| Recueil | Smut |
|---|---|
| Livre | My (fancy) life as a slave |
| Type | Chapitre |
| État | Publié |
Let's prey together
The tension is at its peak. Large drops of sweat run down my forehead. It's not my first run, but I've rarely been so stressed about it.
I turn to my dear mistress, whose eyes are plunged deep in thought.
"Abelaïd, is everything ready?" she asks with her authoritarian voice. "Does every one of you have their strategy?"
Abel refrains from sighing, but I understand. As insufferable as he is, Mistress Morr asked him the same thing for like a dozen times today.
"Would a global summary reassure you, mistress?" he answers flatly.
She nods. Abel takes the lead.
"Gretha, are you feeling good? Are you sober?"
The naked cat-maid nods with a feline smile. She is thrilled and can't wait to begin.
"Salista, did you take yours?"
The purple-skinned tiefling throws a murderous look at him, but responds. "Yes."
"As for me, I do have drunk up my potion. The effects are already beginning to kick in. Nasué?"
I nod.
"Do you have the... concoction?"
I show him the starry-night potion he gave me a week ago.
"Very good. As a reminder, you shall drink it no sooner than when the countdown starts. You count to fifteen, then go for it. If you depart too soon, you might lose your balance and fall."
And I really don't want to fall.
Despite this summary, Mistress Morr doesn't seem reassured.
"What if we made some miscalculations?
Abel replies. "Impossible, mistress. You oversaw the products yourself, and I followed the dosage to the letter. See, Gretha's sobering potion worked, and Salista's updated stamina potion formula passed every test."
"It's not about them I'm worried about," frowns our mistress.
"Is it me? I know we couldn't test this new formula, considering the research delays, but I'm confident in..."
"No. It's about Nasué."
Abel sadly glances at me. Of course it's about me she's worried about. Fucking angel's dust.
"Well, I... Hum. Sorry, Mistress, I don't know what to say. It is a risk. A calculated one, but a risk nonetheless."
My mistress walks up to me, looks at the distress in my eyes, and feigns a smile.
"Don't you worry, little thing. You are strong. You make the best out of it. I just want you to win a blazing victory, that's why I put such a risk on your shoulders. Keep in mind that your objective is the finishing line, and everything will be alright."
That reassures me a bit, but not entirely.
"What if someone catches me?"
She sighs. "Then I won't be able to punish you."
This is the worst-case scenario.
"This is the worst-case scenario," she adds, "and not an option. I am to put you at risk for the sake of my project, there's no going around it. Do you understand?"
I nod.
"I won't disappoint you."
Without saying anything more, she walks away from her naked slaves as the countdown approaches.
I don't want to lose my mistress.
After last week's feat, every eye will be on me.
Hehe. I'm in danger.
An amplified voice comes from the other side of the racetrack. The countdown is starting. "Ten... Nine..."
Abel shakes my shoulder. "Drink! Now!"
I pop the cork and drink the potion in one gulp.
As the voice continues counting down, I begin to count up.
One... Two... Three...
I feel a knot in my stomach. The countdown will reach zero before I reach fifteen. I'll have a late start.
"Three... Two... One..."
Seven... Eight...
"GO!"
The barrier in front of us drops, and the hundreds of slaves on the starting line burst into a run to try and reach the other side of the beaten-earth field. I can already see naked orks coming from the sides of the racetracks, trying to intercept the rushing slaves.
Gretha is naturally good at this exercise. Her cat-like agility allows her to perform high jumps, ground loops, and sharp turns. As long as she's sober —her propensity to consume drugs is a huge problem for her— no one can catch her.
Salista is sprinting for her life. She isn't the athletic kind, given her age. She's more like a silent shadow. But the stamina potion does the trick, and her good perception allows her to avoid direct confrontation. She can dodge and exhaust her pursuers without ever slowing down.
Abel is a funny thing to watch. The potion he took pumped him up with some kind of powerful aura, making him almost invisible to the others. As long as he remains at a walking pace —a very rhythmic pace that only he mastered— all eyes will be averted from him.
To my horror, three orks have noticed that I didn't depart, and are running straight towards me.
But I've now finished counting the fifteen seconds, and I break into a dash.
As soon as I set my body in motion, I feel the concoction's effects. And dear gods they are strong.
How can this PCP take only fifteen seconds to kick in? What else was in there?
But no time to think. I no longer have a body, just a detached mind that runs. How is it possible? A mind cannot be running, and I left my body behind. Did I? I feel numb, but strong. Can a mind be strong? Whose legs beat the ground bellow me?
