Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 161: Sandra’s Visciosness.

Chapter 161: Sandra’s Visciosness.

Chambers Bedroom, Citadel.

Critic Citadel, Critic-Ishire.

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"Please, I am not comfortable with that, I wish to be left alone" Lydia pleaded, her heart thumping.

She wasn’t insecure of her body but she has never been comfortable with maids touching and examining her body, she hadn’t been brought up like that and the sudden change was massive.

She had slowly agreed with Dorothy and Joyous but they didn’t hate her like this ones did. They adored her!. And Theodore was the only man she could ever trust but he can’t here and she was a woman who had to be the woman the society expects.

"Do you even know how to be a lady? And you desire to own Theodore" Sandra taunted.

"He is my husband!" Lydia screeched.

Sandra smirked. "He does not have the royal blessing" her information paused Lydia.

"The marriage does not" Sandra said the word marriage as though it was a scalding dirt.

Lydia frowned but quickly erased it from her face, a last is not go frown or show any negative emotions.

The things she has read might be put to test in this building and she had to be ready despite seeing the wrongness of it all.

And soon in the grand chamber of Lydia’s new hell, five handmaidens bustled about with a sense of purpose, their movements was precise yet indifferent.

Their attire, though elegant, bore the stains of countless tasks performed in service to the royals. Their duties were endless no matter their numbers.

The morning sunlight filtered through the ornate windows, it casted a soft glow upon the scene unfolding within the room.

At the center of the chamber Lydia stood, her delicate frame was enveloped in a silk robe, her expression was then a mask of resignation but tinged with apprehension.

What was to happen now?

Her ebony locks cascaded down her shoulders, framing a face that bore the traces of sleepless nights one she barely actually experience and unspoken sorrows she was now getting ready to face.

The handmaidens approached with practiced efficiency, their hands rough and unyielding as they began their daily ritual, it wasn’t a daily ritual to Lydia but a test of her endurance.

"Hands, Miss Lydia" the head maiden instructed.

With little regard for Lydia’s comfort, they roughly removed her robe, exposing her porcelain skin to the cool air of the chamber.

She tried to cover self, a few red prints of Theodore’s fingers were visible on her skin but the maids were tough and difficult.

"Hold still, milady. We have much to do and little time." one advised.

With a dismissive gesture from Martha. The head maiden. An older, more imposing figure at the corner of the chamber, the handmaidens proceeded without pause.

Sandra was a visage of cruelty masked behind a facade of refinement, observed the proceedings with a cold detachment.

"Do not dally, girls. Little mistress must be presentable for the day." she said in a sing song, she was excited, she felt like she now had a doll she could shape but the shape into whatever she desired.

"Now, in the tub" Sandra ordered.

Lydia resisted, she watched the tub and flashes of last night made her frown, how a place could change. From good experience to bad memories.

Sandra raised a brow inviting the maids to help the unwilling Lydia.

The handmaidens, under the watchful eye of their mistress overseer, plunged Lydia into the scalding depths of the bath, heedless of her soft cries of discomfort.

The water was scalding hot.

The hot water enveloped her trembling form, scalding her tender skin as the handmaidens scrubbed away the remnants of sleep and solitude with ruthless efficiency.

They did so for minutes but Lydia felt she’d been under water for year’s, her body tingled and she couldn’t stop missing Theodore and wishing to go back to bed in the Theodore mansion. And then she felt it, a sharp discomfort and a familiar feeling enveloped her.

"I think I am bleeding, I need to leave the water" she alerted the maids quickly, and already rising to her feet but the maids pressed her back in and two maids grabbed her feet to start cleaning her toes.

"Stay there, you... you need to be cleansed for the Citadel" Sandra screeched, her chest heaving from the heating room.

"I am..." Lydia trailed off, cutting her self off with a sigh, maybe if she doesn’t fight them this would be over and done with soon enough.

