Angel, Demons Pt. 05

Her finger went to the doorbell's button.

There was no bell sound, but an ugly, croaking buzz. She waited, her pounding heart counting time. He opened the door himself, standing fat and silent, his eyes swimming in the huge glass bowls of his spectacles.

"I've come to apologize," she said.

Then she just stood waiting in embarrassed silence. He didn't respond; his lips crawled, though, like worms. Suddenly his hand shot out, grabbing her blouse and pulling her in.

She stumbled and fell against his belly, her face now almost into his.

He smelt of old sweat. She heard the door close behind her and knew she was trapped in his house, his hall, his power. A wave of nauseating helplessness flushed the strength out of her body.

"You, little slut," he said. "You come to make apologies?" His breath had the pungent sweetness of onions.

"Whores don't make apologies," he went on. "Whores obey."

An angry color flushed the pale dough of his face; little specks of spittle flew from his lips. He stepped closer.

"Fuck your apologies. Come here and do what you do best."

He grabbed her hair with one hand, opening his fly with the other -- pulling her down. To her dismay, the girl felt all resistance leave her body. A sickening weakness melted her knees. The growing void was quickly filled with a conditioned desire to give in; to perform; to please, to pleasure, please...

"No!" she moaned. "No! No! I'm so sorry, but no!"

Pushing him off with her hands, she tore herself free from his grip, leaving some of her hair in his claw.

She stood panting for a second -- a second too long. He grabbed her hair again and yanked her down to her knees. Hot piss hit her face, stinging her eyes. When she opened her mouth in protest, her moans became wet gurgles, finally muffled by the fat cockhead sliding down her throat.

The repeated 'no's' in her brain slowly morphed into the rhythm of her sucking. She was lost; she knew it; she was utterly lost.

He fucked her face hard, his breath wheezing as he mumbled unintelligible curses.

His glasses slid down his sweaty nose. He pulled and pushed the girl by her soaked hair, and soon sprayed his sperm over her piss-dripping face. Then he opened the door and kicked her out on the porch, where she lay gagging. The sounds she made were the tiny, desolate whimpers of a punished dog.

The door slammed closed behind her.

***

A girl, determined.

"There you are."

The girl didn't say a word. She knelt, naked and oiled, in front of the seated woman, who leaned in to inspect her closer.

"You hate me, honey?"

The girl's mouth worked.

"It's all right. I'd understand if you hated me."

"I can't hate you, Mistress." There was a crack in the voice -- maybe from lack of use. The woman's dangling foot stopped moving.

"But you are... mad at me?" she said, smiling.

"I... was."

"Not anymore?"

Another silence. The girl's trembling lips were the only visible feature of her face; cascades of black, wavy hair hid both eyes. It was like a veil -- the only covered part of an otherwise exposed body.

Was it a way to hide -- but why? Both hands strangled a riding crop she pressed against her chest.

The girl shook her head now and one eye gleamed from its cave of darkness. The woman uncrossed her legs. Her hands straightened her leather skirt's hem.

"Tell me, girl,' she said.

Her voice was soft, as was the look in her eyes. The girl's right hand left the crop to part the curtain of her hair. One dark eye flashed from its shadows.

"I... I can't go back," she said. "Not anymore now."

The woman frowned. She rose and walked a few steps away before turning.

"You were very rude to me, honey," she went on. The girl murmured a few words.

"You really should speak up, you know?" the woman said. "But never mind, I know what you said. You were -- sorry."

The girl nodded, her face flushing.

"Fuck off with your sorry's, girl!" The sudden vehemence made the girl start. "I am fed up with your constant whims and your gratuitous apologies. You mock me, girl.

"You made a fool of me and you did it just once too often.

"Now get lost."

The girl's lip trembled, as did the crop in her hand. Then the dark brown eyes turned up in their sockets, only leaving the white. She moaned and collapsed. Her head slid forward, a wide circle of black hair engulfing her spread arms.

She lay completely still.

The riding crop rolled forward until it stopped against the woman's left heel. She picked it up, scrutinizing it. Then she sighed and walked around the prostrate girl, going to the room's exit. When she reached it, a tear-drowned voice struggled itself free from misery.

"Do with me whatever you want. I won't leave this place."

The woman smiled.

***

A girl, scalded.

"P-ai-n," the woman said, lazily pronouncing the word.

She pressed her lips together to shape the P. Then she parted them like an opening rose, to finally shape the N by touching the back of her front teeth with an unseen tongue-tip. "Pain," she repeated and smiled. "Such a common little word and yet, such a complicated concept."

She looked up from the floating jasmine flowers in her steaming tea glass to the naked girl kneeling before her.

The girl sat on her heels, her back straight, her eyes wide open. An emerald in white gold setting dangled from her nipple.

The stone sparkled with the rhythm of her breathing.

"To most people," the woman went on, "pain is something one should avoid -- it's the natural thing to do, they say. We're all taught to protect ourselves from hurt.

"But by now you and I know better, don't we, little slut?"

The girl just stared; her eventual nod was hardly noticeable. The woman smiled once more.

"You and I know there is pain and then there is pain, don't we?"

Another nod hardly caused the black hair to stir on the girl's shoulders, where it lay in thick shining curls.

