Sex and Vengeance Pt. 04

Time for the content warning, folks. This installment features heavy duty BDSM and the big ol' lady dick from part 2. Oh, and adultery and heartbreak. So, you know. Watch out if you don't dig on those!

*****

Each sip of the icy cocktail gave Karandreya a small shiver that had very little to do with the temperature. She'd ordered the first thing the beleaguered waiter had suggested when he returned to the bar - something they called a Blue Room, a citrusy concoction of gin, blue curacao, and a peculiar liqueur that tasted like nothing quite so much as an art cupboard - and drinking it gave her an opportunity to breathe. Her plan had worked despite the odds! Here she was in the Locks club, a successful infiltrator, and her quarry had fallen for her wiles!

Why, then, did she feel so nervous? She pushed the thought down, and took the last sip of the drink, rapping the bar for another. It wasn't an entirely unpalatable mixture, and it had the kind of fire on its edge that told her that, if her nerves refused to surrender to reason, she could rely on it to bludgeon them into submission. Breathing deep through her nose, fingers playing over the fringe of her chiffon stole, she turned away from the bar with her fresh drink in hand.

It must just be because it's new... People do this all the time. She tried to tell herself, but her heart refused to leave her throat. Some part of her knew that wasn't it - it wasn't just first time jitters over her adultery. Hainora's dreadful stare had made her flush and stammer, left her weak in the knees, and now, she realized with the benefit of distance, dampened the gusset of her panties. Being looked at like that - stripped bare, objectified, and reduced to the level of mere prey - had excited her despite it being beneath her station. She was in danger of losing control over the chase, and with a shudder at her own body's wretched betrayal, she took a deep drink and deliberately made her way out of the smoky gambling den and back into the grand salon.

"You can do this..." She whispered to herself, disguising her attempt to recover her self control by staring at an abstract art work that seemed to consist entirely of variously coloured cubes that, queerly, gave her the impression of the innocent joy of a child running through a garden. "...You can do this. You just have to fuck her and then tell Bliss, that's all, and you're even. So what if she wants it too? That just makes it easier."

Her words were hollow in her ears and she lingered before the art for a moment, then pulled away, desperate for distraction. The door in the opposing wall seemed as good a place as any to start exploiting her license from Hainora to roam and explore. It opened into the club's library, lit by gaslamps in a way she could only describe as intimate. Here and there reading desks glowed, their green-hooded lamps small puddles of light in the twilit sea. A curious, throaty giggling whispered from one of the quiet alcoves between the floor-to-ceiling shelves, and Dreya slunk towards it.

It whispered again - not an echo, for the leatherbound books and chairs seemed to swallow sound in a way most other libraries could only dream of - as she neared, and she pressed against the bookshelf. The scent of the leather and musty pages overwhelmed the cocktail in her hand, and she nearly swooned. Was this club life? Secret assignations in the libraries, outrageous gambling, and opulence of a kind that more than a few nobles would murder to obtain? No wonder Seawhisper had been so emotional about it!

Her heart in her throat again, but now with an excitement she hadn't felt since playing hide or seek as a girl, Dreya slowly shuffled to the corner of the shelves, held her breath, and leant her head out to peek. It took a powerful effort for her not to gasp, as there was her escort in this strange land, Sir Anton, wrapped in the arms of another man! They kissed passionately, so passionately there could be no mistaking it for a mere fraternal embrace, their bodies enmeshed together hungrily. In shock, Dreya drew back again and slunk away from the shelves. Sir Anton was married, she knew, from their conversation - but there he was!

And why should that shock her, she thought suddenly, when she was here to commit adultery herself? It was enough to reduce her to a stifled giggle of her own as she made her escape back into the grand salon and sipped at her cocktail. It was almost a shame that she'd be burning any chance of joining the Club tonight with her revenge, but it would be worth it, she was sure, to see Bliss's rage when she told her she'd fucked her wife. The reassuring warmth of the gin blossoming in her chest was finally settling her nerves, and she allowed herself to linger there in the beautiful salon. Her solitude gave her a chance to take her time with the art, to indulge in each piece.

"You didn't wander far." Hainora said behind her, and she jumped. She'd been caught in the appreciation of the delicate lines of one of the statues - a woman in marble so carefully carved that it looked as if someone had petrified a real person, every fold of the clothes layered and draped just so - and hadn't heard the large elf approach. Heart pounding, she turned, smiling.

