For the Love of Licia Pt. 10

"Wait, don't look," Angique whispered, removing her fingers and leaving the girl to totter on the very edge of coming. Minutes went by; Alicia just stood, gradually breathing slower, feeling her built-up climax slip away. Then the fingers returned and her heart hammered as she climbed to her high again. She was close once more when a searing pain cut through her haze of ecstasy. Two, three blinding splashes of excruciating heat hit the skin of her ass cheeks, making her cry out in... pain? Ah, yes -- pain for sure, but... Why didn't each new splash add up to more pain? Why did every following splash of agony push her closer to this incredible... this unbelievable...?

"Aaaaaaah! Oh God, aaaaaaahhh," Alicia cried out, coming hard. She humped against the fingers that fucked her ass, dancing on tiptoes, shaking the chair as she came and came again. New splashes of burning candle wax painted her skin, each drop throwing the girl into a new shudder of ecstasy. At last she hung over the chair like a wet, limp coat -- utterly spent.

Angique kissed her skin wherever the wax had fallen until she reached the dripping cunt. She slowly started sucking the outer labia, making the girl shiver over and over again.

"The pleasure of pain," she mumbled. "Sweet, sweet pleasures of pain."

***

The next weeks felt to Angique like dancing on a tight rope, never knowing if the next step might bring her closer to her goal or cause her to fall. She felt exhilarated whenever she could make the girl somersault into magical, pain-ridden orgasms, but awful when Alicia failed to show up without a word of warning. Twice Alicia said, after returning, that she had been sick -- or 'too busy working.'

Angique knew they were just transparent excuses.

"Why didn't you just call, honey?" she asked. "I would have understood. It's only natural to be scared." Each time the girl stubbornly held on to her excuse. But her eyes never met Angique's; she just handed her Angelthorn, the riding crop, asking without a word to be punished.

Angique often worried, but she put it aside whenever the girl sank into her arms again, soaked in sweat and totally spent from endless coming while her tits were tightly bound or her clit cruelly clamped. Angique could do nothing but kiss her and thank the fickle Goddess of Love for another fleeting moment of bliss.

Alicia might have been unstable, but she kept amazing Angique for being the fastest and easiest pupil she ever had. Her body associated with Pavlovian speed. After only weeks she almost orgasmed whenever the cold steel of a clamp touched her nipple -- or when Angique lighted a candle and kept a drop of searing hot wax in check only inches over her tit.

Forcing fatter and fatter butt plugs up her asshole caused her thighs to squeeze cunt juices down her legs. Blinding cramps from checked enemas made her come hard when she at long last was allowed to release herself. Harsh corset training had her faint twice, but when Angique undid the laces and buckles, her cunt oozed with come. Weights dangled from her cunt lips. She cried in agony when screw-clamps were released from her nipples, allowing the blood to rush back in. And often she bristled with crowns of cloth pins wherever her skin was the most sensitive.

But training Alicia was like performing under the legendary sword of Damocles. The girl orgasmed with abandon, spinning out of control as soon as the first arousal made her cunt flow. But when it was over every one of her reservations returned. She just couldn't commit to her obvious needs and the way her body responded to them. Angique never knew what the next day might bring.

For days Alicia would eagerly partake in the most extreme of Angique's fantasies, only to suddenly balk. She would tearfully shower Angique with her 'sorries,' telling her she could not go on -- and yet she would return the next day and beg to be punished for her behavior.

Angique worried when Alicia stayed away for almost a week without a word, but then she shrugged her anguish away -- the girl would be back, she always returned, didn't she? When Alicia at last returned, however, alarm bells went off. Angique saw her from her usual table in the Salon, where she sat with friends. The girl looked awful. She was skinnier than ever, and almost greenish pale under her tan. The clothes she wore looked as if she'd slept in them, and even her precious hair was dull and unkempt. Her red-rimmed eyes looked as if they hadn't seen sleep in days.

Angique rose with a start, excused herself and walked over to Alicia, embracing her.

"What happened, honey?" she asked. "Have you been ill? You look awful. Oh God, are you ill?" She hugged the girl tighter, but all she held was a limp, unresponsive body. Then it stiffened and two tiny fists pushed her away.

