Black Butler Dress Novels & Stories

“What colors do you consider happy?” “Pink. Yellow. Glitter.” “I’m going to a Foundation gala, not a unicorn birthday party, Penelope.” Poppy sat up again and crawled toward the edge of the bed. Her hand slipped between the two hangers Salma was still holding. “That one.” Salma pulled out a black dress from behind the others. It was simple from the front. A straight neckline, thin straps, black fabric falling cleanly to the floor. The back dipped low, held together only by two narrow straps and a tiny clasp at the nape.

“Of course he has.” She presented the dress with careful reverence. Deep midnight-black silk flowed like liquid night, hugging the body with a fitted silhouette before flaring gracefully. The neckline plunged elegantly while the back dipped daringly low, accented by subtle silver threads that caught the light like scattered moonlight. It looked striking and sensual, far bolder than anything I had ever worn. “I cannot wear that,” I protested, my cheeks warming. “His Majesty was quite specific,” the housekeeper replied with a knowing smile. “You’ve got to put it on.”

They may not have been getting along with Lukas, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t value their bond. After she was done with my make-up she helped get into my dress, which I had to step into rather than pulling it over my head. The dress was extremely beautiful and elegant. I felt like a lady in it. It was a little too sexy for me, but it wasn’t something that I couldn’t handle. It was a black sati dress with a draped collar and had a low cut back. I felt so sext and so beautiful in it, a little too sexy. “Oh, my word, Elena! That dress looks like it was made for you”, Grace exclaimed, with bright and excited eyes.

The Blackmoors were purple, Souths yellow, Thorntons blue, and the Nights green. When I walked into my room the day Claire woke up, I saw a chartreuse dress lying on my bed. It had a tight fit on the top, complete with modest short sleeves, then flowed right under my chest. Layers of thin fabric worked together to reveal a deep, solid color on the bottom. In-between the two layers was a silver beaded belt sewed into the fabric. Now that it was finally time to wear it though, I couldn't find my motivation to enjoy it.

In the Master Suite - One Hour Later The dress Alex had picked for Zara was really white. It wasn't the flowing, ethereal silk dress of the gala night. This one was structured, looked more like royalty. It was a sheath of heavy, ivory crepe that hugged her body like an armor. It had long sleeves, a high neck, and a slit up the leg that allowed for movement. It was elegant, modern, and undeniably regal, just perfect for a Queen.

“I carry⁠ mysel‌f like a perso‍n, n‌ot a mannequin.” Co‍lette’s smile was thi⁠n‌ a‍nd did not reac‌h he‌r eyes.‌ “For tonight⁠, t‍hey are one and the same‍. Now, the‌ dresses.” The black clot‌h was‌ whi⁠sked aw‍ay⁠ to reveal a rac⁠k of breathtaking gowns. They were all‌ in‍ a spectrum‍ of black, navy, and deep burgundy‍—elegant‌, severe, and utterly‍ safe.

It would be worth it, when she thought of how well they went with her dress. It was a simple black dress, with an open back that she knew would drive Mr. Hayes wild. She had decided at the last minute not to wear a bra or panties, just in case an opportunity presented itself for her to tease him a little more. The butler showed her in, a smile on his face as he remembered the last time she’d entered this house. Still, even at his advanced age, he checked her out from head to toe. She knew she'd be getting a lot of this kind of attention tonight.

Amara’s suite felt like a different world, a quiet sanctuary before the storm. The dress, a floor-length gown of liquid black silk, lay across her bed like a promise. It was simple in its elegance, cut in a sleek column that would hug her curves with quiet power. The back plunged into a deep V, edged with delicate silver embroidery that shimmered like starlight, a celestial touch on a dark night. The train was subtle—not long or dramatic, but present, a whisper of power trailing behind her. She ran her fingers over the fabric, the silk cool and smooth against her skin, and she knew instinctively that this wasn’t a choice from a stylist. It was a choice from him.

I look at the dress Julian handed me earlier and asked me to wear at 8pm. He didn't give me any further instructions; he just told me to put it on. And now that I'm looking at it on my body, the way the cloth fits my curves perfectly and highlights my waist and hips, I see that he made a great choice. It's a shiny, black dress with a huge slit in the leg, which opens into a long skirt, almost touching the floor. The heart-shaped neckline makes my breasts shape up and attract attention.

His scent was a strange comfort. She folded it carefully and put it back in its hiding place, then reached for the black dress Blair had insisted she buy. It was a sleeveless, thigh-length piece with a sweetheart neckline—elegant, striking, and just daring enough to make a statement.