"No, I suppose not, but with all of this... I could scarce resist. I've always loved the art of sculpture."

"Of course." Hainora smiled at her indulgently, and looked over her shoulder. "And the Marin pieces like that are certainly worth a close inspection. Did you touch her?"

"Touch her? Whatever for?"

"Go on. Trust me."

Raising an eyebrow, Dreya nonetheless turned and stepped close to the statue and reached out, running her fingertips over the cool surface. She shivered involuntarily at the touch of the mirror-smooth marble, and Hainora laughed softly behind her.

"See? Everyone does that, every time. Something strange about how he did it. I've never been able to figure out why. Is it just that you're touching a true masterpiece - some memory of the thousands of hours of love, care, and knowledge Marin poured into it, living in the stone, that comes out at the touch? Maybe he used the Art to do it and we can still feel it."

"It's... It's certainly something. Almost electric." Dreya whispered, unable to keep from running her palm over the petrified cloth. She half-expected it to move at each touch, but instead every hard, delicately sculpted ridge passing over her skin gave her a fresh shiver of pleasure.

"Have you ever felt electricity?"

"Hm? No, it's just an expression..."

"Not quite." Hainora laughed again behind her. "I've dabbled in the sciences - never had the touch of the Art, but the mechanical and I got along - and I've felt it a few times. It's nowhere near so pleasant as touching a Marin, or a lover. That's what I've always thought the frisson closest to - the shiver when fingers meet."

"Y-yes." Dreya found herself whispering, and despite herself, her resolve began to melt again. The faint sense of longing was returning, intensifying, and she looked over her shoulder at the much larger woman, eyes wide. She'd never felt it with Adrene, the sensual pleasure that made her fine hairs stand on end and her muscles tense in such a queerly wonderful way. Her breath caught in her chest, and she swallowed nervously as Hainora met her gaze.

"Would you like to come up to my suite, Dreya?"

"Y-yes please." She whispered again, letting her hand fall away from the statue as she turned and meekly allowed the mistress of the club to lead her astray.

__________

By the time they reached the landing of the top floor, Dreya's legs were trembling, and it had nothing at all to do with the climb. Hainora's hand held hers daintily, despite the rough calluses, and she wanted to swoon into the larger woman, to collapse prettily against her chest. Her plan was collapsing around her ears even in its success, and despite herself, she didn't care. Every step down the hallway was an impossibly frustrating eternity, and the moment they reached the door to Hainora's suite of private rooms she sighed with relief and allowed herself to be steered inside.

There was no time to take stock before she surrendered to her desires and nearly threw herself at Hainora, leaning up on the tips of her toes to kiss her, trying to push her back against the wall with as much success as a feather battering at a fortress. The press of their lips together sent a fresh tremble through her body, a scandalous thrill that spread and tingled down her spine and into her toes even as Hainora backed her away against the wall instead. Those large hands found her ass, and she pressed back into them, but suddenly she was being lifted up to face height and kissed again, not just groped, the giant pinning her to the wall. Her teeth found Hainora's lip and she bit gently, tugged at it, and released it with a needy sigh.

"You're a hungry little thing, aren't you?" Her quarry whispered to her, grinning. Up close, the scars bothered Dreya less. They were grotesque, but easier to overlook, and wordlessly she nodded. It was a wonderfully helpless feeling, pinned there by someone so much stronger, and her hands found rest on Hainora's shoulders. Her body felt like a furnace, and she desperately wished the giant would strip her dress off, but instead she kissed her again, hard, and she leant back into it and closed her eyes.

One hand slid under her dress, running over her soft thigh, and Dreya shivered, her toes curling in her heels. It crept inexorably inwards and upwards, rough calluses pricking at her silky skin - and then stopped, just an inch from her mons. The closeness drew her attention to her need, to how she'd nearly soaked through her panties already, to the desperate heat that throbbed through her pelvis.

"Ask me nicely, Dreya." Hainora whispered, a hint of command in her tone.

"Please." Dreya offered, opening her eyes to stare at her captor, nostrils flaring to take in her scent.

"I said nicely. Ask me nicely or I won't touch you."

"...Please? I don't know how to ask nicely..." She whispered back, her words fading into a slight whimper as she thrust her hips towards the giant of a woman.

