Sex and Vengeance Pt. 02

The way clothes became a second skin was a marvel to her - how after a while, she felt not merely naked, but wrong without the collar. Its mere presence would have kept her from seducing Adrene. She stared up at the house, fingers tracing over the edge of the thick leather, lingering on the simple gilt buckle. She could take it off, stomp on it, throw it in the fire. It wasn't locked. There was nothing at all to stop her. It marked her for what she was, freed her and enslaved her at the same time.

The door swung open, breaking her from her reverie. Ephraim, their short and stocky butler, stared out at her. His small body was silhouetted against the warm, inviting light and she took a deep breath and steeled herself, swaying up the steps and past him. Her heels clicked loudly on the marble of the great hall, echoing off the stone walls and the immensely high ceiling.

"Ephraim," his last name conjured memories of being called Ms. Wainwright, and so they avoided it out of courtesy - "Is Hainora awake?"

"Yes, my Lady." He offered, voice throaty. "The Lady Starshadow was, at my last knowledge, in her office. Would you like me to let her know you've returned?"

"No. No, that's quite alright... I'll just go say hello. Could you let Sweetblossom know I'll want a bath, though?"

"Of course, my Lady." He bowed, then disappeared through the conveniently hidden servant's door that masked a spiralling stair upwards to the porter's chambers and the quarters of their most intimate servants.

She, meanwhile, took another deep breath and made her way deeper into the house. Her wife's office lay close to the servant's quarters, overlooking the western cortile's moon garden. They'd built a luxurious home together - fine carpets, panelling of exotic hardwoods that shimmered in the grain underneath layers of deep, glossy lacquer, elegant gold and brass gas lamps that ensured a comfortable level of light.

There was nothing to mark Hainora's office off as special. The door was not one of the finer ones in the house, nor was there a nameplate or any other indicator. The whole effect was rather like a water closet - discreet, not to be mentioned, private. The contents were the stuff of empires, and its obscurity was one small part of its protection. But Bliss knew it intimately, and she paused outside the door, hesitating to knock.

Just as she raised her hand, its solitary occupant called out through the wood. "Enter."

Hainora had the tone of one accustomed to obedience by right - not overbearing, nor brusque, but strong and commanding. Bliss's stomach turned with unbearable nerves as it echoed through her, and with them, she felt herself dampen with the first hint of arousal. Her fingers curled on the elegant brass handle and she pushed the door open, stepping inside quietly.

Hainora sat facing the window, back to the door, pen moving across a page lit by a gas lamp with a glossy green hood. Bliss made no effort to draw her attention further, but instead stood, waiting like a schoolgirl, her hands clasping behind her back instinctively. It was a motion that pressed her chest out, exposed her breasts more prominently, and Hainora liked it. She liked it enough to drill it into Bliss at the end of a whip, until it became a subconscious reflex when waiting for her attention.

Long moments passed, and Bliss nervously stared ahead. The room was redolent of tobacco from the cigarillos her wife smoked, mixed with the coppery tang of her favoured ink and the rich, sumptuous scent of leather. Every breath filled her nose with it, and her toes curled in her shoes, fingers balling into nervous fists. It was an intimate scent, and it heightened every moment of her submission.

"I take it you had a nice evening." Hainora finally turned in her seat to face her, and Bliss shivered with delicious terror. Her wife was not pretty like she was. Her face was badly scarred from a sword blow that had failed to kill her, a vicious diagonal cut that bisected her face and nearly cost her an eye. One long, pointed ear was missing a large chunk, and tiny black specks of gunpowder were permanently embedded in her right cheek from the battlefields she'd won fame and glory on. Even before the wounds, she hadn't been pretty - fearsome, like a big cat, but not pretty. Now, with her eyes glowing faintly and fixed on Bliss, she was terrifying.

"I... Yes." Bliss offered, meekly.

"I can smell it, you know. The sex. You smell like a whorehouse."

Bliss's stomach fell away at the last word, and she shivered visibly, goosebumps returning and her ears drooping just slightly. The word carried the worst memories of her life. They were the seed of the shame Hainora had so expertly cultivated in her, the root of her disgust at herself.

"So, tell me. What did you do?"

"I... I seduced a man, Mistress." She licked her inviting lips nervously, trying her best to meet Hainora's eyes. They were cruel, calculating eyes. They made her feel not only naked, but flayed, utterly vulnerable. It was awful and wonderful at once, and her breath caught in her chest, nipples stiff against the fabric of her dress.

"And?"

"...and he was married, and his wife was bad mouthing me behind my back, so I seduced him. He wasn't very good."

