The Duchess' Mother Ch. 02

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

A knock.

I sat up, disturbing the mountain of pillows and blankets that had, disappointingly, not managed to suffocate me yet. Dragging bleary eyes to the door, I waited. This was it. Hawley had finally sicced the sentinels on me. They'd shatter the door and have me sitting in that throne room in the blink of an eye. But, a few more seconds without steel-plated brutes barging in suggested I was wrong. The reality was far worse.

"Addie?"

My mother spoke gently, defying the disgust certainly churning in her gut. I did always wonder, though. The past week had seen me resolutely barricaded behind my bedroom door, yet every time she came by and knocked--which was often--I wondered whether she might not be completely revolted. Mom had always been so good at convincing me everything would be okay. Then common sense would return, screaming at the top of its lungs to remind me what I'd done.

Climaxing in her lap wasn't even the worst part. I mean, it was immoral and horrifically embarrassing, but nowhere near as upsetting as the simple fact that I used her. She went out of her way to help me and I repaid that by treating her like a toy. Like a statue, convenient and nameless. And in case there was any doubt that I was a sick, miserable thing, I was still using her. Not one night since had passed without my head conjuring up that image again. Every time, it finished me faster than even the first. Of the now eight orgasms I'd brought myself to, all were in memory of my mom.

Every excruciating detail of her.

She knocked again, quietly adding, "Your dinner's here. I'll... I'll go."

Hearing her footsteps grow fainter was always agonizing, too. A few times I nearly threw the door open and chased her down, but the urge to retch always stopped me. So instead, I waited until she was long gone before cracking the door to drag in my food like some kind of starved gutter goblin.

Tonight's meal--veal and roasted potatoes. I'd eaten quite well this week. At least, after the first few days when it became clear I wouldn't be coming out. Since then she'd delivered nothing but my absolute favorites. Damn that woman, feeding me and my delusions at the same time. With a few more meals like these, I'd be wondering if I should cum on my mother's leg more often.

I shut my eyes, breathed. Enough, Adrienne.

A kind tone and delicious food weren't the only things making me wonder. No, stranger than anything Mom did this week was something she did the night it happened. I hadn't noticed in the moment, but the way she held me... No parent holds their child like that, through that. Mine wasn't a short ordeal, either. Yet still she embraced me until the last euphoric tingles dissipated from the tips of my fingers. Why? It should have been cut short the instant it started. Hells, it never even should have started! Surely she felt it escalating out of control, just as I did. Right?

Back on the bed, I sank into my cavern of cashmere and silk.

Truthfully, I didn't know what to think anymore. My mom loved me. I knew that. I also knew that I'd crossed a line never meant to be crossed and anything on the other side was a complete mystery. Just to make it all worse, an itch in the back of my mind promised that disappearing from court for a week would only make everything worse. Hawley was probably losing his mind. The people who hated me had all the more reason to while the people who didn't probably grew fewer by the day. Assuming they weren't all already gone. And of course, I couldn't turn to the one person most able and most willing to help.

Dinner passed in silence. Footsteps occasionally meandered past the door, but nobody else knocked.

Eventually, my teeth sank into something odd. Nottooodd; I didn't even have to spit the thing out to know what it was. Still skewered on my fork was most of a folded, sauce-coated piece of paper. I sighed. Plucking it off and setting the utensil down, I unfolded the little note while a knot tightened in my stomach. Sure enough, my mother's handwriting stared back. She'd written only two words, followed by a little heart.

'Love you'.

I couldn't help but smile. She'd ease my worry whether I liked it or not, it seemed. But that was just who Mom was.

Gods, what in the fuck was I doing? The only thing stupider than the fact that I'd let any of this happen was believing for a second that it could actually make her hate me. Talking had solved every problem to ever come between us; this wouldn't be any different. Maybe a tad different since the whole 'cumming in her lap' thing was new, but not even that could ruin what we had--to think otherwise would be insane. I rolled from my makeshift fortress and ran for the door.

"I'm sorry that I, uh... That I... Fuck." I shook my head and cleared my throat. "Okay. Okay, I'm-- I'm sorry I-- Er, wait. I shouldn't have...Fuck!"

