The Choices of Evelyn Ch. 13-15

"Evelyn, stop resisting; there is no choice. If you choose to leave us, you'll have to live with your guilt forever. There is no way you can free yourself from it, only I can. Only I can set you free.

"Beg me."

***

In the balmy Venetian afternoon, Eva wondered at the odd dreams that kept popping up on the pink screen of her happiness – like ugly smudges. Had she really been this girl burdened with a guilt that robbed her of the last remnants of confidence – maybe even sanity? Guilt, sin, they were alien emotions she hardly knew the meaning of, did she? Had she ever? Shame seemed to have been there too.

Shame?

Eva looked into the setting sun and shook her silver wig in wonder. She could never have been that girl, surely? She'd never have chosen a path leading into destructive feelings like that – shame and guilt and remorse... What was the use of remorse? And yet, the memories were there – or dreams, ghosts, whatever. She reluctantly remembered a glimpse of an ugly past, and it made her recoil, sending a taste of vomit up her throat. She remembered the ink-black wish to run from the heavy burdens of guilt and remorse; the wish to rob her Mistress of her pitiful life and die.

Mistress.

She tasted the fading sweetness of the word before the bitterness of her odd memories returned. Thoughts of... suicide. How could they ever have surfaced? The girl must have been at wit's end to ponder destroying a life that wasn't even hers.

After the woman left the basement, she remembered holding on to Sandro's strength – her admirable new little brother who freed her from her chains and held her through her tearful breakdown.

***

That same evening, Eva recalled, M had entered Evelyn's little room and walked over to her. She'd raised her chin with a leather-clad finger. Evelyn's eyes got lost in the steely-blue pools that drained her, first of fear, then of all thoughts. They'd sucked her in as usual, body and soul. As did the voice.

"Tonight, my little darling, is an important moment for the both of us," the woman said. "Tonight, this silly cunt will throw away her miserable existence, her ugly sins and guilt, and will beg to be mine forever – sweet and free and glorious."

Eva recalled the waves of arousal the words caused. They came involuntarily, like they'd done ever since she met this woman – unpredictable feelings, uninvited emotions. Unwelcome? She'd kept her stare fixed on the blue eyes, hanging on to their promise, so she wouldn't fall into the vast emptiness that surrounded her. Evelyn knew what the woman meant. She also knew there would be a price and it would be dizzyingly high. But Evelyn also was exhausted, feeling stretched beyond her every limit. She was too worn by her nagging guilt to care anymore. She needed to be freed from it. And belong.

'Beg,' M had said.

Evelyn knew what her struggles and her resistance had brought her in the past and that made this choice seem easy; if there even was a choice left. So, she decided, and it lifted an immense weight off her mind, making her body feel like a feather.

"I understand," she whispered, swallowing again. "This little... cunt begs to be yours, forever." The truth of it overwhelmed her.

M smiled. She took the girl's hand to make her rise. Then she closed a leather collar around her throat and fastened a leash to it. The feeling of the tight, soft fabric sent chills down her spine. Pulling at it, the woman led her down winding stairs into the lower levels of the ancient house. M wore a black leather bodysuit, closely following the curves of her frame, made even taller by heeled boots.

They walked through a long, sculptured corridor. Evelyn knew they were headed for a place of hurtful passions; a place she knew too well. Soon she would no doubt shake again with pain and pleasure, never knowing where the first emotion ended and the second began – until there would be no memory of beginnings or hope of an end. The girl in the loggia sighed. There was no need to deny it: she was that girl plodding those cold stones with her bare feet, knowing there was no choice, just consequences; there would be no return after that day, that moment. She also knew resistance only brought disaster, didn't it? It always had.

M led her into a cage – the cage. It was huge – iron bars rose over their heads and bent inward until they met, creating a grated ceiling under ancient vaults. Eva shuddered, like Evelyn had, that night, her eyes searching for the boy, Sandro, but he wasn't there – she was alone.

The woman pulled a black leather mask over her eyes to blindfold her. Then she took the stumbling girl to a cold slab of marble at the center. She made her stand there – her pale body shining in a circle of torches. She was alone, blind again and blindly facing the consequence of her un-choices. M took her hands, kissing them softly. Then she closed the girl's wrists in what felt like metal cuffs lined with soft leather and clicked them together over her head. She ran her tongue in slow, swirling circlets over the cool skin and down Evelyn's body, pausing at the stiff nipples to suck them in. Evelyn moaned, lost in darkness. She didn't know where the touches would materialize next. It made tiny goose bumps rise all over her body.

