Angel Demons

A girl, incontinent.

The woman heard the door creak on its hinges.

Pivoting on her heels, she turned to see who entered, her heart racing in sudden anticipation.

It was the girl -- naked, oiled.

Her hand clutched a black riding crop against her breastbone. The bleak february light sparkled off the jewel dangling from her tit.

The girl took only two, three steps, before sinking to her knees on the marble floor, sliding forward on her elbows until her brow touched the stone. Her ass rose high; her shining curls spread around her head like a fan.

"My treacherous slut," the woman whispered.

She walked closer, reaching down to touch the girl's creamy skin, tracing it with her fingernails. The bruises of their last, almost forgotten flogging session had become faint bluish traces, like shadowy veins in ancient marble. She delighted in the smooth, soft yielding of the flesh -- and in the girl's moans as she intensified the probing.

"Please rise," she whispered. "I need to see your jewel."

The girl rose hesitantly, presenting her chest by pushing back her shoulders. There was a deepening blush on her cheeks and throat.

Her eyes turned away.

The woman watched her and frowned. Then she touched the lily, dangling from a stiffened nipple. She pulled on it, making the girl lean forward to alleviate the stretching.

Looking closer, she noticed a telltale tiny gap where the ring closed -- slightly askew. She looked up, catching the girl's gaze right before it tried to escape.

"You removed it," she said, "you cut it and removed it." It was not a question. Tears welled up from the girl's eyes.

"I'm sorry, I...," she mumbled.

"You didn't want your lover to see it," the woman said, not sounding angry, but coldly accurate. "You were ashamed of... us."

Misery bled from the girl's eyes.

The woman took her jaw in the vice of her thumb and fingers, demanding attention.

"And you'd never have told me," she went on, "if I hadn't found out." Not able to look away, the girl's eyes closed.

"Forgive me," she said, her lips fighting the fingers' pressure. "I am weak. I'm not worthy."

The slap rang against the vaulted ceiling.

"Leave the judging to me, slut," the woman said, repeating the slap with her backhand. "And the punishment."

She took a step back; the girl stood with sagged shoulders.

"So, you forgot already what it stands for," the woman went on. "I wonder, honey -- did you ever understand?"

The girl shrunk further; her fingers traced her face where the hand had struck.

"That I'm yours?" she murmured. Her eyes wandered off.

"Were you ever?" the woman asked. The girl kept silent.

"You still don't know." Again, it was not a question.

Another silence lingered.

"Look at me, girl."

The chocolate eyes looked up -- hesitantly. The woman suppressed her impatience, knowing it was her main flaw. She forced a smile to her lips.

"It's a hard question, I guess," she said. "Maybe too hard."

"It..." the girl started. "It is so difficult to explain. I was determined to be yours. On the day you gave me this," she went on, looking down to her pierced nipple, "I would have cried

YES!"

Her face glowed with sudden passion; her hands grabbed the woman's, holding them.

"Yes," she repeated. "I was all yours then. It is always like that; I didn't need to think. I just..." Her voice faded into a mere whisper.

"You just?" the woman asked, holding her breath. The brown eyes returned, eyebrows rising into little desperate steeples.

"I just... ," she said, sighing. "Everybody leaves me. My girlfriend dumped me. And then the blond woman in New York...

"Nobody wants me. I'm so alone."

"I got scared," she went on after a pause. "I always do. I lay on my bed at home, feeling the numbness of my bruises, the lingering pain of our... sessions. And the exhaustion of my orgasms...

"When darkness falls, my demons gather around me. You know of my demons. They're mocking me, scolding me... telling me I betray them, that I should be ashamed of myself, scaring my certainties away. They leave me confused, worthless.

"On my own... I'm lost."

The woman waited for her to proceed, saying nothing. She ached to hug the girl, imagining her struggle. She also wanted to slap her hard for her insensitive words.

"And then," the girl said, looking up, blushing fiercely, "I decided to go to New York... again."

The name hung between them, untouched.

"I didn't phone or make an appointment. I also didn't think how it might hurt you. I... I guess I'm like that... insensitive -- so full of myself.

"I'm sorry."

"Stuff the damn sorry's," the woman growled through clenched teeth. "Get on with it; what happened?"

The girl's eyes were everywhere but on the woman's.

