Poetry & Blood Ch. 13

Laura sighed, her hand massaging the bridge of her nose. "Sorry," she said. "I'm still getting used to this." Laura stood, turned, and looked into Abby's eyes. "Edit like this," she commanded.

Abby smiled as the warm breath of Laura's command washed over her. She relaxed into the moment, free of all worry or doubt. Whatever Laura wanted was best. She felt the leather band and sapphire around her upper thigh pulse against her skin. She was safe here. Whatever Laura wanted was best.

Laura smiled, the sternness and worry leaving her face. She leaned forward, holding Abby's face in her hands, and kissed the slender girl. Abby whimpered as the command and her goddess melted into her; pleasure and submission mingled with peace and acceptance. She would do whatever Laura wanted. Laura knew best. It was that easy. She shut her mind off, making herself an extension of her lover. That was best for Abby. It was best for everyone.

Laura broke the kiss and stepped behind Abby. Abby raised up the stack of paper and Laura leaned over her shoulders, whispering in her ears as Abby read the edits Laura had added in the margins:

"This isn't clear."

"Confusing."

"This isn't landing well. We should revisit."

"Too wordy. Cut down on some of these adverbs."

"I took your advice," whispered Laura. "I don't need to be a bully in the margins. I just need to get under her skin, make her doubt herself. It will be quantity, not quality, that will destroy her. Death by a thousand polite cuts, a thousand helpful suggestions from the innocent and nervous new editor. That's how we'll get her."

Abby flipped through the stack. Each page was covered with red ink. The suggestions weren't wrong, but they were ruthless. Asking Camille to re-order each sentence or questioning tiny word choice. Each adverb was cut out. Each pronoun was interrogated for its antecedent and clarity. Laura was brutal, letting nothing slide, demanding perfection from Camille and, most importantly, revealing how far Camille was from perfection.

"Edit like this," hissed Laura in Abby's ear. She licked Abby's ear and nibbled on it gently. Abby moaned as the command moved from her ear to her mind, over her skin to her pussy and back to her soft and pliable mind.

"It will take more time," said Laura, "but I want her to question her ability to write a single sentence by the time you're done with her. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Laura," whimpered Abby.

"Good girl."

Abby felt her knees buckle.

"Show me," said Laura. She stepped back and pulled back her chair at her desk. Abby sat in Laura's chair. Laura handed her the red pen and a fresh stack of paper. It felt like a dream, like watching someone else's life from their point of view, but the hand holding the pen was Abby's. The mind obeying commands was Abby's. The body tingling with arousal was Abby's. The heart desperate for approval was Abby's.

Abby began to read—rather, Abby's eyes began to read. Abby was somewhere else, detached, watching this happier and simpler body do the work with delight. Abby was happy for Abby's body, happy to see her so relaxed, so blissfully ignorant of consequences, anxiety, or fear. The work came easily to her. The sentences were always bad, and the words were always hollow. Now, Abby's body had no filter. She could release the floodgates of her true thoughts. It didn't matter if Camille liked her feedback. Camille's happiness wasn't part of the equation at all. There was only Laura's happiness and Abby's happiness. Abby's happiness was Laura's happiness.

Laura was the only meaningful thing in this room. Abby watched Laura touch Abby's body, her hands reaching around and playing with Abby's breasts while Abby read. Abby's body moaned, and Abby moaned with her, both as happy to be in Laura's will as they were to be touched by Laura.

Abby's body made a quick edit, and then another. She wrote a comment, and then a question. They were passive aggressive, but gentle and unassuming. They asked if Camille understood this rule or if Abby needed to explain her edits. They were pleasantly condescending.

As Abby's body worked, Laura leaned in and whispered, "Good girl." Abby whimpered with pleasure, all forms of Abby, all parts of her, thrummed in accordance with one purpose, one will: Laura's.

Laura walked in front of the desk and sank to the floor. Abby's body felt Laura's hands pull down her skirt and panties. It felt Laura's hands spread Abby's legs wide and pull her hips forward.

"Such a good girl," said Laura.

Abby whimpered. She hesitated before making another edit, anticipating the feel of Laura's tongue on her pussy, not wanting to be mid-sentence when she inevitably clenched, shuddered, and moaned. Instead, there came the gentle pleasure of fingertips dancing over her thighs. It was like rain tapping over her bare skin, senses tingling and neurons firing as each touch translated into pleasure. The fingers moved up and down Abby's thighs but then concentrated themselves around the leather strap and sapphire around her upper right thigh. She felt Laura adjust it and touch the gem on it, and then nothing.

