Here comes Mother – The Black Tower : PD

While Marguerite  is off at the Witches Circle, Marcus learns more about Madame Green’s visions, till Mother Dearest makes a shocking return.

Co-written with Artie.

(RP- Supernatural Fantasy)

Artie:

 

The Black Tower

 

“Oh, Marcus. I shouldn’t lie by telling you that you were my only reason… Your brother’s life in shambles is my daily amusement, you understand… But I will admit you played quite a part.” The oracle purred, raising her hands to his jawbone. The two would remain as such, though a moment after she would pull away, gazing at him with sly eyes. “Oh, how are you two even related..?” It was a wonder to the Madame – one was witty, cunning, attractive, sly… and the other temperamental, hopeless, and reckless. The Madame could not recall the two brothers having a different upbringing, really, but they were so different they might as well be from different roots. They did, however, share their features of stunningly dark hair and vibrant blue eyes.. That, she admitted, was attractive of Raul – though, in her opinion, Marcus did it better..

“Your mother is a lovely woman.” The Madame would grin, teasingly for a moment more. At this she would twirl away from Marcus, but still hold onto his hand, as one might when dancing and twirling from their partner. Her eyes were bright as she gazed to him, holding mischievous energy but also a paradoxical innocent one.. Her eyes would go to the bar, instead passing the cup he had poured for her and taking a beer instead. “Oh, I’ve changed my mind. Perhaps a drink in these times are best.” Madame would twist the bottle open with her powers, as if she was unscrewing it, hand hovering over the cap.. From there she would sit upon the couch, sitting from it and gazing at the Black brother..

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“Oh, Marcus… Begin fortifications, if you know what is good for you.. A turn of the century for Hell is coming.. and it is not just that of the child.” The woman casually placed her beer on the coffee table, then leaned back against the couch, folding a leg over the other and placing her hands into her lap – this would seem as if she was getting comfortable, but was truly a guise of the paralysis that would come upon her, eyes turning white just as she’d leaned back – her face slackened, head falling backwards against the piece of furniture.. This would last a few moments – Marcus was familiar with her visions. They were, after all, old friends in a world where friends seemed impossible, only allies that would betray you later. Where her visions were normally peaceful, silent… this one caused her eyes to flutter, a soft moan of fear coming from her lips as her brows would furrow…

Razorbackwriter:

The Black Tower

Noticing the sudden quiet, which was unusual in itself when Mother was around, the devilish Black son suddenly found cause to smirk as he swirled his glass of whiskey.

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Mother….had left the building. It was the perfect opportunity to let his hair down truly, and of course with such charming company as the delightfully wicked Madame Green it could become quite the party. Marcus was more the playboy son of the family, and while Marguerite doted on Raul for god knows what reason, it gave Marcus ample opportunity to be the brat. Though older and the rightful heir to the Black family name, Raul was the chosen one to marry into Hell’s royalty. Mother and her schemes. He thanked the stars that he did not cop the same treatment as Raul did. It would be enough to make any man want to tear their hair out.

“Ahaha…The Elders know how to pick their timing.” Amused to no end, and thankful that he had not yet reached Elder status. Back to the oracle, who was now clutching his jaw and asking how it was ever possible that the two Black sons could be brothers. They were as different as night and day.

“Different fathers, my dear.” It would be a shock to anyone outside the family, for while Marcus was the true heir, Raul was in fact a bastard. Marguerite had gone to great lengths to keep that a secret. “My father headed the Black Dynasty, Raul’s daddy….was some one night stand that Mother had with….with…damn what was his name….Shamus…I think.”To Marcus the name meant nothing, and he was more than happy to spill this little family secret. “My father was better looking. Whoever the twit that got my mother in the sack was….he must have spiked her drink. But…that is past and we all know how pathetic my brother really is. It’s all in the genes.” He tapped his nose as he said this and then let out a loud guffaw when Madame Green announced that his mother was a lovely woman.

“Oh you jest, surely.” Marcus continued with dancing eyes as he twirled the woman around the floor of the room as though they were at a ball. “The Devil himself wouldn’t touch her with a pike pole. Even he has standards.” The wickedness of this Black son was something else. “My position is assured. She can’t manipulate me even if she wanted too. I am my Father’s son.” Of that he was proud.