"I... I removed the lily. I'm so..."

The woman cried out, stomping her foot.

"One more sorry, you slut, and I'll

kill

you! I promise I'll kill you!"

The outburst made the girl cringe, raising her hands before her face. Then she resumed her story.

"Anyway," she said, "it was of no use. I still feel so ashamed of the way I threw myself at her the moment we met again -- surprising her at work.

"It was all a... mistake... such a shameful mistake."

A blush spread on her chest, clawing at her throat.

"She said all the nice things to let me down. She really is a sweet woman, you know? She said she liked me a lot and that what we had was special, she'd never forget it, but she wasn't into that and blabla bla...

"Oh god, I could have sunk through the floor!"

Her lips started to tremble and a new flood of tears sprang from her eyes.

The woman watched her; then she said, in a level, unemotional voice: "And then, after you were all cried out, you considered returning to good old push-over me.

"Anything better than being alone."

The girl wiped her eyes with an angry, backhanded swipe.

"You're right, of course," she said, trying a forced, trembling smile. "I guess I should leave."

"Maybe yes," the woman agreed, but she stopped the girl when she turned to go -- feeling another hint of déja-vue.

"Before you go," she said, leaning in, "please answer me. Why did you come back here in the first place? Why bother to get over here, naked, freshly shaved and oiled?

"Just to tell me 'you don't know' and then run off again?"

There was steel in her voice as their eyes met and locked.

"Why did you think I'd take you back?" she then urged. "Because I wouldn't remember what you said; or notice what you did?"

The girl's irises danced in the whites of her eyes; her head slowly shook in denial.

"No?" the woman asked. "Oh, but yes. I'm just your second-hand choice, aren't I? Until the next New York or Italian miracle comes along."

The girl looked utterly lost; she turned left and right, her thighs pressed together.

"Do you need to piss, girl?" the woman asked, suddenly grinning. The girl looked away, her head a pink light bulb.

"I... I don't know what to say," she then mumbled, both hands sliding between her thighs. "If I say I'm unworthy, you hit me. If I say: 'I don't know,' you scold me.

"I just want you to take my confusion away, my weakness, my demons... I... I just can't do it by myself."

The woman kept staring at her.

"You sure must be desperate," she finally said.

The girl didn't answer; she churned her thighs around her pressing hands.

"Don't dare lose a drop," the woman added.

The next minutes of silence must have been hell for the girl. The woman just looked on, watching the waves of painful need washing over the girl's face. She now danced on her feet to force back the urge, catching the drops with her hands -- praying the woman wouldn't notice.

The woman smiled, watching.

"So, you want me to take you back?" she finally said.

"Please," the girl begged. The woman wondered if it was an answer to the question or a plea to let her go and relief herself.

"Honey," she went on. "You remember when I told you I can only train girls who love me?" The girl nodded, her face grimacing from her ordeal.

"Well, you obviously don't love me. Not like you love your New York girlfriend," the woman said.

The girl started crying, but maybe that also was because a new wave of painful need hit her.

"All the girls I trained loved me, you know?" the woman went on. "You obviously think you can get a free ride -- have me relief you of your hang ups and get a nice string of orgasms into the bargain?

"Not going to happen."

"Please?" the girl asked again, dancing, feeling a small, treacherous rivulet running down her thigh.

The woman turned away from her. The scent of urine made her nostrils flare.

"Go to the toilet, slut," she said.

***

A girl, breathless.

When she returned, the woman had retired to her club chair near the fire.

The girl walked to the center of the room, where she stood, changing the weight from one foot to the other and back again. The woman ignored her, reading a magazine.

When the girl cleared her throat, she looked up.

"I thought you'd left," she said.

"I... I'm begging," the girl answered.

She nervously brushed hair from her eyes.

"Begging?" the woman said, immediately hating the brainless repetition. "For what, honey?" The added endearment seemed to ease the girl's nerves.

"To be forgiven," she said.

The woman looked at her in silence, her gaze travelling up and down the naked body.

"Why are you still standing?" she finally said. Her voice was cold, so were her eyes.

The girl stuttered a few unconnected syllables. Then she sunk to her knees, sliding forward in her required position -- ass up, brow to the floor. She heard the woman's heeled mules clicking closer before she felt a kick to her side.

