The Sea Witch: A Wicked Villains Novel

by Robert, Katee

  “Kneel facing Zurielle.”

  He hesitates for the briefest of moments and then turns to kneel before the bench Zurielle perches on. She’s got her hands braced on the leather now, her breasts shaking with each breath that escapes her parted lips.

  I walk to the dresser and peruse my lube collection before finally choosing one. Another dominance play, but I don’t bother to deny the urge. It’s especially rewarding when I turn around to find them staring at each other with their hearts in their eyes. No matter how angry she is, Zurielle still fancies herself in love with Alaric. As for what he feels for her… I suspect it’s distinctly more complicated than simple lust. Though, if one’s honest, they can admit there’s nothing simple about lust.

  Now all that remains is deciding whether I want to heal the growing thing between Zurielle and Alaric.

  Or if I want to shatter it beyond repair.

  Chapter 19

  Alaric

  I can’t take my eyes off Zuri. She’s riding that tentacle dildo in little circling strokes like she can’t help herself. Her bottom lip is particularly pink from her biting it so hard, and she’s digging her fingers into the leather of the bench.

  She’s looking at me.

  “I’m sorry.” I don’t mean to say it. I’m not even sure if I mean it, but why the fuck would I be blurting it out if I didn’t? The guilt that rises every time I think about what I did, the lies I told, demands addressing. Now isn’t the time for it, but apparently that doesn’t matter. “I’m sorry,” I repeat.

  Zuri inhales sharply. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “And I’m supposed to trust that?” Her breath is choppy with desire, but anger bleeds back into her eyes. “You hurt me.”

  “He’ll make it up to you.”

  I nearly startle. For once, I was so focused on Zuri that I didn’t even hear Ursa move from her spot next to the cabinet. She sifts her fingers through my hair and gives it a tug. “He apologized, darling. That’s step one.”

  “I don’t have to accept it,” Zuri mutters.

  “True enough.” Ursa uses her hold on my hair to half drag me the last foot to the bench. I close my eyes and let the stinging sensation roll through me. It took me all of a week in the Underworld to realize I’m a little pain slut, but it only feels like absolution under Ursa’s hands. She gives my hair one last tug before she releases me. As she moves down my body, she presses her fingers hard to my back. I don’t need to see her to know she’s tracing the bruises she made last night. “Would you like me to punish him, little Zurielle? Beat him until he’s sobbing out his apologies? I’ll do it and happily.”

  I stare at the floor, my breath coming too hard. Even I can’t tell if it’s dread or anticipation for Zuri’s answer.

  “That’s not what I want,” she finally whispers.

  “Then let’s put it behind us.” Ursa squeezes my ass. “Alaric will begin the second round of apologies now.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “You have permission to come as many times as you like, darling.”

  Ursa squeezes my ass again, her fingers digging into a sore spot there. “Not you, love. Balancing the scale is often uncomfortable.”

  I don’t comment on the fact that she’s not interested in balancing the scales. The guilt I feel is entirely my own, and I have to make my peace with that. Life would be a whole lot easier if I could carve out that part of myself, if I could see things in the same stark contrast Ursa does. Every problem she faces falls into one of two categories. If it helps her and her territory, or if it doesn’t. There was no good or bad or room for regret.

  Cool lube hits my ass and then Ursa starts working the strap-on into me in slow, teasing strokes. We’ve played with a variety of toys before, but the tentacle never stops feeling strange. Curved and textured and, fuck, okay, yeah, it feels good.

  “Are you forgetting your task, lover? Zuri’s clit looks neglected.”

  I surge forward and lick Zuri’s clit. She whimpers, and Ursa sinks another inch deeper into my ass, which only drives me on. I wish I could say I tease orgasm after orgasm out of Zuri, coaxing her into considering my apology. An artful, intentional seduction.

  It’s not the truth.

  I lick and suck and go after her pussy like a wild thing. With every inch Ursa sinks into me, filling me obscenely, another lock on my control snaps. Until there’s nothing left. I break down to my base parts, to pure need.

