tagNovels and NovellasFor the Love of Licia Pt. 03

For the Love of Licia Pt. 03


Chapter Nine: Vanilla and stronger spices.

Gina felt like she'd never felt before, and she didn't like it one bit. She should be deliriously happy having won the fight with Sarah Lust -- a fight she knew meant more than just conquering the girl. It meant the Club's Salon was hers -- the girl only stood symbol for that. She was her trophy. Gina had been victorious in a struggle that had meant a lot to her.

She won, goddammit, so why wasn't she happy?

Maybe it was the mood Alicia was in. Ever since she returned to the terrace, that day, the girl had been quiet -- morose, even. The group had taken Alicia and Gina to a restaurant to celebrate and then the two of them had retired to the hotel suite. The girl had licked and fucked her through two glorious strings of orgasms. But when she returned the compliment, Alicia had merely lain there. Of course she'd come; she always did. But she never was the explosive, wriggling, moaning, screaming little she-volcano Gina knew her to be. She also hadn't giggled and jiggled, jumping around the room making silly cracks and funny faces, singing along with the music, enjoying her wine, letting her titties bounce while she danced.

She had been a million miles away.

When they rested on the bed -- naked and sweaty -- Gina'd asked Alicia if something was wrong. Nothing was, the girl said and asked why she asked.

"You are so quiet today, darling," Gina answered, removing strands of hair from the girl's face with a red-lacquered fingernail. "Is it because of Sarah? Do you pity her? Didn't you agree with what I said?" Alicia hadn't answered. She'd looked away.

"That's it, isn't it?" Gina asked, unable to hide the slight annoyance in her voice. "Do you think I was wrong?"

The girl murmured something. Gina asked her to speak up, at once regretting the sharpness of her voice.

"I am here, aren't I?" Alicia said, louder. Gina forced her voice into a sweeter tone.

"Are you really, Alicia? Here, I mean?" The girl raised her face and kissed the woman.

"Do we have to talk about it, Gina? Let me suckle your breasts, okay; let me lick your pussy. I am yours. I'm here to please you, okay?"

Half an hour later they rested in almost the same position again, Gina being just a little sweatier. She lie naked, her legs wide, the dark pool of Alicia's hair splashed between them. The radio produced soft sounds of something classical.

"Mahler," Alicia whispered. Whatever, Gina thought, still breathing hard from her climax. God, the girl was good. How she loved being eaten by her -- taken to the edge and back again; then coaxed up once more and again, teased and pushed until she tottered on the brink of ecstasy, crying for release, clawing the girl's hair, begging but being denied until she ranted, rambled, uttering sheer nonsense... then dragged up again and plunged over the screaming edge, flying. Oh God, how she loved that girl and what she did to her. It relaxed every stressed muscle to the point of fainting, making her feel as if she floated on air.

But when she offered to give it back to her, tonight, Alicia put her finger to her lips and hissed shhhh. It suddenly angered Gina. She rose on her elbows and cried out:

"What the FUCK is wrong with you, Alicia!" It made the girl start.

"Nothing," she said. "I just love this music." Gina shook her head, rolling her eyes.

"You very well know I didn't mean that!" she exclaimed. Alicia just stared at her, eyes wide.

"Sorry," she mumbled. She got up and crawled sideways to leave the bed, but Gina grabbed her upper arm and pulled her back.

"Don't you run away, you little traitor," she hissed. "It's Sarah, isn't it? I know you cheated on me with her. I know you fuck around, but that stops now, you hear? From today on you are mine! Promise me. Promise me!"

Gina's hand rose with her voice. It hung like doom over the girl's head, ready to slice a cruel backhand across her face. Alicia didn't move. She stared at the hand, eyes wide, lips trembling.

"Y-yes," she stuttered. "Yes, I promise -- Mistress."

The word hit Gina like a physical blow. Her hand dropped to the satin bed spread, lying there like a broken branch.

"Sorry, oh God, so sorry, my love," she whispered, pulling the girl into her arms and kissing her face. "Forgive me. I love you so. I'd never strike you. Never, ever. Forgive me, please. I don't know what got into me. I love you. Forgive me."

She hugged Alicia, muttering excuses. Their faces were cheek to cheek, so she couldn't see the disappointment in the girl's eyes, right before she closed them. Two silver tears welled from between the lashes.


