by J G Jerome
She whispers, “I’m a whore, William.”
“I don’t care, Bernadette.” I frown at her. “Honestly, how many times have you taken a client in the last five years.”
She narrows her eyes, but her frown is fighting hard not to twist into a smile. “Two last night.”
I cock an eyebrow at her. “Really? Did you fuck them, or just beat the shit out of them?” I give her a little smirk.
She sighs, “Doesn’t matter. I’m still catering to their sexual needs for money.”
“Do you need the money, Bernadette?” I ask.
She shakes her head gently. “I never need to work a day again for the rest of eternity. However, I have to do something with my life. I grew up in a whorehouse, and I’ve been a whore most of my adult life. There are not a lot of other options open once you are on that path.”
“Didn’t you say you were a lawyer with your own practice? Besides, you’re more madame than whore, sweetheart.” I tell her, “Honestly, you’re more of a charity worker than anything else. You take them in. You help them with their troubles. You offer them a variety of methods to pay you back. The most lucrative just happens to be entertaining your party guests who pay the bills.” Bernadette doesn’t look impressed.
I hear a murmur to my left. “Not true. I earned more on the side than I do in the bed chamber.”
Bernadette reaches across my chest and lays a gentle hand on Viktorija’s head. “We’re not supposed to discuss those side jobs, Precious.”
Viktorija nuzzles Bernadette’s hand drowsily. She mutters, “Yes, Your Grace.”
Bernadette’s eyes go soft as Viktorija goes still. I just watch Bernadette and caress her back for a moment. She eventually redirects her attention away from her lover to look at me.
“I’m not a charity, William darling. I would have to beat the shit out a lot more masochists to be able to treat this as a charity. And before you say it, yes - lawyering is just another type of whoring,” she says.
She looks tired and sad. “I first started doing the dominatrix gig in the late 50s as the post-war standard of living started to become competitive - ‘keeping up with the Jones’ became a stressor. During that time, one of my ladies came to me in the middle of a tryst to tell me her client wanted her to beat him with a belt. She couldn’t do it, so I did. I learned more about the BDSM culture after that. That one client spread the word, and I rapidly became a professional Domme. I worked to get into the character for it, and it didn’t bother me for quite a while. It was something new after nearly one hundred fifty years in the business.”
She wipes the drool from her chin. “In the 80’s there was an uptick in clients wanting to be dominated as ‘high-powered business executive’ became a thing. Most of my subs were senior business execs - many worked for, or were competing with, strong women. I was so busy as a dominatrix that I barely had time to care for my people. I got tired of it. I suppose between two consenting, committed adults, it could be something different, but as a rental - it’s just so tawdry.” She smiles at me gently. “Viktorija told me how you said that to Valya. I thought it was perfect.” She pauses for a moment and the smile disappears. “My nature is to swim in lust; it’s food for my soul. Sensual pleasures make me feel alive...complete. The Domme gigs just leave me worn...exhausted.”
“I know that you’re probably not looking for me to solve this for you. Honestly, you don’t need my help, but maybe you don’t recognize the obvious answer.”
She closes her eyes, “Quit.”
I smirk. “I told you - you don’t need me to solve this.”
Bernadette smacks my chest lightly. She rolls her head up to rest her chin on my shoulder, her eyes inches from mine. “William, if things were different…” She shakes her head.
My voice drops low. “What would change if things were different, Bernadette?”
She just stares at me for a moment. Finally, she lays her head back down on my shoulder and closes her eyes. Her hand cups my neck and squeezes me as she releases a heavy sigh. Eventually she releases my neck and opens her eyes. “I need to check on my people. It was a tough night for all of us.”
I kiss her gently. “Get a hot shower first, sweetheart. It will help you relax.”
She grins. “I wouldn’t come cuddle you with all the sweat and muck from Domme sessions, sugar.”
I grin back. “Sugar, huh?”
Her smile brightens. “You’re that sweet, William darling.” She brushes her lips over mine. “I have to go, lover. We’ll talk after breakfast about our little project.” She starts to shimmy out from under Rebecca’s leg. I see a hand slide back off Bernadette’s hip as she props herself up on her arm.
