Sex and Vengeance Pt. 02

Yes, it's part two - this time with my usual perversity rearing its ugly head. While you're here, a brief note about the setting of the stories. The Eternal Republic is a kind of thought experiment in social eroticism - fantastic worldbuilding that combines a kind of ahistorical Gilded Age that spans the customs of aristocracy and oligarchy from the 18th to early 20th centuries, mixes it with elves and other fantastic beasties, and wonders what happens if we tweak various social mores around the intersection of sex, social standing, and public morality. I raise it in this installment as it features - as you'll see below - a car based on the Bugatti Royale. It's the same setting as my other stories, though somewhat clearer and refined, and one all future stories involving these characters will take place in.

Content wise, I feel obligated to warn the reader that this installment (and all future installments unless otherwise noted) features extensive S/M content. In this installment it's of only moderate harshness. It also features a lady with a very large penis - and yes, I intend to explore the abnormal gender norms of the Eternal Republic this creates later on - and some slut-shaming internal monologues.

If you hadn't tweaked that they're elves yet, that's probably because I'm an utter hack. But enough waffling explanations - you came for a story, so let's begin...

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While some of the other guests had to strain to spot their servants in the throng outside the ball, Rubeah was a conspicuous figure. Bliss could hardly miss her in her tightly fitting red uniform and cap, brass buttons gleaming in the warm light of the lamp-posts - let alone her vehicle, the Greywind Seventy-Seven. It was a great, sleek black-and-chrome beast of an automobile that sat like a low-slung ironclad in a fleet of tall ships next to the horse-and-cart arrangements still in favour with the rest of the aristocracy. Spying a few jealous - and a few appalled - stares and glances at the behemoth, Bliss smiled and swayed over to the chauffeur, heels clicking on the cobblestones.

"Home, Rubeah."

"Did you enjoy your evening, Lady Starshadow?" Rubeah asked, holding the back door open for the voluptuous mistress of the house.

"Hm? Oh, yes." Bliss replied, sliding into the plush, comfortable interior. With no need to compromise on weight with the terrifying engine block of the Greywind (concealed beneath a grand, almost phallic hood half the length of the entire gargantuan machine) outpacing even a whole herd of wild stallions, the seats were padded to an almost obscene degree and broad enough to comfortably lay on as though a bed. Rubeah delicately closed the door for her before pacing around to the driver's seat, taking up her post and adjusting the mirror. Bliss could just see her faintly luminescent eyes in it, peering at her in the reflection.

"Are we making a statement as we go or just leaving, my Lady?"

"Mm... Let's make a statement. But not too big of one. Just enough to make sure everyone knows we were here."

Settling back into the luxurious bench seating, Bliss raised a leg to ease off one heel, rubbing at her bare foot for a moment as Rubeah did whatever it is the chauffeur does to coax the beast to life. Then came the grand rumble of the engine firing up, a deep bass that shuddered through the car and into her chest, stole her breath for a moment like the paralyzing cry of a tiger, and despite herself she smiled again. The car wasn't her idea or her baby, but she didn't need to look to know almost every eye outside was on them, envious or terrified or both. She slipped her other heel off as the growling rumble settled into its usual purr and Rubeah pulled away from the gathering and into the narrow streets of the city.

"Did you have the time, Rubeah?"

"Yes ma'am." The chauffeur offered, glancing into the mirror again. "Ten twenty, or thereabouts."

"Oh, good. We'll be home by eleven, then... Hainora will still be awake. Do roll the window up, please, there's a chill coming through."

With Rubeah's attention returned to the road and the cabin shut off from the world by the window, Bliss helped herself to the discreet bar hidden inside the dividing wall between the driver's seat and the cabin, the folding panel that concealed it serving double duty as a mixing table. The chauffeur stocked it, but as Bliss lazily raised bottle after bottle Hainora's influence as the car's main passenger was obvious. Whiskey, brandy, rum - no vodka, for whatever reason - and only a single lamentably lonely bottle of champagne. The small selection of liqueurs was more promising, and after a long minute Bliss settled on an old standby, pouring herself a delicate crystal glass of creme de cassis.