This wouldn't be easy. Not near as bad as I first expected, sure, but I still owed my mother an apology and an explanation. No matter what words I chose, they somehow felt like both beating around the bush and diving in headfirst. Deceptively sanitized, yet excessively vulgar. What if I settled on the wrong ones? What if I knocked on her door and she opened it and--

Nipping that thought in the bud, I continued down the hall to her room. She would understand. She always did.

I stopped outside her door. Excuses begged to be made, but a quick glance down at the simple little note reassured me. Everything would be fine. It didn't matter the words I chose because she would know the ones I meant. With breath held, I knocked.

Nothing.

I glanced toward the nearest window; the sun had fully set. Mom never slept this early, but was usually still in her room. After another few knocks, she still didn't answer. At least now I knew how that felt.

"Hmph." Hands on hips, I stepped back and glared at the door. Damn woman didn't even want my apology. Beckoning a passing handmaiden, I asked, "Have you seen my mother anywhere?"

The older woman sighed as though answering my question was her day's most laborious task. "Your mother has already retired for the night, my Lady." Without another word, she kept walking.

So Momwasin there. Little else to do than swallow my fear and push it open. After all, neither of us ever knocked before this week. I'd probably find her sitting in bed and giggling at the fact I even felt it necessary. But, the room was empty. Dark, quiet--save for faint candlelight spilling from the bathroom and a sound nearly too soft to hear. Breathing? Maybe, but... strained. More like panting Almost like--

Ah. I caught myself before calling out. Best to just leave, then. So, I left.

I left.

Ileft.

I looked down at my feet, still firmly planted in the middle of my mother's bedroom. I didn't leave, evidently. Despite the fact that every rational part of me screamed to do exactly that, the irrational parts tended to be so godsdamned loud. Maybe all these silly ideas I had bouncing around were mere curiosity? Something innocent. Staying a moment would probably sate then snuff them all out, right? Right.

Nearer, I heard more. Sharp inhales through her nose, soft groans from the back of her throat, and the splashes of slightly disturbed water. My mother sounded close. I found myself silently cheering her on before remembering that to most, climax was nothing monumental. She deserved to feel good, though. Half the work around this palace only got done because of her. If I just so happened to be nearby...

A wave of nausea crashed over me. This was just the same awful thing I'd done before--using her for my own satisfaction. No different, no better. I turned to leave.

She grunted, a rough, ragged sound that stopped me dead and made my knees weak. Another noise followed, closer to a growl.

Well, this felt alittledifferent. What happened before was inexcusable, obviously, but this didn't hurt anyone. Besides, Mom said she wanted to teach me. No better time than the present--she said that too. Before my brain could deconstruct that enigma of logic, I moved closer again, pressing myself against the wall by the bathroom door. No better time than the present.

A hint of guilt still pricked at me. A large, aggressive hint, making sure I understood full well how wrong I was while remaining powerless to actually stop me. It did sting. It stung enough to suggest a compromise: I'd only listen. That seemed fair, didn't it? Staring would be awfully creepy, but sitting right where I was couldn't do any harm.

Fighting the urge to let my hands wander, I inched toward the doorframe. My mother's fingerwork was audible, fast and desperate. Hums became groans, groans became grunts until finally peaking into cries breathless and strained. She teetered at the brink. The scene sat so perfectly clear in my head. Head tilted back, her dark, wet hair sticking to skin and porcelain. A hand between her thighs and another kneading her breast, or maybe gripping the tub for leverage. Chest rising and falling rapidly, muscles tensing with every stroke. Eyes shut, face flushed, mouth open and letting out one choked moan after another, her pleasure rising and rising and rising until...

A weary, defeated sob. I knew that sound well, too.

Knowing that around the corner my mother struggled to tend to herself drained the moment of any and all sensuality. That left me sitting there on the floor, residually horny whilst listening to her heart-wrenchingly disappointed sighs. If only I could run in and show her what I'd learned, be the teacher for once, but who was I kidding? Beyond that being utterly insane, it wouldn't even help. No doubt her hindrance was just the stress I'd been causing.

At the sound of her rising from the water, my heart stopped. Why the fuck was Istill there?Springing up to scurry away, I struck my head on a shelf and yelped in pain, then tripped over a pair of heels left beside the door.

"Hello?" Mom called out. "Who's there?"

Say nothing. No, wait, that was probably worse. Say something! I massaged my scalp as I pulled myself from the ground, mumbling, "It's-- Dammit. It's me. Just, uh, me."

