's happy. She'll be seven years old next week, did you know that?"
"Of course I do," Puck replied tenderly, "I could never forget the day she was born."
"She was so small," Quinn crooned.
"And so pretty," Puck chuckled, "like her mother."
Quinn laughed but it was cut short by the sudden seriousness in her voice, "you have to find her Noah. My baby," she cried, "our baby. Are you sure Santana never told you where she was?"
"Yeah," Puck answered, "I've tried getting it out of her but she refuses. She never approved of our relationship and since you belong to her in contract she didn't think it appropriate for you to have a baby. Quinn, we've had this conversation before."
"I know," Quinn sighed, "but...but you still have to promise me that you'll keep looking for her. Beth needs us. She needs you. Promise me that if you find her you'll take her back. Promise me you'll give her a proper life."
"I promise," Puck said and Brittany knew without a doubt that he was telling the truth.
Standing outside the bedroom door, it didn't take the blonde long to realise that the conversation between Quinn and Puck had come to an end. In fact, they had apparently found something much better to do with their time. There were a few brief minutes of silence before Quinn's breathless moans began to take over the quiet. Brittany flushed pink. She could hear Puck's short grunts and the grinding of the bed beneath their movements. They were making love.
Stepping away, Brittany decided it was time to leave. Although she wanted to sleep with Quinn she knew it was damn near impossible now that Puck was doing just that. Stepping back, she shuffled down the corridor and tried to ignore the pleasurable cries of the lovers who were somehow reconciling the passion that had been wrenched from them six years ago.
...GLEE.
It was the inability to sleep that had set Santana strolling around El Palacio so late into the night but it was her rage at the day's events that had filled her mind up so deep in insomnia. The hallways were cold indeed but they set a calm into Santana's heated skin, flushing the anger out of her small and nimble body. She walked here and there in her slippers, enjoying the shuffling sound as it matched the rhythmic beating of her steady heart. As long as she didn't think too much about Jesse St James and what he had so rudely attempted to do today, she would be fine. She might just hold back from smashing up every last delicate ornament within the house.
Humming softly under her breath, the troubled Latina headed in the direction of her beloved library. A quick nightcap and a read would help to ease the shaking of her tired mind. Who knows, she would most likely wake there tomorrow in the morning, it wouldn't be the first night she had slept in her most favourite place in the world.
An oomph of surprise escaped Santana's lips as she came colliding with another being in the middle of the hallway, Stumbling back, she was surprised to find Brittany standing opposite her, trembling timidly. At the sight of her Mistress, the youngster fell to her knees, bowing.
"Brittany, what are you doing here?" Santana asked, "and so late too?"
"I couldn't sleep," Brittany answered. She looked so innocent in her soft plaid pyjamas.
"Yeah, you and me both," Santana said, rolling her eyes, "stand up. The floor is too cold for you to be sitting down there."
Brittany did as she was told, standing so she were facing her Mistress. Every time Santana looked at her she felt as though her legs were plunging into quicksand. How could something so beautiful be real?
"Where were you going to?"
"Quinn's room. I wanted to maybe ask her if I could sleep in with her for the night," Brittany replied, "but she was...asleep. I didn't want to disturb her. I guess I can't shake the idea of Mr James trying to –"
"I understand," Santana said quickly, not wanting to hear the details for fear of actually hunting Jesse down to kill him. Taking Brittany's hand, she began to lead her down the corridor again, "come with me."
"Where are we going?" Brittany muttered.
"My room," Santana said, "you'll sleep in with me tonight." It was obvious that Brittany didn't want to be on her own and she would much rather the servant not stay with Quinn.
"You must be gone early tomorrow morning," Santana said, ignoring the way Brittany's hand was nervously tensed in her own, "no servant must know you spent the night in my bed. Understand?" When Brittany didn't reply, she said it again, "do you understand?"
"Yes Mistress."
...GLEE.
Santana placed her toothbrush back in its pot on the bathroom window and went through into her bedroom with a contented sigh. She came to an abrupt halt in the doorway when she caught sight of Brittany lying on her side in the bed, trembling uncontrollably and whimpering. It was clear the blonde was nervous but she had very little reason to be. Strolling across the room, the Latina switched off the bedside lamp, immersing the room in darkness, and slipped under the covers of the bed, immediately rolling over towards Brittany.
"There's no need to be so scared you know?" Santana said, "I'm not going to hurt you."
"I...I...know," Brittany stammered, "thank you Mistress, for letting me sleep here with you."
"Well I'm not sure you're all that happy to be here," Santana said. She slipped an arm around Brittany's waist and felt her whimper against her.
"I am...I just...I –"
"Turn around child," Santana ordered.
Brittany obeyed, turning and Santana wrapped her arms more firmly around her waist, pulling her in even closer. Then slowly she bent down and kissed Brittany gently on the lips, soft and unrushed, holding her as she did so. The servant whined, frightened it seemed but Santana did her best to lighten her stress, her fingers rubbing under Brittany's shirt on the smooth skin of her back.
"Shh," she crooned, between kisses, "it's alright."
Brittany cried and pulled back from Santana. The Latina could feel Brittany's heart pounding against her own and could practically smell the fear leaking from her.
"Hey," Santana leant in again, kissing her tenderly, "I won't hurt you," she loved this. She loved the feel of Brittany's body, "I could never hurt you."
Brittany pulled away a second time and looked deeply into Santana's eyes, searching her dark brown orbs. She licked her lips nervously before dipping her head to nervously rest on Santana's shoulder. Her arm came around Santana's waist, holding herself to her Mistress securely, trying to relax it seemed.
"Thank you," she whispered, "for what you did today. For helping me."
"It's my job," Santana said, "as you serve me I in turn serve you. I'm meant to protect you. No one will ever lay a hand on you whilst I rule this house." Santana had made this vow to herself many years ago when she had taken over the Lopez household. Her servants would receive punishments by her and no one else.
"You were amazing," Brittany yawned.
Smiling, Santana cupped Brittany's cheek and brought her head back up so that they were looking at one another in the darkness. Leaning down, she captured the young woman's lips with her own and delighted in the response that she was greeted with. She felt Brittany moan softly into her mouth and tasted the sweetness of her tongue running along the length of her bottom lip. Mingling their legs together, the Latina tried to get as close as was physically possible to Brittany and sighed in pleasure when Brittany's hands came up to her face, pulling her in so that there was not an inch of space between them. Each perfect kiss followed another and murmuring and nuzzling, they continued into the night, kissing and kissing like they might never get enough from one another.
It was when the clock struck the third hour of morning did the women drift off to sleep in each other's arms. Content. Dreamless.
Okay so no, they did not have sex lol. Just kissing right now but please, be patient, sexy times WILL happen. So I hope you guys liked this chapter. 30 pages. Hope it was worth the wait. X
Tell me what you think? There's lot to take in. Quinn and Puck. Jesse. Santana and Brittany and lots more so just review and tell me what you think. Hope you're all still reading.