"I am sorry, Angique," Alicia whispered. "I can't do this anymore, okay? I really just can't." Angique tried to catch her evasive eyes. She reached for the girl's chin to turn her head, but Alicia stepped back.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"So am I," Angique said, staring hard. Then she turned around and walked back to the table. The two women she had been with whispered to her. She shook her head vehemently. They whispered some more before rising from their chairs. They took their glasses and purses with them and walked over to the bar where they sat down and never let Angique or the girl out of their eyes.

Alicia hadn't left the spot where she was standing. She seemed in a state of mind where you are so torn up that you can't move -- either forward or backward. She wanted out, she wanted to run; but she couldn't. At last she found the energy to turn away and put one foot in the direction of the exit, when Angique's voice called her name. It made her freeze in midstride.

"Please, sit with me, honey," the voice said. "We should at least talk."

"I...," the girl said, to no one special. Her second step never came. In a haze she turned and before she knew it, she sat on a fragile chair facing Angique. The woman's hand touched hers lying limply on the tabletop. She tried to avoid Angique's eyes, but she didn't withdraw her hand.

"I am truly sorry for how you feel, darling," Angique said after a minute of silence. "I guess you blame me for bringing you in this position where you keep running into cruel dilemmas. But it isn't me, honey; it is you.

"You say you can't go on, but you can -- because you have to. You have no choice and you know that. You know that it is easier for you to go on than to stop. Your body aches to go on. It makes you sick when your mind refuses to give in. Be honest, for God's sake. Look at yourself after not even a week without me -- another week and you'll be a skeleton. Accept who you are, Alicia -- stop hurting yourself."

By then the girl's eyes had drifted back to Angique's; and when they met she felt like a helpless insect fighting the gossamer web of a spider. Her mind was in turmoil. Part of her wanted to protest and deny; another part knew the woman was right -- there was no escape because she didn't want to escape.

The hand that rested on hers seemed to send vibrations into her. Her nostrils flared. She smelled the enchanting scent she knew so well.

"Even now," the voice went on as the lips curled and the eyes sucked her in. "Even now you are fighting what you know you need. Let go, honey. It hurts me to see you suffer like this. Don't let the rift between your body and your mind open wider and swallow you. Because that is what will happen, you know? You will fall into the abyss you create yourself if you won't choose. Consider your choices, honey, and you'll see there is really but one -- the one decision that's easy, the one that comes naturally and makes you happy." A second hand joined the hand already on hers. The voice became an intense whisper.

"Oh God, honey, how I ache to see you happy."

After those whispered words were gone, another silence grew, but it was just that -- a silence. It didn't feel awkward. It felt good; it felt healing. There was no harm in letting it stretch on and on -- as long as the eyes were there, the hands, the scent; and the beating of her racing heart. Then Angique broke the spell; she chuckled.

"Trust yourself, Licia," she said. "For once in your life, please trust yourself."

Angique rose from her chair, letting go of the girl's hand.

"Get up," she said, softly. "Get up and get out of those dreary clothes." Alicia sighed, hesitating. Then she pushed herself away from the table and rose, standing in the empty space between tables. She never minded the many eyes looking at her when she brought her fingers to the buttons of her blouse. In seconds she stood in a circle of rustling fabric, naked but for the sparkling pendant that hung from her nipple. Her eyes never left Angique's; maybe they were the only straw she could cling to.

Angique walked around her table and up to the girl. Her fingers caressed a skinny shoulder.

"Follow me," she said and walked straight towards the exit. Alicia gathered her clothes and started walking too, her bare feet plodding on the cold floor.

Many eyes followed them, but hers never strayed.

***

Darkness was the main feature of the room -- or was it a room? It was hard to fathom how big it was. The walls receded beyond the tight circle of light that came from a few torches and from an iron construction that looked like a square grate over a bed of glowing embers. Smoke tainted the air under the vaulting ceiling that rested on big, square columns.

Alicia had been here before; the memory caused her left nipple to throb with long forgotten pain. She had been blindfolded then, but she remembered the spiraling stone stairs that had brought her down here, guided by a leash which ran from her collared throat to the hand of her Mistress. The memories made her shiver, but she wasn't afraid, even when she knew she should be. The words of her Mistress kept her demons at bay, words she had spoken weeks ago at the Salon -- the words that had silenced her fear and broken the checkmate. 'Trust yourself,' Angique had said. They were just words, but each time she thought back to them and repeated them inside her head, stress ebbed from her body.