I don't care. I'm as strong as a goddess now. Invincible. I could charge into these three orks and knock them over without a sweat. I'll show Mistress how strong I am.
Wait. Mistress? She told me to go to the finishing line, didn't she?
That's how I'll show her how strong I am. I'll retrieve my body later.
The first ork is in front of me. I drop to the ground, slide on the beaten-earth ground, and slip between his legs. What a loser.
Hm? Funny, the strange legs below me are all red now.
The two other orks are trying a pincer attack, from both sides of me.
Ha! I just jump into the air, and they collide into each other. Useless scums.
While I'm airborne, I can see the vast battlefield, where a lot of slaves are being captured. Why are there so many people here?
Right, the race.
I land on the ground so hard that I hear the ground crack. I'm so strong!
It's so easy dodging these strange and tall green-skinned people. They just can't catch up with my speed, my agility. And my STRENGTH. I even punch one in the face as I slip past them.
When I look back, I see a red trail in the dust. Ha! I'm invincible!
I'm almost there. I'm so fast that I rejoined the main group, and now everyone is either trying to catch someone or to flee from someone.
The finishing line! It's here! Just a few more steps... My dear mistress, I'm com...
A large thud hits my head as something makes me tumble to the ground. I gasp, air being flushed out of my lungs. A cloud of dust surrounds me, rendering me blind and making my breath difficult.
I fail to get up as my mind now feels cloudy. I do not feel that strong anymore. I feel... feeble, and my hands are shaking. My hands are back? Wait, is it over?
I feel like I'm crashing. So soon? Damn. My legs begin to hurt like hell, and I can't move my left foot. Is that blood on my hand? I moan on the ground, submerged in pain and not being able to think properly.
That's when a gigantic silhouette appears above me.
"I was waiting for you, my little bunny."
Who are you? Wait, I need to move my lips to talk.
"Who are you?"
A very tall female ork, with salient muscles and a huge penis, is leaning onto me and grabs me by the waist.
"I'm someone who has a score to settle with the Aphromesser's cunt."
Huh? Does she mean 'Aphrothecary'? My dear Mistress Morr?
"Don't worry, little bunny, I'll take real good care of you."
She casts my frail body over her shoulder, and I see in dawning horror that we move to the finishing line.
If she holds me when she crosses the line, it'll be over.
I try to break myself free, but my strength is all gone. I'm just a mop now. "Wait, wait. No! Don't..."
She stops. "What is it, little bunny? You don't want me to be your new master?"
I scream. "No! Please, no! I want my mistress! I don't want you! Just my mistress! Please, I beg you!"
"Oh, that's rude, little bunny." She resumes her pace, and I try to punch her with all my might. Maybe a bit of juice is still in there.
"Haha!" I say as I hear a cracking noise when I throw a mighty punch in her scapula.
She heaves me up again and lays me down in the dust.
"There's more where that came from!" I smile in victory.
Her face shifts into a saddened frown. "Little bunny, you just broke your wrist..."
I look at my hand. My whole body is in pain, but I don't feel anything especially different in my hand. "Lies! You are going down! When my body joins us, I'll..." I fail to end my sentence, it feels wrong to say that. I know it's both true and untrue, but I can't quite figure out why.
She pauses. "Hum.. Are you high, my little bunny?"
She shakes her head. "Of course you are. You're the Aphromesser's slave, after all." She shrugs. "Well, not anymore, I guess."
She picks me up and we cross the finishing line.
We are sitting in the booth reserved for Lady Morr's slaves. Gretha is already here.
Her victory smile drops when she realizes that I have been captured. "Nasué? You didn't make it? Oh my starrrs, what will happen to us? What will happen to you?"
Her terrified look turns back to a cheerful face as she sees another fellow slave. "Yes! Go forrr it, Salista! You'rrre almost therrre!"
The tiefling crosses the line in a long slide, then joins us. She glances at me, but does not comment.
Abel is the last of the contestants to cross the line. He had a nice stroll, and comes to sit just beside me. He takes a good look at the giant ork and seems to recognize her.
"This is bad. Really bad", he whispers at my intention.
"For you, or for Morr?" My captor asks, having overheard.
Abel frowns. "It is Lady Morr for you. And you know more than any of us how bad you are."
A loud amplified voice asks each contestant to go see the clerks to register their catches, and each master to join their free slaves, if they have any left.
As my captor carries me away, I hear Gretha asking. "Arrre we gonna get punished forrr this?" And Salista to answer. "No, not this time."
As we are in the waiting line for the clerk, I see other slaves who are as broken as I am being lugged around, crying in pain. Some of them are even being raped on the spot.
