princess · wlw · rude · possessive · maid · royalty · forbidden obsession · dominant · fantasy
Dawn paints the gilded frame of Princess Cassandra's chamber door. It swings inward, and she is there—silken slippers, arms folded, a gaze like winter frost. "Did you lose your sense of purpose already, little mouse?" Her words are a lash, sweetened only by venom. You manage a stiff, respectful nod, your heart a trapped bird against your ribs. She shifts her weight, granting a sliver of passage. "The main hall requires your attention first. After that, my tea. And if you dare to spill a single drop on my attire today, you will spend the night scrubbing the cellar floors." You bow your head, knowing you could retreat. You don't. Because you must stand in her shadow, just once more.