There had been many moments these past weeks when she'd repeated those words, trembling at the sight of yet another cruel contraption. There had been chains and wooden crosses, sawhorses and hooks, canes and cats o' nine tails. They'd all conspired against her poor soft flesh. When alone at night she'd pressed her Angelthorn between her tits. The once dreadful riding crop had almost become a dear friend after so many days of excruciating and exhausting punishment.

But still there had been times when even the magical formula didn't work. Those were the days she stayed in bed, hiding in her big old house. There was fear and panic then, but also the scary, churning lust to be with her Mistress. The two emotions paralyzed her and caused her to stay away for long, horrible days and even more horrifying nights.

'Trust yourself,' she mumbled as her bare feet left the last granite step of the stairs to walk into the circle of light.

"A dungeon," she mumbled, vaguely thrilled by the romantic connotations of the word. She stopped to look around, but the taut leash didn't allow it. Angique pulled her towards the centre of the circle, where she removed the leash.

Angique looked awesome, Alicia thought. The live flames of the torches highlighted the woman's black leather outfit, strewn with metal studs and sparkling spikes. It was a corseted cat suit, cut out irregularly to leave the left shoulder and tit bare, as well as a never-ending right leg that gleamed with oil from the waist down. The free breast swayed with her movements, the nipple covered with a round patch of studded leather. Both feet balanced on crazily platformed sandals that were tied to her legs with long, thin laces. Her skull and most of her face were hidden behind a masked hood. Only the fiery red mouth and pale jaw were free, as were her red-taloned fingers.

Alicia's admiration for Angique had grown these last few weeks, ever since the confrontation at the Salon. A wave of embarrassment still haunted her whenever that moment came back to her. She'd been a child, a spoilt brat displaying her petty fears and silly excuses. And in doing so she had embarrassed the one woman who so obviously loved her; the woman who did her utmost to help her sort out her life from the pieces she had scattered all around her.

Alicia had decided to accept the pain afflicted on her as punishment for her lack of trust -- as a way to atone for her failure, all her failures. That same evening of the confrontation Angique had pulled her up by chains, spreading her legs and adding increasing weights to the chain dangling from the clamp on her clit. All the while Angique had caned her tits and cunt with a slender length of bamboo. She'd expected the pain to be excruciating and in a way it was. But in so many other ways it was -- different. Holding Angique's dark green gaze, Alicia felt herself sink into the pain, embracing it. It amazed her how each new stroke of the cane radiated waves of intense pleasure into every niche of her strung up body.

She'd opened up to it, pushing out her hips, jutting out her tits to anticipate each blow and welcome it. She'd felt like a torch lit by agony, fueled by ecstasy. She'd groaned and squealed, crying out 'thank you's' at every blow -- and then she'd come, hard, never to stop until the last merciless strike hit her body.

"Get over here, please, honey cunt."

The voice woke her from her reverie. She saw Angique standing by one of the square columns. She looked all leggy, like an exotic insect in her studded leather. The column sported a few heavy metal rings at different heights. One of them, at chest height, held a length of chain, dangling down. Alicia felt her heart thump as she approached the woman.

Angique just stared at the girl, her face close enough for glints of emerald to be seen inside the slits of her mask. Then she grabbed the strong D-ring in Alicia's collar and fastened it to the last link of the chain. She let the heavy shackles fall and walked around the girl. Alicia felt her hands being cuffed on her back. "Wait," Angique said. Then she disappeared into the darkness facing Alicia. The lights reflecting off her cat suit were swallowed by darkness, and she was gone.

Alicia looked around. She saw how the chain hung in a loop, giving her enough slack to walk a generous circle around the column, but she knelt by its base.

She focused on the barbecue-like object that stood close to the column. A grate lay over smoldering embers. A long rod jutted up from the coals, right through the grate. Though she had no idea what it might be, she felt a distinct threat emanating from the iron. It caused her to repeatedly mumble her new magical formula -- 'trust yourself, girl, trust yourself.'

The sound of Angique's metal heels had never been entirely gone and soon the footsteps returned. There were more sounds, like the grating of iron on stone and muffled voices. Then -- right where she had disappeared -- Angique stepped back into the circle of light, and she wasn't alone. Her red-clawed fingers grabbed an abundance of dark hair that was attached to the head of a woman she knew -- a naked woman in her forties, maybe. She was thin and her skin looked pale. She was on elbows and knees, making the long nipples on her dangling tits graze the floor. What was her name again?

