Violet Evergarden

The quiet hum of the city at dusk provided a soft backdrop to the elegant salon. Rain, a gentle murmur against the windowpanes, seemed to isolate the space, creating an intimate world for Violet Evergarden. She sat by the window, her blonde hair catching the fading light, a book resting unread in her lap. Her sapphire eyes, usually so focused, were distant, lost in a haze of unspoken longing. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and something akin to melancholic desire. She was waiting, though for whom, or for what, she couldn't quite articulate. It was a new feeling, this ache that settled deep within her, a yearning for a connection that transcended the words she so meticulously crafted for others. Her prosthetic arms, usually so precise and capable, felt strangely inert, heavy with a sensibility she hadn't quite learned to wield.

A soft knock at the door shattered the reverie. Violet’s heart gave a curious lurch. She stood, her movements fluid and graceful, her simple daytime dress doing little to conceal the gentle swell of her breasts beneath the fabric. It was Mr. Scheidegg, her current client, a man whose gaze often lingered a moment too long, whose requests for letters were increasingly personal, tinged with a sentiment that mirrored her own nascent emotions. He was a composer, a man of art and passion, and in his presence, Violet felt a stir of something more than professional admiration.

He entered, shaking water from his coat, his eyes immediately finding Violet. A faint smile touched his lips, a warmth that reached his eyes. “Miss Evergarden,” he said, his voice a low baritone, “I hope I’m not disturbing you. The rain… it seemed to call for a more intimate conversation than usual.” He held a small, beautifully wrapped box. “A small token of my appreciation for your… artistry.”

Violet accepted the gift, her fingers brushing against his. A jolt, electric and surprising, coursed through her. “Thank you, Mr. Scheidegg,” she murmured, her voice a little breathier than intended. “You are most welcome.” She felt a blush creep up her neck, a sensation unfamiliar and intoxicating.

He stepped further into the room, his gaze sweeping over her. “Please, call me Dietrich,” he corrected softly, his eyes now fixed on the curve of her neck. “And I confess, Miss Evergarden, my appreciation extends beyond your exquisite prose.” He paused, then added, “Your blonde hair… it’s like spun moonlight.”

Violet’s breath hitched. No one had ever described her in such a way. She felt a wave of heat rise, pooling low in her belly. She looked down at the box, her fingers tracing the ribbon. “What is it?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Dietrich stepped closer, his presence filling the small space between them. “Something I thought might… enhance your beauty,” he said, his voice laced with a suggestive timbre. He watched as she carefully unwrapped it. Inside, nestled on satin, was a delicate piece of lingerie, a whisper of black lace and silk, so sheer it seemed to shimmer in the dim light. It was a bra, exquisitely crafted, designed to accentuate, to reveal. Beside it lay matching panties, equally daring.

Violet gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Her cheeks were aflame. She’d seen such things in illustrations, in whispered conversations, but never had one been presented to her, intended for her. Her prosthetic fingers trembled as she lifted the bra. It felt impossibly soft against her skin. The lace was intricately designed, hinting at the curves it was meant to embrace. The cups were a delicate triangle, designed to support and elevate, promising to enhance what was already a generous endowment. Her own breasts, full and soft, seemed to ache with a newfound awareness of their own presence.

“Dietrich…” she breathed, her gaze meeting his. His eyes were dark with a fervent desire that mirrored the growing storm within her. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the outline of her collarbone, then dipping lower, towards the neckline of her dress. “I… I’ve never…” she stammered, her voice thick with emotion.

“You are the most beautiful woman I know, Violet,” he said, his voice a husky caress. “And I long to see that beauty unburdened. May I?” His question was not just about the lingerie, but about her inhibitions, her carefully constructed walls. He was asking to see the woman beneath the esteemed Auto Memory Doll, the woman who harbored a secret yearning.

Violet’s heart pounded a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The rain outside intensified, a symphony of passion and anticipation. She looked at the lingerie, then at Dietrich, his gaze holding hers captive. A decision bloomed within her, bold and exhilarating. “Yes,” she whispered, the word a promise. “Yes, you may.”

