Bound to the Turnings of the Wheel

"Good, I see you remember this. So I won't have to ask, and risk you earning another demerit. You're already at two, one from earlier, and one just now. You know what comes next. Spread your legs."

"Oh Gahv, Mihhweff, hii?" Oh God, Mistress, why? Was the woman trying to destroy her parents' beautiful new house?

The tip of the riding crop came down on Isabel's left ass cheek, and white fire spread from the impact, some up, some down, mostly straight to her pussy, where she could already feel the slickness even without the use of her hands. A moment later, the crop came down again, this time on her right ass cheek, and the sensation repeated and heightened.

"I was neither asking questions nor inviting you to do so," Mistress Lanfear observed. "Remember, first and foremost, your role is not to question, and not to resist. It is to surrender, and obey. Now. Spread your legs."

Isabel spread her legs.

"Hold still," Mistress Lanfear continued, and Isabel felt more cuffs, matching the ones that had been hidden in the fireplace façade, being securely fastened on her ankles. A moment after that, Mistress Lanfear attached a sturdy metal bar of some kind to the ankle cuffs, holding Isabel's legs spread three feet apart. Then she stood, and drew the tip of the crop slowly, sensuously up and down Isabel's exposed backside. Then, she shifted the crop to her left hand and reached through Isabels spread legs and gently caressed her pussy, slowly finding her way to her clit.

"UuhhuuuhhhUUUHHH! Mihweh, weeef, moh!"

Mistress Lanfear withdrew her hand. "At least your body knows how to respond even if your mouth doesn't." She leaned forward and held her index finger, damp with Isabel's juice, right under her nose to drive the point in. The rich fabric of the sul'dam dress brushed all up and down Isabel's backside.

The raven-haired woman continued, "one demerit from earlier and one just now. You know the rule, little girl. Ten strokes with either the crop or the paddle for each demerit. But you can reduce that to six for each demerit by accepting what you've done wrong and promising to do better. Are you ready to do that, marath'damane?"

Tears were beginning to well up in Isabel's eyes, but she nodded, dutifully resisting the urge to turn her head. "Ehhf, Wihfwehf."

"Good. You know what to say. Say it."

"I iih a vaahv giwh. Weev heeh fe oo fe a goov giwh, Wihfwehf." I've been a bad girl. Please teach me to be a good girl, Mistress.

"Well done. And I will indeed teach you to be a good girl, Isari. Let's begin. And remember, lose count or forget the appropriate mantra and you're back to ten strokes per demerit."

Without further ado, the crop came down once again on Isabel's left ass cheek, and the erotic fire flashed outward from the sting. A gasping breath broke forth from Isabel's nose, and a helpless mewl from within her throat, but her discipline held. "Uuh. I wiw hruff." One. I will trust.

Again a swish in the air, and again the crop descended, this time on her right ass cheek. The helpless mewl came unbidden again, and the explosive breath through her nose harder, but she recovered. "Hoo. I wiw oh-ay." Two. I will obey.

Back the swish and sting of the crop came to her left ass cheek, just a hair above where the first two strokes had fallen. "Hree. I wiw hruff." Three. I will trust.

Right again. "Howh. I wiw oh-ay."

Mistress Lanfear continued with Isabel's discipline, slowly, deliberately, in near-perfect rhythm. There had been times in their summers together when she had deliberately mixed up her strokes when Isabel had earned a spanking, to keep the summer-haired dancer guessing and off-balance, but this was not one of those occasions. The perfect rhythm helped the pain and pleasure blend all the more effortlessly, without interruption. Isabel was sweating, panting mess by the twelfth stroke, gasping, and pleading through her gag, and worse yet, the headaches that warned of another power surge were building rapidly—but she never lost count and never faltered in the simple alternating mantra that her mistress had established in their very first session of their very first summer, to mitigate her transgressions.

"Hwewf. I wiw hruff. I wiw oh-ay. Fhanh hoo, Mihwehf, hif awahmheh haf wurmf uhr weffom!"