The conversation however took on a more serious nature, when Madame Green announced that he would need to start building fortifications if he knew what was good for him, and it was not just to do with the child. Marcus raised a brow, when Green let this little cat out of the bag.

“Changes in hell are always a constant. What with the twits that rule the Kingdoms. But….if you recommend that we get ready for whatever new threats are out there, I will do as you say. Can’t hurt, can it?” Marcus released Madame Green’s hand and went to ring a bell to order the head of house to come at once so that plans could be set in place for construction. There would of course be some magic required, and that would be done on a united front. As his back was turned however, he failed to see the change in the woman, who had begun to feel a real fear. Something was coming…but what?

~RB~
Artie:
The Black Tower

It was only for a few moments until Madame had sat up straight, with widened eyes and a shocked look on her face. “My…!” Raul was the spawn of Marguerite and Shamus?! Oh, how deliciously juicy! Such a secret much be spoken sparingly, of course… Didn’t want to give away all of her cards, now did she? “Marcus! Mother Dearest is en route. Oh, this is lovely!” The Madame looked excited, clasping her hands together as she began to spin around the room, then closed her eyes. She appeared as though waltzing, only alone in this act – but a moment would pass and her eyes would blink open as she stopped abruptly, Marguerite’s full plan suddenly coming to her, eyes flashing white. “Oh.” Her excitement was gone as quickly as it had come forth, her face a thin line now. “I do hope you’re not too… greedy.” The Madame let her sentence hang, staring at the warlock. Yes, she had chosen those words particularly – the blue of her true form’s eyes beginning to show through despite her current mask – but it was a mere moment, and the brown had returned.

Perhaps, Madame thought, she should obtain one of these kingdoms herself.. Yes. She was fit to be a Princess, wasn’t she? And, as far as she knew – precious Wrath had died a few moments ago. Wrath, indeed. Ah, but no! The kingdoms were beneath her. The witches confided in her when they did not know what could happen – yes, they were strong, but even they did not possess the skill of foreseeing as far as the Madame could. She was, after all, an oracle. And, despite Madame’s reputation as a bitch, this was only to a few – for the witches knew her as she was. Some were even Madame’s oldest friends. While she and the witches never sat down for afternoon tea and gossiped like carefree birds, they did tend to meet up in specified locations where they could not be interrupted, and inbetween their serious business more trivial news was mentioned. For instance, an older Elder by the name of Rudith’s great-great grandson had recently gotten married. While this mattered really to none of the grouping, it was still something to know – but, as Rudith had joked, “As if Greenie didn’t know that anyway!

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The oracle’s eyes had wandered, gazing about the extravagant and ancient room. It was a few minutes that she was lost in thought, before looking back at Marcus, as though just realizing he was there.. “Oh, Marcus. You say you won’t be manipulated, but just you wait until mother dearest decides you ought to go after the Greed Princess. Who, is already taken, but I don’t suppose she particularly cares. After all, you are merely a pawn to her..” While the Princess and Scar were not official quite yet, Madame could see where their future lay – a happy one. Good on the witch, though Mariela did not quite realize the bumps ahead. The oracle sat once more, though she knew that soon would be the time to take her leave. In only a few moments, Marguerite would have returned.. and boy, did she intend to smirk knowingly. This information had only just been revealed to her – the oracle technically knew the moment that Shamus and Marguerite decided to have sex, but it wasn’t as if she was particularly remembering of the situation. No, only important events, like the birth of Bandit and Raul’s son.. “Here comes the mother.” The words were spoken under her breath, a mutter that only she could slyly here. Any moment, and the matriarch would come crashing in. Oh, this family disaster was better than those shows the humans watched.