"Obey," commanded Laura, and Abby went straight to work, editing as she had been instructed. With each edit, she felt warm pleasure spread from the gem strapped to her leg. There were no fingertips. There was no subtlety. It was as though with each edit, someone poured a cup of hot pleasure all over her bare thighs.

"Oh," whispered Abby, clenching the paper and pen as each muscle in her body clenched.

Laura spread her legs wider. "Obey."

Abby did. She moved through pages faster than she ever had in her life, and with each edit, more pleasure blanketed her skin. It was like being licked by a dozen tongues all at once, each moving together up her thighs and towards her pussy. It was like Laura had poured hot chocolate on her, but each drop soaked into her skin, each one a mini-orgasm roiling up and over her body.

Abby continued to obey, the sapphire on her leg getting hotter and hotter, almost burning her as the pleasure became intense, almost too intense. She began to bounce in her seat as she edited, yelping with each comment she made on Camille's work. The harsher she could be while hidden behind polite suggestions, the sharper the pleasure that wracked her body.

Then came the cool sensation of Laura's tongue. Abby continued to work, editing as fast as she could, and each time she flipped the page, Laura would lick her pussy. Abby thought she would do it again, but it wasn't until she flipped the page that Laura licked her again. Abby worked as fast as possible. The words became a blur on the page. It didn't matter what Camille said, Abby didn't like it. It wasn't good enough. The comment became generic so they could apply to anything on the page, so Abby could flip the pages faster, so her dark poet could lick her more. Things like:

"Less of this."

"Is this realistic?"

"Isn't this a bit confusing?"

"How are you holding the reader's attention?"

But she couldn't work fast enough. Laura never picked up her pace, never moved quick enough or applied enough pressure to let Abby cum. There was still the pleasure with every edit, the pleasure of the strap and sapphire on her thigh, but soon the pleasure from her mistress was gone. Then, Laura moved out from under the desk and back behind Abby.

"Remember," she said in Abby's ear, "that from now on, you make me cum, not the other way around."

"Yes, Laura," said Abby, biting her tongue as she finished another edit and pleasure terrorized her. It was too much to keep going and too much to stop.

Laura moved over to her bed, sitting on the edge. She spread her legs, pulling up her skirt and revealing her lack of panties. It took every bit of Abby's self-control to turn away from her editing to look at Laura, to trade the pleasure of obeying for the pleasure of examining her goddess' body.

"When you finish," said Laura, placing her fingers gently on her pussy and drawing small circles with two fingers, "you can make me cum as a reward. If you take too long, I'll get myself off and you can leave me, horny and frustrated."

"Yes, Laura," said Abby. Her mouth was dry. Her vision was blurry. She wanted to watch Laura touch herself, but she knew that was folly. She had to finish her work. Obedience was her pleasure now.

*************

Laura

A week later, Abby, Emma, and Laura all waited to hear from Claire in Laura's bedroom. It was the first time Laura risked all four of them being together, but when Claire messaged them that she had big news, Laura knew she wanted them together. Emma sat on Laura's bed, and Abby sat at Laura's desk. Abby kept glancing nervously over at Emma, but Emma was oblivious to it. The thin, silver-haired vampire sat knitting while Laura paced.

While Laura planned.

It had to be Angelica. Claire had more information about the staff in the building than anyone else on Laura's team. Besides, she knew that Angelica was their objective. Everything else was a distraction. There were two options that Laura could see: Angelica was going to join Nikki in the dungeons or Angelica was fine, and somehow everyone else was about to join Nikki in the dungeons. Well, maybe not Laura. Sure, things could be traced back to her, but Camille would have to know what she was looking for. She would have to peel back Laura's influence on the staff to see who was feeding them rumors like truth. Could one vampire remove another vampire's influence (even a sort-of vampire like Laura)?

Laura made a mental note to ask Emma everything there was to know about vampire control and what one vampire could do to another.

"Did she sound upset?" asked Abby while Laura paced.

"It was a text. I don't know what she sounded like."

"Can I read the text?"

"No."

"But you can pick up something from the tone -"

"No," snapped Laura.

