Angel, Demons Pt. 02

"I don't know much about love either," she then said. "It doesn't seem to mean much in here; girls use it all the time. But I know that I want you to take me back.

"That afternoon at your beautiful place never left my dreams, day or night.

"I wanted it gone, but it didn't."

Her smile melted away. It was replaced by a serious frown.

"Part of those memories scare me... oh god, they scare me... I... I told you. But they also pull at me. Maybe they do so because they scare me? Or maybe I'm scared because they attract me?

"I don't know, they confuse me... but they make me want to call you Mistress, like the... girl that sucked your toes.

"I want what she has."

The girl's smile returned as she talked. By the end, she beamed with the sudden sway of emotions she seemed to have a patent on.

"Shall I undress for you?" she asked, grinning and rising from her chair. "And please, may I call you Mistress?"

A slight dizziness had invaded the woman's head by then. The complete change of the girl and her perfect lack of guile took her by storm.

It disarmed her.

"I'm not your Mistress, honey," she whispered, grabbing at straws, feeling an awe that was completely new. She swallowed. Then her voice gained strength. "We have a long, long way to go for that - you and me, a painful road. Are you serious, darling?

"This is no club game, you know."

"I'm not a player," she answered, stepping closer. "I am a silly girl, but this is what I want, even if it scares me, even if I run...

"If not 'Mistress', what should I call you for now? We must be practical. I must call you something and using your name would be too... too...I don't know... equal?"

The woman smiled.

"Never mind, honey. You may call me by any name for now - as long as it isn't Mistress; or "hon" or "sweetie" for that matter.

"You should know by now that I'm not sweet"

She chuckled. Amazed by all the sudden changes, she took the girl's hands in hers again.

"You confuse me, girl," she said.

"I'm sorry for that. I'm a silly girl."

The woman smiled.

"Let me be the judge of that," she said. "Besides, I like a pinch of silliness in a girl."

They both laughed - chasing all remaining clouds away.

"Shall I undress now?" the girl repeated, jumping up and down like a child. "Will you collar me again and walk me around naked, showing me off to all the stupid girls, making them angry?"

"I guess you would really like that," the woman said. "But listen, honey, our little... misadventure has warned me to slow down."

The girl's mouth opened in protest. The woman raised a hand to stop her.

"I may still decide to train you to become my slave girl," she went on. "But not right now; we're not ready."

The girl's eyes lost their sparkle. Then she said:

"May I please speak?"

"Of course, you may, honey. You're a free woman. You don't need my permission."

The girl slowly nodded.

"I lied to you."

A sinking feeling crept into the woman's heart.

"You... lied," she repeated.

"Yes," the girl said. "You know - I'm a coward. You shouldn't listen to anything I say. I called you a monster and a witch, and I told horrible things about you... even..."

She stopped and swallowed, letting her sentence dangle unfinished. Then she went on.

"But the truth is, I love what you do to me - did to me. I don't know why, but everything you do to me feels right - the humiliation, the way you call me a slut, even the things that scare me shitless.

I... well... I seem to need it."

She knelt, bending her head to the floor. Then she took the woman's right foot and placed it on her skull, feeling the heel press into her skin.

"Please take me back," she said. "I panicked. But even as I fled, the wetness ran down my thighs."

***

A girl, undressed.

When they reached the elevator, they were both breathless.

The doors slid open, inviting them to a multitude of reflections. They went in and the car rose, but the woman jabbed a button to make it stop.

"There are things you must know before we enter," she said, closing in on the girl. "Things about my place and about girls like you."

The woman's finger traced the girl's throat as she talked, her breath caressing her face.

"You may enter whenever you want," she said, "but you have to be naked and your skin must be shining with fragrant oils - every square inch of it.

"Also..." she grabbed the girl's crotch through her dress, making her start. "Also, you must be shaven bare - not a hair remains, not a stubble on your mound, your cunt or even in the crack of your ass."

She squeezed and kneaded the girl's pussy through the yellow cotton, hearing the squishing of moisture, as the heat radiated into her hand. She leaned in, biting her neck, extracting a long slow moan.

"Do you understand?"

The girl breathed a yes, falling against her reflection on the mirrored wall. The woman let go of her, but held her gaze.

