Fan Fiction ❯ Principle of Lust ❯ Roles ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

I can't help it.

Glass of wine in one hand, staring at the fireplace, a bored
expression on my face, I probably look the picture of discon-
tent. And so I should. I haven't been happy for a year, not as
happy as I was. There were times when I was distracted, sure,
and there was about a month previous to now where I didn't
think about what happened. But tonight, it all came crashing
down as soon as this girl came into my room.

She looks amazingly like Her, I think, yet... different, some-
how, moving my focus from the obnoxiously cheery fire to the
girl situated between my legs. She was the latest "offering" from
the town I... I won't say run, but sort of preside over. She cer-
tainly has my previous lover's skill with her tongue, a natural
talent my more carnal side is relishing even as the rest of me
mopes. I suppose, given my nature, such is to be expected.

She looks like the child my lover wanted to have.

Now that my work is complete, I could have given that
child to Her. But of course, it's very hard to impregnate the
dead. Not impossible, as what is one mockery of life without
another? But the thought sickens me.

Since she looks like Her anyway, I decide to expedite this
nightly ritual. I set down the wine glass and rest both arms on
the armrests, close my eyes, and slip into a light meditative
trance. It's a trick I've learned, a sort of autohypnosis. If I want
to believe something, it's relatively simple to convince myself,

---

at least for a little while. I mentally block out the memories of
the past year, Her death, and try convincing myself that she is
Her.

At the same time, the girl somehow does something with
her tongue that She knew how to do, a technique She used to
undo me time and time again, and the reaction is immediate.
My nails dig into the leather and my back arches, then bows as
I come, hard, feeling my juices gush out of me. I'm probably
smothering this girl, but I feel too good to really pay attention to
it. Even mid-orgasm, she seems to know what she's doing, pro-
longing the stimulation while not overdoing it.

I begin to come down from my peak, and she continues to
soothe my satiated body, planting light kisses and ghostly licks
along my inner thighs. After a while, seemingly able to tell
when my legendarily short refractory period is over, she begins
lapping at my core again, cleaning me. Her breath against my
clitoris not only re-arouses me in what for a normal person
would be an absurdly short time, but it tells me that she really
couldn't breathe when I came. I probably stopped her breathing
for a good twenty seconds, and a slight pang of guilt strikes me.

I'm primed for more, but I feel for the first time in months
for something other than just receiving. I sit up, brush the cur-
tain of magenta hair out of my face, and tilt the girl's chin up to
look up at me, and I can just see my eyes glazing over as she
drags her tongue up my slit in the process.

---

"Am I pleasing Mistress?" The girl says. She sounds so very
pure, despite being covered in the results of her attention on
me.

"Oh, yes, you're definitely pleasing Mistress." I say. I refrain
from using her name; I've only ever called one of my girls by
their name, and She is the reason I'm in this depression. "But I
want something a little different this time."

"Yes, Mistress. What does Mistress wish of Althea?"

I began requiring that my girls use the third person when
addressing me and themselves in my presence. It feels a little
more impersonal, a little more distant, which was necessary at
the time. It's sort of archaic as a rule, and I've haven't felt the
need to severely punish anyone for speaking out of style in
months, but I never bothered to rescind it.

"Mistress..." I begin, drawing out the sentence by getting to
my feet and prompting her to do the same by putting subtle
pressure below her chin. "...would like to reciprocate."

Althea's eyes go wide. "Y...Mistress would do that?"

I mentally smirk at the speed at which she caught herself.
Normally it takes a few days to get fully used to the third person
style of speech, and I have to punish the infraction. Lightly, of
course, as all rules that should be rescinded are. A part of me
feels disappointment at being denied this, but then, my idea of

---

the next hour or so will probably feel like torture to her after a
while.

"My needs sometimes go beyond that of simply receiving
pleasure. This is one of those times."

"O-of course, Mistress. Althea will do whatever Mistress de-
sires."

"I know you will." A pause, then: "You're the newest addi-
tion." It wasn't a question, but she confirmed it with a nod
anyway.