"Laura can't decide if she's a wolf or a rabbit," mused Emma while she worked.

"I'm a wolf," said Laura. "I just can't decide if I'm a wolf that fucked up or not."

A knock came at the door. One knock. Not the code. All three women looked at each other. Laura pointed towards the bathroom, and Abby and Emma rushed in there.

"Yes?" asked Laura.

The door open and Angelica stood, looking half deranged. "What did you do?" she hissed.

"What are you talking about?" Laura pretended to be innocent, but she was never an actress.

Angelica strode up and slapped Laura as hard as she could across the face.

"What did you do?"

"I still don't know what you're talking about." Laura held the stinging side of her face, but her adrenaline was pumping. Her free hand tensed, ready for another attack.

"Like hell you don't. How do you know about Emma?"

"Who?"

"Shit!" shrieked Angelica. She raised both her hands, and Laura flinched, but Angelica slammed them down against her side in frustration and stepped away from Laura, pacing.

"Do you know how long I've worked here?" she asked but didn't seem to expect an answer. "Ten years. Ten long fucking years. That's longer than anyone has ever lasted with Miss Kontalban. Ten years of loyalty, of hard work, of struggling to make her vision a reality, of helping her create more of her beautiful work for the world to experience. Ten years of tender love and dedication." Angelica stopped pacing and turned to Laura. "Ten years thrown away."

"What happened?" asked Laura.

"Oh, right. That's what I'll do. I'll tell you all about it, make it worse, and end up in a ditch somewhere with two thick holes in my neck. No thanks."

"Make what worse?"

Angelica strode back up to Laura. She was furious, and for a moment, Laura thought she was going to strike her again, but Angelica wasn't upset with her. No, the petite blonde was upset at someone else, with someone else.

"Did she ask for your help?"

"Who?"

"That bitch, the new maid, what's her name?"

"Claire?"

"Yes, that one. She's been spreading rumors about me, trying to get me fired, and it worked finally. I think she got to the new Muse girl. Did she mention anything about me to you?"

"No?" Laura stepped backwards, letting herself regain her posture. Things were fine. Angelica had no idea it was Laura. She was in the dark on the whole thing. This is was a venting session, not an accusation. "What do you mean it worked?" she asked. "What worked?"

Angelica's fists shook. She wanted to fight, not talk. She wasn't about to confide in Laura. This was an accusation, not a chance to become friends. Laura took a deep breath. "Tell me," she commanded. She watched Angelica shiver as the command took over her body, forcing her to speak against her will.

Angelica looked away, her rage replaced with something else. Her eyes swam with tears and turned red, and she covered her forearms with her hands. "I'm to vacate the premises immediately," she whispered. "I'm no longer employed by Miss Kontalban."

"What?" Laura sat down on the edge of her bed, pretending to be astonished. "You've got to be kidding me."

"No." Angelica's voice cracked and thickened. She'd be bawling soon.

"Over what?"

"I can't tell you," she said as tears rolled down her cheeks. "That's what this is all about. There's a secret, and ... and ... I don't know how Claire knows about it, but it wasn't me." A wildness overtook her eyes as she stepped forward, sank to her knees, and grabbed Laura's hand. "You have to believe me. It wasn't me. I would never ... never do anything against Miss Kontalban's wishes. If you hear anything, anything at all about me and this secret, you have to know it's a lie. It's a terrible lie."

"Yes, of course," said Laura. She stroked Angelica's hand, trying to calm her. "Miss Kontalban didn't believe you?"

"The whole staff was against me. Well, everyone except Miss Lancaster. I don't know how Claire did it, but she convinced all of them to lie about me." Angelica's eyes welled up again and she looked away. "To ruin me."

Laura kept stroking Angelica's hand. She contemplated bringing her in for a hug, but thought that would be too over the top. They never liked each other, why start now? Instead, an idea began to form in her mind, one flaw in the plan she hadn't considered before. "What are you going to do?" she asked. "You can't just let them beat you like this."

Angelica smiled cruelly. "I won't. I'm going to look into Claire, to figure out what she knows and how she knows it. I'm going to figure out why she wants me gone, and I'm going to tell Miss Kontalban everything. That's all I need to do. Claire wants to play dirty? Fine. I can play dirty."

"Revenge," whispered Laura to herself more than to Angelica.

"Exactly."

"How? You won't have access to the house."