Razorbackwriter:

The Black Tower

One of the wonderful things about the oracle, was her ability to sense when someone is en-route to the destination where she was standing. The fact that it was Marguerite that was coming was enough to make Marcus roll his eyes. When he had earlier suggested that if she wanted more answers about Raul and this unborn child, Marcus didn’t know that she would seek out the Witches Circle. He was happy if she pursued Raul’s misadventures than bother him when he was in the company of such a rose as Madame Green. He’d just finished explaining how he would heed her warning about fortifications, but there was one he would love to keep out of Black Tower and that would be his own meddling mother. What was worse was that the oracle was about to relay more than just Marguerite’s movements, but also that she was going to test her son’s will against manipulation after the events that unfolded whilst at the circle.

“Oh, Marcus. You say you won’t be manipulated, but just you wait until mother dearest decides you ought to go after the Greed Princess. Who, is already taken, but I don’t suppose she particularly cares. After all, you are merely a pawn to her..”

“What?” It was the only word that could leave the warlock’s mouth. He knew of Madame Green’s insight, but this…this was a bit much. “I don’t date who my mother picks for me, thank you very much.” Already the hair on the back of his neck was bristling, and his grip on his crystal glass was getting stronger. It looked like he was set to break it with the rising anger that was swelling in him. You could even see the beginnings of his dark aura coming to life. “She knows better than to play Miss Match maker with the Heir to the Black lands.”

As these words spilled from his mouth, the room filled with a gale like wind as Marguerite came into view. She had overheard what Marcus had just said, and then glared at Madame Green who had just finished saying… “Here comes the mother.” in a very low hush that was not meant for anyone else’s ears but her own.

“You might think differently when I spell out to you what took place at the Witches circle….Son.” Marg emphasized the word “son” as she removed her travel cloak and handed it to her man servant; Warner. A bald headed man dressed impeccably in a three piece suit.

Smoothing out her gown from the hasty return to Black Tower, she appeared to be in her element, regardless of whatever face that Madame Green was pulling.

Marcus knew nothing about the new Princess of Greed, safe to say that she had killed Lydia. The brother of Raul had no love for Lydia as he found her far too ambitious and greedy for his own tastes. It was fitting that she was the reigning head as she suited the title well. But Marguerite’s statement did raise his curiosity to a level where he decided to bite.

“Well for one, the girl is a witch. Pretty…blonde. I know, not your type but…she uhm….she basically threatened to take down every leader of the Kingdoms of Hell….along with the entire witches council of elders if they so much as tried to mess with her family.” The power of these words was enough to make Marcus’s jaw drop. Had the killing of Lydia gone to the girl’s head? Or was she being tainted by the powers that would have crossed over to her when the Princess was slain at her hand?

“She threatened Lavinia? All of you?’ Marcus knew the Elder held sway of all witches and warlocks alike. Only offering them Elder status when they had passed her testing. Something that he himself had yet to do. Marcus was not normally just go to see Lavinia as she demanded so his rights to Elder-ship had yet to be fulfilled.

“Everyone….even the Dark one.” Marguerite could see the wheels in Marcus’s mind turning over. This wasn’t merely match making, this was so much more.

“So where is this girl now?’

Hook…line and sinker.

Marguerite smiled in triumph. She knew her son could hardly resist a challenge, especially with a girl who had just made enemies with everyone he knew.

“Still at Witches Circle, but if she had any sense at all, she’d return to that kingdom of hers, before word gets out of her vulnerability. Her family.”

That was enough for Marcus, who turned to Madame Green and bowed.

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“I have a date with a blonde. Why don’t you and Mother play bridge….or knit booties for Raul’s child.”

With a laugh he vanished into a darkened mist, leaving Marguerite standing there with her attentions turned onto the oracle.

“Greed….will be mine.”

~RB~

 

Masked Desire – Fable of Swords.

The true depths to which Lady Dominique would go to defend what is hers was only now being known.  Behind the green eyes, and the beautiful smile, lay the beating heart of a true demon.  Only thing was….she was human.  This night would now bring the players to her game table.  Nobles that wished to partake in sins of the flesh.  A gathering of her faithful – masked from the light.

The Slave Market and Spa

Co-written with Moo and Chor.