"Why are you carrying me?" I ask my captor, realizing she could drag me in the dust if she wanted.
"Hmm? You're not calling me Mistress?"
"You are not my mistress yet." I frown. Then I whisper, "And in a way you never will be."
She scoffs.
"I want to preserve what's left of your body. But don't worry, this evening I'll call a healer I know, and as soon as you're back on your feet, I'll show you how much Morr's lovers are good at sex."
What did she say?
WHAT DID SHE SAY?
"Kalista."
A stern voice I know all too well interrupts my messy thought.
"Morr! What a pleasure to see you!"
I cannot see my captor's face, still resting on her shoulder like a potato bag, but I can hear her smile.
"Do you realize what you just did?" angrily asks Mistress Morr.
My captor —Kalista— laughs.
"You know I do. And it fills me with joy!"
"Are you simply trying to get my attention?"
The laugh stops. "Not everything's about you, Morr."
"Then what is it about?"
I can't refrain from calling out to my mistress. "Mistress Morr! Please help me, I'm..."
"SILENCE, NASUÉ," she yells, in one of the most fearsome tones I have ever heard. "You legally are my slave until you are registered, you shall not say a word until then."
My captor Kalista rubs my back in what is supposed to be a comforting gesture. "Don't worry, soon enough you'll answer to me."
I want to yell at her that'll never happen, that my dear Mistress Morr will save me, but the order I was given to shut up is too strong.
Silence falls on the three of us for a moment. I suspect my mistress is in deep thought, while Kalista enjoys the situation.
Finally, Mistress Morr raises her voice. "I do not know what you are trying to achieve here, but I wish you to enjoy the month of respite that rests before you. Because you can be sure that at the exact moment I can legally claim back Nasué, I will be at your door, and I will unchain all the wrath that I would have accumulated in the meantime."
"I'm really yearning for that day," Kalista responds. "When you come to me for this little bunny and fail to claim it back, you'll realize that nothing you own is really safe."
As Mistress Morr scoffs, Kalista adds, "Your arrogance is your greatest weakness, dear. Always have been, always will be. You will soon understand that it was not worth playing with me like you did."
"So this really is about vengeance, is it not?"
"Our past is well over my head. I just want to preserve others like me, and your slaves, from your silver tongue."
"You know nothing about my slaves."
Is it hate in her voice? Is Mistress Morr beginning to snap? Did someone make her genuinely angry?
Kalista giggles. "So you admit you are playing with your lovers, then? You played me all along?"
So it is true. Kalista is my mistress' ex-lover...
"You should know that I've never had any lover since you left," Lady Morr clarifies.
A heavy silence falls on them. Then I hear Mistress Morr turn away and leave. "See you in a month."
Kalista fidgets. Despite her natural phlegm, I can feel her restlessness.
"Is it true?" she asks me.
"Huh?"
"Is it true that Morr's never had any lovers after me?"
I search my still-cloudy memory. "As far as I can recall, I've never seen..."
"Name, please."
It is our turn to be registered.
"Kalista. I won Morr's slave Nasué today."
The clerk raises an eyebrow, looks at me, and records.
Then, with a bland voice, "You will own this slave for one month, then the claiming truce will end and it'll be available for claiming from then on. You yourself, as any citizen of this town, won't be able to claim anything during the truce."
One month. One month without seeing my mistress. It'll be torture.
For two days, I've been stranded in this locked room, in this house I don't know.
For two days, the only people I've seen were a half-ork slave and the doctor.
I'm bored to death. The slave only came to change my clothes and sheets, without saying a word, and the doctor was an authoritative lowborn who just ordered me to drink some disgusting concoctions and poked at my broken bones. Which don't seem broken anymore now. That was fast.
The sun is setting through my window when I hear the door unlock. Kalista comes in.
"Good evening, little bunny. The healer said you're all fixed up. How are you feeling?"
I work my joints. "Better. Was that my mistress's potions that fixed me?"
She casts a surprised look at me. "Hum... I don't make potions, you know..."
Right. Of course. She is my mistress now.
I open my mouth, but she laughs. "I'm playing with you. I know what you meant. But does it matter? You're supposed to have nothing left to do with her."
I know I'll be punished for it, but I don't care: "We'll see that in a month."
Her laugh slowly comes to an end, but she doesn't seem upset. "Yes, we will. And while Morr is still a formidable opponent, I'd think twice before betting everything on her, if I were you."
"You don't know what she is c..."
"I know her very well", she cuts. "As you understood, I was very close to her for years."
Then her eyes darken. "Or at least I thought I was."