"Say 'Please, Lady Starshadow, touch my pussy'."

"I..." Dreya groaned as what little sense of control had lingered slipped away, and flushing, she obliged. "Please, Lady Starshadow, touch my pussy."

Hainora's fingers slid over her thighs to the wet fabric, caressing her through them firmly but gently, tracing fingertips to either side of her puffy vulva. Her words faded into a whimper of pleasure and she thrust her hips out again, burying her face in the other woman's shoulder. Each touch sent a ripple of pleasure through her body, and when Hainora gathered the fabric and tugged it to the side the sense of exposure was more thrilling than she ever could have hoped for.

"Now, Dreya..." Her captor whispered in her ear. "...you can either agree to do whatever I want - and what I want is harsh, cruel, and degrading for a woman like you - or I can stop. Do you want me to stop?"

Dreya shook her head, clinging to Hainora now, desperate for her touch.

"Then say it."

"Don't stop, Lady Starshadow. Please."

"Good girl." Hainora said, and rewarded her with a fresh caress to her bared pussy, fingers gliding over the dewy lips before plunging into her. It was rough, almost brutish, and it made Dreya quiver, brought a moan to her throat, and made her cling to the giant all the tighter, whispering 'yes' with each pump. Adrene had never taken her like this, she realized - not even at his most adventurous in the first year of their marriage. Her toes curled again, and the sudden awareness of her infidelity threatened to take her to the edge and over.

But as though she could read her little whimpering moans, Hainora stopped just as the pleasure began to roll through her, and the wave receded. Pulling back as far as she could, she stared the giant woman in the eyes, desperate and needy, silently questioning.

"Are you going to do as I say, Dreya?"

"Y-yes!" She whimpered, biting her lip, nodding desperately. Hainora stepped back, and let her slip back down to her feet, releasing her entirely and depriving her of the electric touch that had brought her so close.

"Close your eyes, then." Her captor ordered, and she obeyed eagerly. One of Hainora's hands curled in her hair then, twisting close to the scalp in a way that ached without the sharp agony of the tugs she was used to whenever her lady's maid was careless with the brush. The hand guided her, blind, into the suite and she stumbled along, resisting the urge to open them. It felt wrong to disobey, and she had the absurd flash of a memory from her childhood, when she'd watched the cats in the garden and seen how toms bit the scruff of their mates necks to keep them docile.

The hand abruptly left her, and she stood there trembling, looking blindly from side to side until Hainora's movements betrayed her with a rustle of cloth that slipped over her face. The blindfold cinched tight and she sighed, leaning backwards into her captor, reaching for her only for Hainora's hands to take her's and push them down to her sides before stepping away again, heralded by the faint sound of a boot heel on the rug. She stood there, now truly blind. Her belly was a bottomless chasm of nervous need now, and she positively throbbed throughout her body with it - every nerve on fire, heightened by her newfound vulnerability.

"I'm going to debauch you, Dreya." Hainora said from somewhere behind her. Her voice dripped with amusement. "I'm going to do things to you no woman of breeding should ever suffer. This is your last chance to say no. I'll let you go and we'll never speak of it again."

"I... Please. Don't make me go."

"Don't make you go?" Her captor laughed, now in front of her. "Here I am offering you an escape and you don't have the sense to take it. Alright, I won't make you go. I won't let you go, either, even if you beg. What do you think of that?"

"I..." Dreya shuddered desperately. The idea was horrifying, but captivating, and it sent one of those desperate bolts of lust through her, the same way that Hainora's predatory stares had. No one had ever treated her like this in her life, and it was intoxicating. "...that's fine. Yes. Please."

Suddenly, Hainora was touching her again, but now behind her again. She unhooked her dress's carefully concealed fastenings with surprising delicacy and stripped it away from her roughly, casting it aside to leave her in her bra, panties, and stole, trembling and bare. As she teetered on her heels, looking blindly from side to side, trying to find her captor for fresh touches, there was a peculiar clacking sound.

"Wh-what was that?" She said, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"Oh, just the camera, Dreya. I like to take pictures - always have, ever since I saw the first ones. It's why I invested in the Republican Camera Company... Don't worry... They'll be our little secret."

"I... You didn't say you'd..."