The distance Gina felt that night seemed to slowly dissolve in the days that followed -- but it never entirely disappeared. Like many people with a pampered upbringing, Gina's sense of property was pretty absolute. She also had a distinct jealous streak that at times could bring her close to paranoia.

Alicia had always been totally spontaneous and open with her, just as she was with everyone she liked at the Club. When she kissed, she kissed passionately, her lips weak and open. When she hugged, she hugged intensely, her whole sweet body pressing into a person. She always gave herself, she never held back, not when she laughed and not when she made love -- she was always totally there. Gina fell in love with her because of that.

So Alicia's distance, even if it wasn't more than an occasional hesitation, struck a nerve with Gina. A microscopic seed of doubt nestled itself in a dark niche of her soul, irritating her like a grain of sand in the corner of an eye.

Gina should have talked to Alicia. But as so often, while the poison of jealousy seeped in, pride built a wall against its very cure. It might be true that Alicia felt sorry for Sarah Lust and she might also feel upset with the way Gina had bullied the woman. But that was by far not the biggest of the many doubts and demons that lighted and landed like a flock of crows on the girl's mind. Gina didn't understand what went on inside Alicia -- what the girl truly needed. She could hardly be blamed for that, as Alicia didn't know herself -- being so utterly lost in the black, entangled forest around her.

Gina's concern should have pointed in quite a different direction. But as her suspicion grew, so did her jealousy until it would one day blind her.

On the other hand, Gina never lost her sense of directness and efficiency. She was no philosopher; she prided herself in being pragmatic -- a levelheaded businesswoman. Straying girls should be robbed of their straying fields. Alicia should be taken away from the Club and put in Gina's gilded cage on her far away home islands. So Gina started to paint wonderful pictures of sandy beaches and lukewarm oceans. She talked of traveling to exotic places and staying in luxurious resorts; of parties with the rich and famous. She proposed skiing in the Alps and scuba diving in the Caribbean. She suggested thousand dollar dresses and sparkling jewelry.

The girl let the magnificent visions dazzle her like so many mirages. During long, wine drenched evenings she allowed Gina's dreams to soak her and she admitted to their attraction. But all she truly felt was fear. Fear to leave the things that were dear to her, however few they might be. Fear to take the plunge and fail in Gina's glamorous world. Fear to be dependent on a woman who'd shown cruelty, but also amazing weakness behind all of her bravado.

Alicia admired Gina, but there were too many doubts and the woman didn't even begin to understand why Alicia had them. She just pushed and pushed, only to have the girl put her heels deeper into the sands of silent resistance.

Gina loved Alicia, but she didn't see how the girl changed, much less why. Alicia felt it, but didn't understand it either -- she just sensed the restlessness. She knew, however, that it wasn't a thing wealth or travel could resolve.

She doubted if Gina had the slightest idea why she suffered and what she truly felt.


"You look a bit pale, honey," Angique said, her black eyebrows knitting with concern.

Alicia smiled shyly, squirming in her chair. Angique had dressed conservatively today. She even wore trousers under a jacket that gapped enough to show the black silk camisole underneath. She looks almost businesslike, Alicia thought. Almost, for the camisole didn't hide the unhampered quivering of her nipples -- and the heels of her boots were way too high.

They drank tea again, right under the balcony.

"Do you get enough sleep, darling?" The smile after the question was Mona Lisa's. The green eyes didn't waver.

"I never sleep much," Alicia responded, shrugging.

"But you should, honey," the woman commented. "Your beauty is too precious to squander away by lack of sleep. It would be selfish, wouldn't it -- depriving us poor mortals of your beauty?" Now the smile was wider and the eyes sparkled. A wave of warmth washed through Alicia's body. Her pussy tingled. Why was it that such a banal conversation could arouse her so? How could every word of this woman have so many extra meanings? Was it the sound? Was it the eyes, those sensual caterpillar lips?

"Mistress, please..."

The words hung in the balmy afternoon air as if left by a passing stranger. Alicia knew she had produced them, shaped them with her lips and tongue -- and yet she had no idea where they had come from.

Angique's eyes lighted up with mirth. She chuckled and it made the heat of embarrassment spread even faster. Alicia's face turned crimson. The woman reached out and touched the girl's upper arm. It sent a spark of electricity from her fingertips to the naked flesh.

"Mistress? Why would I be your Mistress, honey?" Angique asked, her voice a warm whisper. "What does it mean?" The girl looked forlorn.

"I... I don't know," she stuttered. It made Angique smile.