"Please pinch your free nipple with the edges of your fingernails, honey," the woman suggested. "Tweak it really hard while twisting it sharply." The girl did, closing her eyes and gasping from the sudden, almost familiar rush of pain.

"Harder, honey," the woman said, lifting the tea glass to her lips -- blowing, smelling the exotic aroma. "Don't short-change yourself."

The girl moaned loudly now, as she pulled brutally on the stretched flesh, twisting it left and right.

A tear sprang from her eyes.

"Tell me how it feels."

"It... it hurts, Mistress..."

"Of course, it hurts." The woman moved her face closer. "But is that all?"

"I... I don't..." the girl's eyes were everywhere.

"Oh, don't give me that! You do know, lying slut," the woman cut in, smiling widely. She reached for the mangled nipple to tweak it with her own cruel fingernails.

"Your cunt gushes, doesn't it? It is pain, but it sets your clit on fire, doesn't it? Be honest, little hypocrite.

"You have goose bumps all over your skin and your eyes glaze over.

"Pain can be many things, honey -- and now it's even... pleasure."

She let go of the nipple and leaned back, enjoying her tea, and her view.

The girl sobbed, cradling her abused tit with both hands.

"Honey?" the woman resumed after leaving her alone with her pain and confusion for a few minutes. The girl looked up, her eyes swimming in a haze of tears.

"Mistress?"

"There will be a lot of pain for you, these coming weeks."

The girl just looked, her lips trembling. The woman went on.

"I tell you this, because you may not want to live through that, and that's all right with me. I'll always love you and I'll never force you. But you said you would never leave this place again.

"Well, honey, I need you to know that you can't stay with me if you won't learn to suffer through these weeks and find pleasure in it.

"Offering me your pain is our only road to the next stage -- our only way to stay together."

"But, Mistress... ," the girl said, sounding lost. "You know that I have accepted a lot of pain and punishment already.

"You've whipped and flogged me, clamped my nipples and clit, fucked my poor ass until it bled... and I took it all."

The woman watched her in silence.

"I really did," the girl whispered. "A lot."

The woman smiled, reaching out to caress her face, but suddenly slapping it hard. The girl yelped. Her mouth and eyes opened in wide surprise; her fingers rose to touch the abused spot. The woman's smile never left her face.

She reached out, cupping the girl's hand over the sore cheek.

"That's for the 'but'" she said. "Now for the rest: yes, honey, I know and I appreciate what you did. But it isn't what I meant, not at all.

"You accepted that pain; you didn't protest -- you stayed and took it, but you didn't embrace it; you don't look out for it.

"You endured it because you thought it would please me. But it takes more to really please me, darling.

"Do you understand?"

Another silence proved the girl had no idea. Tears trickled down her face.

"You see," the woman explained, removing some of the tears with her thumb. "After reaching the next phase, things will be different between us.

"Up until now, when I flogged you and bruised your skin, I didn't care what you felt. It was punishment, a way of correcting your mistakes -- of getting you back on track.

"I was disciplining you and I also used it to vent my own frustrations.

You see?"

She waited for the girl to nod; then she went on, getting even closer.

"Sweetheart, what I offer you now is pain as a gate to pleasure -- and not just your pleasure.

"It is a gift that will enable you to give me back even more."

She rubbed the mangled nipple, making the girl shiver.

"Would that appeal to you, honey?" she asked in a soft voice, now tracing the angry pink blotch on her cheek with a fingernail. "I mean, do you care at all to give something back to me?"

The girl's lips started trembling.

"Your words hurt me, Mistress," she said. "You know I give back all the time. I may fail you often, but I try to always please you.

"I really do!"

The woman smiled, now touching the girl's lips.

"Of course, you do and of course I know," she said. "And it pleases me. You make me very happy."

They both smiled now. The woman's fingers returned to the throbbing nipple.

"But you see," she went on, still smiling, "I want more; I want everything."

As she uttered the last word, she once more pinched the sore nipple. Her eyes never left the girl's.

"Many a master and mistress I know wouldn't bother," she went on. "They are in it for the quick kill.

"Hurting their slaves is a one-way, selfish thing. They just see it as another way to feed their egos, a power trip they thrive on."

The woman paused to let her words sink in, knowing the whole idea must be alien to the girl.

She let go of the abused nipple, now cupping the girl's face with both hands. One palm registered the heat of the slapped flesh; both were slick with tears.

"I am not like them," she went on. Their eyes were locked now, excluding the world. "Because I love you," she whispered. "I want to give you the chance to become the best slave girl ever.

"You see, the more pleasure you derive from pain, the more pain you can endure. So, when the pain I'll inflict on you will increase over the days to come, it isn't meant to just hurt you -- it is meant to increase your pleasure and mine.

"In the end, even the mere anticipation of pain will make you orgasm and beg for more. For that is what you want, isn't it? You want to come, don't you, little slut? You need to come hard and often -- it is what keeps the doubts and confusions out; the nightmares and the demons... Soon it'll be what you live for.

"Controlling that is what I live for."

The girl didn't respond, but the white showed around her irises -- was it fear, panic?

The woman got even closer and pressed her mouth on the girl's. They kissed, opening their weak lips to receive each other's tongue. When they parted, they were breathless.

The woman turned, picking up the teapot and topping her cup with scalding tea.

"The pleasures of pain," she said.

And she tipped the cup, making the steaming liquid splash over the girl's face.

***