"Hold your tongue, milady. Your complaints fall upon deaf ears." a younger maid whispered into her ear as she massaged her head before she was pulled away, Lydia sighed.

Maybe they weren’t all bad.

As Lady Lydia endured the harsh ministrations of the Citadels attendants on Sandra words, Sandra continued to issue commands with chilling precision, her voice cutting through the steam-filled chamber like a blade.

"Make haste, girls. We cannot afford any delays" she glanced at the tub and it was slowly being tinged with blood like Lydia had announced but she only raised a brow as she continued. "Miss Lydia here must be prepared to face the day, no matter the cost."

They finally let her out and she was to be dressed. But they insisted it was based on their ritual first.

Combing her hair and make up.

With each stroke of the comb and each dab of powder, Lady Lydia felt the sting of humiliation and neglect pierce her fragile facade.

Her once-gentle features contorted in pain as her handmaidens continued their relentless assault on her senses, their movements devoid of compassion or remorse.

"Please, I beg of you. Have mercy." she pleaded at the end when they intended to perhaps pull her hairs out and the stinging pain from her abdomen weren’t helping.

But her pleas fell upon deaf ears, drowned out by the clatter of brushes and the harsh whispers of her attendants.

"Continue" Sandra intstructed.

They started to get her dresses in the dress Sandra had brought. She had disregarded everything Lydia had come with. As they tightened the corset around Lydia she found it tasking to breath so she she complained. "It is too tig-" only to be cut off.

"Why do you complain so much? What does Salvatore even see in you?" Sandra blurted out angrily.

"Salvatore?" Lydia asked in confusion.

Sandra paled a bit but she recovered fast. "Do not question me, meet me downstairs after you are ready" she instructed, the maids had reduced by now after successfully stuffing Lydia into the gauche dress.

But Lydia didn’t answer she merely stood in the appaling dress. "Answer me" Sandra snarled.

Lydia met her eyes. "Yes, of course I shall meet you downstairs" she replied.

Sandra moved closer to Lydia, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Are you an idiot?"

She pulled Lydia’s arms towards her, her other hand gripped Lydias’ chin. "Call me Queen mother!" she spat.

"Whatever the fuck is happening here?!" Theodore’s booming voice resounded in the room shocking Sandra to push Lydia away.

They hadn’t heard any movement or the doors opening but since the maids were outside, Sandra had thought the would alert her of his presence but they were all incompetent in the face of the very suspicious Theodore.

"Sandra what the hell are you doing to my wife?" Theodore snarled, his steps fast as he stood in front of Lydia.

"Oh please, I was merely helping her" she waved his fury off.

"And the ingrate kept complaining, how do you live with this?" Sandra pointed an accusatory finger at Lydia who was now heading for the bathroom.

"Get out of my chambers!" Theodore barked.

Sandra flinched but stood to perhaps act strong.

"Get the fuck out! I want never to see any of you here!" he said and she couldn’t have fought the fury she saw brimming in his eyes.

After she’d left, Theodore followed after Lydia but he couldn’t barge in, he felt horrible for leaving her here alone with the wolf, he hadn’t thought she would be audacious enough to step inside his chambers but he’d thought wrong because if they could change his chambers what more was barging into his room.

"Gooseberry" he whispered behind the door.

Silence.

He knew she was inside but she wasn’t responding.

"Gooseberry, come out or I’m coming-"

She opened the door abruptly but just as fast turned her back to him, "Can you please help me with the dress" she asked.

He noticed her red skin with furrowed brows before touching her. "Fuck" he breathed softly before helping her unzip, and he could swear he heard her release a sigh.

She started to leave but he held her back.

"My love, look at me" he whispered. Her whole body was rigid and her breathing was rapid.

But she shook her head and rid herself of the dress.

"How are you? Your skin, what hairstyle is this? Did you want all of this?" he asked questions after question.

"I am fine, Theodore" Lydia assured him, her eyes stuck on his chest now, she refused to gaze at her nails that begged for her attention.

And she would not cry, she told herself.

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