tagNovels and NovellasFor the Love of Licia Pt. 07

For the Love of Licia Pt. 07

byangiquesophie©

Chapter Twenty-five: "I knew it," she whispered.

Angique looked down on what seemed like a nest of snakes. They were narrow straps, braided into a harness. The sturdy leather had been waxed and polished. There were gleaming steel eyelets, buckles, studs and rings -- big round ones that connected the straps; well-worn D-rings that suggested limitless applications. Before laying the harness out on the rug, Angique had taken it to her face, inhaling the leather's arousing age-old scent. Then she rubbed it with her thumbs, kissing it, remembering...

"How I envy you, Anna," she murmured, letting her eyes roam from the wide collar at the top, down to the bundle of straps that begged to be filled out with naked flesh. She picked up one of the cuffs, testing its buckled strap before putting it down again. Her fingers caressed the lovely lace tops of sheer black nylons, and the curved instep of patent leather, high-heeled sandals.

"Everything is ready for you, lil Anna," she whispered. "But are you?" As if to answer her question, the door opened and Anna crept in on all fours, naked. Her hair had been tied into a ponytail; her copper skin shone with oil.

"You are right on time, honey," Angique said, smiling. She stepped aside to show the girl her wardrobe. "Let's get you into this."

***

It was still early evening, but the Salon was as busy as any weekend night. Most women were drinking and talking around the bar, but some were already dancing to canned music on an improvised dance floor.

Most of the unavoidable Clan sat in a corner adjoining it. Aura, dressed in shocking pink and white ruffles, was in the lap of an austere, black suited Lee. They whispered, hardly noticing the world around them. BB, wearing a silk blouse and a very tight skirt had brought a young, new girl. The child mostly blushed and giggled. Bridgette, athletic and blond, did her best to ignore an already tipsy Alicia who tried to kiss her at any opportunity. The long-legged Tara was there, seemingly alone. Gina was on the dance floor with an elegant, petite Thai girl.

Suddenly the music stopped, making eyes turn to the entrance of the Salon. In the hush Gina's voice resounded.

"Dear God, no! Not again!"

From the entrance approached a crouching, naked creature. She crawled on hands and knees, her body shining in the warm, low candlelight. It was wrapped in a labyrinth of leather straps. Rings and chains dangled from it, as did her free-swinging tits. Each time one knee slid in front of the other, a veritable carillon of tiny bells chimed. Her muscles rolled with ease; her high naked ass cheeks churned and dripped with oily highlights. There were gasps and little cries of amazement as some of the guests recognized the crawling woman.

"Anna," they hissed, their hands in front of their mouths. "My God, it is Anna. What on earth is she doing?"

The name ran through their ranks, sometimes accompanied by a short explanation for the few who didn't know her. Anna had never been a frequent visitor of the Salon, but she often lounged at the poolside or the wet bar which were also part of the Club, and open to men. Anna had a longtime reputation of being a dominant, self-assured businesswoman. She was well respected and known to be a morally impeccable wife and mother. She of course had her flings. What would be the point of visiting the Club if you hadn't? But she was always extremely discreet about them, condemning anyone who blatantly flaunted their affairs, calling them sluts.

No one would even in their wildest dreams have imagined her like this. Not Anna, surely not her?

But here she was, crawling naked. She dragged her oiled tits across the shining floor, shaking her ass to the score of merry chimes and ringing chains. Her wrists had been cuffed in leather, as had her ankles -- whorish platform heels squeezed her feet. And from her collared throat hung a leather leash that ran between her knees to slither behind her.

The throng of women parted before her -- staring, gasping. They were torn between disgust and intrigue, but totally spellbound either way. In passing, Anna's body issued a shameless cloud of whorish perfume. It was spiked with the musk of her arousal, the scent of virgin oil and ancient leather.

As the women closed their ranks behind her again, their backs turned to the entrance. That way they missed the appearance of yet another figure. It moved catlike, and as quiet as a shadow.

Angique leaned against a post of the wide-open entrance, folding her arms before her chest and chuckling. From chin to toes her body had been wrapped in black kid leather, supple and tight enough to show off her body's curves. Her hair was slicked back, her green eyes dramatized by the darkest kohl. Her lips shone with purple lipstick. One of her knees was over-stretched, the other one bent. The sole of her soft, flat ballet slipper rested against the paintwork. Her eyes followed the crawling woman with an unwavering gaze. One gloved fist held a braided whip, its tail coiled up in her hand.