  Zuri cries out above me as she comes, but I’m not stopping. I’m not capable of stopping. It feels like frenzy. It feels like ascendance. It’s almost enough to ignore my own body’s desperate need. My cock is so hard, it’s painful, and every slow thrust of Ursa’s hips has her cock rubbing against parts of me that have me in danger of exploding. I press my forehead to Zuri’s stomach, panting. “Mistress, I’m close.”

  “Too bad. Hold.” Her fingertips press hard to my back, tracing my constellation of bruises. Little pinpricks of pain that light me up just as much as the way she fills me does. “Make her come again, lover. She’s so pretty when ecstasy overtakes her.”

  Another punishment here. Being denied the sight of Zuri coming stings exactly the way she intends it. A reminder that Ursa is the conductor of this scene. Zuri and I are merely her playthings, dealt and denied pleasure as she wills it.

  Zuri cries out over my head as she comes again. She’s slippery and soft against my mouth, her thighs surprisingly strong where I clasp her. Fuck, I could do this all day.

  Except I can’t. Because, damn it, I’m about to disobey Ursa’s order. I grit my teeth and try to muscle back the pleasure she deals in rolling waves. “Mistress, please.”

  “Not. Yet.” She pulls out of me so suddenly, I can’t help but cry out. Ursa slaps my ass. “On your back, Alaric.”

  The new position means I have to stop sucking on Zuri’s clit. I give her pussy one last kiss and then obey, easing onto my back on the floor. I watch Ursa divest herself of the strap-on and then she’s standing over me, gloriously naked. Her body is all curves and dips and soft and strong at the same time. I could spend hours worshiping her large breasts, her soft stomach, her muscled thighs and perfect pussy. I have. I will again.

  She flicks her locs over her shoulder. “Do you need a cock ring?”

  Probably, but admitting as much feels like admitting failure. “No, Mistress.”

  She arches her brows. “If you come before I give you permission, you’ll be punished. Are you sure?”

  Anticipation curls through me. I don’t get off on playing the brat, but there’s something addictive about pitting my will against Ursa’s. Testing. “Yes, Mistress. I’m sure.”

  She laughs, the sound curling through me in an almost physical way. Fuck, I love this woman. Something I haven’t admitted out loud, something I might walk back on when she’s not straddling me and sliding my aching cock into her tight pussy. Ursa sinks down slowly, her attention narrowed on my face. “You have little Zurielle all over your mouth.” She leans down and kisses me, pressing her body against mine. I should stay still, should submit, but I can’t help running my hands up her thighs and over her sides, desperate to touch as much of her as she’ll allow. Moments like these, I can’t believe how fucking lucky I am. I have this woman dominating me, this woman riding my cock, this woman naked and trusting my hands on her body.

  She grabs my hands and guides them up to the legs of the bench Zuri’s on. “Keep them here.”

  I grit my teeth as she rolls her hips, fighting against the pressure building in my balls. “Please, Mistress. I want to touch you.” I barely register that I’m begging. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is getting my hands back on her body.

  “No.” She presses her hands to my chest and begins to ride me. Her gaze tracks up to Zuri. “Come here, darling.”

  Zuri moans as she eases off the dildo and stands. I watch her take Ursa’s hand and let the other woman pull her closer. Ursa smiles up at her. “I don’t think Alaric got
near enough of you, little Zurielle. Give him another taste.”

  Oh fuck.

  I lie there as Ursa arranges Zuri to her liking, having her straddle my face, looking down my body. She sinks that last inch and then she’s close enough for me to kiss her pussy. Fuck, she tastes good. Too good. With her on my tongue and Ursa on my cock, I’m not going to last. I tense, fighting against my body, but it’s no use.

  I come hard, growling against Zuri’s clit. Ursa rides me in slow strokes even as I empty myself inside her. And then Zuri’s grinding down my mouth, her sweet voice hoarse. “Oh gods, oh gods, I’m going to go again.”

  “It’s all right, darling. I’ve got you.” A soft sound. A kiss. Ursa is kissing Zuri, and fuck if that doesn’t somehow make this so much better.