I nod gently. “Of course, love.” She freezes and looks at me with pancake-sized eyes. “Don’t freak out, Bernadette. We’ve been lovers off-and-on for three years. Of all the ladies here, you were the first. At this point, you are my longest relationship and dearest friend. I would kill for you - repeatedly. I will comfort you when you are down. I’m here for you. Always.”
She smacks my chest. “Stop it, Will. If you make me cry, I swear I’ll wear clothes for the rest of your visit.”
I paste a scared look on my face. “No! Not that!”
She smacks my chest again. “Enough, William. I must go. After breakfast, darling.” With that, Bernadette rolls to her feet and jumps over Josie to land lightly on the floor. There’s not even a tremor in her ass, and I notice her hands are holding her ‘girls’ as she lands like a cat. She looks over her shoulder at me and winks. She pulls a floral print robe on as she walks out the door.
Rebecca raises her head and mutters. “Sleep, William.”
“Where is Marissa?” I ask.
Rebecca’s hand rises and points to the other side of Audrey. I feel silky hair glide along my left thigh, and then Marissa appears rubbing the sleep from her eyes. I crook a finger at her and point to the spot Bernadette just left. She smiles gently and squirms around to stand on the mattress and jumps off the end of the bed. Another firm-fleshed landing. She picks up a comforter and covers Rebecca, Audrey, and Viktorija before dragging the covers up Josie’s hip.
Viktorija sits up and slides out from under Audrey, so Marissa slides into her spot rather than trying to crawl over her larger wife without jostling her.
She tells me, “Scoot over, Will. I think Tori is coming back.” I blanch as I try to figure out how to do this without kicking all my ladies. I look at the chaise-lounge along the far wall. I turn back to Marissa and point at it. She nods, so I try to mimic the athletic feats of Bernadette and Marissa without falling on my face. I definitely land with a thud.
Marissa slides under my left arm as we walk over to the chaise or ‘fainting couch’. I sit in the corner, and Marissa crawls onto my lap. I wrap my right arm around her back and curl my left around her waist as I hear the toilet flush.
“Beloved, you don’t look like you got much sleep,” I observe.
She cuddles into my chest. “Did okay. Laying on your leg was more comfortable than I expected. Rebecca and Audrey were covering me. I think I’m the only one that had covers all night long. It’s just that I had nightmares towards morning.”
I nod, “That’s not unusual after combat. I had a couple of replays myself last night. That’s the only blessing of an adrenaline crash - it makes you sleep.” She cuddles closer. Viktorija emerges from the loo and looks at the empty spots on the bed. Marissa catches her arrival in peripheral vision. She turns to watch Viktorija. Marissa and I chuckle when Viktoria gives a cute little pout and looks around to find us. When she does, she smiles sleepily and starts marching towards us, snagging her robe on the way.
Viktoria wraps her robe around Marissa’s shoulders. Then she grabs the throw at the foot of the lounge and crawls up next to me. She tosses the throw over her legs and lays over into Marissa’s lap, wrapping her arms around my beautiful lover’s waist. Marissa strokes her hair, and Viktorija apparently drops off to sleep immediately. Mar
issa seems to draw comfort from caressing her.
“She’s so beautiful,” my hard-body lover observes.
I respond immediately, “So are you, Marissa.”
She smiles mildly. “I wanted to be held by you last night. I was upset about shooting those bastards, but the more upsetting part, the part that kept visiting my dreams, was the sight of you getting hit and flying across the room. Twice. I was so scared you wouldn’t get up - especially the second time when that guy tackled you into the wall and then punched you.”
I nod with my face in Marissa’s silky hair. “I got very lucky. The other bastard was nearly dead, and I had a firm grip on his neck. When Reddy ran into me, my hand curled around Yoren’s neck. When he pulled me back off the wall, that minimal grasp of Yoren pulled him with me. Reddy didn’t even stop to look; he just punched toward my head. Fortunately, Yoren’s head intercepted the fist. Then my beautiful wife pumped five rounds into his chest. That let me beat him. I actually had Josie bottle his soul. I was too woozy.”