Mistress Lanfear began releasing Isabel from the wrist and ankle restraints. The spreader bar and the ankle restraints still attached to it fell to the carpeted floor with a thud and a muted jangle. The tethers and the cuffs attached to them retracted into their alcoves. "Good, Isari. Maybe you haven't fallen out of training as much as I feared. And I've missed that sound so, so much. But as thrilling as your gag-talk is, I want to hear your final act of contrition without this in your mouth, too. I'm going to take the gag out now. And I want the first words you say to be repeating what you just said. And Isari? Make me believe every word."

That last sentence was a deep cut for super-fans of the Wheel of Time books; it was a line said by one of the sul'dam assigned to break and train one of the main characters of the books, who had been captured and collared by the Seanchan.

The part that Mistress Lanfear had forgotten to mention, and that was definitely not in that scene in the books, was that as her left hand began unbuckling the gag strap, her right hand found Isabel's slick pussy and engorged clit, and began caressing it, ever so slowly. The smell of arousal was so thick in the air that Isabel could taste it on her tongue. Even standing bound like this—perhaps because she was—she was all too close to the edge, and her mistress was riding her at a gallop with no fences.

The gag came loose in Mistress Lanfear's hands, and the words came immediately to Isabel's lips. "Twelve. I will trust. I will obey. Thank you, Mistress, this damane has learned her lesson." She quivered, about to burst out with more of the same objections that she had raised so many times already tonight. This time, though, she had surrendered, or been reeducated, enough to understand that her mistress was fully aware of what was going to happen, and that clearly wasn't stopping her. Also, between the headaches and the wet fire already burning between her legs, which her mistress' adept fingers continued to stoke, she doubted she could have made the slightest objection sound like anything but a plea for mercy that would only encourage Mistress Lanfear. Would only encourage both of them, honestly.

"Good. Trust and obey, marath'damane. Lift your hair."

Isabel forced her sore arms to obey and lifted the golden curtain off her neck. There was no doubt what was coming now, and she knew the first touch of it had a good chance sending her over the edge.

"Mistress, the headaches ..." It was half a gasp, half a prayer, and sounded exactly like the teasing plea for mercy she had predicted it would. "You know what'll happen ..."

"Oh no, Isari. And neither do you. But it'll be worth it either way."

At long last, Isabel felt the cold feel of metal around her throat, and the collar that had been waiting for her all this time closed with a soft click that echoed in her mind like thunder. It was, as it had appeared to be, nothing resembling a typical cosplay replica. It was heavy, heavier even than stainless steel, thick, and had to be two inches high, enough that no one wearing it would ever forget its presence, especially if they tried to look down.

She was Isari, the collared damane of the Wheel of Time's most brilliant and insane superfan, once again.

The click of the collar closing brought her right up to the edge, but did not quite send her over, because at that moment, things got even stranger, even by the standards of someone whose orgasms had been high-energy environmental hazards for almost four years now.

An entire overlay of new sensations descended upon her, somehow familiar even though she had never felt anything like it before. It was clearly a feeling of arousal, too, similar enough to her own to be recognizable as nothing else, but still unlike she had ever felt when she was aroused, unlike what she was still feeling from her mistress' maddeningly slow fingers between her legs. Like an aroused spirit had suddenly decided to inhabit her body, not that she had any clue what that would actually feel like.

"So much better. I was tired of calling you marath'damane. Now, damane Isari, tell me: How are your headaches?"

"They're ... wow, they're uuuuhhh, oh my God ..."

Mistress Lanfear had finally begun increasing the pace of her finger on Isari's clit. And while her headaches weren't gone, there was suddenly definitely something different about them. They were still there. Still strong, in fact. But if before they had constantly pulsed angrily like caged monsters, they were now suddenly hesitant, as if they had a new warden five times harder than their old one. They didn't bother her like they had a moment before the gleaming silver collar had closed upon her neck.

"That's what I like to hear, Isari. Now, remember, trust, and obey. Only two more things you need to do now. First, close your eyes."

Isari closed her eyes. Mistress Lanfear increased the pace of her fingers still more. They were careening towards the edge again now.

"Are they closed?"

"Yes, Mistress!" Isabel's breathing barely qualified as breathing anymore. She was panting.

"Good. Keep them that way. Second. Kiss me back."