I quell the movement with less-subtle pressure under the
chin, and she looks suitably abashed at presuming. I reassure
the doubt I see in her eyes with a calming look of my own.
"This is how the next several hours will work. Until dawn, you
are considered almost my equal. From now until then, you may
act as if you are not Mine. If you are not comfortable with any-
thing I do, tell me. If there is something you want, ask. You will
find that I will be most accommodating." I pause to see if this is
sinking in. It is, mostly. "You have a question?"

"Should Althea still address Mistress as such?"

"Only if you still wish to. In fact, you may dispose of the
formal speaking convention as well, if you wish."

---

"T-thank you, Mistress. I still prefer to call you Mistress, but
that way of speaking is awkward..." A slight wince tells me that
she feels like she may have crossed a line.

"Don't worry. I find it awkward as well, now that its original
purpose has been fulfilled."

She looks like she wants to ask me what that purpose was.
None of my girls know, or at least have explicitly been told, the
reason behind the change, and it's a subject I am loathe to
bring up. She already feels as if she is treading on thin ice, and I
wouldn't want to jeopardize her fragile ego at this point by in-
evitably reacting the way I always do when the subject is
broached. To derail her train of thought, I simply lean forward
and kiss her.

The girls' desserts must have had a strawberry base, I think
as I taste her in combination with my own juices. The sweetness
still lingering on her tongue, the tang of my own pleasure, and
the residual slight bitterness of the red wine in my own mouth
seem to complement each other perfectly. I slide the hand that
was under her chin along her jawline to her ear, brush her sea-
colored hair back behind her ear, and cup the side of her neck.
She doesn't move, herself, but she does return the kiss hesi-
tantly.

After a few moments, I break the kiss and look down at her.
I can just feel her small frame humming with pleasure, feel the
increasing tempo of her pulse under my hand. I smile warmly at

---

her, the first smile I've felt like giving in a long time. "Are you
normally this passive?"

She licks her lips and swallows before answering. "I... no,
not normally, but then, this is an extraordinary situation."

My smile widens at the response; something in that state-
ment strikes me as amusing. "You're still worrying about what
limits remain." She visibly hesitates, then nods once. "Don't. Do
whatever your heart tells you to do. For now, your pleasure is
my pleasure."

She nods again, and I move in for another kiss. This time
she returns it with her whole body, taking a half-step forward,
pressing our chests together, and wrapping her arms around me.
The unexpected feeling of being loved that this gesture evokes
in me nearly brings me to tears. I haven't been held like this in
so long...

I break the kiss long enough to say "Bed," and plunge back
in as the two of us move toward the large four-poster on the
other side of the room.

Whatever part of my mind not occupied with kissing Althea
is occupied with navigating the room mostly by touch. My bare
feet eventually move from the large bearskin rug by the fire to
the cold stone floor, the sudden shock of sensation only adding
to my pleasure. Since the chair I had been sitting in is between
the bed and the fireplace, facing the fire, I am moving back-

---

wards, and trust that I am angling myself in such a way as to
hit--

The backs of my knees finally reach the bed. The exquisite
kiss we shared on the way here -- how did she learn to kiss like
that? -- is broken once more as I bend down slightly, hook my
arm under her knees, and literally sweep her off her feet. The
sudden movement elicits a squeal from her, surprise melting
into joy at being held in this way. She wraps one arm across my
back and grabs hold of my opposite shoulder for stability, then
begins nuzzling my neck. A throaty purr escapes me, no doubt
felt intimately by her lips, as I move to place her on the bed,
only stopping because I realize she would be upside-down.

I walk around the bed to the opposite side and deposit her
on top of the covers, another, more processed animal skin com-
forter being the top layer. She sinks into the soft fur, dark grey
contrasting with her pale skin, glowing orange in the firelight. I
begin taking off the blouse that remained, even during Althea's
initial ministrations, when I realize that it's already completely
unbuttoned and indeed, half off of me anyway. I begin wonder-
ing when that happened, but immediately decide it's not worth
the distraction and simply finish taking the garment off.

Now as nude as she is, I climb into the bed and on top of
her. She moves to wrap herself around me again, but now that
my arousal is reaching a critical mass, my dominant nature is
coming out more forcefully. I capture her wrists in my hands
and hold her arms above her head, covering her mouth with

---

mine. Despite being under me in most ways possible, she re-
turns the kiss as if she were the one on top.