The tongue carefully avoided her clit, but velvet lips kissed the insides of her thighs. Gloved hands pushed her legs into a wider stance; metal closed around her ankles. A clicking sound told her that her spread legs were bolted to the floor. Then a leather palm cupped her exposed... ah, cunt, kneading it slowly. A searching finger entered her slit.

"Mmmm," the girl in Venice recalled M saying. "My lovely slut is wet already." Her cunt remembered it too. A hot emotion washed through her, the same arousal that had run through the blinded girl, she remembered. Had it been lust? Oh yes... and inexplicable pride. Fear too, maybe.

Fear?

After a moment's silence, metal chains rattled anew. She felt a tugging at her wrists; her hands were pulled up. Standing fully stretched, only the balls of her feet touched the marble. Eva, in Venice, stretched her body too, recreating the lustful ache it sent down her taut muscles – stretching, arching, needing. Back then, she hadn't known how long she would be made standing like this, feeling the strain build in her shoulders. She tried to ignore the pressure, as she had before. Then, without warning, a flash of pain hit her right tit. She remembered screaming, as much of hurt as of surprise. M's voice was soft, even tender.

"Just so I'm sure I have your attention," she said. "Because you know, little darling, tonight is a night for close attention. Tonight, you'll die. Evelyn will leave your life forever." The lips of the girl in the loggia repeated the last words, soundlessly, remembering them verbatim. Back in the cellar cage, there was a pause before the soft voice returned.

"Tell me you won't miss her."

"I won't miss her," Evelyn said promptly. She'd felt no need to think; at least that's how Eva in the loggia remembered it.

"Tell me you're glad to get rid of her."

"I'm glad." There was silence. A tiny chuckle fell into it like a pebble into a quiet pond. Eva recalled the blood pulsing in her temples. Then new pain slashed through her left tit. She winced. But she didn't cry out.

"Just to be sure you're still here, darling," the voice said. "Tell me, will this new girl be worth my troubles?" Again, in the Venetian girl's memory, Evelyn didn't hesitate.

"Oh, she will," she remembered breathing. "Please set her free, she'll love you forever!" Another flash of pain hit her thighs. It struck right beneath her spread pussy... cunt. She groaned; then she sobbed. "Please," she whispered. "Please, I don't know. Help me understand."

"Don't talk to me about love, cunt," M said. Her voice was sad, not at all harsh. "Don't you ever."

"No, I won't; I'm sorry," Evelyn said. A cool, slick finger traced the hot slashes on her thighs. Then a soft tongue spread her pussy-lips... her cunt-lips. It dwelt on her hard, throbbing clit. Eva remembered the pure lust pushing a moan up Evelyn's throat and out of her mouth. The pain had heightened her senses in a way she didn't understand. And now the new tenderness pushed her close to the edge of an orgasm. But M didn't allow her to tip over it. Of course not. She retracted her fingers and her mouth, leaving the bound girl to float in a murky sea of frustration.

Then the touch returned to her right tit. A pair of moist lips closed around her nipple, sucking it in. Two fingers pinched its wet, aroused flesh, twisting it left and right. Across time and space, electric shivers made the Venetian girl's nipple tighten in accordance. She cupped it over her bodice, reliving the sudden sting. It felt as if a small rodent clenched its needle-sharp jaws around it and kept dangling. In the aftermath of the bite she felt her other nipple being sucked. Both sensations struggled for her attention.

"Ooooh," the blinded girl moaned, hanging limply from her chains. Another little rat bit her second nipple and she came. Her body shook with violent spasms, as did Eva's, back in Venice, echoing the emotions.

"Mmmmm, goooood," M groaned, her breath cooling the wetness on the nipple. Soft lips sucked the squirting nectar off the girl's slit. "You're such a sweet natural pain slut, my darling whore.

"I'm so proud of you."

Eva remembered Evelyn waiting, standing in her darkness, wrapped in silence. The only sounds were her thudding heart and gasping breath. The orgasm had washed over her from the back of her neck down to her curling toes. It still resounded inside her, making her stretched skin ripple.

"Tell me you understand, girl". A cool leather hand cupped her cunt. It still trembled.

