You wander confidently through the foyer of the Phantomhive manor. The other guests eye you up apprehensively, clearly unnerved by your height.

You see, most men are used to looking down on women, and most women are used to seeing other women at eye level. However, given that you're just under six foot tall (or just over in heels, which you're currently wearing), you fit outside of those social particulars. Most women would despise this, trying all they could to appear small and demure. Not you though; you're proud of your height, and chose to flaunt it at every opportunity.

This event has been no exception. Lord Phantomhive has chosen to throw a party for Elizabeth, his dear Fiancé. As her family are on good terms with yours, at least one of you was expected to attend. As the eldest daughter, you had volunteered yourself. Your family were delighted; they've been trying to find you a husband for a while now, so you going to a party full of rich singletons is simply delightful in their eyes. No doubt they're expecting you to be snapped up by some random earl with his own estate and a few servants. Alas, all these earls are far too weak for your taste. In the few courtships you've had, you have been the dominant one, always in command and in control. That's all very well and good, but you desire a man that can snatch control away from you. You want a man to drag into a room, ravish you beyond comprehension, and order you to walk out of that room as if nothing has happened. You want a man that'll tie you to your bedposts and spend hours teasing your body until you cry out in frustration. You want a man that'll leave you feeling sore and satisfied after every encounter.

Why can't a man like that exist?!

Your eyes scan the room, searching for someone to talk to. After all, if you can't find your dream partner, what's the harm in having a little fun? You do so love the way men stutter as they talk to you, masculinity apparently compromised by your height.

Your eyes land on a positive midget of a lord, barely over five foot tall. You start to walk over to him, when you notice a pair of eyes staring at you just behind him. You look up, planning on giving him a piece of your mind. His gaze makes you stop in your tracks.

His eyes are a remarkable crimson colour, and his stare is so intense it makes your knees feel weak. There's a hunger in his eyes, like a predator eyeing up its next meal. Oh how you'd love him to devour you whole. Alas, he's probably just like everyone else. Meek, timid, only staring because he didn't think you'd notice. Although something about him makes you wonder if he is different…

You start walking again, approaching him with confidence. You've decided that he is your target tonight. You're going to tease him until he's a puddle of lust and anxiety, then lap him up, like a kitten with a saucer of milk. You stop mere inches away from him, expecting him to step back, unnerved by your proximity.

He doesn't move so much as a centimetre.

He's still looking at you, waiting for you to talk no doubt. Men seldom know how to properly start a conversation.

'It's incredibly rude to stare, sir.' There we go, that'll make him falter. He's taller than you'd initially thought, a few inches above your height. That makes you even more determined to break him; you've never made someone taller than you break before. He'll look delightful on his hands and knees before you, begging for a taste of you. You fight the urge to blush; whatever happened to hating being the dominant one?

He's doesn't miss a beat before responding. 'If you think my gaze is impolite, then I shan't tell you what I've been imagining.' You have to fight the urge to gasp; no man has ever responded to you in such a way before. He's going to be a challenge, and you love a challenge.

You fold your arms under your breasts, encouraging them to jump out a bit from your low cut dress. The sight of cleavage puts most men's minds in a tizzy, and you're certain he'll be no exception.

You lean forward a little too, ensuring he has the best view possible. 'I doubt it'll shock me, sir. I've been in all sorts of positions before, so there really isn't anything you can say that I'll consider impolite.' That'll have him blushing for sure. All Victorians are, by nature, very prude, so the thought of you in many compromising positions is sure to throw his confidence.

He smirks at you, and leans forward to whisper in your ear. His proximity makes you shiver, and you try desperately to stay still. His voice is low and smooth as he continues talking.

'I've been imagining stealing you away from this terribly dull affair, so quietly and with such subtlety that no one will notice your absence. First I intend to force you onto your knees in an alcove somewhere, before making you perform fellatio until I pour my essence down your throat. When you've swallowed every last drop, I'll drag you into my bedchambers, tearing off this dress of yours before tying you down upon my bed. I think I'll gag you for good measure; I wouldn't want your cries of pleasure to ruin our fun.

'When I have you where I want you, the real fun begins. I'm going to take my time with you, running my tongue over ever last inch of your flesh. By the time I'm finished doing so, your arousal will be dampening the bed below you, so I'll have to clean it up. I'll lick you out slowly, bringing you close to the edge before stoping, leaving you feeling aching and frustrated. I'll continue doing this until I hear your muffed pleas under the gag, and see the tears of denied release streaming from your eyes. Only then shall I strip down, and thrust myself inside of you.

'I shall take you with such force that you shall be left with bruises that will take weeks to heal. You'll reach your peak again and again, before you beg me to stop. I shall stop eventually, but only after I've had my fill of you. My release shall be long and plentiful, filling you to the brim with my seed. When I am done, you'll expect me to release you. I shall do no such thing. Instead, I shall return to the party, attending to my master as you remain helpless and sore on my bed, wondering how a mere butler could please you so thoroughly.

'I think I shall keep you in my chambers for a least a month. I shall deny all knowledge of your location, when Scotland Yard make their inquires. I shall say I saw you walk out into the night, presumably looking for a cab. They'll never suspect that you're in my room, dozing lightly after being taken by me yet again. When I've finally had my fill of you, I'll let you leave this place, on the condition you keep me a secret. You'll go back to your mundane life of attending balls and teasing men, constantly craving my touch. Perhaps I shall crave you too. Maybe I'll start paying you visits in the dead of night, having my way with you as your household sleeps. I wonder how they'd take it if you ended up with child. Would they force you to marry some noble fool? Or would they disown you, and leave you free to return to me? I'd gladly take you in, delighting in having my plaything close at hand once more.