The sweet fruity scent of the liqueur filled the cabin swiftly, and she inhaled it deeply, eyelids fluttering closed. It mingled on the tongue with the faint lingering scent of sex that clung to her and her perfume, a familiar mixture to her now. Adrene had been disappointing, she sighed to herself, melting into the seat and raising the glass to her lips. Disappointing, but useful. He'd been so easy to seduce. Just remembering the look on his face when she stole away from her dancing partner to his side, brushing her fingers against his elbow, brought a smile back to her face. The recollection of their first stolen kiss in the hallway was as sweet on her lips as the blackcurrant wine, though Adrene had almost as little to recommend him in that arena as in his skills at the carnal arts.

Nosing at the cassia, she let her head loll back against the rich red silk of the seats, kicking her feet up onto the bench seat and wiggling her toes. He was a silly little boy, really, and she almost felt bad for a moment for him. He was more than willing to step out on his wife, so it was hardly her fault that all it took was a wink and a giggle to lure him into her trap. The cassis coated her tongue as she took a fresh sip, letting the pleasant burn of the liqueur spread through her body, joining the tiredness of the dancing, the glow of her triumph. The look on Karandreya's face as she handed her the panties... Now there was a thrill. What Adrene lacked in bed, Dreya made up for in the sweetness of upstaging her. Her thighs pressed together without thought as she pictured it, holding that look of shock, rage, and humiliation in her mind's eye, reliving the moment. Unbeknownst to her, Rubeah's eyes lingered on her in the mirror as she flushed and the creamy expanse of her thighs rubbed together.

She knew it was a dreadful, small, and petty thing to do. And, as usual, that only spurred her on, blew fresh air on the embers of her arousal. Downing the rest of the cassis and setting the glass in one of the elegant leather-padded holders along the door, Bliss hiked up the skirts of her dress around her waist, spreading her thighs apart. One elegant foot came to rest against the door in the process, toes curling into the tight damask as her hand slid along one creamy thigh to her sex, delicately caressing her velvety vulva, tacky with the drying remnants of Adrene's spunk and damp with the dew of her own whorish arousal.

"Call me a whore..." She whispered to herself as her fingers danced, searching out the spots that never failed to make her shiver - the little spot just beneath the dip of her clitoral hood that let her nudge against its root, the small line on one of her labia that was always queerly sensitive even compared to the rest. She was slick and ready now, not just damp, but with no one to fuck her she made do, pumping her fingers into herself, panting and moaning, Dreya's face fixed in her mind, the shattered moment of realization replaying over and over.

Her breast was in her other hand, bare now. She didn't remember shrugging down the top of her dress, but it too pooled around her waist, leaving her exposed to her own groping, to the hard pinch to her pale pink nipple that sent a delicious edge of pain running through her body. It did nothing, of course, to cool her ardor - years with Hainora's sadistic lusts had left her primed to crave that ache, to wretchedly desire the hard use of her ample breasts. Her lovers elsewhere never seemed to understand it, the way she wanted - needed - them to hurt at least a little, how the pain only let pleasure sink deeper and deeper until she was throbbing at her very core with desperate lust and self-loathing.

She punished herself with them as she pumped her fingers into herself there in the backseat of the car, pinching and twisting, biting, reducing herself to whoredom. They were her sin made manifest in lustful flesh, and every pinch of her teeth, every slap, every agonizingly hard squeeze with her sharp nails sunk her deeper into the depths of her own wanton sluttishness. The potent mixture of her own depravity and her self-loathing powered her into a tremendous orgasm, fingers pumping away, nails biting into her tit. Her eyes rolled back, her body swept by one long trembling shudder, toes curling. Swept from her senses, time drifted away along with modesty. The sounds escaping her echoed dimly in her consciousness, far away - loud shuddering gasps, moans, the splatter of her squirt against the dividing window with the driver.

Dimly, she was aware of Rubeah swearing and pulling over to the side, the chauffeur too stunned by the display of her ejaculation to focus on the road. But she paid it no mind - she could scarcely manage to do anything at all but lie there, panting. Her tits fell from her hand, their great weight pulling them inexorably to splay against her sides. Her legs shook, trembling, and after a long few moments she returned to her body just enough to lower them to the floor of the cab. She could leave it, she knew, pretend nothing had happened. Rubeah would say nothing. She could primly tuck herself back into her dress. Instead, she raised her voice loud enough to be heard through the dividing glass.

"Fetch a cloth and clean that, Rubeah... There's a good girl."