"Do I need to understand?" the girl answered after a pause, her voice clear. There was another silence. Then M's heels clicked away from her. They returned a moment later, bringing a waft of acrid smoke that made her sneeze. Heat radiated against her face.

"The Kings of France, you know, marked their whores with the sign of the French lily. They did this by branding that sign into their flesh." M's voice was sweet and tender, muffled by Evelyn's buzzing head and the thudding of her racing heart.

"Evelyn," she went on, and the heat almost seared her face. "Evelyn, this might be the last decision you make in your life. So, please pay attention to my questions."

Sweat leaked from under the leather mask. In Venice, Eva relived the tremor running down Evelyn's skin, her thoughts running amok. But she also remembered how she nodded and whispered, ignoring the screaming riot of fear and panic: "I'm ready."

"Will you accept this mark?" M went on. "Think, girl. It's forever." Evelyn's voice had been as clear as a bell.

"I... I failed. Please, I beg you: take me. Take my life." On the Venetian loggia an icy finger touched Eva's spine as she remembered the words, and again felt the hot object changing its position. It now hovered over Evelyn's left tit. Then the glow crawled to her belly to finally stop over her right ass cheek – high and to the back.

"Oh my," the voice said, as a finger touched the flesh, making the girl winch. "Look how tight and firm it is. Watch how it ripples in anticipation, like the skin of a thoroughbred." Eva recalled how the heat grazed Evelyn's skin, her skin. And how a tiny squirt of urine escaped her cunt lips, running down her inner thigh. M's voice seemed farther away.

"Please tell me, darling, where to touch you. I'll honor your last wish." Evelyn swallowed. As did Eva.

"You decide, please." Her voice was a mere croak.

A brutal pain sank into the flesh of her ass cheek. A stench of burning skin crept into her nose. She screamed at the top of her lungs, screaming on until her throat gave out. A merciful weakness made her faint.

***

Back in Venice, Eva remembered it all – the agony, the pain, and the overwhelming truth. That night, on that marble slab, Evelyn died, taking her unspeakable guilt with her, down into darkest oblivion. An entirely new and different girl lived at the center of her being now, encased in a new garden of pink, gold and marble – a gilded bird cage. New Evelyn had been welcomed by the woman she now must call Mistress, the woman who had caught her, and cleansed her from shame and inhibitions, who took her rotten, empty life and gave her a sparkling new one. A life set free to serve.

She would be allowed to pleasure her new sissy brother, her Mistress said. She also would learn to serve Mistress's monstrous black leather strap on dildo, that she would call Master, begging it to honor all her orifices, whenever it pleased. Ultimately, she'd be set free to service every cock and cunt her Mistress had in store for her. She would do that with utter pleasure, wherever and whenever the woman decided.

The words should have scared her, disgusted her even. But they didn't. Too much time had passed, maybe, too much horror, too much treason – too many impossible choices. Right then, it seemed a natural twist of fate. Evelyn, exhausted, thanked her Mistress and was reduced to tears.

***

"You're so beautiful." A soft voice entered Eva's reverie. She turned her head to see where it came from. M, the woman she called Mistress, stood in the middle of the Venetian loggia. She wore a dress of embroidered heavy silk, similar to hers, but showing more black than silver. The tight bodice cupped the lower half of her pale breasts. The skirt wasn't full, like Eva's, but straight. Its tightness accentuated her long legs. It ended right over black leather mules. A deep slit ran up her left calf. Her blond hair had been cut and slicked back into a severe skull cap that revealed her long, regal neck.

"I'm happy," Eva answered. She walked over to her Mistress. There she made a small curtsey. Then she whispered: "May I kiss you?" They kissed against the backdrop of the golden Venetian sunset. Their hands roamed their bodies; tongues performed a snakelike dance.

Eva is my name, the girl thought. And she knew it was the sweetest name in the universe. A name she'd earned with sweat and blood. A Goddess had baptized her with fire, to cleanse her of the horrors of guilt and shame. It was a name that would always take her back to the day she was born in throes of pain and sweet surrender; the day Mistress had printed her brand into her pale skin; a French lily. It would be there forever.

M stepped back. She held on to Eva's face and smiled.

"We have a date, honey," she said. "Remember? We have a boat waiting for us. It will take us to a most wonderful place where we might stuff our starved stomachs."