  I finally collapse the last inch onto the floor. “I’m sorry.”

  “You seem to be saying that a lot today, love.” Ursa climbs off me and then Zuri is lifted from my face. Ursa wraps her arms around the smaller woman and looks at me over her shoulder. Her dark eyes are kind even as her voice goes cold. “You’ve disappointed me, Alaric.”

  I lick my lips, tasting Zuri there. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

  “You will be.” She smiles down at me. “The table. Don’t make me wait.”

  This. This is what I need. I might not have intentionally sought it out, but Ursa’s always been able to read me better than most. I obey her command as she arranges Zuri on the couch—the only piece of normal furniture in the room—and drapes a throw blanket over her shoulders. It’s a shock of color, bright pink and orange and white and red, all thrown together in a busy pattern that’s purely Ursa. She presses a kiss to Zuri’s temple. “You’re still angry.”

  Zuri opens her mouth, seems to reconsider, and finally says, “It’s complicated.”

  “Love often is.” She ignores the other woman’s shocked look and walks toward me. The table I lie on is multi-purpose. It can be bent and shortened and there are straps on all four corners that can bind a person in place. Ursa taps my hip. “Do I need to tie you down?” Her tone suggests there’s only one right answer.

  I swallow hard. “No, Mistress.”

  She laughs. “We’ll see.” Ursa walks to her cabinet of many things and takes her time sorting through it. Anticipation and dread spiral through me, an intoxicating mix that I can’t get enough of. She turns around, a cane in her hand.

  My stomach drops. I crave canings the same way I crave so many other things she does to me, but this is a punishment and in my current position, there’s only so many spots she can safely beat me with a cane. “Mistress—”

  “Hush.” She traces the cane down the front of my body, lightly dragging it over my skin in a way that can only be perceived as a threat. “Last night, I flogged our Alaric.” It takes me a moment to realize she’s not speaking to me. She’s talking to Zuri. Ursa pauses to give my cock a light stroke with the cane. “I used a heavier flogger, which is why he’s bruised today, but it’s a tool designed to create a wide, dispersed pattern.” She taps my thigh. “This is a cane. It will deliver a deeper bruise, and a lot of Dominants like to stripe various parts of their submissives’ bodies. Anywhere meaty is safe enough.” She stops near the end of the table. “It’s particularly excruciating on the bottom of one’s feet.”

  Zuri’s voice is so soft, I can barely hear her response. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Alaric needs penance to get over feeling guilty about misrepresenting himself to you. You need him to suffer before you can forgive him.”

  “What makes you think this is how I want him to suffer?” I can’t see her because Ursa’s standing in the way, but she sounds incredulous.

  Ursa laughs. “Lie to yourself if you must, but don’t lie to me. He hurt you. I will hurt him in return. It balances things out nicely, don’t you think?”

  “I’m not going to forgive him just because you beat him.”

  “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” That’s all the warning I get before she brings the cane across the bottom of my foot. There’s a beat almost like shock and then pain bows my back and I groan. Even though I trust Ursa not to do true damage to me, caning the bottom of the feet is agonizing. She stripes down my left foot before moving to the right.

  I stop worrying about not deserving Zuri’s forgiveness. I stop worrying about what the future will bring for me and Ursa. The pain washes everything away, leaving me to float in a curious numbness that always comes once a pain-based scene reaches a certain point. This is what I crave. I sink into it gratefully, wholeheartedly.

  Awareness of the room comes back in waves. Ursa standing at my feet, idly rubbing her thumbs over the cane stripes, her expression hot enough to make my body respond on instinct. I start to sit up, but she presses her nail to the arch of my foot. A tiny pain, but enough to make me remember myself.

  Zuri?

  She’s sitting exactly where Ursa left her, tears running down her face. Tears…for me?

  Maybe she does still care, after all.