With trembling hands, Violet began to unbutton her dress. Each button released a sigh from her lips, a surrender to the intoxicating build-up of intimacy. The fabric parted, revealing the soft curve of her décolletage. Her breasts, a pale, creamy white, were perfectly formed, their fullness accentuated by the gentle pull of the fabric. As the dress slid from her shoulders, Dietrich’s breath hitched. Her topless form was revealed, a breathtaking sight. Her nipples, small and dark against the pale skin, were already hardening with anticipation, a testament to the rising tide of her desire. The sheer lace of the bra, when she finally slipped it on, was like a delicate shadow against her skin, emphasizing rather than concealing the magnificent swell of her breasts. The straps, thin and barely there, cradled her ample cleavage, drawing his gaze to the enticing valley between them. The cups, designed for maximum allure, pushed her full breasts upwards, creating a stunning display of cleavage that made his breath catch in his throat. The lace, so sheer, offered only the faintest hint of the smooth skin beneath, leaving much to the imagination and igniting a fire in his eyes.

Dietrich’s eyes, wide with wonder, traced the lines of her body. He reached out, his touch feather-light, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her shoulders, then drifting lower, towards the exquisite curves of her breasts. Violet shivered, a delicious tremor that ran through her entire body. His touch was electrifying, awakening a responsiveness she hadn't known she possessed. She leaned into him, her head resting on his chest, the rumble of his heartbeat a comforting, yet exciting, counterpoint to her own racing pulse.

“You are… incredible, Violet,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. He gently cupped her breast, his thumb brushing against her peak. Violet gasped, a soft moan escaping her lips. The sensation was exquisite, a heady mix of pleasure and vulnerability. She felt a desperate need to be closer, to feel the full extent of his desire against her. Her prosthetic hands, no longer objects of mere function, now felt like extensions of her own longing, reaching for him, seeking his touch.

He knelt before her, his eyes locked with hers. He unhooked the bra, the lace falling away to reveal her full, magnificent breasts in all their glory. Her nipples, now fully erect and sensitive, were like dark jewels against the pale landscape of her skin. He gazed at them with an intensity that made her knees weak. Then, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the tender flesh of her breasts. Violet cried out, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. His mouth, warm and wet, enveloped her nipple, his tongue swirling around it, eliciting waves of exquisite sensation. She arched her back, her hands tangling in his hair, urging him on. She had never experienced anything like this, this overwhelming confluence of physical pleasure and emotional surrender.

He moved from one breast to the other, his ministrations a slow, deliberate dance of seduction. Violet’s body trembled with a newfound intensity. The ache in her core intensified, a burning desire that demanded to be quenched. She guided his lips lower, towards the sensitive skin of her belly, then further still. Dietrich understood. He continued his exploration, his kisses and caresses leaving a trail of fire wherever they landed. He removed the remaining vestiges of her clothing with a practiced ease, his eyes never leaving her form. The full bloom of her womanhood was revealed, a spectacle that sent a jolt of pure lust through him. Her mound, soft and inviting, was a testament to her beauty, her readiness. He knelt between her legs, his gaze filled with reverence. He parted her lips with his fingers, his touch both gentle and firm, and then, he lowered his head. Violet cried out again, a sound of pure, uninhibited pleasure, as his tongue found its mark. The sensations were overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that resonated through her entire being. She surrendered to the exquisite torture, her body arching against his mouth, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

He continued his devoted ministrations, exploring every curve, every crevice, with a passion that mirrored her own. Violet’s mind was a haze of pure sensation, her body singing with a pleasure so profound it bordered on pain. She felt her climax building, an unstoppable wave of ecstasy. As it crested, she cried out his name, her body convulsing with the force of it. Her hands, now slick with sweat, clutched at his hair, holding on for dear life as the pleasure consumed her. Dietrich, his own arousal reaching its peak, looked up at her, his eyes blazing with shared intensity. He rose, his body pressing against hers. Their skin met, a perfect fit, a testament to their shared passion. He entered her slowly, deliberately, her body opening to him with a welcoming sigh. The feeling of fullness, of being completely intertwined, was breathtaking. He began to move, a steady, rhythmic rhythm that sent ripples of pleasure through both of them. Violet wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. They moved together, a single entity, their breaths mingling, their moans echoing in the intimate space. The rain outside had subsided, replaced by the soft murmur of their shared pleasure. He kissed her deeply, his tongue tangling with hers, a reflection of the deeper union they shared. Her blonde hair cascaued around them, a silken halo in the dim light. The passion between them was a palpable force, a testament to the love that had blossomed in the most unexpected of places. As they reached the precipice together, their bodies convulsed, their cries of ecstasy intertwining, a final, fervent crescendo that left them breathless and utterly entwined. In the aftermath, they lay tangled together, the lingering scent of their passion filling the air. Violet, her body still humming with pleasure, felt a profound sense of peace. Dietrich held her close, his hand gently stroking her back. The quiet that followed was not one of emptiness, but of profound fulfillment, a silent promise of more to come.