Anna reached the low table at a corner of the Salon and crawled onto it -- using it as an impromptu stage. She rose to her feet, folding her hands behind her head and pushing back her elbows. She spread her legs on teetering heels and arched her back. Her tits stood out, encircled by the leather straps. A bare expanse of shaven mound and shining belly undulated as she slowly churned her lower body. She looked around, taking in the stunned faces before her. At last her eyes found Angique, who still watched from the entrance -- unnoticed.

"I am Anna," Anna said, her voice hoarse, but gaining in strength. "You know me... or at least you thought you did." She chuckled and shook her head. "But you don't really know me now, do you?" There was a smile on her face. Her hands moved from her head down her cheeks and throat to her tits, kneading the oiled flesh, making the excited nipples slip in and out between her fingers.

"Noooo," she went on, stretching the "o's" into a low and breathy sigh. "You know me as the high and mighty, girl-teaching, would-be sophisticated, uptight hypocritical know-it-all prick -- and now look at me!" She moaned as she pulled out her nipples with cruel fingernails. Her eyes never left Angique's.

"I am Angique's Anna now," she went on, almost whispering. "I am her slave and property. I am proud that she owns me and I am working my naked ass off to be worthy of her trust. I hold on to her hand like a scared child as she takes me down my road to perfection -- a road I have always craved to walk but never dared to." Her fingers now traced her body, down to her crotch, where they disappeared between her baby-bare cunt lips. She shivered as she went on, while fingering her clit.

"I fuck and whore myself out for her, you know. I take the pain she deals me, and take it with a smile. I beg for it. It is my sole pleasure to please her. And today I am not ashamed to let everybody know who I am and what I ache to be -- I want my family to know, my friends... and you."

Her final words echoed into a breathless silence. The last syllable stretched out and turned into a sigh as she came hard, her knees trembling beyond control. It set off a muted murmuring. Women watched each other and started talking. A few turned around, following Anna's gaze. For the first time they saw Angique, who pushed herself off the post, unrolling the long whip. It slid across the floor like an uncoiling serpent, making the women recede -- all of them but Gina.

The bitch could be blamed for many things, Angique thought, but never cowardice. Gina spit on the whip and looked up with contempt.

"So it's you again. You found a new victim," she said, her voice cutting glass. "And you can't suppress your sick need to rub our faces in it." Angique stared at her. A slight smile shaped the corners of her lips, quietly challenging.

"But it will be without me," Gina went on. "And without every sane woman still to be found in this Salon." She turned to the women, stating that she intended to leave. Then she grabbed the tiny Thai she had been dancing with. The two of them went past Angique to find the exit, but it was closed. Two huge security women blocked the way out.

Angique never took her gaze off the group of women gathered around Anna. They had halfheartedly followed Gina two or three steps, but stopped as they saw the guards. Angique knew it wasn't just the guards that stopped them; they were a welcome excuse, really. They just had to see, they had to know. They were human.

Angique looked up to Anna.

"Get down to your position, darling," she said sweetly, collecting the whip again and walking up to the low, improvised stage. Anna lowered herself on it. She went down on her elbows and raised her naked ass the same way she had prowled into the Salon.

Over the tinkling of Anna's chimes and chains, Gina's protests to let her out could be heard. She called some of the names of her Clan, but no one seemed to hear her. All eyes were on Anna. She had turned her naked backside to the crowd, both her hands reaching around her ass to grab the slippery cheeks and open them. Her cunt was on display, as was the tight star of her ass hole. Every inch had been oiled and smoothly shaven. The leather framed her exposed flesh, as did the lace trimmings of her stockings

"Tell them why you do this, Anna, a mature and sophisticated woman like you, a wife and a mother," Angique said. While talking she slid the whip's handle through the gaping crack, pressing the slick knob against her clit. Anna groaned. It took her a while to answer.

"I do this because it pleases my Mistress," she then said. "Pleasing her pleases me. She makes me forget the world and feel the way I always knew I should feel. She makes me feel nothing and everything. She makes me be myself."

Her last words were punctuated with loud, wet slaps, painting purple handprints on her ass cheeks. She cried out. Only the women in front understood that she said "thank you."