"No. But I also told you I'd debauch you. So be quiet and be a good girl, or I'll send you away."

Dread blossomed in Dreya's throat at the words and she shook her head, shocked to find tears beading in her eyes at the thought. A faint memory returned of her reason for coming at all - she could scarce turn back now, regardless of the humiliations, no matter how erotic they might be proving, not without her vengeance. She had to follow through.

"Now... Let's see those pretty titties of yours." Hainora mocked, stepping in close. Something cold and metallic pressed to the skin of her shoulder and Dreya went still, skin rising in goosebumps. A flick of the blade severed the strap, and she gasped involuntarily, biting her lip with fear as the back side of the blade ran over her chest to cut the counterpart. The fear mixed with her desire and her nerves, a cold chill that blurred into the desperate heat and left her trembling with both. The sudden snap of the other strap left the front of her lacy bra to collapse forwards, where her captor seized it and tore it away roughly, forcing her to totter forward a pace herself to keep from falling with it.

"Very nice, Dreya. Not quite as large as I usually like, but very nice."

"Th-thank you." Dreya whispered, tilting her head blindly to where she thought the other elf spoke from.

The edge of the knife ran along the elegant slope of one of her ample, full breasts towards her nipple and she held her breath. It left a cold trail behind it that quickly flooded with heat, a tiny little raised welt drawn out behind the sharp point, and when it touched to her nipple and pressed in ever so slightly she shuddered and involuntarily shied away. It hurt, but it hurt sweetly. The terror set her nerves on edge, amplifying their signals, and the overwhelming sensation might make her swoon.

"My. Are you a knife slut, Dreya?"

"I... No, Lady Starshadow. No one's ever..."

"Why should that stop you being a knife slut? You certainly seem to be. Just because no one ever treated you properly doesn't mean you weren't always one, now does it?"

"...No, I... I suppose not, but... It's not..."

"Not ladylike, no. But then, neither is coming to a stranger's club with intents to seduce a married woman, now is it?"

"...You knew?"

"Of course I knew. I know everything that happens in my club, Dreya." Hainora taunted, pacing slowly around her now. "I know you're here because you want to fuck me. Fortunately for you, I'm happy to oblige. But on my terms."

"Y-yes." Dreya whispered, nodding. Tears dampened the blindfold again. She was shameful and they both knew it now, and somehow that gave her the liberty to cry silently, her shoulders shaking. Her captor allowed her to cry for long minutes, without interruption, and her throbbing arousal faded away with the tears.

"You cry prettily." Hainora finally said, close behind her.

"Th-thank you?" Dreya whispered back, cheeks burning with the shame of her exposure.

"You're very welcome."

The camera clacked again in front of her and she turned her head away, sniffling. Each time the shutter closed, a painfully acute throb of shame went through her body. That, she could understand and live with - if the photos were to ever get out, she'd be ruined. But what was worse was the way the sound gave fresh oxygen to the fire inside her, reignited it where it had begun to ebb. Her nipples stiffened again against the cold, and she bit her lower lip, willing the pain to bite through the confusing melange of lust and humiliation.

"My. You like it, don't you?" Hainora mocked, and the shutter closed again with its dreadful clatter. "You like knives and being photographed. It's a shame you were born with that silver spoon in your mouth or we might have made a career for you..."

"A... A career?"

"Yes, Dreya. Some girls make money taking their clothes off. Even a genteel lady like yourself knows what my wife gets up to and exactly what hides behind the plain covers of the journal she publishes, I'm sure."

Before she could answer, Hainora was pinching a nipple and she squealed and flinched backwards. It was no playful tweak, but a harsh twist to the side that forced the blood from the nub and made stars dance before her eyes - and, she noticed only as the pain faded, had put her heart in her throat again with need. It was as though there was a direct line to her pussy, transmuting the pain into a queer and awful pleasure that soaked her panties.

"I think that about settles it. You're a masochist, Dreya, did you know that?"

"I... No I'm not!" She spat back, scowling, raising her hands for the blindfold. This was absurd, it'd gone too far already, vengeance be damned - but she was stopped with a sharp slap across the face. The unexpected blow sent her sprawling awkwardly on her side, collapsing down onto the rugs, and she cried out in shock. The pain was already giving way to a warm tingle, and she shuddered with disgust as the throb laced itself into her growing pleasure.