I glance sideways at the pink sky through the window. She lets a silence settle in.
"Was your slave —your other slave— at the race?" I ask.
"Of course not. You know I wouldn't be able to compete if I had any slave racing."
"How come?"
She frowns. "You don't know that? Anyone working for public interest can exempt up to two slaves from the yearly race. Since they were my only slave, before you came, they were excused. This allowed me to compete."
"What is their name?"
She smiles. "Ashby. They may seem distant at first, but they are very diligent at work and real meticulous. I like them very much."
I sigh. "I suppose I gotta get to work, now. What will be my tasks... Mistress?" I really struggle to let out this last word.
She laughs —again— "I won't oblige you to call me 'mistress' if you don't want to. Just 'Kalista' will do. Or 'Madam', or 'Sir', or whatever makes you comfortable."
She regains a little composure. "Just never, ever refer to Morr as 'Mistress' anymore. It's just 'Lady Morr' for you now."
I'm a bit puzzled. "Excuse me if this offends you, but are you nobility? You refer to Mis— Lady Morr without her title, but you don't have —how can I say it?— the formality of every noble I met in this town."
She comes close to me and brushes my hair. "Of course I am nobility, little bunny. Just not the usual kind. I have only one slave —well, two now— but that's more of a choice than an inability to acquire more. I'm sure you noticed how easy it would be for me to get new slaves. You'll understand what I'm about as you get to know me and this house."
"Then shouldn't I call you 'Lady'?"
She shrugs. "If you feel like it. But I don't usually go with the 'Lady' thing. I'm not especially proud of being nobility, so I don't shove it down people's throats."
I put the train back on track. "And what about my tasks?"
She shakes her head. "Doc's said you're good to go, but you'll rest until tomorrow. I'll get Ashby to fetch you first thing in the morning. Then I'll explain everything."
She stands up. "Everything good?"
I glance aside. "Actually, there is one thing left..."
I trail. She patiently waits for me to continue.
"I... own something. I have a property. Do you think it'll be possible to retrieve it?"
Her face turns surprised. "Wow. This is rare. It won't be easy to get it from Morr, but if you do own it, I'd be able to do something about it. What is it?"
I blush like an embarrassed child. "A... A dress."
She smiles widely. "How cute! Be sure, I'll look into it. You should have it back soon."
She turns and walks to the door.
"Good night, my little bunny."
The door closes, but is not locked anymore. For a split second, I think about escaping, but this is mad. I'm her legal property now. I should act as such, or else I'll face torture and death, by the laws of the city.
A strange one she is, this Kalista. She, in fact, seems pretty nice.
But a nice mistress is a bad one. I don't even know how to call her. 'Kalista'? 'Madam'? 'Sir'? A good mistress would have told me how to call her, period. What is this travesty?
I yearn for my ex-Mistress Morr.
I wake up with a gentle brush on my shoulder. The half-ork stands beside my bed.
"Wake up, Nasué. Madam is waiting for you."
Their voice is soft and deep. Low, but with a bit of androgyny. The kind of voice that always brings calm and peace to a room.
"Can you stand?"
I rise and sit on the side of the bed, still struggling to fully wake my senses up.
"Good morning, Nasué. I am Ashby, Madam's slave. I perform housework and assist Madam in her work. If you need anything, tell me and I shall provide. I will also share the rules of this household with you later, but there are not many. You'll quickly get acclimated, I predict."
I stand up, naked, and begin to search for clothes. Ashby is dressed in a black toga, which suits them very well. Since they are dressed, I suspected I should be too. I see a closet in the corner, but I don't know if that's where I'm supposed to fetch clothes.
"This is your room," the servant explains. "It will never be locked, but anyone who desires to enter will knock if the door is closed. Your clothes are in this closet. You shall dress up every morning, unless told otherwise, and you can wear whatever is in there, unless told otherwise."
They walk up to a steamy small tub pushed against a wall. "You will have to wash yourself every morning. I'll provide you with warm water every day, usually just before sunrise.
"Get yourself ready, then go see Madam in the dining room. You'll find it downstairs. Take your time, get acclimated to your quarters. She will receive you in an hour."
They go to the door and open it.
"If you need me but can't find me in the house, knock at my door. It's the room just next to yours. If I don't answer, it means I'm out. Do you have any questions?"
I shake my head, and they leave, closing the door.
Seriously, what the fuck is this masquerade? A real room? A hot tub? What is the fucking deal with Kalista?
Fresh, clean, wearing a sleeveless white shirt and a teal midi-skirt, I'm standing in the small but sumptuous dining room.