She appeared at the door in an instant, sopping wet and wearing only a towel that didn't hide nearly enough. "Addie? Are you okay? What happened?"

"Mhmm. I, uh, I-I hit my head coming in."

"How long have you--"

"Not long," I interjected. "I just got here."

My mother nodded slowly. She looked wary, though relieved. Wrapping the towel tighter, she helped me stand and sit at the foot of the bed. With a final breath in and out, she returned to her normal, smiling self, no different from the woman she was a week prior. Mom asked, "You are my daughter, yes? It's been so long, is all."

I grinned and rolled my eyes.

"It's good to see you though," she added. "I wasn't sure whether--"

"Wait, wait, can I just...?"

She raised both brows. "Of course, darling."

Darling.I'd foolishly wondered if I might never hear that again. Taking a second to gather my thoughts, I said, "I'm... I'm sorry, Mom. For everything."

"I don't think you've as much to apologize for as you think."

"I do though! I shouldn't have run away, shouldn't have hid, shouldn't have--" My eyes flicked to her face, then away. "Uh, y-you know. That."

"Right. That," she repeated, looking down.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, I promise, my mind just went blank and we were kissing and I didn't think-- I mean, I didn't know I'd... N-not that I was trying, everything just went so fast and I was worried you'd hate me and I thought--"

My mother shushed me, kneeling down to look me in the eyes. "I will never hate you, Adrienne. Never. If you don't want to talk about this now, we won't, but know that nothing couldevermake me stop loving you. Tonight, I need only know that you are okay."

I was, except for the sickening lust that sprung up just from the sight of her kneeling before me. And the fact that my first words to her tonight were a lie. And that I couldn't even bear to look at her wet, blushing face--or anywhere, for that matter. Why did she have to have so many godsdamned mirrors in this room? Another dripping wet, perfectly framed part of my mother's body waited no matter where my eyes fled.

"I'm good," I sighed. "Are we?"

Mom patted my knees and climbed onto the bed, crawling past to settle against the headboard. She stretched out, crossed her ankles right beside me and said, "Always. Now, any chance you want to stay for a bit? We've some catching up to do!"

My gut twisted. I couldn't even look at her feet without my mouth beginning to water. Had they always looked so nice? Smooth, slight, even paler and prettier than the rest of her... Fucking Hells, I was completely losing my mind.

"I-I, um, I actually think I'll head to bed for now," I said. "Tomorrow, though!"

She pouted. "Fine, fine. Get your beauty sleep, Adrienne."

On my way to the door, however, I hesitated. My tongue acted faster than my mind, suddenly asking, "Do you need anything?"

"Hm?" Mom pursed her lips, tapped her chin. "Not that I can think of. Why?"

"You seemed a little upset when I first got here."

A sad half-laugh tumbled out and her blush deepened. She balled her fists and pressed them into her lap, avoiding eye contact. "My head's been a bit busy lately, that's all."

Don't ask. Don't you dare fucking, ask, Adrienne.

"Nothing that ought worry you, don't worry," Mom said.

My head begged me to stop, but it was rarely in control anymore. I said, "Something I can help with?"

She exhaled loudly, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her towel. "I wish."

I squeezed my mouth shut before it could do any more damage and left as fast as my legs could carry me.

Those two little words of hers stayed with me. I fell asleep with them. I dreamt of them. I woke with them, came to them, dressed with them and now walked with them having no better idea of what in the fuck they were supposed to mean. The reasonable part of me insisted they were innocuous; Mom just meant she wished there was something I could do. I did too. Beyond any inappropriate desires, I truly felt bad for her and would have done anything to ease her stress. The other parts knew better, knew there was something more in her frustrated sigh and in my own eagerness to help. Regardless, I'd a feeling any hope of ridding myself of these thoughts was gone.

And a tiny, tiny doubt as to whether I wanted to.

But no time for that, right now. A number of very impatient people likely stood in the throne room waiting for me to recall how to act like an adult. I paused outside the door and gathered my thoughts. Tried to, anyway, since the night before was doing a very good job at keeping my brain thoroughly scrambled. Collected as one could be my shoes, I pushed the door open.

A nearly empty court brought me a sigh of relief. Only my mother and Seneschal Hawley stood inside, and both turned the second I walked in. The former greeted me with a strained smile while the latter simply scanned me head to toe. Well, best to get Hawley's scolding over with. He surely had more than a few grievances to air.