Moo:


Ava smirked as her stirring slowed gradually to a stop. Dominique’s grin was enough to give her an answer; she would in fact have a special job to do this evening. The woman lifted her drink and took a long sip as she listened to the ginger talk. With a small and thoughtful mmm, Ava set it back down on the bar and licked her lips. “I would be glad to ease the weight from your shoulders,” she prompted. The explanation that followed wasn’t what she had expected completely. But knocking a man down a few pegs would always be payment enough for the woman. Not to mention the damage he had probably done was something to her property here in the slave market. He sounded like a pig…like someone she might enjoy toying with. “I’m listening…” Her elbow rested against the bar as she leaned forward to show her interest in the job. A small heh and she was grabbing the bag of coin, weighing it in her hand as she listened to the rest. Her eyes lifted to meet Dominique’s, a small and playful grin settling on her lips. “Of course. You have my word it will be done tonight.” At this point, the compensation meant less to her than the joy of seeing the scum grovel at her feet. “He’ll be left with nothing but his humiliation…” Strip the man of his pride along with everything else. What a refreshing…and appealing thought.

Razorbackwriter:  

The Slave Market and Spa

Oh how Dominique adored hearing words of acceptance to the idea of cheating this horrid wife beating scum out of everything. It was almost as delicious as eating a favorite fruit. The slave Mistress knew well of Ava’s views on the types of men that treated women no better than dogs. One thing that the shared was that while they did buy and sell people for the use of pleasurable entertainment, they did their best to ensure that they were treated as valuable commodities. No expense was spared to make sure they were healthy and kept clean with decent quarters. Dominique ran one of the most exclusive spas in the city, and there was high expectations in just what her clients paid for. The niece of the King liked to think of her establishment as a pleasure dome – a place where all your cares were swept away and you were made to feel like royalty and treated to such glorious attentions. From bathing, massages and of course naughty nocturnal activities. Her events were more like theatrical styled plays where the customers became seduced into the luxurious settings and entertained by all manner of troupes and luscious ladies that tended to your every need and desire.

With Ava accepting the offered coins to be the wagers played in the game of chance, the woman would not have to spend a coin of her own money. The rewards however….oh the personal gratification would be worth its weight in gold and a memory to hold for a lifetime.

“Very good. Very good.” Rising from her chair, Dominique felt the sheer fabric of a fine shawl being draped over her shoulders by her ever attentive Tim. “I would like a full blow…by blow account when this is done, my dear.” Dominique batted her eyelashes as she flashed a wicked smile. “I so look forward to our next meeting.” That said, Dominique moved from the table, Tim only stopping to bow graciously before Ava, as a servant brought up payment for the slaves which she had delivered prior to the Ladies having a little drink.

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“With our Mistresses esteemed compliments.” There was more than enough that covered payment for the slaves of that day.

~RB~

Moo: Ava smiled as she watched Dominique rise from her chair. “I’ll be sure to save all the juicy details for you,” she returned easily. The woman was more than content to share the wicked humility she would put that gentleman through, especially with the likes of Dominique. The redhead stated the very thoughts passing through Ava’s mind, leaving her to nod subtly. “As do I,” she agreed before she stood. The redhead would be leaving the table to attend to her usual duties, it seemed. Not a problem for Ava, as she could leave the spa and continue on with her evening before her special date later tonight. She looked to Tim, who was already bowing. She gave him a nod of respect before turning her attention to the nearing servant, taking payment for the slaves she brought in today. More than enough, actually. “Thank you, darling.” Ava reached into the pouch, taking out a coin to look at before stuffing it back in. “I’ll see myself out.” With a broad smile, she began walking away, and out the door back to her carriage. Tonight was about to be one of the most entertaining yet…

Razorbackwriter:  

The Slave market and Spa

Watching Ava take her leave through the grand gates, she would have seen the arriving procession of carriages all of which had black curtains to shield the nobles faces from the gazes of those on the streets. Each one that stopped had a masked man or woman exit. Each wore masks upon their faces to conceal their identities. The affair of Lady Dominique was strictly invite only, and she made sure that discretion was of the utmost importance. All the workers scattered from within the courtyard as the sound of strange music and drums could be heard, to herald the arrival of the esteemed guests.