I'm a bit early, I think, but I don't want to be late.
The house is not as big as my ex-mistress's mansion, but Kalista has nothing to blush about. The size is modest, but it's well-decorated. She clearly is in the upper-half of the nobility. I get from the brief look I took around that she likes to remain mid-size in everything, but can deploy vast means of money if needed.
But she's far from the wealth and display of power Lady Morr has. When my ex-mistress comes and claims me back at the end of the month, Kalista won't have the slightest chance to win.
While I'm idling around alone with my thoughts, Kalista comes in with an energetic pace. "I see that the big bean has shown you your room. Very good!"
She must be talking about Ashby. What's with her and the pet names?
"Ready to serve you, Madam." I decided to go with the same title that the 'big bean' uses.
"Then, let's get right to it."
She sits down at the table and kicks the chair facing hers. "Sit down, little bunny."
I obey, wondering what this will be about.
"First things first: a bit of context. I am a noblewoman working as a private investigator, whose main client is the town hall. I fulfill the tasks high-ranking officials give me. That counts as working for 'public interest', and that's why Ashby was exempt from the yearly slave-truce race. The town guards are pretty lame at investigating, a few of my peers and I take the job of crime investigations — and some other kinds of investigations, from time to time.
"Ashby, and soon yourself, are assisting me in these errands. My big bean is quite skilled at it, but don't worry, I'll only give you tasks you can uphold, depending on your skills. We'll also have to take your new fame into account... but we'll see all of that in due time."
I shift on my chair. This is a very different from being Lady Morr's trophy slave.
"What am I to do in the meantime?" I ask.
She smiles. "You'll have to acclimate to how things work around here. It'll be a big change from Morr's mansion —and any other master by the way— so you'll need some time to adjust your mindset and habits."
She stands up and raises a hand towards me. "Shall I demonstrate?"
I join her. She takes both my hands into her huge ones.
"When was the last time you had sex?" she asks.
I turn my head to the side.
"Last week. No one tried to claim me since my... feat downtown. And my then-mistress didn't have the time nor the reason to punish me in the meantime."
She lifts my head with her finger. "Do you miss it? The sex?"
I avert my eyes. Yes. I'm ready to beg for it.
"I kinda do, yes."
She strokes my hair. "Then let's get to it, shall we?"
I nod and begin to undress.
"Not so fast," she intervenes, "we have to talk a bit first."
"About what?"
She giggles. "About what you want, of course."
I don't understand. "What I want about what?"
Now she is almost laughing. "About what kind of sex you want, my little bunny. You have to tell me about what you like during sex, what you want to do today, and what your limits are."
What the hell is she about?
"I don't understand. You may use me as you want, and I'll have pleasure if you order me to."
She shakes her head. "Nah-huh. You have to tell me about yourself. What you want and what gives you pleasure. That's called consent, and that's the only way we have sex here."
I'm as confused as I can be.
"Well... Let's say I consent to everything, and I have no limit."
She sighs. "That's not how consent works, little bunny."
She walks to a cupboard and grabs a knife.
"You say you'd consent to anything. Does that mean I can gut you right here, right now, and that'll give you pleasure?"
I am now frightened as the knife dangerously approaches my throat. "Well, if that's what you..."
She interrupts me. "Does that mean you consent to me calling Ashby right here, and that I cut his throat right on top of you, while you touch yourself?"
"I don't..."
"Or maybe I'll go fetch a fellow human of yours, and remove his eyes slowly, while he screams in pain, and that'll you orgasm to that?"
I begin to cry, as all these images settle before my mind's eye. "No, please no, Madam. I beg you not. I... I don't consent to those things."
She puts the knife down. "Good, then tell me what you like."
I have to think —which is not a usual practice for me— because I haven't asked myself these thingsfor a long time.
"You may also tell me what you'd like to try," she adds. "Practices you never had and you'd wish to experiment."
I nod. "Well, in general, I really like any kind of bondage, light and heavy impact, forced penetration and non-con domination..."
The list goes on for a while. In summary, everything that Lady Morr did to me is what I like. Madam Kalista registers each of these items.
But I also have to think about what I want to experiment with, I guess. I glance at the silver knife.
"I'd like to test knife play, if that's OK with you."
"That's OK with me," she nods. "Penetration and knife play, is that what we are going for today? For now, I'd like to keep it simple. We'll have more complex interactions in the future. Are you down for it?"
I nod.
"Little bunny, I need to hear a clear 'yes' from you. If you mumble or don't hear your voice at all, I'll take it as a 'no' and we won't do anything."
I really want to test knife play now. "Yes, Madam!"