I've had enough of kissing. Now is the time to send this girl
to the heavens.

A snap of my fingers and soft silk bindings trap her arms in
their current position. She jumps at the development, but I
don't think she's altogether averse to it. I move to her ear, whis-
pering "If you don't want this, just say so." before capturing the
lobe between my teeth.

Her back arches under me, stomach muscles quivering, and
she moans into my own ear. "If my pleasure is your pleasure,
Mistress, your pleasure is my pleasure."

What is it about this girl's comments that inflame my pas-
sions so readily? I feel a rush of arousal wash over me, and re-
ward the girl with a slow, sensuous lick behind her ear. I begin
my descent down her body, and she moves into me as well as
her position allows as I do.

Apparently the girl's breasts are more sensitive than normal,
judging by her reaction to my mouth on her. Her moans are al-
ready loud enough to echo off the high stone ceiling and walls,
subtle reverberation surrounding us with the proof of her de-
light. I decide to change plans and stop moving downwards, in-
stead letting my hand continue where my mouth stopped. I
move onto the bed so my hand is in a less awkward position,
and change breasts randomly, switching equally unpredictably

---

from kissing, suckling, licking, nuzzling, nipping... anything I
can think of to widen the range of stimulation she feels.

My hand reaches her thighs, and coaxes them open with
the lightest of touches, fingernails just barely scratching the
skin. Her gasps and moans are heady, more intoxicating than
the wine, and I feel myself becoming lightheaded. My hand
moves back up and I reach her core, dragging the backs of my
nails up the slit. My, she's already wet, extremely so, and so it's
relatively easy to slip inside her with a finger. For obvious rea-
sons, none of my girls are virgins, though she is as tight as one,
to be sure. My fingers slowly slide in and out of her, almost laz-
ily, drawing out her pleasure.

Her vocal appreciation of my efforts sound nearly hysterical
by now. Her head is whipping back and forth, hips grinding
into my hand as I -- again, without notice or pattern -- brush up
against her swollen clitoris with my thumb. Each time, this re-
sults in a rather forceful buck of her hips, which slides my fin-
gers deeper into her, which prompts her inner muscles to at-
tempt to crush the digits within. Each time, I stop to allow her a
little time to acclimatise to the new plateau of pleasure, and
then start the process all over again.

I look up from my suckling. Tears are in her eyes, open and
staring, unseeing, at the ceiling, before squeezing themselves
shut. The rest of her face follows suit, screwing up in concentra-
tion as she lets out a keen of abject frustration. It's been almost
forty minutes since I bound her arms... I think she's suffered
enough by now.

---

I continue my slow torture of her centre, but stop paying at-
tention to her breasts as I move up to her head. I don't kiss her,
just hover over her face, inches away. "Look into my eyes." I say,
using the Voice.

Her expression clears and I hold her vision, despite her be-
ginning to hyperventilate. "When I say the word 'release', you
are going to orgasm." I Command her.

She doesn't react to this, but then, that is expected.

Satisfied that my suggestion has taken hold, I release her
gaze and move back down, capturing her nipple in my mouth
again. My hand still hasn't stopped its maddening torture. I
stoke her fire a little more, then without warning, snap my head
up, capture her gaze again and Command "Release."

The effect is immediate. She bucks into my hips hard
enough to lift herself a good six inches off the bed. She screams
out in wordless rapture, rhythmically clamping down onto my
fingers. I prolong the pleasure by thrusting during each contrac-
tion, intensifying the experience. All the while, her eyes are in-
extricably held by mine.

Her orgasm lasted at least as long as mine did before, and
probably longer. When it finally decided to give out, so did she,
collapsing onto the bed and, it seems, passing out. Her breath is
coming in very rapid gasps, great lungfuls of air still not enough
to satiate her overexerted muscles.

---

Oh dear. I think. I may have gone too far.

I try and put out the fire that is probably still blazing in her
nervous system, kissing my way down her stomach and mirror-
ing her earlier attentions, more or less cleaning her and calming
her down.

A slight moan from above alerts me to her return among the
living, and I smile as I look up at her. "Did you enjoy that?"