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At the gate, two guards, whose faces were also covered, to only show their eyes took the parchment scrolls from each guest – checking them for authenticity. Scanning the scripture and the seal of De shea. Once accepted, they were handed back. A gloved hand gestured for the guests to enter the gates, one at a time. Silence befell them as on the balcony Dominique disappeared within the doors to her private chambers. There, she had four servants, all wearing masks on their faces. Dominique moved to the center of the room, and she extended her arms as her clothing was all carefully removed. it was almost like a ritual of sorts. The only male present was Tim – who stood well back as he too was being changed into the robes of the De Shea. He watched on, as Dominique was washed down, from head to foot with various sponges and cloths. Oils were rubbed into her skin, and hair plucked from places to show she was clean shaven. Perfect. Her ginger curls were brushed out till they shone – flowing down her back till it reached the very base of her back. Just resting on the rise of her rounded backside. A golden mask was fitted to her face, to shield her from the gaze of those males that may guess to who lay behind it. It was all part of the game. Finally, when dried off, she was dressed. A stunning black robe that pooled onto the floor at her feet. Each foot was lifted with care, and golden threaded sandals were fitted carefully by a servant that knelled on the ground before their Mistress. The air in her chamber was rich with burning incense, that wafted about those in the room. Almost intoxicating and added to the magic as the doors were finally opened to allow the Mistress to join with the honored guests at her night affair.

The party to end them all.

Walking with purpose, Dominique headed out and down the right passage, going down the stairs slowly to see the torch bearers ready to illuminate the path as she passed each with her head held high. Like some grand priestess, this was how the night was to be played out.

Already in the main audience chamber, those that had arrived early were already feasting upon the flesh of the masked – yet naked slaves. Men and women alike. The cries and moans of pleasure melded with the music, and as Dominique walked amongest it all, she felt her own heart start to beat faster. Sin…debauchery. This was the devil’s playground and it all belonged to her.

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If only….if only she could dance with Him upon her silk sheets, and let him drink of her sweet nectar…one last time.

The chosen male that she had picked from the line up was already waiting. He had been stroking himself into readiness as the Mistress made a bee line for him. In behind, Tim watched on. He wore his mask and he did not partake in the festivities, but no doubt his dreams would be filled with the decadent images of what he was to see. The pounding of drums continued on….the lone singer sang in an Indian chant and it was to this rhythm that the orgy got into full swing.

~RB~

Chor:  The Lady De shea’s orgies were such quiet – well, that may not be the right term- and personal affairs. There was a list and if you weren’t printed on the beautiful cut parchment then you might as well be street-scum for this coveted occasion. It wasn’t exceptionally often that the Lady had such parties, but when she did it was a special, special place at the market. Much to her surprise, she was asked to- instead of dealing with the rest of the slaves as she normally would- assist in the bathing and dressing of the Lady. This was an honour she could not pass down. The man who informed her, though not to her face and very much behind her back to another giggling housemaiden, that she ought to keep her robes on. Ashamed, she confined herself to the bathhouse until called upon to the Mistress’ quarters to ready her for the grand orgy that was to occur in a short time. As Mala went about washing the Lady’s thin form, she could only think of how beautiful the woman was. The clear, flawless skin and the untouched and perfect bone structure. What Mala really found herself jealous of was the Lady’s hair. Long and soft, curling as she held it and ran a brush through it. Eventually, the time came for the event to begin.

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Mala was dressed in her own black robe and mask. She steered particularly clear of most of the commotion and kept to the shadows, watching the event from the sidelines. She was secretly relieved she didn’t have to participate. This kind of thing wasn’t really part of her niche, but if told to she would oblige. At this moment, though, her participation would be an embarrassment and dampen on the whole party.