"Yes, I thought so," she said, her hand softly squeezing the girl's arm. "You don't know. But if you are what I hope you are, honey, "knowing" isn't the verb we'll be looking for, anyway. Nevertheless, do you at all know what a Mistress is?"

Alicia's eyes shifted as if they tried to escape their sockets. Then she cleared her throat and sat up straighter.

"I saw you with your... girls. The petite blonde and the big busted girl in latex. It made me feel... funny. They were abused, ridiculed, humiliated -- and even so I... I envied them."

A cloak of stifling heat had descended on her. The words struggled their way out through syrupy air. All she had accumulated these last weeks, every suppressed emotion, wanted out -- each one jostling the other. Invisible hands clawed at them to pull them back into the boiling little place where she'd kept them stored. But even if she wanted to take them back in, she couldn't -- their place had already been taken by new and deeper secrets floating to the surface, wanting out too.

There were unspeakable questions rooted in unspeakable desires. Her lips started shaping them -- then scrambled them again into illegible mutterings.

It must make her seem a complete idiot.

The calm green eyes looked into the turmoil. They were no longer probing -- they were just there. They slowly opened wider, filling her vision. They were warm and generous. They said: "Welcome." They whispered: "Don't be scared, tell me all." Then there was a real voice.

"Why would you envy them, honey? What is there to envy?"

"I... I don't know, really," Alicia said once more, her voice gaining a dreamlike quality. She felt like Alice in Wonderland: just one more step and she would tumble through the mirror darkly. But her feet couldn't move. They wanted to, oh they ached to, but the green mirror seemed to stop them.

"I have always felt that I was -- submissive is the word, I guess," Alicia went on, her voice getting steadier. "I felt of lesser worth than the people around me. I never rebelled even as a child. People... guided me, shaped me. I did as they wanted; I loved to be shaped, I guess. My brother did it, my mother, boys in school, teachers, my husband... I loved to be told what to do. It made me feel... safe?" The girl took in a gulp of air, bracing herself. "And since I saw you and your girls -- it touched me. I became curious to see if there was more."

"More?" Angique asked. "More of what?" Her hand was still on the naked arm, spreading heat.

"When -- what's her name, the girl in latex -- took your foot and placed it on her head, pressing the heel into her skull and her face into the carpet, it made me come. I never even touched myself, but I came. I almost fainted."

There was silence, but for the angry buzz of a fly trying to fight its way out through a closed window.

"Ever since," the girl went on. "Ever since that day I dreamt I was that girl, wearing outrageous clothes, doing outrageous things. I... masturbated to that scene, and it was I lifting your foot to press down on my head. It was I... sucking your toes as if they were little... cocks. My bed was drenched each morning since then."

Another silence reigned. Angique never said a word, stroking the girl's arm.

"Please," Alicia begged. "I need to know how it is; why I am like this; who I am. Will you explain? Please?"

"Honey," Angique said at last, closing and opening her eyes. "There is much misunderstanding about things like this. I have seen so many girls fail. There are many who feel attracted to this, uhm, lifestyle because they love the outfits, the delicious horror promised by canes and riding crops, the smell of leather, the threat of cuffs and gags and shining chains -- and of course the promise of exotic sex. They love the idea of it -- plus the wonderful escape it offers. They are forced; they bear no responsibility, so they won't feel guilt. But, you know..."

The hand had left the arm and now cupped Alicia's chin, drawing the girl's eyes straight at her own.

"Those girls have it all wrong. They miss the point. I call them tourists. They are like people exploring the dark jungle of Africa from the save confinement of jeeps and air-conditioned resorts, catching the dangerous predators in the save glasses of their binoculars. I don't want women like that. I don't play with subs. My girls are slaves. Do you know what a slave is?" Alicia swallowed the parched insides of her throat. She was totally lost in the emerald eyes, now. Subs? Slaves? It was hard to think.

"Someone who does as she is told?" she asked.

Angique chuckled. "Close enough for now, honey," she said. "Rise, please."

The girl had trouble focusing. Then she swallowed again, and rose. Angique's eyes went up and down her slender body, all five feet and maybe two inches of them. And when she reached Alicia's feet, her eyes went up again and she repeated her survey slowly, taking in the face, the chest, the slender hips, the sleek legs and the tiny feet.