While the servant rummaged for a chamois, Bliss raised her hand to run her tongue over her fingers. The taste of her own sweet, musky fluids mixed with the bitter tang of Adrene's lingering cum. The usual post-masturbatory shame crept up as she licked, each lap of the tongue mingling it with her whorish pride and her masochistic pleasure at her own debauchment. As she sucked her little finger clean, she closed her eyes again, unable to hold back the first fat tears that trickled down her unpainted cheeks. Without Hainora there to punish her, there was nothing to balance the shame, to let her relish in her whorishness but escape its sin.

"H-home, Rubeah."

She whispered, smoothing her skirts back down over her thighs and pouring herself a fresh glass of creme de cassis. She left her breasts bare, tracing her fingers over the faint dark crescents left in her own masturbatory frenzy. Wordlessly, Rubeah wiped the last of Bliss's ejaculate from the glass and returned to the driver's seat, easing the beast of a car back onto the road to deliver her exhausted mistress home.

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"Don't."

"I - "

"I SAID DON'T!" Karandreya spun on her heel, screaming at Adrene in the modest hall of their brownstone in the city. Furious tears beaded down her flushed cheeks as she paralyzed him with her stare. "You stupid fucking cunt! It wasn't enough for you to fuck someone else, you had to pick her, didn't you?"

"Dreya, I - she was - I... It was a mistake, I'm sorry. She was just..."

"Are you an idiot, Adrene? Are you a complete fucking idiot?" Dreya threw at him as he stammered. His flinch gave her some small satisfaction, though it only barely touched on the urge to slap some sense into her husband - and to choke the life out of the Starshadow bitch.

"W-what?"

"Did you think she was fucking you because you're you?"

"I... Why else would she? We danced, I impressed her, I - wait, why aren't - "

"She fucked you to get back at me, Adrene! She used you like a tool to get at me, and you let her!

"No, no. That's not right, Dreya, I know you're upset but you're not making sense. Sit down, have some wine, we can talk about it and get through this..."

She shook her head in disgust, shoving him against the wall as she stormed past him to the drawing room.

"Have some wine and talk about it? What's there to talk about, you fucking ass? You couldn't just keep to fucking the maids - yes I fucking knew, it's the worst kept secret of the century!" She spat at him as he followed, mouth full of denials. "You couldn't just fuck them. I could tolerate that. You had to go and let her seduce you. You've shamed me in front of everyone, you idiot!"

"Dreya, darling, she wasn't trying to get at you, I promise..."

"Then why the fuck did she hand me her panties and tell me how much you liked her tits in front of everyone?"

"I - what?"

"Oh my fucking god, could you at least try to keep up?" Her fingers closed around the fire poker's smooth brass handle and she raised it in the air. For a moment, she considered putting the hooked spike on one side through Adrene's skull, but contented herself with attacking the logs, shoving them back and forth in the gleaming brass grill. "She fucked you to get at me because I called her a whore to my friends, Adrene, and you and your stupid little dick were so eager to see if it's true she's a great lay that you let her ruin us."

"I... I'm sorry, darling, please - it was the wine..." Adrene whined, drawing close, reaching for her. She spun, hand rising, striking him hard across the cheek with her free hand before she even realized she'd moved. He stood, eyes wide, shocked and staring at her for a long moment, jaw working silently before he managed to make a sound.

"I - Dreya!"

"Go sleep in your office, Adrene. I don't want to see you or hear your voice tonight. If I do... I'll cut it off. I swear to god, I will cut your stupid prick off so it can't be used against me ever again. GO!"

Adrene scuttled away, and she let the poker clatter to the ground as he shut the door behind him, swooning. Without the object of her rage, it ebbed, and the tiredness threatened to take her to the floor beside the fire. Only a quick hand grasping at the carved marble mantle kept her upright, fingers curling against the fire-warmed stone's scalloped edge. She stood there a long, long moment, her other hand rising to wipe at her eyes, and then gave a quiet, long sigh. Adrene's latest betrayal tore at her insides, a great burning wound in her heart made worse by that bitch Bliss's smug face. Fucking the servants was one thing - it irked her, but it didn't hurt. Every nobleman did it, and half the noblewomen for good measure. It was nothing more than a more enjoyable form of masturbation, no different to having a massage.