Razorbackwriter:  

The Slave Markets and Spa

If you have ever seen the frantic pace in which a beehive lives and breathes, you could say that it was something to be compared to what was taking place before Mala’s eyes. So many moving around in ritualistic movements that were done not so much by thought but by instinct. At the center of it all was the Hive’s Queen, or rather Lady Dominique. Having her robe removed by two muscular slaves with masks on and nothing else, she straddled her chosen lover for the night and rode him as though he was a prized stallion. There was no love, no emotion – just a raw display of the power that this woman had. In fact, many stopped midway through their own ministrations to take in the event unfolding. The loud grunts from her chosen and the sweat riddled face that was shielded behind the mask – stared up at his Mistress as though he was enthralled by her, as most were. But if only they knew what was going on in Dominique’s own mind. She was a million miles away with the lover of her dreams. The King. Well before his sickness, when he was the proud and powerful monarch of the lands.

It was the King who had her love, captured as though a butterfly within a jar. There was simply no escape, and there was no air in which to breathe. It would eventually suffocate and die from the starvation of the life giving air, or in this case love.

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As the robed guests milled around, and either partook, or simply enjoyed the voyeuristic pleasures to come from watching Dominique and the others – Tim moved in beside Mala. he was aware of who she was by the markings on the mask. It was his way of keeping track of just who was who and who was WITH who. Call it cataloging, or more like a type of branding that didn’t mark the skin at all. His masked face turned towards Mala, who would have been completely unaware of the Mistress’s deal with Ava. He was of course sworn to the secrecy of the Lady’s plans, but he did have one thing to whisper to the slave.

“We all get our pleasures in different ways.” His dark brown eyes would look back to his Mistress, who had amazing stamina. “But in the end….we all want the same thing…” Tim’s voice changed in this light hush so as not to be overheard. What did he mean, you think? It was a question that Mala may well ponder.

~RB~

Chor:  Mala watched display as everyone did, but for her it was but a background show. The woman was delving deep into her mind, the scene before her reminding her of the painful hours of her late night and early morning. With each moan was a flinch as her vision clouded. These were not tears, but the painful reminders of her lack thereof. Friendly dwellers to blur her sight. As Tim appeared beside her once more…the second time this day, she peered to him. Looking more through him than at him. He spoke and she listened, feeling and tasting the words on her lips as he said them. She looked from him to their mistress then, who was still going at it.

“I suppose you are right,” Mala whispered to him, clasping her hands before her and resting them against her torso. What did Mala’ikan really want? Freedom? She knew this unattainable. Love? She knew this to be a lie. Happiness? Ha, she laughed in the face of happiness. She wished often for a life worth living, but there has never been anything she truly wanted save for death…on so many occasions, death.

Razorbackwriter:  

The Slave market and Spa

Tim stood beside Mala and did not react to Mala’s whispered words. In a way he was hypnotized by watching his Mistress in her sexual movements with the chosen slave. The Mistress was not one to go from one to the next, like you might expect. When she had done with him, she’d retire to an area that was screened off, but still with viewing portals and able to hear all that was going on. This was as much to watch the masked nobles. Little did the nobles understand when they were sent their masks by special delivery that Dominique had picked them personally. Mentally, she was able to work out exactly who was who and what they favored, or rather what their kinks were. It enabled her to provide, not only a better service to them in the coming months, but in some ways it was leverage. A true Queen of her web of sin, she was slowly but surely wrapping each up using their own hedonistic pleasures in which to trap them. Oh yes, she promised discretion and anonymity to those that partook in these events, but at the end of the day, they were all pawns on her chess board that would eventually come to realize that there was no escape.

A true demon in every word, except she was the daughter of Eve.

Having finished with her chosen slave, she caressed his masked cheek, before sliding off his lap and then having her robe placed back around her by two of her servants. The wickedness was to continue until the wee hours, or until the last man finished, but it did not need her to be there the entire time. Dominique was above all others and would move to her special viewing area, where she would be cleaned of the sweat and sexual juices, before getting comfortable on a cushioned lounge and provided with wine and fruit.

Her mask could now be removed, as she was no longer in plain sight and this was when Tim was given the signal to Tim to bring Mala down to this special area.

“Come.” He asked simply, gesturing with Mala to follow, till they reached the veiled off area.

Once inside, Mala would be able to see Dominique lying back, wearing nothing but necklaces and a few anklets.

“Ah…Mala, do come in.”

Tim would nod for the woman to do as instructed, but he would then remove his mask. An indication that Mala should do the same.