"There are ways in and out. Besides, I think Miss Lancaster will help me. She won't rest easily knowing Claire has enough sway over Miss Kontalban to have me fired."

"Is this what Miss Kontalban would want?"

"If she's listening to Claire, she doesn't know what she wants."

Angelica had stopped crying. The moment of vulnerability was gone, and now there was the cruel bitch Laura had learned to hate over these past few months. Angelica was her jailer, her mocker, and her tormentor. She had sworn revenge against Laura's best friend and confidant in the house. She was a problem, and even if she was fired, it wasn't enough. Laura was sure of it now. She hadn't done nearly enough to solve this problem.

"If you need anything, let me know. I want to help you."

Confusion flickered over Angelica's face. "Help me deal with Claire? She's your friend, I thought."

"The Claire I know wouldn't spread rumors just to get someone fired. If that's what she did, she deserves to be punished."

Angelica looked dubiously at Laura and stood up. "Okay," she said, but her heart wasn't in it. "I'll let you know if I need any help."

"Thank you," said Laura. "I'm really sorry this happened. I feel awful about it. To me, you're a part of this house. Without you, it would be like not having Miss Kontalban in control anymore."

Angelica nodded. "I need to go," she said. "Sorry for barging in like this, and ... well ... thank you for listening."

"Any time," said Laura. She stood up spread her arms, offering a hug. "Any time."

Angelica went in for the hug suspiciously, but Laura had no tricks up her sleeve. She was being as authentic as possible, hugging Angelica for the first and last time.

Wordlessly, Angelica broke the hug and left the room without looking back. Laura waited a solid minute, standing in front of the bed, imagining Angelica turning back around with a knife or gun in hand to kill her, but there was nothing.

"You can come out," she said, and Abby and Emma bumbled out of the bathroom awkwardly.

"That was dramatic," said Abby. "I thought she was going to attack you for a moment there."

Laura rubbed her cheek where Angelica slapped her. "For a moment there, she did."

"Well, it's over now. It worked."

"It did work. Unfortunately, it's not over." She looked to Emma. "Is it?"

Emma shook her head.

"What do you mean?" asked Abby.

"Angelica's been antagonized but not removed. She'll be back, pestering us and Camille until she gets the truth. She's more of a threat now because she suspects something."

"Oh." Abby sat in the chair at Laura's desk looking crestfallen. "What are you going to do?"

Laura kept her eyes locked on Emma. She knew what needed to happen. Both of them did. Emma knew what Laura would ask, and she didn't want to give it. She kept her eyes glued to the floor, avoiding eye contact for as long as possible.

"Camille is weak," said Laura, finally, turning to look at Abby. "She thought it fair to bind my friend in chains, yet for the same crime - or arguably worse - she simply fires Angelica. Why not fire Nikki? Why not put Angelica in the dungeon? Why not do worse? Why not kill Angelica outright?"

Abby said nothing. Her soft features tightened as she processed Laura's grim words.

"Camille, the mask, has replaced Marcilla, the huntress, permanently. There may not be any hope of stirring the vampire out again. All our work might be for nothing." Laura said the last words with the best frustration she could manage. She was never a good actress.

"If we can't get Marcilla back, what do we do?"

"We go to Plan B." Emma looked up at Laura and held her eyes for a long moment. There was a desperation and a hope in her eyes, the futile desire that things could be different. It felt naive to hope that things wouldn't end this way. They were caught up in a bloody beginning, both of them. That would mean a bloody ending. There was no other way.

"You know what you need to do," whispered Laura to Emma.

"Don't make me end a song, even one screeching and empty."

"Claire will help you get out of the manor. She will drive you wherever you need to go. She will help you find Angelica, but she can't be more involved than that. It has to be you."

"It could be no one," said Emma. "It could be her own past or her haggish bitterness. She could choke on it."

"You can't be traced. No prints in any system." Laura moved closer to Emma, trying to comfort her and confront her all at once. "Camille won't suspect you involved. It's the only way. She'll move out, and in a few days, you and Claire can make a visit."

"A life is a masterpiece tasted once."

"She has no family," said Laura. "This was her life. She has nothing now except trying to stop us. She will make it her life's purpose."

"Please." Tears welled up in Emma's eyes. "Don't make me." Her voice strengthened as she cried, as some part of her mind woke up to fear and panic.