It seemed distant and inwardly focused.

"Now you undress," she said and watched the girl's fingers undo the buttons that ran from the dress's neck down to its hem. When the yellow fabric slid off her shoulders she saw that it was all she wore.

"You came prepared," she said, cupping one breast - the one with the cute oblong areola - silently wondering what the girl might have been preparing for, exactly. And how she'd known...

She reached down and touched the closely cropped pubes. They were matted with moisture - tiny drops hung like stars against a deep dark sky.

"Now undress me, please," she said.

Closing her eyes as fingers touched her, she inhaled the scent of their bodies; it started to thicken the air in the small elevator. She smelled their perfumes, mixed with the sweetness of fresh sweat and the spices of growing arousal.

Ah yes, she thought, as nimble fingers opened her top, caressing the sides of her tits - it is exactly this sweet mix of fragrances that makes me ache for the love of a woman - to push my face in freshly washed hair, to taste the new gloss on her weak lips.

Sex with a man, ah, well yes, there is the brutal force, the clean climax, the mysterious strangeness of a good swelling cock, the tangy taste of sperm. She'd never want to go without that.

But the love of women...

She opened her eyes, meeting the girl's smile. Just like her she was naked now, but for a lace bustier, painted like a tattoo on her pale skin, dark sheer nylons and high-heeled black ankle boots.

"Leave them on, honey," she whispered and pressed the button to make the elevator rise again.

***

A girl, bathed.

The tall windows shone black, this time, as evening had arrived - hiding the terrace in darkness. The two women stood at the entrance, the light of electrical candles painting their faces and bodies. It turned their flesh into a landscape of golden plains and deep dark valleys.

"Welcome to my place again, girl," the woman said, adding with a chuckle: "Let's hope you stay a bit longer."

She kissed the girl, who grabbed her neck and climbed into her, wrapping her naked thighs around her hips.

"Oh my," the woman panted when at last she let go. "You kiss so... thoroughly delicious, honey cunt."

The girl giggled like an excited teenager.

"Please let me eat your pussy like last time. I love to lick you, you taste so yummy!" Her voice carried a string of exclamation marks, but the woman shook her head, smiling.

"First things first, sweet darling."

She slapped the girl's naked ass, set her back on her feet and led her to an adjacent room.

It was a large bedroom, done in blues and gold.

The bed was huge, covered with pillows. The woman held the girl by the hand, leading her past it to another door. When it opened, hot fragrant clouds drifted out, coming from a big square tub, sunk into the floor.

The bath was almost filled to the brim and had fluffy ships of foam floating on its surface.

The girl shrieked with joy and plunged into the water, making it gush over the rim to flood the marble floor. The woman chuckled, lifting one foot and watching the water drip off her boot. She started to undo the laces of both and kicked them off. Then she undid the garters of her stockings.

A cry of dismay made her look up and she saw the girl rise from the foam like a thoroughly drenched angel, white wings of foam sprouting from her shoulders.

"Let me! Let me!" she cried out, trying to climb out of the bath. "Oh, I'm so selfish. Stop! I should do that!" In her eagerness, she slipped on the wet tiles, but the woman grabbed her.

"Shhhh, easy, honey," she said and laughed. "I know how to undress myself, don't you worry."

***

A girl, scared.

They'd been soaking for long and languid minutes in the fragrant water, caressing each other's bodies - their skin slick with heat and oil and soap. They'd kissed and kissed again, tasting the salt of dripping sweat. The girl suckled on the woman's long dark nipples, and the woman rocked her, calling her baby.

It had all been cute and sweet and devastatingly lovable.

Then the woman slipped her hand below the surface, finding the girl's pussy, rubbing it slowly.

"You stay, honey," she said. "I'll be back."

Climbing out of the bath, she covered her body with a robe of fluffy cotton, and left the bathroom, splashing on the wet floor. When she returned, she carried a silver tray. On it were a stubby brush, a small container and a metal instrument.

It gleamed in the light.

She sunk back into the bath, sliding under the girl's body - wet skin along wet, slippery skin. Raising her knees, she lifted the girl's hips, pushing her mound out of the water.