“Mala, I do not wish for you to leave this eve. I have arranged a special room to accommodate you.”

If Mala had any reservations as to what her husband may say of this, she was about to find out in very harsh terms.

~RB~

Chor:  As the mistress finished, there was a hush before the masses once again started up their own rituals. Noises of passion filled Mala’s ears and despite her attempts to flush them out, they became a music. Often she was assigned a place with those charged with musical accompaniment for the night, but it seemed there was a separate purpose for her at this evening affair. Tim gestured towards the place where their mistress went to rest and she obliged, following obediently. Years and years ago, this willingness to do just as she was told would have sickened her. The learned response now is just agreement. To fight is to lose and to lose it to die.

“My lady,” Mala spoke, bowing to her mistress until given the permission to stand and look upon her. Her sight was breathtaking, as always, and her activities brought a glow about the mistress’ form that Mala could only dream of. Mala drew her robes closer in disgust at herself. She reluctantly removed her mask, but it did nothing if the woman already knew of her identity underneath. What came out of the mistress’ dark and luscious lips was a complete surprise. It also brought great anxiety. My stars, that man will kill me yet… A nod bobbed her head; she could not refuse. In her eyes, though, there was evident fear and confusion.

Razorbackwriter:  

The Slave market and Spa

Dominique was very attuned to reading a person’s body language, and when she saw the way that Mala drew her cloak around herself, matched with that facial expression it brought about a quiet sigh from the Mistress. She knew….oh yes she knew what this meant. It actually annoyed her somewhat, but it also confirmed much of what she was already thinking. Those dark eyes showed the very pits of the poor girl’s soul. What terrible things had the man that was known as simply her husband done to her within the confines of their marital home? The Slave Mistress could only imagine. Dominique’s eyes darted towards Tim, who was present as always.

“Leave us a moment.” Her voice directed to her assistant, who graciously bowed and made his way out of the secluded area. Tossing aside a cushion, Dominique pushed herself up off the lush spread of satin pillows, and without a seeming care in the world about her state of undress, she moved with the grace of a panther towards the girl, and reached for the tie that held the robe she wore in place. The Slave Mistress was careful in her movements, her eyes not leaving that of Malas’s as she un-threaded the robe to let it simply fall from the girl’s shoulders. Dominique did not show an expression of lust, nor want as she let her eyes take in that of Mala’s naked form. Instead, she started to walk around her, inspecting her body and making up her own mind about what she could see, and what she couldn’t. Some marks were very hard to hide, but not only that, the girl’s reaction to the simplest touch would speak volumes.

Coming in behind her, Dominique tilted her head slightly, as she drew the tip of her finger along one of the lash marks that were on the girl’s back. It was not done to hurt the girl, but to make her understand full well, that the Mistress was no fool. She knew what that beast of a man had done.

“Why hurt something so beautiful?” Her words were like whispers within the back ground of the sounds of pleasure that were happening just beyond the screen. Dominique appreciated the beauty of Mala’s all too gaunt form. If the Slave Mistress had her way, she would plump the girl up a little. Dominique stepped up so now her naked body could just be felt upon the girl’s back. The Slave Mistress then swept the girl’s hair back softly, before bending in to kiss the back of the girl’s neck. Her hot breath sure to send a wild sensation throughout the shivering girl’s form. “You should be worshiped for the Goddess that you are.” An almost lusty tone now entered these words, as Dominique brought her hands around and placed one hand upon the girl’s stomach, the other gently resting upon her breast.

“I won’t let him harm you ever again. I promise.” A hushed yet husky whisper melded with the gentleness of her wandering hands, proved weight to that statement. “You shall remain here….and I shall teach you what it is to be loved.”Her nose moved along the tip of Mala’s ear, before she slowly released the girl and went back to her nest of satin pillows. Settling back in, she clapped for Tim to return back into the room. He was quick to cover the girl once again with the same robe that had fallen to the floor.

“Take her to the Ambrosia suite.” The Ambrosia suite was one for the richest of nobles, but for tonight, it would be Mala’s room. Without another word, Dominique went back to peering through the viewing portals at her writhing guests.

~RB~