She strokes my cheek in contempt. "Good little bunny. I'm proud of you. That's not easy giving consent loud and clear, especially from a slave that has never experienced it.
"So now, tell me, what are your limits? In terms of knife play and penetration?"
I shrug. "I'd say no severe or internal injury. I have no problem bleeding from the knife, as long as it doesn't leave permanent scars. As for penetration... Well, I can take a bunch, and usually like to, but... why not take it slow, today?"
I try not to show it, but I push myself really hard to let those words out, as if it is forbidden to tell my desires. Which it was, up to recently. But I don't know if I like it yet. It's easier to be ordered, to be told what to do, without having to think, being praised when I succeed, and blissfully punished when I fail.
It's a dangerous position that I'm generally in, being a slave in a sex-driven culture inhabited by humanoid twice my size and ten times my strength... But I found my place here, loved, cared for, and punished by Lady Morr, the Aphrothecary, the one who never scars her slaves. But with Madam Kalista? I feel like I'm safe, really, but this is not what I'm used to. Or what I want, if that matters.
But it doesn't, does it? I'm a slave, and I have to obey. It's just... It's not the first time I'm ordered to do something I don't want to — gods no, it isn't — but this feels... weird. Out of place. When I first arrived in this gods-forsaken city, I adapted quickly. I felt I belonged here more than in my birth village. But Madam Kalista is the total opposite of everything else here. It should feel good, I guess, but it doesn't.
The strangest thing is not wanting something because it precisely wants for me to do what I want, while what I want is not wanting what I do and...
Hugh, my head hurts.
"Little bunny?"
I break out of my reverie.
"You spaced out. Is everything okay?"
I nod. "Yes, Madam. Sorry, it's hard to get my head around all these new things..."
She takes my tiny hand into her huge one.
"In time, we'll learn to know each other, and then you'll see that it's not because we use consent that I can't treat you like you used to be treated. Let the time do its part, and we'll try to find your place in this relationship."
Huh? This is weirdly worded.
"I mean," she adds, "I can't promise I'll love you or anything like that, and I certainly won't be as good as Morr to take care of you in any sense of the word. I really claimed you as a tool to lead my projects to their ends. But I'll care for you the best way I can. That also means taking your needs into account, even if they're unusual to me."
Huh. She really is nice, isn't she? She's like a weird aunt that tries to be gentle but doesn't know how. I don't know if I like her ways, but I do begin to like her.
"Now," she exclaims, "are you still up for a good old pussy-fucking with a little of spicy knife play on top?"
That's when I eagerly smile while nodding that I realize that I truly feel safe here.
"Little bunny..." she trails with a condescending smile. "You have to say the word!"
Oh, right. "Yes, I am!"
What happens next is... gentle. Madam Kalista handles my body as if it was made out of precious glass, while I'm used being yanked around like a rag doll. She heaves me onto the dinner table and lays me there flat. As she walks all around the table, she loosely slaps the flat of the knife on my neckline.
The cold contact of the metal makes me shiver, triggering my whole body into 'sex mode'.
She leans toward me to whisper in my ear. "I will take my sweet time so that every single sensation is an ocean of pleasure for you, my little bunny. I will take good care of you, because you deserve it."
I gasp, breath short. Being praised is definitely something I'm used to and enjoy. And the strange cogs inside my mind interpret her words as You will feel good and do not have a say in this decision. Okay, all of this is not that unfamiliar to me.
She draws the back of the knife down my chest, between my boobs, and all the way down to my pubis.
"Don't move," she softly orders — no, asks. "You don't have to do anything today. Just relax."
She continues circling my body. She lifts my skirt, revealing my sweating groin, and slips the knife underneath my shirt. Its tip brushes the soft skin between my boobs. She tilts the knife up, menacing to puncture, but does not press.
My breath becomes short as a huge finger begins to caress my outer labia.
My shirt rolls up to my armpits, and while she begins circling on my clit, the pressure of the knife's tip increases. Before it can draw a bloody drop, it decreases, and then increases again, and diminishes right up in a repeating motion.
The threat of the knife plunging into me, in rhythm with the stimulation of my clit, brings conflicting feelings at the base of my belly. I softly begin to moan as the pleasure builds up.
She then flicks the knife down, tracing a red line between my breasts. I yelp in surprise, but the pain is a wonderful sensation that fills my brain with dopamine.
I tilt my head down to see my chest. Red droplets pearl along the cut, but do not drip, the cut being superficial. I begin to feel a warm feeling of fear birthing in me. I can't really outline it. On one side, I feel safe with Madam Kalista, she made sure of that. But she clearly isn't a softie. She can cut through my skin without hesitation.