But to fuck a woman who - ostensibly - was her peer? At a ball? That was something different, and it hurt more than she could have ever expected. Tearing herself away from the comforting warmth of the fireplace, she paced to the bar and filled a balloon of brandy far higher than was ladylike, then all but threw herself onto the stuffed couch, the contents sloshing perilously against the high walls. Her first draught was deep, angry, hungry for the burn in her throat to wash away the pain, and she coughed, wiping her mouth and folding in on herself.

The bastard had ruined her. It'd be the talk of the town soon, if it wasn't already making the rounds. Everyone would know she'd been upstaged and humiliated. In a fit of pique, she tore off her heels and threw them into the fire, downed the rest of the brandy, and - coughing all the while as the fumes of the brandy lingered in her lungs - stubbornly pulled at her corset until it yielded and she was able to finally breathe properly for the first time that night. A proper lady would call her maid, but after tonight her standing as such was going to plummet. There was little point denying it.

The brandy's warmth was beginning to blossom, soothing the ache just a little as she lay back on the couch, staring at the delicately painted and gilded ceiling. Adrene fucking the Starshadow cunt was the worst possible end to the night. A friend might have been one thing, but a rival? An upjumped whore? She shuddered to think of it. The cunt's easy ability to command the attention of every man and woman at the ball made her seethe with rage. It was unseemly, unladylike, bewitching and vexing! And in that moment, Dreya realized she had no choice but to take revenge.

There was one way she could beat the cunt at her own game, she mused, staring at herself in the mirror mounted on the far wall. She was an attractive woman - too attractive, really, for Adrene - with a delicate nose and perfect cheekbones, good hips, and a sumptuous bust. Not the caricature the cunt presented to the world, but a real woman's body. And if she turned on the charm, she was sure, she could do to the cunt what had been done to her. A slow smile spread on her lips, and she took up the small bell that sat permanently beside the couch and gave it a small jingle.

It took only moments for her lady's maid to appear.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Tira, dear... I want you to find out everything you can about the Lady Starshadow. The butch one, not the blonde one. I want to know where she drinks, where she eats, who she visits... I'm sure she's clubable - she's a Senator, she must be - so her club as well."

"I... Are you sure it's wise, my lady, to - "

"Tira. If you want to remain in my employment, you'll do as your told. I don't pay you to second guess me."

"...Yes, my lady, of course."

"Good. Now bring me another glass of brandy and make a bath up. I have some planning to do..."

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Bliss smoothed the front of her dress down, adjusting the way it hung from her shoulder as the car pulled past the front gate of the House. The word never quite seemed to fit - its homely dimension at odds with the vast expanse of stone, glass and giltwork that loomed on the horizon. At night, the many windows shone with light and warmth, small portals of colour and life against the cloudy black of the night sky. Here and there there were dark holes where guest rooms lay unused, and the children's wing was suitably dark save for the nursemaid's window.

Already, ice was settling into her stomach, mingling with the shame of her conduct. Hainora, she was sure, would be awake. Not waiting up for her - that wasn't them - but awake nonetheless. And she'd want to know how the night went. And, inevitably, Bliss would have to tell her what she'd done. The tension pulsed in her tightening haunches, some instinct telling her to run and hide and escape her fate, heart thudding in her throat. This was the worst part of coming home as well as the best: The sure and certain knowledge of what had to come next, and the tantalizing promise of absolution.

The car slowed as it pulled alongside the front steps, crunching to a halt on the fine white gravel of the drive, and the engine idled down to a low purr as Rubeah parked. She rummaged again in the glove box, then exited and moved quietly to Bliss's door, opening it for her and offering a gloved hand. The air was brisk, the coming winter already beginning to make its mark, and Bliss's skin rose in goosebumps when she stepped out into it.

"I thought you might like to change into this before you go in, ma'am." Rubeah offered quietly, holding out her other hand.

A supple white leather collar chased with gold fittings lay coiled in her palm, and Bliss swallowed and nodded, taking it from her. With expert fingers she unhooked the discreet white silk choker that took its place on her evenings out, handing it to Rubeah, and replaced the collar around her neck. It fit like a glove now, well worn and familiar, its heavy presence around her throat reassuring and terrifying all at once whenever she slipped it on until it faded back into the background, no different to her corsets or stockings. She nodded to Rubeah, and the chauffeur stepped around behind her to adjust it, closing it properly around her neck before returning to the car to deliver it to the garage.