"Are you a mean bitch, slut?" the woman said. "Or are you just a stupid girl who assumes I'm stupid too?"

The girl moaned when a second kick hit her.

"But I thought..." she started, only to earn a third kick.

"Never use the word 'but' with me again -- never ever. And for heaven's sake stop thinking!" The woman bent low to reach her ear. "Thinking is what gets you in trouble, girl."

A hand grabbed the girl's hair, pulling her up, painfully.

"Instead, eat my cunt, slut, so you know what you're really good for."

She pulled her face into her soft, silk-covered crotch.

As always, the shock left the girl helpless.

Her hands fumbled at the robe, opening it to search for the bare slit. She pressed her lips against it, extending her tongue to find the hidden clit.

Hands on the back of her head pulled her into the naked flesh, smearing her face up and down on it. There was heat and moisture. There was also a wave of sudden comfort -- of... relief...

She licked and suckled the pink insides, her nose rubbing the nub right on top. An intoxicating cloud of musk and perfume took her in.

The woman came within a few minutes; she must have been very aroused already, pouring rude and humiliating qualifications on the girl's bobbing head. She called her a backstabbing bitch and a cunt and a slut before crying out her name when the orgasm hit her.

At last she fell back into the chair, out of breath -- urging the girl to clean her up.

"Good slut," she panted, her fingers planted firmly in the riot of black hair, while her thighs squeezed the girl's head like a huge, fleshy vise. "Stupid woman, but good, silly slut. Mmmm.. you now know where you stand, don't you?" She chuckled.

"Or rather: where you kneel."

The girl couldn't answer. She almost fainted from the strangling grip, her mouth and nose smothered by the woman's crotch.

When the legs at last relaxed, she sagged exhausted against one pale thigh, gasping for air. But not for long -- a hand once again grabbed her hair and forced her to look up into green, piercing eyes and a smiling mouth.

"Forgive you?" she asked. "You'll have to earn it."

***

A girl, prepared.

"Put on that dress, please."

The girl walked over to the bed, picking up the white satin dress the woman had laid out for her. She held it up, the flimsy fabric running like liquid through her fingers. Lifting it by the narrow straps, she made it fall over the front of her naked body.

It's shining whiteness darkened her olive skin.

She saw how it hardly covered her breasts. The hem would barely pass her upper thighs. Looking on the bed she saw there was nothing else -- no bra, no panties.

"No bra?" she asked. "No panties?"

There was no answer from the bathroom. She hesitated. Then she turned towards the tall mirror, watching her reflection. The too short little dress made her look obscenely innocent.

Dropping her hands, she exposed her nakedness.

"Did you put it on, honey?" The tiled walls of the bathroom made the voice echo. "How does it look on you?"

The girl lifted the satin over her head, letting it stream down her skin with a slithering sigh until it hung from the straps. The sensation gave her goose bumps; the sight made her shiver.

She looked like a child dressed up by a pedophile.

Her crotch was hardly covered, but pulling the hem down would make her areolas peep over the deeply scooped neck. The shimmering of the satin highlighted every curve -- it also showed the swelling of her nipples, the dent of the jewel.

"I surely can't go out in this?"

Her whining voice matched the child she saw in the mirror. She heard rushing feet behind her and before she could turn around, the woman was upon her. A hand lashed out, hitting her full in the face. It was followed by a second and third that made her drop to the floor.

The sudden pain squeezed tears from her eyes. Through the blur, she saw two tall black leather boot shafts towering over her. The face on top of them was pale -- the eyes flashed with green anger.

The purple lips drew a tight line.

"Will you ever learn, girl?"

The voice sounded sad, tired. It hit her harder than anger would have -- harder even than the striking hand.

Understanding dawned.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed, reaching for the boots, pressing her lips to the leather.

"No time for that, slut," the voice decided -- cold and impatient. "Find your shoes -- now."

***

A girl, abased.

The car sped through the gathering dusk, humming over wet, shining roads.

Inside, the leather seats felt soft, spreading a scent of luxury. Tinted windows muted the city lights; the night wrapped its dark cloak over streets and buildings.

The two women in the back were quiet.