Marissa snuggles a little. “I keep seeing it in slow motion. Jack shot Lorn and ran up to the stage as you shot Thug Two - I like that better than acknowledging he had a name.”
“Thug Two it is,” I agree.
Marissa says, “Jack kept looking for a shot at Yoren...er Thug One, but he was on you too fast. I couldn’t believe you just picked him up and ran him into the wall.”
“Still hurt like hell,” I interject.
Marissa says, “Jack lowered his pistol and looked to Darcie. He jumped off the stage, and Thug Two popped up before he hit the floor. He already punched at you before Jack started raising his weapon. I just remembered your last instruction. You were out of the way, so I kept shooting him until he fell. I couldn’t believe it when you put him in a guard.”
“I had to keep him close, so I could get the choker off him. I didn’t have enough left to get up and repeat the body-slam thing.”
Marissa says, “I think Jack got another round off. I remember seeing a flash of red off the back of his skull - like a graze maybe? As he was falling.”
I nod. “That wouldn’t surprise me. Jack’s a scary dude. The shot that killed Lorn was an amazing shot. That's a long distance for a standard pistol. I would have aimed at center of mass rather than the center of the forehead.”
Marissa murmurs, “I wanted to help you fight. I started to move toward the stairs. Audrey came with me, but Rebecca grabbed us both. She said, ‘Don’t you dare go up there. He’ll be worried about you and make a mistake.’ Josie said, ‘Do what he told you. Shoot from here.’ So that’s what I did.”
“Rebecca was right,” I confirm. “I’m grateful for the help you did give me.” I nuzzle her hair as I caress her hip with my right hand. My left arm lies across Viktorija’s shoulders. I look into the distance. “I just keep thinking of Feliz. From what she told me, she had been alive for three hundred and twenty-three years filled with pain and humiliation. She also said she made love once - only once in hundreds of years. Centuries of pain and only one experience of love. I can’t even imagine that.”
“Me either,” Marissa replies. “Even when I was struggling with Carla, I didn’t feel unloved. Apparently I was, but she made it feel like there was something there. The lack of empathy and a feeling like I was her lowest priority were what caused me to break up with her.” She sits upright in my lap. “Will, I miss her.” I nod. “Does that upset you?”
“No, beloved. It does not. You were with her for two years. I would be more worried if you didn’t.” I grin at my lover. “Besides, who are you with?”
Marissa kisses me passionately. When she releases my mouth she looks deep into my eyes. “You, William James. Always you. I’m counting on the exact opposite of Feliz’s life. Centuries swimming in the love of my man and our ladies.”
“Sounds fabulous, doesn’t it?” I say with a nod.
A little hum escapes Viktorija’s lips as she nods slightly. Marissa and I both chuckle.
There is a knock on the door. Clarice walks in, but keeps a hand on the door. She’s wearing cream colored silk pyjamas in a Chinese style, and her hair is down on her shoulders. She surveys the bed and then scans the room until she finds me. She walks over and kneels with a hand on my knee and Viktorija’s back.
She murmurs, “Please pardon the intrusion, Lord. The Mistress needs you.”
Viktorija sits up with a ‘hmm’ sound. Marissa hops off my lap as I ask, “Is there time to dress?”
Clarice says, “Yes, Lord. It’s not an emergency. She did bid me tell you ‘you’re clean enough.’ Although…” Clarice gives me an impish grin. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to get dirty.”
I tousle her hair and she squeals. “Child, you’re going to get some poor unwary man into trouble.”
She follows Marissa and I to the closet. Clarice says, “Not for much longer, Lord. If I can just hang on until my birthday, I’ll be legal. Then watch out!”
I tell Marissa, “Go back to bed, my love. I’ll be back shortly” Viktorija hugs her quickly and retrieves her robe from Marissa’s shoulders.
I pull on jeans, a t-shirt and boots. I reload my pistol and strap on weapons before I pull on my blazer.
Viktorija and I follow Clarice to Bernadette’s office.
I’m surprised to see the surviving elven maid tied in a classic ‘shrimp’ Shibari construct at the base of Beradette’s Desk. Rather than the gold dress she was wearing last night, she appears to be in a cotton shift. The ropes dig deeply into her flesh.