Hainora's thin lips curled into a smile and she reached for the small demitasse of coffee on the table, finishing the last, cold sip.

"But that wasn't the point, was it?"

"No, Mistress. I... I wanted her to know her place."

"And do you know yours?"

"Yes. Yes, Mistress, I do."

"Good." Hainora's fingers tapped on the leather blotter of the desk, and she looked thoughtful for a moment. "I have more work to finish up. Go bathe, then wait for me in our bedroom. Fucking a man just to get at someone else is very bad behaviour, and I think you'll have to be punished for it."

Bliss shuddered, nails biting into the palms of her hand, heart beating so hard she felt it might burst in her chest. Her skin felt like it was on fire, she was so flushed, her entire body trembling with anticipation and fear. This was the best and worst part of coming home. She hated it and craved it at the same time. She needed it to answer her shame - someone to punish her, to put her back in her own place.

"You can go now." Hainora offered, as though dismissing a naughty schoolgirl, and Bliss nearly tripped over her own heels as she fled the room. She leant against the cool wall outside, letting it soothe her aching skin. One hand instinctively went between her legs, and her nectar greeted her on her thighs, and she nearly wept again with shame and need. Instead, after a long moment's deep breathing, she managed to pull away and make her way upstairs on weak, shaky legs.

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Breathing deeply, Bliss tried to settle her nerves as she waited for her wife in their bedroom. She hadn't been told to present herself in that old favourite pose, but she stood in it anyway, facing the door, staring at the floor ahead, trying not to tremble. Tonight seemed to demand ritual more than most, called for a special punishment for her outrageous misbehaviour. Freshly scrubbed, pink and without makeup, naked save for her collar and night-corset (a looser, more forgiving item than her usual tightlacing apparatus), unperfumed, she felt not only exposed but utterly vulnerable, robbed of the shield of even her flimsy clothing, the subtle assertions of power in her jewelry and the cloth of gold.

Every step in the hallway outside made her ears perk, sent a shiver through her of needy anticipation. She was damp still between her legs, but only with her own juices now, washed clean of Adrene's cum. Her nipples were achingly stiff buds, drawn tight. Every time the steps faded away, she shuddered in relief and nearly melted to the ground. When the door handle finally turned she snapped her shoulders back, raised her eyeline to the wall, and did her very best to hold the posture her wife loved.

"Hmph. Have you been waiting like that long?" Hainora muttered as she entered, raising her hands to unbutton her shirt. She seemed to fill the room, easily two heads taller than Bliss, and her casual attitude towards her meticulous pose made her knees tremble, her cunt throb.

"No, Mistress."

"Good. I'd hate to think I left you waiting just for my convenience."

Bliss's eyes briefly flickered from their fixed point on the wall to Hainora as she stripped away the clothes of the day, baring her body in all its magnificence. They were black and white next to each other. Where she was soft, her wife was hard with muscle, powerfully built and imposing. Old, faded scars decorated her body. Some were fine, delicate things; others, like the ones over her lower-right ribs, were the legacy of horrible injuries. They gave Hainora a constant air of barely contained, and horrific, violence - as though the pain they'd come with could burst free of its shackles and take revenge on the world at any given moment.

Shirtless, Hainora paced in front of her, eyeing her, and Bliss's breath caught, her eyes widening involuntarily. It was an experience not unlike staring into the eyes of a lion or a tiger, and where once the terror had been unmitigated, now it was joined by an intensification of the throb deep inside her, the desperate need. Hainora reached out and ran her rough, calloused fingers over her breast, and she leaned into the touch with an appreciative sigh.

"I'm sure it wasn't hard seducing whoever it was with these, was it? One look and they fall head over heels with them." Her fingers closed on Bliss's nipple as she spoke, and - staring her in the eyes - she began to twist until pain shot through Bliss's body, an agonizing rolling wave emanating out from the rubbery nub. "It's why I expect nothing less from you than to be a whore. It's in your nature, and these are the proof."

"Yes... Unh... Yes, Mistress." Bliss offered meekly, squinting through the pain, grimacing and clenching her teeth. She knew some people felt the pain as pleasure from the start, but not her. It cut to her core like a knife, laying her nature bare. It gave her the permission to be who she was in these moments, and if it didn't hurt, she knew it would fail her.

"Go lie on the bed, face down." Her wife and Mistress ordered, voice quiet but heavy with that same tone that made her body sing with lust. She obeyed, putting an enticing swing in her hips before she reached their large, plush bed and slid onto it, arms out in front. She knew better than to raise her ass without orders, and lay as flat as her tits allowed beneath her. Hainora's belt creaked as she drew it off, and the fabric of her trousers rustled to the ground.

