Jai Ho

Jai Ho
I do not own Phantom of the Opera.

The next thing that Clara knew was that she was on a bed of the softest silks and velvets. She drowsily ran her hand up and down the silk blankets before sitting up. She found herself in a room that was decorated with reds and blacks. Little dotts of color decorated the room here and there, but the girl’s attention was drawn to the piano that was resting in a corner of the room. She stood up, ignoring the sharp pains that raced through her body, and stumbled over towards the bench. She sat down heavily, panting from the pain. Clara smiled as she ran her fingers across the stage of ebony and ivory keys. She softly pressed down on a few keys, making a sour note.
Clara jumped up in shock as the masked man entered the room.
“Clara, it’s good to see that you’re awake,” he smiled kindly at her. “Come here, I need to change your dressings.”
Clara crept over to him and allowed for him to remove the bandages that only twelve hours ago were placed over her infected scars.
“Do you play?” Clara blurted out, a deep blush tainting her porcelain skin.
“Yes,” the man asnwered shortly, ripping open another scab. Clara whimpered in pain as the blood began to flow once more, mingling with the yellow-green pus. “I’m sorry, but I need to drain the pus, otherwise the infection will spread,” he apologized to Clara.
“It’s alright,” she said through gritted teeth. “What’s your name?” she suddenly asked on a whim.
“Erik. Erik Destler,” he answered after only a moment of hesitation.
“Erik,” breathed Clara softly, turning to face him. For the first time, a small smile graced her face, making her look pretty and loving. Her hand carefully traced the outline of his mask. “The name suits you.”
Erik stood from his crouch, walking over to a chair, where Clara saw a dress in a pretty shade of lilac was resting. He picked it up and gave it to her with a smile.
“You can wear this until Emma can take you into town,” he announced, helping her with the buttons.
“Thank you, Mounsire Destler,” murmured Clara softly, smiling as the dress fitted her perfectly.
~oOo~
Erik watched as Emma and Clara both rode from The Peacock Feather, giggling and chattering. He sighed as he turned from the curtains back to his room. He went toward his office to try and get some paperwork done.
As he sat down in his comfy chair, he growled as his trousers tightened uncomfortably for the dozenth time that morning. He slapped his quill down angirly; he wouldn’t be able to do anything else until he released himself.
Why were men cursed with such an insterment?
He placed his ungloved hand over his manhood, groaning loudly as his nimble fingers unbuttoned his trousers. As he took his engorged flesh into his hands, he asentmindedly traced the veins that decorated the penis. He folded his hand around it and began to massage it roughly, letting his head fall back and allowing for memories of the night before to spring into mind.
His strokes became faster as he quickly neared his climax. Breathing heavily, he all but tore his trousers apart as he dug out his handkerchief and placed it strategically over the tip of his penis before his released himself with a loud moan.
As he disposed of the evidence and readied himself to start on the large stack of paperwork, he found himself thinking about Clara and her virgin body. He groaned as he thought about pounding into her, stealing her viginity like she had stolen his mind...
~oOo~
Emma smiled as Clara looked at a bolt of creamy blue cotton. The two girls had grown close over the past few hours, and had silently began to view the other as a sister. Emma had also tolf Clara that she could make her own clothes if she didn’t want to shop for items to wear.
“I loke this color,” announced Clara, taking the bolt of fabric up to the casheire. After paying for the fabric, she puttered around the small shops some more before Emma told the girl that they had to return back to the brothel for lunch.
As the two girls rode through the town, gigging and chattering, Clara noticed that there was a sweets shop. She asked for Emma to wait for her as she entered.
“Hello there, my dear. Can I help you with something?” asked a kindly grandmotherly like woman from behind the counter.
Clara smiled and looked around, finally buying a small bag of gumdrops and chocolate drops.
As she hurried from the sweet shop, she spied Emma, who was holding both of their horses.
“I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t resist!” apologized Clara, hopping onto her gentle mare with a smile towards her friend.
“No problem. Madame Smith knows all of the girls from the brothel and she is the sweetest soul that I have ever met,” grinned Emma, kicking her horse into a quick canter, in her rush to return to The Peacock Feather.
By the time the girls returned to the brothel, the scents of freshly cooked food was meeting there noses as they handed their horses off to the stableboys.
“Clara!” shouted Violet, another one of the girls, running up to the two girls. “Master Destler wishes to see you in his private chambers,” she whispered to Clara with a smile.
“Thank you,” smiled Clara before asking Emma to deliver her things to her new room. The girl agreed to do so before Clara followed Violet up to her new boss’s office.