  Chapter 20

  Zurielle

  Forgiveness isn’t a simple thing. It’s fluid and imprecise and often beyond me. But then, I’ve never been in a position where my forgiveness was required for something more serious than a petty fight with one of my sisters. Growing up as the youngest of five meant that I was constantly being railroaded by my older sisters. If I had something they wanted, it ceased to be mine and became theirs instead. Sometimes one of the many nannies we went through during my childhood would step in. Giving forgiveness in those cases was easy. No matter how we fight, I love my sisters.

  Maybe it really is that easy this time, too.

  I thought my feelings were simple once I learned the truth. Now I’m not so sure.

  I stare down at Alaric laid out naked on the table. A fine sheen of sweat covers his skin and he’s panting as if he just ran a long distance. What Ursa did hurt him, but there’s no denying he liked it. I’ve never seen his expression so relaxed as it is now.

  Not to mention his cock. It’s hard and curved against his stomach, and has been since the first strike.

  “What are you thinking, darling?”

  I drag my gaze away from Alaric and look at Ursa. She’s fastened her locs at the top of her head, keeping them out of her way, and the hairstyle leaves her gorgeous face on full display. I could spend hours kneeling at her feet, just looking at her. She’s worn clothes most of the time we’ve been together, and it feels like this is the first time I’m really getting to appreciate her fully.

  She’s extremely curvy. Breasts and hips and ass and thighs, her stomach soft in a way that makes me fist my hands to keep from reaching for her. Her medium-brown skin glistens with sweat, but I get the impression that she could spend all night beating Alaric without pause. That’s how strong she is. Something deep inside me quivers at the thought of having all the formidable dominance directed at me while she holds a method of delivering pain in her hand.

  Ursa chuckles a little. “I asked you a question, Zurielle.”

  I clear my throat, my gaze dropping to her breasts before I force myself to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mistress. I can’t remember the question.”

  She laughs again. “I suppose I can’t be too mad since it’s the sight of me that gave you temporary amnesia.”

  “You’re beautiful.” I’m not supposed to speak out of turn, but I find I can’t go another minute without telling her exactly how much I want her. “I would like to make you come again.”

  Her lips curve. “I know. And you will.” She snaps her fingers. “Now. What were you thinking while you watched me beat Alaric?”

  I don’t want to answer. I really don’t. But the glint in her dark eyes tells me that she won’t allow me to change the subject or dodge the question. I pull the blanket more firmly around my shoulders and stare at the floor. “I was thinking that there are a multitude of sins I will forgive a person if I love them.” It feels like she’s ripped open a deep wo
und, and I can’t help finishing bitterly. “It seems to be a character flaw of mine.”

  “Is it?”

  I can hear Ursa moving, but I only get a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye. I swallow hard. “Yes, Mistress. It’s impossible to see it as anything but that.”

  “Darling, you’re hurt and looking at this through a bitter shade of glass.” She stops next to me and sifts her fingers through my hair. I close my eyes, my body relaxing into her touch even as I wonder when it became such an instant response for me. Ursa keeps stroking me. “You’re soft. Others might see that as a sin, but it’s not. It’s an asset. Cling to that as long as you possibly can, because you’ll lose part of yourself when you let the world make you hard.”

  I don’t mean to argue, but then I don’t mean to do a lot of things where this woman is concerned. “How can you say that? You run your own territory. You have to be hard in order to accomplish what you have.”

  “Do I?” She tugs my hair until I look up at her. Gods, the way she looks at me. Like I’m a present wrapped up just for her. Like I truly am hers. “You haven’t been paying close enough attention.” She gives my hair one last tug and releases me. Ursa walks to the table and urges a still-dazed Alaric up. She kisses him, deep and thorough, and leans back. “You’re forgiven, lover. Don’t disappoint me again.”

  “I won’t, Mistress.”

  She helps him ease off the table, and I don’t miss the cruel little edge to her smile as he winces with each step. Ursa eases him down next to me and pulls another brightly colored blanket out from the basket next to the couch. She drapes it around Alaric’s shoulders. “Scoot.”

  We instantly obey, parting like the Red Sea to allow her a spot between us. She settles down onto the couch in the vacated space and draws us back to her. Ursa tucks me under her arm and guides Alaric down to lay his head on her thigh.