I look up at her. She flips the knife in her hand with a trained hand play, just above my body. If she were to drop it, it would dive right into my chest.
"Oh my god, Madam, I'm... Please don't drop it!"
She leans toward my ear without stopping massaging my clitoris. "Embrace the fear, little bunny. This is what you asked for."
I pull my head back down on the table and close my eyes. Is it really what I asked for? This fear isn't unfamiliar, but coming from her it feels... odd. Different. As chills creep up my spine simply from thinking about her resuming her knife flips, I begin to realize something. Madam Kalista is not weak. She is gentle, considerate, even a bit delicate, but it's a choice. If things came to it, she could be as cruel as Lady Morr. Even more, maybe.
The cold contact of the knife on my chest startles me. It's just the flat of the blade. My skin tingles in pain as it is rubbed against the wound.
"Lick it." I open my eyes and see the bloody knife just in front of my face. "Careful. It is sharp."
I draw my tongue, and the metallic taste of my own blood fills my mouth when she makes contact. I move my head to lick it towards the tip, careful not to brush the edge. One flick of her wrist and my tongue would drop, cut clean. This thought doesn't leave me as I stare into Madam's stone-cold eyes.
Fuck fuck. Will she kill me? Torture me? For having been Lady Morr's salve?
I begin to shiver in panic. She would have every right to do so. It's not unusual, when an ork claims another's slave, to torture them to tame them, or to kill them out of spite.
She then stops caressing my clit and grabs my jaw. Hard.
Oh my gods. I'm so dead.
"Don't tremble."
Her grip holds my head in place as my tongue reaches the tip of the blade.
She withdraws both hands slowly, freeing me from that crippling fear.
But not for long. She pulls the knife closer to me again, resting it on my collarbone, edge so, so close to my neck. "Are you afraid?" she whispers.
I contain the urge to nod in fear to cut my own throat, and manage to articulate. "Y— Yes, Madam."
She leans in closer, lips almost touching my ear. "And do you like it?"
And then, in the moment of silence that follows, I realize that I do. I feel my clitoris throbbing, begging to be rubbed again. My breath is shortened by the anticipation of what's coming up next. My legs are gummy, my hands dumb. This... looks a lot like Lady Morr's punishments, actually. The form is different, but the feelings are similar.
"Very much, Madam. P— Please, don't stop."
I feel her mouth drawing in a large smile. "I never intended to stop."
She then comes to the far end of the table, between my legs, knife still pressed against my throat.
"Pull yourself closer, little bunny. Slowly."
The blade doesn't leave my neck. I draw myself to the edge of the table. A few times, I feel the blade pressing against my carotid, tensing the skin below it without cutting it. One wrong move from my part, one jerk of my body and I would bleed to death.
She stops my movement when my butt is at the edge of the table. She traces a finger down my chest, wetting it with my own blood. "You're mine, now." She then proceeds to draw a big bloody 'K' on my shaven pubis. "Say it."
Feeling her huge finger run across my underbelly fills me up with desire. I am at her mercy. Right now, I would do anything to please her.
"I am yours, Madam Kalista. Only yours." And I mean it.
She smiles again. "Good girl. Now, prepare yourself, because if you move, you'll get cut."
She ends this sentence with a low press of the knife against my throat. This isn't a threat, just a warning. But the danger is all the same. I have to behave as asked, or I'll pay a heavy price.
I feel something rub against my clit. It's huge, warm, and rod-shaped. Her dick. My pussy is already damp, but I feel it wet my thighs even further as my vagina's muscles clench in an anticipatory reflex.
Without a word, she brings the tip of her cock in front of my labia. Then slowly, progressively, she pushes inside.
Despite its size, it goes in without pain. It keeps growing inside, taking up more and more space, up to the point it pushes all my internal organs. The fact that I'm pinned down in place by the knife and forced to endure it, without any ropes or chains, is more pleasurable than any bondage I've ever been in.
I moan when it's finally fully in, bloating my stomach where the possessive 'K' is drawn.
"Remember, bunny. Don't move."
She pulls back a little and then thrusts. A jolt of pleasure shakes my whole body. I feel my neck pressing against the knife and thank all the gods that it didn't cut. That was a close call, I need to—
Another thrust. Sorrily unexpected. I yelp and jerk even harder. I'm really lucky that my carotid is intact.
And my mistress goes on. Each thrust pulls me closer to bleeding to death, and I'm amazed every time that I'm still alive. The fear —and let's be honest, the way Madam Kalista handles her gigantic dick with such precision without causing me any pain— spreads waves of pleasure into each of my limbs at every lunge.