She let her smiling gaze travel up from the dripping pubes, past the girl's soft belly and breasts to her face. Her hand rose to touch the cropped patch of hair and the soft, heat-soaked skin underneath.

"You have a lovely, hairy pussy, honey," she whispered into the girl's ear. "I hate that."

She felt the body stiffen against her, and chuckled.

"No need to worry, darling. It's easy," she went on, patting the exposed mound. "You want to be my girl, and my girls don't have pussies, they have cunts. So, I'll give you one. I'll turn your pussy into a cunt, honey, a real slut's cunt - my cunt.

"Now watch."

Holding the scared girl tightly, she picked up the brush and swirled it inside the small container. When she was done, it was covered with creamy white lather that she painted all over the cropped pubic hair, building a small mountain between the girl's spread thighs - like a spiral of soft-ice cream.

Then she picked up the metal instrument, folding it open into a straight blade. She leaned forward and softly pressed its sharp edge against the girl's left nipple. She stiffened even more and let out a high-pitched moan.

"Do you trust me, darling?" the woman asked, moving the knife closer. "This is about trust, you know?"

The girl just stared. She tried not to heave her chest in fear of getting nicked - or worse.

"I'm going to shave the hair off your pussy, love. And when it's done, it won't be your pussy anymore. It will be my cunt, my slick, open, baby-bare cunt. Do you understand?

"And do you agree?"

No reaction again, just the widening of eyes. She sighed. "I need your approval, darling. Do you agree that I shave your pussy and make it my cunt?"

The girl suddenly uttered a long, high-pitched squeal. Her body started to shake, so the woman carefully removed the blade, waiting for the girl to stop.

"I...I'm...af-afraid," the girl stuttered amidst sobs that shook her frame. "I... I thought I could. That I could do anything. Anything. And I want to; I want it so much.

"But I..."

The woman put away the blade, lowered her knees and caught the forlorn girl in her embrace.

"No need, honey," she muttered, cooing and humming, holding her, soothing her, while cursing herself. "I shouldn't have scared you. Don't be afraid. There is no hurry."

After minutes of sobbing and comforting, she lifted the girl's hips and started licking her pussy. All the lather had been washed away, but she tasted the soap's tang. Her tongue first circled the soft inner thighs. Then she found the slippery cunt lips in their wet, curly bush. She sucked them and spread them with her fingers to find the pink flesh inside - and the little button at the top.

The girl came with a spasm and then with a cry. After that she came again and yet once more with a long, throaty moan while her body arched and shuddered, whipping the water.

"Sweet girl," the woman whispered.

She lifted the spent body out of the water, covering it in fresh towels. Then she carried her to the bed, slipping her under the sheets and hugging her.

"Sleep now, honey," she mumbled. "All in good time."

Then she cuddled into the hot little body and fell asleep too.

***

A girl, shaved.

The old Art Deco clock chimed five times.

The woman in the blood-red kimono robe looked up from her chair. It was surrounded by wads of discarded paper, notebooks and sheets filled with sketches and scrabbled words.

She didn't often take her work with her into her secret apartment, but there were deadlines, and although she'd never admit it, she needed the pressure to get her ideas.

Putting her thoughts on paper was like squeezing a galaxy through the tube of a pen. Once started, she had so many ideas, one on the heels of another - and such a short time to get them all out.

Entertaining her clients, sounding out their wishes, measuring their bodies, finding the materials and bargaining the right price could easily fill her days without leaving time to do her designs. Solving the peculiar problems of a prototype and supervising the execution often distracted her from what she really loved doing, just as personnel problems could, travelling, and the financial side of a business.

Her talent was to design and create corsets.

They weren't corsets in the "fat-lady-needs-a-waist" sense. She catered to a small, but wealthy clientele with a certain exotic lifestyle. Most of them clung to rather dark traditions going back to the roots of their families - 18^th century France for example, with its libertine practices, or 19^th century Victorian England.

She had customers who still thought their world was the Hapsburg Empire in times when Sacher-Masoch wrote his philosophies on humiliation.

The woman was sought-after for what she did, and very expensive.

She also was discreet.

Her atelier did not formally exist as such. There of course was a business registered for tax reasons, but there was nothing as vulgar as a website, not even a sign at the door.