"I-I think I did. I kind of blacked out."

"Mm, I saw that."

"I do feel really good right now..." Her head lolls to the side
and her eyes flutter closed.

"Good." I give her another slow lick, prompting a sigh from
her, and then move back up, releasing her binds with another
snap of my fingers. Her arms move to her sides, still mostly
splayed on the bed, as I insinuate myself up against her side.

"You're probably in need of release now, aren't you?" She
says without moving her head, dreamily, as if she's only semi-
conscious.

"Yes, but you seem in no condition to continue." I say, sa-
voring her taste on my tongue and sucking the rest of her juices
off of my fingers.

---

"No... no, I'm fine." She visibly rallies her strength and
opens her eyes, steadying herself with a few breaths.

She rolls over, our relative positions rolling me onto my
back in the process, and straddles me like I did her. I become
passive and allow her to do what she wants.
Like I did, she holds my arms above her head and kisses me.
The kiss is slow, smouldering, and passionate, but she still
kisses like I'm the servant and she's the Mistress. Amazing, the
spirit of this girl.

A snap of her fingers, and my eyes fly open. I test my arms:
bound, like hers were. "How..."

She looks up, surprised herself at what she has done. "I... I
don't know. It just... felt right."

"You have the Gift?"

"I didn't know it myself, Mistress."

She moves back in to kiss me, and soon, the surprise of be-
ing bound is fading and the pleasure derived from it grows.
Again, as if she could reach into my mind and pull out what she
wanted to know, she moves up to my ear and whispers "If you
don't want this, just say so."

The only reply I can give is a deep moan.

---

She takes that as assent, and begins kissing herself down my
body, not stopping at my chest the way I did. She slides her
arms under my knees and lifts them up, draping my legs over
her shoulders, and begins licking me again.

She is not occupied with drawing out my pleasure. She
doesn't want to tiptoe right to the edge of orgasm and deny me
again and again. She is taking the path of least resistance, and
my overwrought body thanks her.

Her fingers curl inside me, hitting that spot that makes me
see stars. Her tongue drags itself across my clitoris in slow but
incredibly forceful strokes. The earlier plateau of pure arousal
without physical pleasure I sustained during her long torture is
further adding fuel to the fire. Were my time-sense not com-
pletely useless, I would probably tell you that I only lasted
about five minutes, maybe less; My orgasm wasn't long in wait-
ing, and I loudly proclaim my appreciation at the speed of the
thing as it strikes me.

I expect her to guide me down like she did before, but she
doesn't. She continues on her blistering pace, pleasuring me
right through what should have been a refractory period, and I
launch into a double-orgasm unexpectedly. My cries are louder,
longer and higher, and if I were any stronger, I would probably
have broken her back, the way my heels are digging into it, try-
ing to increase the pressure of her head against my folds.

---

The second orgasm seems to go on forever, and when it
ends, I collapse, exhausted, but not quite as spent as she is. She
moves up and kisses me one last time, searing me with the feel-
ing behind it, for all it was soft and tender. "Is Mistress happy?"
She says, mumbling against my lips before capturing them
again.

"Mm..." I reply, and the kiss deepens slightly in apprecia-
tion.

I try to move my arms down, not wanting to spend any
more energy than that required to drape the limbs across her
back, and realize I'm still bound. I command the bonds to untie
me, and they refuse me. "Mm." I try to get her attention.

She pulls back and looks at me. I look up, and she follows
my line of sight, visibly jumping as she remembered what she
did to me. "Oh! Sorry, Mistress..." She snaps her fingers and the
bonds retreat again, freeing me.

I sigh contentedly as blood begins flowing more freely in
my arms, making them feel warm and heavy, like the rest of me.
I follow through with my original idea, embracing her lightly in
my arms, and then will the covers to split and reform above us,
which they do.

"Thank you, Mistress, for this." She mumbles sleepily into
my chest, where her head is resting.

---

"You're welcome, Althea." I reply. Even now, it seems im-
proper to actually return her thanks with thanks of my own, for
all she deserves it.

I can feel her breathing even out, and I close my eyes, fol-
lowing right behind her in falling asleep.

For the first time in a long while, I don't wake up scream-
ing.

---