Angique stepped back and without taking her eyes off the bruised ass she yelled:

"Alicia!" The name stirred up a new storm of whispers that took a while to die out. Catlike, Angique turned on her heels, searching the group for the hidden girl.

"Show yourself, little traitor," she said. "I know you are here."

Two women shuffled aside and exposed Alicia who had been hiding behind them. The fierce wish to be elsewhere was written all over her face. Her hands tugged at the hem of her blouse.

"Leave the girl alone, you witch! Didn't you hurt her enough?" The voice was Gina's. She'd returned from the exit, pushing her way through the throng.

Angique ignored her, keeping her gaze on Alicia's eyes, catching them -- reeling them in.

"Come to me, slut," she said without raising her voice. "Free yourself from your silly notions and come to me."

The blush on the girl's face deepened, but she did not move. Angique suddenly laughed. It was the last thing the women expected.

"Please, Alicia," she tried again, coating her words with the dripping sweetness of honey. "You know you want to." She stretched her hands out, palms up, letting the whip drop at her feet. But the girl didn't move.

"Alicia, sweet Licia," Angique now said, almost whispering. "Please don't hurt yourself any longer. Come here. Come join me and the lovely Anna. You know it is what you want, what you crave. Stop living a lie. Come over and share Anna with me."

At that moment Gina rushed forward, but Angique moved like a whirlwind, grabbing the whip and cracking it, making its loop flash out to burn the floor between Gina and the girl.

"Don't... Gina," she said, spacing the words. "Just... don't."

The Philippine woman froze. So did Aura who had started to join her.

"Licia," Angique repeated, almost pleading. She saw how the girl's face had lost all color; she stood as frozen as the others. So Angique walked over to her and took her limp hand in hers, pulling her closer and walking her to the stage. The girl never struggled, but she also didn't put much energy in her walking.

She moved like a doll.

Angique placed Alicia's hand on Anna's bruised ass cheek, making her feel the heat below.

"Feel that, honey," she whispered. "The heat of a slave well punished. Can you feel it?" Alicia just stood, her weak mouth open, her eyes wide -- but her fingers never left the glowing skin.

"Remember, Licia?" Angique then said. "Do you remember how it felt, honey; the deep glow humming in your ass, spreading to the insides of your cunt?" Angique could feel the girl's hand tremble.

"Aren't you jealous of her, Licia?" she whispered. "You are so much younger and so much more beautiful, but still I prefer her." Angique took Alicia's hand and made it cup Anna's cunt where it hung between her spreading thighs. She squeezed the girl's hand shut, making Anna moan and her juices seep through Alicia's fingers.

"Feel how big her cunt is, honey," she went on. "Feel how loose it is from having two children and twenty years of being fucked by a well-hung husband. I could easily plunge your tiny hand into it, making it slide in until even your wrist would disappear. It is like the cunt of an old whore, Licia. And still... she is the one I train to be my slave. Not you."

Angique turned her eyes to the girl's face, watching a tear roll down her cheek. She grabbed the blouse and tore it open, making buttons pop. Then she pushed up the white bra and clawed a hand around the breast that jumped out. It made the girl cry out.

"See, honey, feel -- such wonderful tits you have. So much younger and firmer and higher than Anna's. They never suckled a baby, they don't feel the tug of gravity, yet. And still I prefer Anna over you, you cheating slut. I prefer her as my pet, my slave, my toy."

Alicia now cried openly, her nipples dancing with her sobs. She pulled herself free from Angique's grip and started running to the exit. Angique nodded in the direction of the guards and they stepped aside, opening the doors. Gina followed the running girl and soon half of the crowd had left the stage.

Angique turned back and caressed the ass cheeks of the still crouching Anna.

"Did that hurt, honey?" she asked. "I know I used you. You must feel humiliated." Anna kept quiet for minutes, but her shoulders shook. Then she slowly looked up and moved her head in denial.

"I am hurt, but I am pleased," she murmured. "My tears are of joy. I am pleased that you used me to show the girl how much she hurt you. I know I am old and ugly compared to her, but I am proud that you would make use of that to allay your rage and frustrations. It makes me cry with gratitude that I am useful to you. And that you still prefer me." Her hand searched for Angique's. She brought it to her mouth and licked it.