'That is what I've been imaging, my dear. Do you perhaps consider it impolite after all?' Your whole face is burning, and your arousal has ruined your underwear. No man has ever spoken to you so frankly, or described in perfect detail what he wishes to do to you. It's enough to make you want to fall to your knees and beg for it, but you manage to keep from doing so. Instead, you swallow hard, responding with all of your remaining bravado.

'Talk is cheap, sir, and quite frankly, I doubt you'd be able to do half of what you've imagined. After all, if you really are just a butler, what makes you think a noble woman like me will let you do such carnal things? You are clearly delusional, sir, and I have no desire to speak with you further.' You make to move away, certain that he'll beg you to stay. Instead, he grabs your arm, forcing you to stay. His whispers in your ear again, although this time there is a threatening undertone to his words.

'I'm not 'just a butler', my dear. I'm one hell of a butler, and I swear on my household's good name that I shall have carnal knowledge of you before the evening is done. In fact, should you choose to keep playing games with me, then I swear I shall punish you before I use you for my own pleasure. Do you still believe I am delusional? I assure you, you won't be thinking that in the morning.' He lets go, lust burning in those eyes of his. You suddenly realise that he's serious about what he's said. This man truly believes that he can dominate you, that he can have you begging for mercy! You decide to bait him further, wanting to provoke him into action.

'I'll play games with whomever I choose, sir. After all, it's so much fun to tease men. They always talk such a big game, but in the end, I'm always the one who wins.' You've basically issued a challenge. The question is, will he accept it?

Before he can answer you, your host begins tapping at a glass. He's about to make a speech, so all of the guests make their way over to him, including yourself. You end up at the edge of the crowd, barely catching a glimpse of the small earl. During your migration, you've lost sight of the butler.

'Probably has to do something for his master.' You think. 'Such a shame, I was enjoying our game. Oh well, I'll just have to find another playmate.' Your eyes scan the crowd, as you search for your next target. Before you get a chance to find one, you feel a gloved hand cover your mouth.

You try to scream, but find that the hand is too big to allow noise to escape your mouth. An arm wraps itself around you, and you flail around desperately, trying to get someone's attention. Everyone is too focused on Lord Phantomhive to notice, to your assailant succeeds in dragging you away.

When you're a reasonable distance away from the crowd, he shoves you into an alcove, and it dawns on you who it is; it's the butler, come to make good on his promise.

His voice in your ear confirms it. 'If you keep fighting me, I won't be able to pleasure either of us properly. I'm taking my hand away now. If you so much as whimper, then I'll have to take measures to silence you. I believe I mentioned fellatio earlier?' You thing you like the sound of him silencing you in such a way, but you resolve to keep quiet, far more interested in what he'll do to you if you behave.

He takes his hand away, and you remain silent. 'Good girl. I must admit, I was expecting you to try and turn the tables on me. I get the impression you're usually the one in control, due mostly to your imposing stature I presume. Tonight, you can say goodbye to that control, because I submit to no woman, tall or otherwise. With that said, I'd like to play a game of my own. I'm sure you'll like it.' He pushes your torso forward so that your hands are on the wall, but your hips are still against his own. He gathers up your dress, pushing it up your legs so that he can see your underwear. He coaxes your legs open, before lapping at the sizeable wet patch he finds there. You're about to gasp, but he stands up, shoving what you assume is a glove into your mouth. He leans over to whisper to you, his erection pressing against your rear.

'The rules are quite simple; you must remain silent whilst I take you. If you make too much noise, the other guests shall rush over to see what is happening. I take it you'd rather not allow an entire room full of lords and ladies to see you being debauched by your host's servant, now would you?' You shake your head. 'Good. After we've finished here, you are to return to the party as if nothing has happened, mingling as usual. I shall collect you later, under the pretence of a cab arriving for you. The rest of the evening shall consist of me making my fantasy into reality. You're in for the best night of your life, and I'm about to give you a taster. Are you willing to comply?' You're surprised that he's asking permission; you were beginning to think he'd do what he wanted without your consent. You nod your head eagerly, desperate for him to prove that his words aren't empty. After all, this is something you've fantasised about time and time again. You have no intention of passing up this opportunity, even if you don't even know the man's name!

He pulls your underwear down, and you step out of it on one side, leaving it dangling on an ankle. You hear a zip being undone behind you, before feeling something hard press into your opening.

He enters you suddenly, bottoming out before slowly dragging himself out again. He continues that for a while, entering quickly and forcefully before pulling out gradually and gently. It drives you mad, and makes your whole body ache for him. You want to yell at him to go faster, but you can't, due to both your game and your makeshift gag. Instead you just stand there and take what he gives you, hoping that he speeds up of his own volition.

It doesn't take long before he does just that, hands digging into your hips as he fucks you in earnest, abusing your depths with precise and controlled thrusts. Your whole body feels hot, dress suddenly feeling too warm. The feeling intensifies when he starts rubbing your clit, and the thrusting causes your breasts to pop out of their fabric confines. You've never felt so alive, and you know that when you reach your peak, it shall be glorious.

It's not long until you're proven right, as an orgasm hits you so hard you have to shove your mouth into your arm to keep from screaming in pleasure. Your channel flutters and contracts around him, and that sends him over too. He spills into you, groaning into your back as he does. You bask in the sensation of being filled by him, and thank every deity that'll listen for providing you with the lover of your dreams.

When he's done, you adjust yourselves quickly, trying to remove any evidence of your activities before the other guests get suspicious. You hand him his glove, and make to head back to the group his hand grabs your arm.

'My name is Sebastian, by the way. I suggest you learn it quickly, because I shall have you screaming it by dawn.'