The taller and paler of the two toyed with the white gold chain around her neck as she watched the petite, tanned girl that sat across from her. The girl pressed her legs together; they were bare from her crotch straight down to her cheap plastic platform sandals that were as white as her flimsy dress.

Her face was made up dramatically, framed by black hair that had been pulled back and tied into a ponytail. The eyes looked out from blotches of pitch-black kohl, shaded by fat fake lashes; her lips were a wound of fleshy red.

She looked like a teenage whore.

"You'll meet someone you know well, tonight," the black-clad woman said, crossing her legs. "I'd say you know her very well." She chuckled. The girl looked up with a nervous glance. A faint bruise colored her cheek.

"Will I serve her, Mistress?" she asked.

"Who knows?" the woman said, reaching out to caress the bruise. "But I'm sure she'd appreciate it tremendously."

When the car stopped, the girl wasn't sure where they were, exactly. The building was a hotel, a rather posh one with a red carpet and a long marquis over the sidewalk.

The two uniformed doormen were too professional to whistle or make rude remarks, but their eyes followed them closely when the woman led her girl by the elbow across the carpet to the glass-and-brass revolving doors.

The impossibly high heels and platform soles made the girl's ass sway, pushing it up against a dress that hardly covered her cheeks.

Her glowing face felt like the top of a lighthouse.

Inside, they walked a large stretch of marble. It resounded with her damn heels, making people turn their heads her way. Then, finally, they reached a bank of elevators, one open to take them in. It was mercifully empty, shutting out the preening world.

"Take your dress off, honey," the woman told her as soon as the doors closed. The illusion of regained safety melted away. She lifted the dress over her head until she stood naked but for her plastic hooves.

Being nude curiously enough made her feel less naked than the thin dress had.

She'd been naked almost daily, these last weeks. The only things that still rattled her confidence were the silly shoes. They made her aware of every step she took, and of the way she had to stretch and sway and arch her body in them.

The woman took the dress from her.

Then she moved in on the girl, kissing her painted lips hard and deep. Her hand pressed against the shaven cunt, starting to rub the hidden clitoris. Her thumb was on the nub while two fingers invaded the flooded morass. It made the girl moan as she rapidly rushed to the edge of climax. Then the car pinged to indicate they'd arrived.

The woman pulled out her dripping fingers, pushing them into the girl's ruined mouth.

"Walk," she whispered.

Admiring the sashaying body in front of her, she watched the girl strutting into the empty hall. Her hair swung left and right like a horse's tail. It was long enough to almost sweep her ass cheeks with every step. Such an incredible ass too, she thought, feeling an intense fondness wash over her.

"Through that door on your right, honey," she said.

They entered a dark bar, dimly lit. It was empty but for a young bartender. His eyes were on the naked girl, but he was obviously instructed not to pry. His gaze at once shifted to the woman. He nodded to the back of the bar room. There were a few rather private booths there, cozily lit by hooded lamps and a few candles.

When they approached them, they saw the silhouette of a woman in one of the booths. Her face could only be discerned when they got closer. The girl stopped in her tracks. Her hand flew to her mouth. There was a groan.

Then she sagged to the floor, fainting.

***

A girl, defeated.

The woman in the booth was thirty-ish, and blond.

Her hair hung carefully styled around her meticulously made-up face. Her suit looked fashionable, but businesslike -- the jacket tightly closed over a white blouse and a curvaceous upper body. It was hard to estimate her length as she was seated.

The table hid her skirt and legs.

"Hi again," the woman in black said before bending over the fainted girl.

"Is she all right?" the blonde asked, rising from behind her table.

"Nothing that can't be cured quickly," the woman answered, raising her hand to keep the blonde seated.

She produced a small vial and held it under the girl's nose. She sneezed; her body stirring. The woman cupped her face with one hand; then softly slapped it with the other.

"Wake up, darling," she said in a friendly voice, slapping her again. "Still so much to do." The girl sat up and groaned as she again saw the woman in the booth.

"Hello, sweetie," the blonde said. "Long time no see. How's life?"

"Fuck off, bitch!" the naked girl snarled.

"Now, now, honey," the woman in black protested. "Where are your manners, girl? I trained you better than this.

"Now kneel for her the way I taught you and greet her properly."

The girl didn't move. She looked up with pleading eyes.

"But she...," she started. The woman grabbed her hair, twisting it painfully.