The silence grew. When, after a full minute, pink blotches climbed out of the girl's blouse, the seated woman said:

"Undress, please." She smiled saying it, making it almost into a casual request. Alicia hesitated. Her hands went up to the first unopened button of her flowery top, pausing there. Angique chuckled.

"Come on, honey," she said. "You stripped in public before, didn't you? I know about your amazing first entrance at Bianca's. Now don't suddenly get shy with me."

Her face a blazing pink, Alicia's fingers started to undo each button, one by one. Heads started to turn at the few occupied tables as the flimsy fabric slid off the girl's shoulders, pooling at her feet.

"Nice bra," Angique complimented. "I love it when they are just made of thin silky satin -- the hugging kind, not so much supporting or pushing up; just keeping the sweet natural bounce in check." Alicia stood without motion, staring.

"I also love it when they come off," the woman went on, nodding her head eagerly.

Alicia's hands slipped behind her back, pushing out her chest in doing so. Little bumps showed in the shining satin. Then the bra slid off her shoulders and joined the blouse at her feet.

The breasts weren't big, but they were nicely shaped. "Nice lil apples," Angique commented. "I like pears too, but I certainly prefer them round, like these. And the funny oblong areola on your left tit is so cute. Please touch it." Alicia's hand rose to her left breast, cupping it.

"No, honey," Angique said. "Tweak the nipple with your finger nails. Don't be afraid to hurt it a little. You'll like it." She smiled her teeth bare and nodded encouragingly. "Trust me."

Alicia's fingernails gripped the tiny morsel from two sides. She moaned, her thighs squeezing as if she had to go to the toilet.

"Oh, but harder, of course, honey," Angique said, laughing. "I didn't say: caress them, did I? Tweak them, darling, turn them, pull at them. Don't deny yourself some delicious pain."

The moaning increased. There was sobbing, too. Alicia's eyes never left Angique's. Her thighs rolled and squeezed together.

"You are wet, aren't you, honey?" The girl nodded.

"Let me see."

Angique rose and walked to the exposed girl. She reached around Alicia, her suit a black accolade for the half naked body -- her face now almost touching the girl's. The sound of a zipper exploded into the breathless silence of the room, exciting a murmur from the circle of gathered faces. When the skirt fell, Angique's other hand at once covered the front of the thong.

"Oh my, honey," she said. "You are truly soaked. Better get rid of these lovely panties before they are ruined."

She retreated, expecting the girl to remove the thong. It clearly showed a dark patch at the front. Alicia seemed frozen, however.

"Alicia?" Angique prodded. "Do I embarrass you, honey? Do you think this is too humiliating?" There was no response. The girl just stood there, naked but for her drenched panties, looking around, meeting the faces.

"Honey," Angique started again. "You asked for this. You asked, but you don't have to do this. You may stop any time you want."

As if waking up, Alicia's dark eyes returned to Angique's. She slowly nodded as if to an unasked question and her hands slipped inside the band of the thong. She slowly rolled it down her legs and stepped out of it.

"Stand straight, please. Let me look at you, darling."

The girl stood, flushed and embarrassed.

"Push out those tits, girl. They are nice, be proud of them. And spread your legs. I see nothing to be ashamed of, I'd say. You are sweet and beautiful."

Alicia spread her legs a bit and moved her hands to her back. She was totally exposed now. More of the women present left their chairs to watch closer. Not a sound was heard.

"You crop your cunt hair, I see," Angique said, relishing the effect of her crude choice of words. "Nicely thick and dark, just like the lovely hair on your head. But true slave girls shave their cunts smooth like babies, didn't you know?"

Alicia's head slowly went left and right. She didn't know. Right now she didn't know a lot, actually, only that her pussy was on fire -- a fire that instead of being extinguished by her leaking juices, seemed to be feeding on them.

"Touch it for me, honey, please. Touch your cunt." Angique's words reached the girl from a distance. She closed her eyes and found the swollen slit, shivering violently from the mere touch.

"No, no, honey. That won't do at all," Angique said with a laugh and a mocking tssk. "Never close your eyes. Look at me!"

The eyes flew open. They were misting up. Angique leaned forward, whispering: "Now find your clit, darling. Roll it softly, tease it out of its hood, mmmmmm, yes, make it slide and slither under your probing fingers. How does that make you feel, lovely slut?"

The chocolate irises trembled. Then they turned up and up until there was only white left. Angique knew the girl was coming hard and on the brink of fainting. She cupped her face for support and kissed the drooling lips hard, spearing a moan with her plunging tongue.

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