Mistress Lanfear spun Isabel around once more, and then her hand was firmly knotted in Isabel's hair, and their lips met for the first time in more than two years. The thick, luxurious fabric of the front of the sul'dam dress slid teasingly along Isari's naked front, including her upright nipples. And that impossible second set of sensations within Isari, suddenly more aroused as well flooded through and over into her, like it was kissing her as well from inside herself, or like she was kissing herself on the lips and loving every moment of it.

The prison bars within her disintegrated in a blaze of pure, wild ecstasy. She mewled and screamed and writhed and clenched her thighs together around her mistress' fingers, fully intended to never let them go. She tossed her head backward with a stronger, undulating scream as the power surge burst forth from within her and screamed at the ceiling. She half expected to see it already falling on her as the leading edge of the tsunami blasted her eyes open, swirling and surging around her. There actually was something different about the ceiling, but nothing she had anywhere close to the brain cells to spare to figure out in the throes of the fullest, most unrestrained orgasm she had enjoyed in four years.

Mistress Lanfear pulled Isari's hair, forcing her head even further back and sending yet another adrenalin spike into the blazing release surging within and around her. "Eyes shut, damane!"

Isari snapped her eyes closed again, but if her mistress had ordered her to be quiet, too, at that point, she would have been completely unable to obey.

"Keep cumming, Isari. Hold nothing back. Go. Let it all out," Mistress Lanfear's fingers continued to work.

Isari needed no urging. So deep in subspace, having so completely outsourced every single thought about consequences at this point, and the accursed headaches somehow mercifully under control, she no longer cared if she burned the entire neighborhood to the ground. Even when she had snuck back to the darkened shores of Lake Allatoona in Red Top Mountain State Park, where their lives had changed all those years ago, she had felt the need to be furtive, had held back, mentally and physically, afraid of starting a forest fire or something worse, allowing herself just enough release to take the edge off. And she had been so terribly, desperately alone. Here, with both her mistress' collar and undivided attention on her, she no longer needed her own unsteady boundaries. She had better ones. Or she didn't even care if they were worse ones. She didn't need to care. All she needed to do was trust. And cum. She needed that even more, and she seized the opportunity with a maniacal fervor. Her orgasm went on, and on, and on, somehow amplified and extended by the strange new sensation that Mistress Lanfear's a'dam had brought with it.

As the waves pouring out of her surged to another peak, she leaned forward and licked and nibbled on Mistress Lanfear's earlobe.

And at the same instant, the sensation was matched by the sensation of licking and nibbling on her own earlobe. Did she just realize what I was going to do and do it at the exact same time?!

"Oh, there you go, good girl, little damane. There's the little sub I remember!"

How is she talking and teasing my earlobes at the same time?! And she just leaned her head back, not forward, as I started working on her!

A terrifying, exhilarating hypothesis came to her. In the Wheel of Time books, to prevent the enslaved women who could use the One Power from physically turning on the sul'dam who held their leash, the a'dam mirrored and doubled the physical sensations felt by the sul'dam back to the damane in the collar. Egwene, the main character who experienced the effect of the a'dam firsthand, knocked herself almost senseless by punching the woman who had collared her in the face.

For a brief moment, she stopped teasing Mistress Lanfear's earlobe. The licking and nibbling sensation on her own ear ceased immediately. She started again, and it returned.

The a'dam is a lot more than a best-in-class replica or prop. The damn thing is functional! A moment later: That extra layer of sensation I'm feeling, aroused but focused, celebrating my release but not sharing it yet, familiar but not--that's her arousal! And I really was kissing myself when she told me to kiss her back!

"Keep your eyes closed, Isari! Think later! Cum now!" She let go of Isari's hair at this point, and caught in the invisible eruption, the golden strands lifted and fanned out away from Isari's head in all directions, a tattered golden sail caught in an unseen wind.