There was no warning, no sensual warm-up. The belt snapped down hard against her voluptuous ass cheeks, the harsh crack of the leather followed in a second by her sharp cry of pain. It always came like this as a punishment - hard, unrelenting, perfect. It was different when they made love. In the years of their marriage, Bliss had learned the many different ways she could be made to hurt. The sweet and tender ache of a loving twist of her nipple, the slowly building fire of a romantic spanking after a picnic, and the harsh, pure pain of absolution.

With every blow she cried out, fingers clutching hard at the soft silk facing of their blankets, tears rolling down her cheeks to dampen the fabric. She writhed from side to side to escape them, gasping for air, choking on it. And, despite herself, she felt herself flood between her legs, her cunt aching with desperate need. She lost count of the number after the first four, and by the last - it couldn't have been more than twelve, she knew, but it had felt like an eternity - her entire body throbbed with pain and need. Her buttocks were on fire, a tracery of finely aimed strap-work with pinched edges between blows that only intensified the throbbing pain that ebbed and flowed.

"I... Mistress, please, forgive me... I was a bad girl, I'm sorry." She sniffled, raising her head from the bed to peer over her shoulder with bleary, tear-filled eyes. "I acted like a whore in public and shamed you. I... I let my need for control take over. I'm sorry..."

As she spoke, she stared at her Mistress. She was naked as well, and between her legs there hung an enormous, intimidating cock. It was hard but still hung down for its sheer size, dangling near Hainora's knee, thick around as Bliss's fist and then some. It hurt wonderfully, stretched her impossibly wide. She and Hainora were black and white not just in build, in temperament, but even in what lay between their legs. It gave a slow, lazy twitch as Hainora listened to her plea, and then joined her on the bed, the belt discarded.

"All is forgiven, my love." Hainora whispered to her, her rough fingers playing over her buttocks. They stung where they caught the rising welts - soon, they'd be lurid purple bruises that would carry the shame away with them as they healed - but the warmth that followed was wonderful, and Bliss leant into her wife, sniffling, burying her face in her shoulder.

"I'm... I'm such a whore, it's awful, I'm awful..."

"Shh." Hainora caught her chin, forced her to look up at her. "You are what you are, nothing more. I love you for it."

She silenced her protest with a fierce, insistent kiss, then rolled her onto her side. Her entry was as hard and sudden as the first blow, and Bliss cried out again, but this time she greedily arched back into it. She ached where Hainora had stretched her wide, but she was ready, all but dripping, craving it. It was the absolution she sought - the permission to be a whore, the punishment to drive away the shame, the rough, brutal fuck to make her forget it in a sea of pleasure.

They rutted hard, and each slap of her wife's hips against her ass set the welts throbbing anew. Hainora's teeth were at her shoulder, rough hands at her tits, her throat, her cunt, fingering and slapping and squeezing and choking. Her own hands fumbled back, curling in her wife's unruly blonde hair, scrabbling for purchase on the silks. She came quickly as Hainora battered into her, the dull ache of each thrust into the deepest extremes of her cunt setting every nerve desperately on edge and priming them for the pleasure that rippled in their wake. Her voice was hoarse and almost bestial as she cried her pleasure out into the night.

By the end, she was sweaty and throbbingly sore. Hainora had finally finished in her after long minutes of the harsh use, and they lay entwined together, panting and gleaming with sweat. Bite marks decorated her shoulder and her breast, crescents from her nails their counterpart on Hainora's shoulder, neck and hips. Semen oozed from her in sticky strings and beading drops, and she absently scooped it up with her fingers before it could stain the blankets, wiping it on her thigh.

"I love you, Mistress." She offered in a hoarse whisper, nuzzling into the woman who had transformed her so, who had given her a way to live through and take pleasure from her shame where it had once threatened to ruin her with guilt and self-disgust.

"I love you too, Bliss."

They disentangled. Hainora lit a cigarette, while Bliss stumbled to the ensuite bathroom to clean herself up, returning with a warm damp cloth. She slumped back onto the bed, washing her wife and Mistress lovingly, kissing at her neck, breast, and face. As she did, she whispered - as much to herself as to her Mistress - one final thank you.

"Thank you for letting me be me."

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Join us next time for Dreya's attempt to get even. Will it end with an achingly sore cunt and a whole lot of bruises and welts in difficult-to-explain places? I'm writing it, so the odds are pretty damn good. Will Bliss get her comeuppance? Well, didn't she already? Will we ever find out if Rubeah's satisfied with her job? (She is. It has great medical coverage.) Tune in next time to find out!