The boat took them all the way along the Canal Grande. They sat in the back; Eva hugged her Mistress, who pointed out all the lovely places they passed. There were the palazzi of rich merchants, who'd sailed the world for rare and precious merchandise. The house of Casanova glided by. A girl broke his heart, the woman told her. So, he decided to take revenge and break all the female hearts he could lay his hands on.

There was a large and very ancient palazzo to their right. It once was a convent of great disrepute. M whispered as she told about it. In the 18th century it belonged to a very rich heir. He made it into a luxurious bordello. But no one knew it was that. He even convinced the church that it was a convent school for young girls. Very young girls they were indeed, as was later on discovered. Its fall took down protectors in high places, church and government alike. The owner fled. He died two years later in Constantinople – crippled by syphilis, as gossip insisted.

The palazzo bathed its crumbling feet in the canal, its hollow eyes gazing over the water. It made Eva's skin crawl. She imagined what must have happened behind its façade.

The terrazzo where they would eat proved to be a floating contraption, a pontoon of sorts, attached to the quay of a restaurant. The woman and her girl were led to a table right at the waterfront. It gave them a feeling to be afloat, and very much part of the traffic on the canal. The table was small; their knees made contact. M took Eva's hand, telling her how proud she was to visit this great city with her. Eva beamed. She pulled her Mistress's hand closer and kissed it.

"I have never been happier in my life," she said. Then she took the first sip of the kir royal that the handsome young waiter brought. It went straight to her head. "Oh my!" she exclaimed, waving cool air to her burning face. They both laughed out loud. It earned them quite some attention from passing gondolas. M leant forward. She whispered: "Sweet darling, please get under the table. Eat my pussy."

A cloak of panic descended on Eva. Her eyes shot left and right over the busy terrace and the traffic on the canal, so close by. Still, more forceful than her fear was the irrational urge to obey her Mistress's steady eyes. She had no choice. She slowly slid off her chair, praying soon to reach the safety of the tablecloth's tent. What are you doing, a new, distant voice sang through her head. Or was it an old one? Why are you doing this, it whispered. Get out, get away!

But she didn't.

Her knees felt the rough planking of the terrace through the fabric of her skirt as she nestled herself between the spread thighs of the woman she couldn't help obeying. The air was close and warm, spiced with a musk-tainted perfume. Hands found her wigged skull, pulling her into the hot swamp of her Mistress's crotch. Her panic fled as soon as her mouth touched the hairless skin and her tongue tasted the seeping juices. She was helpless. Her world had once again tightened into a safe, little hot place where everything was right and simple.

Her lips engulfed the slippery flesh. Then a cool breeze touched her bare ass cheeks. Looking over her crouched shoulder, she saw that the tablecloth had been lifted, as had her skirt. Her naked behind was exposed to the water, its traffic, its faces, its eyes. The pale flesh of her asshole tightened around her black plug, for everyone to see. Over her head she heard her Mistress making polite conversation with a waiter, while the woman's hands groped the girl's head and pulled it up between her thighs, nestling it once again in this moist, dark little haven that dissolved her panic.

Eat, she thought, lick and suck. You're save. Close your eyes and no one will see you. And what if they do? Eva uttered a smothered moan as probing fingers found her breasts, exposing nipples, fondling them. Unable to stay away, her own fingers found the throbbing button at the top of her dripping pussy – ah, her cunt. Their rhythm matched the wet, rhythmic sounds of her sucking mouth.

All the time the waiter was there, and the boats and the faces. She imagined them pointing at the pale moon that had so unexpectedly risen on the shore. Some of them called out. And then she came, feeling the juices of her Mistress drown her face at the same time.

Mistress finally allowed her to surface with a disheveled, juice-streaked head. She tried to avoid looking at any of the guests around her and dug into her bowl of pasta. Only then did she notice that her right tit was still exposed, its nipple red and swollen. When she tried to push it back into the corset's top, Mistress checked her hand. She smiled, cupping the globe of creamy pale flesh, while pinching its tip. Her blue gaze captured Eva's wide-open green eyes as she went on fondling.

"Thank you, sweet dove," she said. "You have been perfect." She kissed Eva over the table, pushing her tongue deep into a mouth that was still fragrant with the juices it had sampled. The girl's chest heaved with a sigh that released the other breast as well. Her smile was a brilliant sun in the crimson sky of her blushing face.