Everyone needing her services, however, and able to afford them, knew where to find her. "Uncles" brought their "nieces", "daddies" with dark complexions ushered in their tall blonde "daughters," white-headed octogenarians were assisted out of their limousines by petite Thai "grandchildren."

The morals of her clientele didn't concern her.

Let's just say that her horizons had grown wide enough not to judge the lifestyle of others. People forcing on others what they decided to be the "right way" disgusted her. She considered anyone who was attacked by them as her friend - especially since so many of the judgmental pricks were the first to drop their own principles when they thought no one looked.

The one human fault she considered truly evil was hypocrisy.

Any spectator might be amazed by the chaotic way she worked. She seemed to just scribble and draw wildly, throwing her work around. Then she would suddenly stop and start searching through the snowfall of paper. She'd compare three or four pages, crumpling up two that she threw into the dead hearth and adding numerous notes and lines to the paper at hand.

As she rutted through the layers of paper like a truffle-rooting piggy, sometimes her robe would slide off her shoulder exposing a pale, swaying breast; or it would fall open to show a naked thigh.

Often, she ended up just having the robe bunched around her waist, never bothering what she looked like.

Her final selection usually were three or four designs that she knew would keep her atelier in business for months to come. She also knew that there would be at least a few extra ideas that might be bought by fashion houses.

Looking up, her mind still clogged with ideas, she saw the girl in the door opening - fingers busy undoing the buttons of a red blouse. Their eyes met and the woman held her gaze throughout the stripping.

When all clothes had fallen around her, the girl stood naked, hiding her crotch with both hands.

"I did it," she said. "For you. Look."

Her hands opened like a flower, framing baby-bare cunt lips and a slick, hairless mound.

The woman rose, smiling with trembling lips.

Her unruly robe slid off her shoulders as she walked over to the girl. She pulled her into a naked embrace - kissing.

"Let me see how lovely you look," she then said, stepping away from the kiss and sinking to her knees. Her fingers traced the bare mound from the belly button down to the top of the slit. She looked up, past the girl's breasts to find her eyes.

Then she closed in on the puffy lips, licking them.

"You're perfect, honey," she said, her voice vibrating against the shaven flesh. She felt a shiver run through the body. "Please lay down and spread your legs, so I can inspect you."

Gently circling the creamy insides of the legs with her fingers, the woman saw how meticulously every single hair and stubble had been removed. It touched her deeply to see the occasional tiny cut where the blade must have nicked her.

She kissed each one of them.

Then she lifted a leg and spread the ass cheeks to inspect her crack. She touched and kissed until the girl arched her back, panting.

Soon, her finger sank into the tight sphincter while her tongue slid over her vagina to find her clit. The arching body rose even higher as did the moaning until it suddenly stopped.

The tenseness was incredible.

Then the girl's entire body shuddered. Her cunt muscles strangled the woman's tongue and a long, long scream of release reverberated from the walls.

"Good girl," the woman whispered. "Sweet slut."

She crawled across the spent body to find the flushed face and the open, gasping mouth to seal it with a kiss.

When the woman started to drip fragrant oil on the girl's shaven pussy, she returned from her semi-consciousness. Rising on her elbows, she watched what the woman was doing to her. Little winces shook her body whenever the rubbing fingers found her sensitive clit.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Did I do well?"

The woman looked up, smiling.

"You did gloriously, honey," she said. "You're my cunt now. Here, take this vial and oil your body. Be generous.

"I need my girl shining."

***

A girl, appropriated.

They lay on the huge, pillow-strewn bed, their spent bodies glowing. The woman's finger drew lazy circles in the film of sweat that coated the girl's skin.

She smiled into her face.

"I love this so much, you know?" she said, deepening the girl's blush. "I love to make love to you - kissing you, spreading your legs and licking your slick, swollen cunt lips; tasting your clit; whipping your juices into a foam, hearing you twitter - like a little bird."

She smiled wider, fondling a nipple.

"But that is not enough. Come here." She sat up, spreading her legs. The girl cuddled up between them, her face on the woman's belly, her hair fanned out on the pale skin.

"Loving you doesn't mean I don't have needs myself," the woman went on, her fingers raking the tresses.