Serena is attending Bernadette in a fluffy pink fuzzy robe. I tell her, “Hello Serena. I haven’t seen you since we helped Vanessa. How have you been?”
Serena smiles wryly. “I’ve been pouting since I was supplanted as the mistress’ favorite playtoy.”
Viktorija pleads, “Please don’t be like that, Serena.”
Serena hugs her. “I’m not bitter anymore. I can see how much you love each other. I suspect she may not even argue the point.”
Bernadette says, “I don’t, Serena. That doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you, too.”
Serena says, “I know, Mistress. I’m just a jealous bitch at heart.”
Bernadette kisses the brunette passionately. When she releases Serena, she pulls me into a hug and kisses me. She says, “All this raw emotion is making me hungry.”
I hold her under against me as I point to the elf. “What does this signify?”
Bernadette says, “She is supposed to be a present from Valya to make up for the mess they caused last night.”
“Is that normal?” I ask. “Why would she do that? She seemed attached to this one more than Feliz.”
Bernadette is looking at the girl like a raptor about to lunch. Bernadette says, “I have my suspicions.” She shrugs and then smiles at me. “Let’s discuss what happened last night at breakfast. Candice is working to get breakfast ready in the dining room. For now, what shall we do with her?” She points at the elf. “I don’t want to question her until we can get her out of that predicament.”
I look at her with second sight. “I don’t see any glyphs - just the standard red demon aura,” I comment as I roll her hover. Her branded cheek doesn’t look right. It’s distorted.
I tell the elf, “Drop your glamour, miss.”
She yells something into her gag.
I pull my clip knife and reach for the gag. She flinches as I cut the cloth gag from her mouth.
“Stay away, human filth!” she exclaims. “I’m not a human lover like Feliz!”
I shake my head and touch her cheek where it doesn’t look right, which causes her scream.
27
Ilara’en
I implore the elf. “Please let me see what the problem is so we can relieve your pain.”
She sniffs as the glamour drops to reveal a being more beautiful than Feliz or Valya. She has the same svelte figure, longer ears, rich long chestnut hair, and luminous skin.
The flesh has been carved fr
om her face where the tattoo was. “Holy shit,” I mutter. “Let me heal that.”
The petite girl sobs. “You can’t. I have the same glyph Feliz had. It absorbs healing energy and channels it to my mistress.”
Bernadette scolds her. “I’m your mistress now.” In a gentler tone she adds, “I assume you mean Duchess Valeran.”
The elf nods.
I ask, “Where is the glyph? I don’t see anything.”
The elf answers. “It’s right above my clit. My mistr...Duchess Valeran likes to put them in the hairy parts of the body and the bottoms of your feet where people are less likely to find them.”
“Jeez,” I exclaim. “There is no limit to the depravity of these people! What’s your name, miss?”
She says, “Ilara’en.”
There is something strange about the way she puts the syllables together. I struggle to repeat it. “Ila-ra En?”
Bernadette corrects me gently, “It’s all one word, Will. ‘Ilara’en.’ Think of it as having two primary emphasized syllables.”
“Ilara’un”
Bernadette spells it. “I-l-a-r-a apostrophe e-n. ‘En’ like ‘Lauren,’ Lord.”
“Ilara’en,” I say. Ilara’en nods to confirm I have it approximately right.
“Ilara’en, I’m going to cut your bonds. Once that is done, you will strip and sit on the sofa. Clarice will give you a cloth to cover modesty. Once we’ve done that I will remove the glyph that prevents healing if I can. If it works, I’ll heal your face.”
Bernadette adds, “After that, Lord William will bind you to me.”
Ilara’en answers, “Yes, Mistress.” She looks at me as I cut the ropes. She says, “Lord, I have no modesty. I have been used by every male in house Valeran and its staff repeatedly. It will make this go faster if we skip worrying about my modesty.”
I massage Ilara’en’s joints to help get circulation back into them. She was bound dangerously tight. Once I’m satisfied that I’ve done what I can do, I help her to her feet. She is a little unsteady on her feet as she shrugs out of her shift.