"Meet Ishtar, honey," Angique said, pulling the woman into the light where she blinked her eyes. "You remember her." Yes, she knew Ishtar; she knew her better than Angique would be comfortable with. At the Club Ishtar was everybody's slut. She was one of the many sleazy secrets of the Clan; the woman they all fucked, but never talked about. They even declined to greet her in the Salon, but it seemed she didn't mind.

Angique led the crouching creature up to Alicia, where she made her kneel.

"Ishtar is my gift to you today, honey," Angique said. She walked behind Alicia, pulling her up and making her stand over the kneeling woman. Ishtars hands rose until they rested on the girl's thighs, pulling them apart. Then she pushed her face into Alicia's crotch and started licking her clit. Not a word was said. Angique embraced the girl from behind, fondling her tits, starting to tweak her nipples. Alicia moaned and spread wider, lowering her cunt. Her eyes closed and her head rested against Angique's chest, rolling left and right.

"Today you'll pass your third Gate, honey cunt," Angique told her. "One step closer to perfection. Pain and pleasure will overwhelm you; they will be so intense that you'll pass out. And when you come to, you will be changed forever."

Angique's nails tortured the soft flesh while Ishtar's tongue invaded Alicia's cunt, a wet fingertip rubbing her clit. Her bent thighs started trembling without control. She mewled like a kitten, getting close to her climax. That was when Ishtar stopped, leaning back on her knees. Angique kissed the girl's neck and left her tits alone. Frustration found its way out in a wail of disappointment. Angique smiled.

"Be patient, lil slut," she said, and disappeared into the darkness beyond the torchlight. There was a screeching metallic sound. It belonged to a contraption Angique pushed closer across the stone floor until it stood right before Alicia. It was a construction made from dozens of silvery metal pipes, bent and twisted into the inverted shape of a body. When Angique pushed the girl into it, she fit perfectly into her own, personal cage. It left her tits free to be pushed through the maze, while the cold metal pressed against her chest and thighs, making her shiver. Alicia felt how her arms were freed, only to be tied to the construction, over her head. She heard Angique's quickening breath as she worked on her limbs and body, pulling straps and closing buckles until Alicia lunged forward in a frozen leap -- arms high, legs spread. Her exposed ass was pushing out; she wasn't able to move a limb. A warm, slow hand caressed her open backside while a wet tongue re-entered her cunt. Flashes of familiar pain assaulted her tits when weighted clamps bit into them, stretching her nipples.

She felt an equally familiar tugging at the fat plug in her ass. It slowly slid out, caressing the tight convolutions of her bowels and sphincter. An oiled finger entered her ass hole as soon as it was vacated; two more slid into her cunt, fucking her slowly. The waves of arousal gathered again, lifting her to the brink of impending climax. Of course they stopped at the very edge, bringing tears of frustration to her eyes.

Alicia trembled against her cage while slowly coming down. Her teeth chattered; her shaking made the metal pipes rattle. Then one single hand came to rest on her right ass cheek, close to her hip.

"Do you want to come, honey sweet?" a voice whispered into her ear. She just groaned.

"I thought so," the voice went on. The hand slapped the same spot it had caressed. Three more slaps started a little fire in the flesh beneath it. The whispering voice returned, slipping through the growing haze that surrounded her.

"I am going to mark you, Licia. I am going to baptize you with a torrent of pain." The voice wasn't cruel. It wasn't friendly either; it was matter-of-fact. "Do you agree?" it said after a moment. The tongue on her cunt returned, as did the finger into her asshole. Alicia moaned. "Do you agree?" the voice repeated, but the words were muffled and far away. She couldn't move her head; her tongue seemed to be swelling in her mouth. Agree to what? Trust yourself, girl. Trust.

She heard rattling and scraping sounds; the clattering of metal on stone. Staring into the darkness past the torches she felt a fear building inside her. The quickening tongue and now two fingers distracted her, but not enough to allay her growing anxiety. She chanted the mantra of trust inside her skull, but the panic rose straight through it. An irrational but very real attack of claustrophobia squeezed her throat shut. She cried "no!" but nothing came out; just a weak gurgling.