"Good girl," Angique whispered, but her eyes were on the exit where another girl had fled.

***

Angique sat brooding. She looked across a steaming cup of tea, seeing nothing. It was still morning and Villa was empty, but for her. The terrace was wet from autumn rain. She sat curled up in her overstuffed club chair, her feet gathered under her. There was a fire to keep her warm and the heavy silk of her favorite kimono robe to hug her. But she felt restless.

Anna was perfect. Her dedication to become a slave seemed more genuine than ever. All the ambition she once employed to succeed as a businesswoman she now used to complete the slave's Journey that Angique had started her on. She was at Villa as often as she could. Her husband hadn't returned, she neglected her family and had even called in sick for a few days to devote herself to her Mistress. And yet, Angique felt uncomfortable. She knew she should be grateful to find an intelligent and imaginative woman so eager to please her, so open to discipline and so fast to learn. But the suspicion never left her -- a suspicion of artificiality; of a devotion that felt forced; a façade that would shatter at the first real test.

She knew Anna was more than ready to pass the first gate, the Gate of Shame. Angique had taken her everywhere. She had showed her off naked at parties, left her with friends to be used any way they wanted and even had her strip in the streets and offer her body to passing strangers, both male and female. She had already prepared her for the next gate, the Gate of Openings, by giving her as many cocks to suck as could be found and by having her cunt gangbanged. She made her flood her bowels with daily enemas and stretch her sphincter with ever widening plugs.

No, Angique mused, in a physical sense she is as ready as any girl I ever had. Her body won't be the problem, but what about her mind?

At that moment Angique's worries were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. She looked up, watching it slowly swing open to admit a naked girl. It was dark where she was, but Angique at once recognized the cascade of black hair and the shape of the petite body.

"Licia," she said.

The girl didn't move. She had obviously oiled her body. Her limbs caught the reflections of the hearth's fire. Her face hardly showed through the curtain of hair; her eyes were down.

"What are you doing here, girl?" Angique asked. "Last thing I saw of you was your little ass running away from me, as usual."

A sob broke the silence. The girl went down on her knees, crying.

"I," she said. "I... I am so sorry." Her voice drowned in a torrent of tears. Sobs and long, heartbreaking howls of misery filled the room. Angique just looked on, taking a sip from her teacup. When the crying at last trickled into mere moaning and the body stopped shaking, she said:

"Should I be upset now, girl, because you are so sorry once again? Should I feel pity because you make a mess of your life every other few months?" She put down the cup carefully and rose, walking over to the miserable creature. She touched her with the tip of her bare foot.

"Tell me, should I, Licia?" she repeated. The girl just hick-upped. Then she lifted her face, showing Angique a ruin of tears, snot and smeared make up.

"Please, Mistress," she said with a forlorn voice. "Please forgive me. I am a silly girl, always ruining the good and choosing the bad. Please forgive me for being stupid."

Angique chuckled as she came down on her haunches, cleaning strayed hair out of Licia's face.

"I guess Carmela dumped you, slut? Did she get as tired of you as I am?" New tears flooded Alicia's face. She gave no answer. In stead she rose to her knees and hugged Angique.

"Please," she whispered urgently. "Let me pleasure you, Mistress. Let me serve you. It is all I ask. Don't send me away, please allow me to please you, at least for now."

Angique rocked the girl in her arms. Then she pushed her away, making her slide on the marble tiles. She rose and sat down again in her chair, spreading her legs so her pale thighs were exposed.

"Crawl over here, slut," she said, picking up her teacup again. "I may have some use for you after all."

Alicia's hot, glowing face made her shudder when it touched her shaven crotch. The snot-slicked mouth slithered over her cunt lips, opening them. A long and very wet tongue ran its course straight up from her ass hole to her clit. Slushy noises filled the air. The sobbing aftershocks of the girl's misery sent delicious shivers up Angique's spine.

"Good girl," she muttered, pulling Alicia's head tightly against her, humping hard, finding friction to make her climax build. "Sad, poor, stupid girl."

What happened then was no surprise for Angique. It was a surprise for Alicia and it sure was for the naked woman who walked into the room through the still open door. It was Anna and she stopped as if struck by lightning. Her hand went to her mouth as if to help find the words she could not utter.

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