"See?" Mom said, crossing her arms. "I told you she'd show up."

The seneschal grumbled. "Yes, well... How are you feeling, Duchess?"

"I'm alright," I replied cautiously.

He nodded. "Good. Do you feel up to the task of holding court today?"

"I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice." Hawley shifted the scrolls tucked under one arm to the other, saying, "Believe it or not, Adrienne, your wellbeing is my first priority."

Kindness suited him strangely, but it sounded genuine. I tried not to look entirely dumbfounded by it as I said, "Oh. Uh, thanks. Thank you, Hawley. I appreciate it. I'm sorry for disappearing like that. Whatever damage my absence caused, I'll rectify."

"I should hope so."

I made my way to the throne, stopping short of actually sitting. The past week--fraught with emotional turmoil as it was--hadn't been all bad. There'd been fewer leers, jeers, and sneers. Honestly, though, the fear of losing my mother's companionship hurt a whole lot more than a gaggle of snickering courtiers. I sat on the throne's arm, asking, "So, what did I miss?"

Hawley clicked his tongue as he unfurled and poured over the scroll. "Much, my Lady. Though I can deal with most of it. The concerning bit is regarding a shift in your, er,popularity."

"You can't be suggesting I'm less popular than before."

"That is, unfortunately, exactly what I'm suggesting." He watched me a moment, seemingly weighing what should and shouldn't be said. "It is generally frowned upon to abscond your throne."

"I didn't--"

"I know. The extent of the damage remains to be seen, but news of your vanishing spread quickly. Rumors arose within the first day. It didn't take long for people to start wondering aloud whether you are fit for the throne."

I snorted, sliding into the chair and kicking my feet up onto the arm. "Well, I'm not. Glad they're finally seeing that after twenty four years."

His eyes widened. "I understand your resentment; no infant should be forced into statecraft. That said, I would advise you not to say such things. The folk of this region have a history of engaging in, ah..."

"Regicide," Mom stated plainly, looking at the floor.

I carefully lowered my legs and sat up straighter.

"Your father was just the latest in a very, very long line of displaced rulers," Hawley continued. "When they banished him and lifted you--practically a newborn--in his stead, most knew it would be yet another fleeting reign."

I'd heard the story of how I came to be the duchess countless times. Something something, my father did some things, got ousted, left the throne to me--all that was clear enough. Still plenty vague. What remained completely a mystery was why Mom hadn't taken over instead of myself. She never really answered, either, at most only mentioning some kind of deal that precluded her but not me. I said, "Two-and-a-half decades is hardly fleeting."

"No, it isn't. In fact, only two reigns before yours have been longer. That should give you some indication that as unpopular as you may feel, things could be much, much worse. But given that you're no longer a child, you'd be best off not undermining your own rule. People are more willing to string up an adult, and if you continue to--"

"I get it."

"Wonderful. I do not want to see you lose your head."

I glanced at my mother, who looked uncharacteristically disheveled. She'd forgotten to do her hair and makeup, clearly, and her attention seemed elsewhere. "Anything to add, Mom?"

She flinched, eyes darting to me before lowering to the ground. "Uh, huh? What?"

That was a first; she sounded like me. I said, "About my 'unpopularity'."

"Oh, right, yes." Mom gnawed her lip, eventually shaking her head with eyes held shut. "I'm sorry, my mind is just a tad all-over-the-place. Hawley?"

The seneschal eyed her curiously. "I have a few ideas. First, I advise you once more to cease addressing every commoner like a knight."

"How will that make memorepopular?" I asked.

"Different kinds of popularity, Duchess. With differing degrees of usefulness. You appeal to the lowlier folk, but showing more respect to the noble class would--"

"Yeah, fuck that. Anything else?"

"Noted. Procuring an heir would certainly also bolster your reputation."

"Working on it," I sighed.

"So you say." He fished a pince-nez on a chain from his breast pocket and donned it to better scour the scroll. "Hm. Well, there is the Altar of Perspicacity?"

"The what?"

Rerolling the scroll, Hawley shrugged uncertainly. "Outside the chapel in the city center. It's a symbolic thing, mostly, but people love symbols. I'm sure your mother can explain it better than I, though." He turned to where Mom still stood. "Lady Elhof?"