"Don't come!" my mistress orders while increasing the speed of her thrusts. "If you cum now, you're dead!"
It's hard to obey her. I didn't sign up for edging, but it's just self-preservation at this point. The knife hasn't cut my skin yet, but I feel my neck scraping against its edge. Still, a ball of orgasmic pleasure births inside my belly, tugged by the cock that fucks me so deep.
I hear the breathing of my mistress becoming heavier as she fucks me hard now. I feel her coming closer and closer to orgasm, and wonder how I could handle such force without dying, the pressure of the blade too intense.
Her raspy voice comes to me again. "Nearly there! You c— You cum to the count of three!"
My hands and feet are shaking as I realize I will be able to cum very soon. But not yet, dammit!
"One!" she groans.
The ball of pleasure is ready to explode, throbbing like a balloon on the verge of popping. I moan all the more loudly.
"Two!"
The word is barely a grunt. Looks like she has a hard time holding it herself, and my moans begin to turn to screams.
"THREE!"
The knife instantly leaves my neck, and I feel the dull side of the blade barring my mouth. One ultimate thrust, and the ball inside me finally explodes, making me bite the metal as hard as I can. The wave of pleasure erupts and shakes my whole body, while my mistress roars, filling me up with her sperm, both hands gripping my hips to force her cock balls-deep inside me.
Everything goes white, then black, as the world only revolves around my pleasure for an instant. My mistress's hands are so strong, nearly crushing my hips. Her dick is so big, almost tearing up my pussy.
I hear a metallic clank when the knife finally leaves my mouth and drops on the table next to me. Madam Kalista falls onto me, dazed by her orgasm but still lucid enough not to crush me with her whole weight.
Her head rests next to mine, hand tangled in my hair. She whispers in a loving voice. "Good job, little bunny. You've been fantastic."
I stay there, breath still hitching from the threat of the gods-forsaken knife, and for a moment, she stays there with me.
After a minute —or an hour, I can't tell— she gets back up while kissing each inch of my body between my neck and my stomach. I feel that the daubed blood has dried.
I turn my head to her when she is fully standing, a dumb smile on my face — the only thanks I can give her in my state. She brings herself closer to me, leans over my face...
...and kisses my lips.
To my surprise, this feels natural. Even with the domination play, if we account for the consent, the gentle interaction, the lack of real order or threat on her part —only requests and warnings— and the hug at the end, a kiss does not feel out of place, on the contrary. But when I feel her huge, soft, wet, and warm lips against mine, I realize this is the first time I have ever been kissed on the lips by anybody.
"Are you alright?" she asks, smiling wide, as if she has been kissing her partner.
Still unable to talk, I nod and give her a thumb-up.
"Great. Now let's tend to this cut."
She leaves me here, on the table, while she fetches a kind of first-aid kit from a drawer. During this time, I reach for the blade resting beside me. I test its edge and... Wait, it's dull?
When Madam Kalista turns back, she sees my confused face. "Yeah, only the tip is sharp. I didn't want to really get your throat cut. I'd be a bad mistress if I did, right?"
This amazes me. She played with my mind. She might be even more dangerous than I suspected, if she could play with my fears just like that. I'm overjoyed to be in her power, both safe and vulnerable.
She draws a chair to sit while she unpacks the necessary tools to heal me. "You see," she explains while rubbing my chest with a clean cloth damped in soapy water, "you don't want to disinfect a wound with an alcoholic solution. Soap is enough. The alcohol would burn the edges of your wound and leave you a scar. You can use alcohol if you don't have clean water at hand, but it's a last resort."
I like that. I'm being tended to. I'm... like...
I'm happy.
Not more happy that when I was with Lady Morr. Nor less. Different happy.
I judged Madam Kalista's ways poorly because they were unknown to me, and I felt like it made her weaker —which I would despise— but she is strong. Gentle, but very dangerous.
Perhaps even more than Lady Morr.
I frown. Is it possible that someone even stronger than Lady Morr was hiding in the shadows? No wonder they were together for a time, they are very similar in some ways. But it's not surprising either that they split up. They're so different...
I still have a lot to learn about Madam Kalista, but I think I really like her. Hells, I'll end up loving her if every aspect of her is similar to what I witnessed today. I'm glad I don't have to choose between them, because I dread it would be a hard choice.
I look down at my dear mistress. She is focused on my wound, cleaning every trace of dried blood on my chest while mumbling to herself. "Precious little bunny..."
I can't wait to see what tomorrow holds.