"Yes, Mistress!" Isari gleefully returned to the erotic rollercoaster that she had continued to ride even as that stunning realization had hit her. If anything, she was even less inhibited now because at some level, she realized that the house was not on fire, and the TV and other electronics in the room had not been reduced to sparkling paperweights, even as she continued to feel the waves of that impossible phenomenon pouring out of her in a Plinian eruption. She nibbled on Mistress Lanfear's earlobe, and then slipped one hand inside the low-cut bodice of the sul'dam dress and teased her mistress' nipples straining against the inside of the leather, relishing the sensation mirrored in her own naked and achingly at-attention tits. The sensation helped push her to another crest, and one more after that, before she finally felt herself begin to coast in for a landing. As if to emphasize the end of the ride, her hair floated slowly downward and settled into place on her naked back again.

She snuggled into the curve of her mistress' neck, and took advantage of whatever impossible sensation-mirroring technology had been built into the collar on her neck in a different kind of intimate way. She ran her hands up through Mistress Lanfear's hair and scratching her head, enjoying the post-coital grooming mirrored on her own scalp. "Wow," she breathed. She wouldn't have had enough breath for another syllable.

Mistress Lanfear wrapped her arms around Isari and breathed huskily in her ear. "Don't get too comfortable, my dear damane. You see, I haven't cum yet. And I think you've figured out what happens when I do. And you're still going to bring me there."

Isari went to take an over-dramatic breath of feigned exasperation, but it didn't work. Instead, she just giggled. She couldn't remembered the last time she had genuinely giggled. "I will trust. I will obey. Teeheehee," she giggled again. "But Mistress?"

"Yes, Isari?"

"Can I look?"

Wrapped in the other woman's arms, she felt as much as heard her mistress low, humming laugh. "Yes, Isari. In fact, it's high time you did."

Isari opened her eyes, and it turned out she was not as completely drained of adrenalin as she thought. A startled, frightened eep burst from her lips, and she suddenly jumped and threw her legs forward and around Mistress Lanfear's waist, almost getting her right leg tangled in the a'dam leash, though how she was able to jump at all under the circumstances was just another part of the impossible mystery around her.

The two women were floating six feet off the ground, rotating gracefully in midair. Isari's brain reengaged enough at this point to realize that when she had seen something different about the ceiling in the midst of her orgasm, it was because the high, sweeping, angled ceiling had been closer than she remembered.

Shimmering golden energy flecked with the occasional spark of blue or purple or less recognizable colors flowed and rippled over the furniture and floor beneath them, and even some distance up the walls. It did not flow not quite like water, nor like fog, but perhaps something in between. A thinner mist of the same energy hung and drifted in the air around them.

There was not a scratch or singe on the room or any of the furniture.

Mistress Lanfear's whisper in her ear was excited, but for once soft and tentative. "Are you afraid, Isari?"

"I ... yes, Mistress. A little."

The other woman nodded. "How much?"

"I ... don't stop."

"I don't intend to. Ever." Her arms tightened around Isari, and her lips found Isari's again as well.

Chapter 3

They drifted in silence for a while, kissing and snuggling as if they weren't hovering in the air.

"Want to see a little something more before I put you to work on me?" Mistress Lanfear asked.

Isari giggled again. God, how do I stop giggling, I'm too old to giggle like a kindergartener! "I'd love to, Mistress. And I maybe could use a break before we start again?"

"I'll be the judge of that, damane. I'm the one horny as hell who hasn't got a chance to let it out yet. And never forget that I own you utterly now." Mistress Lanfear continued. She took Isari's head in both hands and brought it firmly forward for another kiss. Then, with no warning, she casually revealed another way in which the silver collar and bracelet set were very much a functional a'dam from the Wheel of Time books: it felt like a stinging smack landed on Isari ass, like a stroke from a switch with nettles on the end. Except that her hands were up around Isari's head, and held nothing except that head, helping to hold their lips tightly together.

"Gwmmmph!" Isari gasped into the kiss. She broke free a moment later, just by an inch or two. "It can do that, too?!" In the books, the sul'dam wearing the bracelet had complete control over the sensations felt by the damane in the collar, and thus be could be punished as mercilessly and continuously as necessary to break and train the Empire's prized property without physically damaging it.

"It obviously can," Mistress Lanfear replied sagely. "But earlier, I was using more mundane means to get you back in line. And you responded magnificently." Isari blushed at the compliment. "So I can at least do something about that while we're just hanging here."