Tiefling's Lesson

All characters used herein are © 'Spellslave'. Any references to locations, places or setting-specific gods are © Wizards of the Coast; 'Dungeons and Dragons' - The Forgotten Realms. I am making no profit from these stories; they are written for fun and for practise.

*****

She eyed the Sunite lazily, regarding the half-elven woman with a look of cool regard. She had no animosity against her, of course, but the tiefling's hellish ancestry stirred slightly in the presence of someone who was so obviously, so entirely, good. But she was a business partner, and thus would be treated cordially. She had for a time continued to keep her own line of work isolated but, a few suggestions here and there by various clients and the occasional close call from the authorities had driven her to band together with those that made a living - and even had a religion - building on the desires of others and encouraging them to succumb to them, the more frequently the better.

"So, how long is it until I get my first client from you, elf?" The woman eyed her steadily at the question, pausing in polishing the wine glasses behind the bar's counter for only half a heartbeat before resuming.

"I have a name. How would you like it if all I called you was she-devil?" She did not have to even look round to know that the domina's fists had clenched and her spine had straightened like that of a ramrod. She had touched a nerve, and she knew it. She half expected to have something thrown at her, before she heard the slow hiss that signalled that the grey-skinned woman was letting out a breath that she had held in anticipation of giving in to her temper and lashing out.

"Very well. How would you prefer for me to address you?"

"Meleth." It was an elvish name, that much Verite recognised immediately from the accenting, but it was not so much a name as merely... a word. Then she snorted gracelessly when she realised what it meant.

"Your name is 'love'?" The woman grinned over her shoulder, before her attention was briefly drawn away by a young woman entering. She was perhaps in her early thirties, but there were faint signs of greying at the front of those curled black tresses and there were crow's feet starting to appear at the corner of her eyes. Meleth turned, briefly cast a 'watch and learn' look towards the Domme and then gave the approaching patron her most charming smile.

"What can I do for you today, sweetheart? A glass of our finest rose or red perhaps? Or is... company, more along the lines of what you seek?" As much as the place did have a fully-stocked bar with wines that probably cost a labourer's weekly wage and then some, it was first and foremost, a house of pleasure.

"I... wish for some company." Verite spotted what Meleth did not, from her frontal position, unlike the view that the tiefling was granted. The woman's neck and upper arm was mottled with bruising, just barely seen through the material of her chemise before the rest was obscured by her dress.

Meleth smiled, her expression jovial still.

"Man or a woman?"

"Man, please." Her tone fleetingly became more clipped, as though the very suggestion that she might enjoy a dalliance with one of the fairer sex was an offense. Not that it bothered Verite. Not only was the tiefling not one to discriminate who paid for her services, but she found that women often presented more of a challenge when it came to coaxing submission than men. More so when they hated what she was on principle. The handy thing about having infernal heritage... Meleth paused, then clapped thrice. Out of a door to the right, came four men.

The first was a swarthy individual with short, close-cropped curly hair with no a single trace of facial hair on him. His body was unmarked, save for the very faintest signs of an old brand on his upper arm that had clearly been faded as much as magic would allow. The second, was considerably taller and broader, with ashen blonde hair that hung past his shoulders to match the thick, full beard that did not quite hide the smug smirk on his face. He had scarring; signs of battle. No doubt a warrior of some sort that had retired the blade in exchange for using his other sword to a more profitable use. The third was quite pale, too so for the tiefling's taste, but he had a wiry physique and charming, suave look to him that was accentuated by the long, arrow-straight black hair that hung to his waist. The last was perhaps the most striking. He was average in all respects, from the angling of his features to his physique - neither strikingly 'ripped' or flabby in any sense of the word - but what drew the Domme's attention was the very distinct bulge in the thin breeches that they were all wearing in various colours. Average in all but one respect then.

The woman looked over them, refusing to meet their eyes. Even then her gaze was nervous and flicking, before she finally gestured towards the statuesque warrior. With a gesture, Meleth dismissed the rest before motioning him over. Evidently they had had such conversations many times before, for only a handful of words were exchanged before. Off he went, and the woman soon followed him with a furtive look. The Domme finally rose to her feet, moving towards the counter and eyeing the stairs that the woman had left.

"She is in an abusive relationship, and yet she goes with the man who you told me before specialises in giving pain." It was not a question. Instead it was a rather blunt statement. The tiefling knew why of course. By choosing to go with someone who gave it, she took back the control that her abusive partner took away. The encounter was on her terms; a single word was all that it would take to have him backing off, unlike home, where even a bloody nose and crying on the floor would do nothing. How complicated and yet, how simple humans were. She shook her horned head slightly before looking towards the Sunite then.

"Wouldn't be the first, not likely to be the last. That is why people come here after all, to escape what they have and to gain back what they want. Their terms, their wishes, their desires."