The Femme Fatale's Curse

Hi Everyone - As always, this is FANTASY, and just meant to be fun and hot. Everyone here is, as always, over 18 years old. Please read The Femme Fatale's Curse, Ch. 01 for this to make sense. This chapter goes really hard on the mental piece of humiliation, and that very distinct humiliation you might feel if you were made to look ridiculous in front of someone you were very attracted to. This is a bit of a transitional chapter, so bear with me as we build this world out a bit more. That said, I hope there's still enough here to qualify as both filthy and fucking hot. Let me know, and I'll get at Chapter 3 here soon.

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Jace didn't arrive at Lady O'Leary's willingly that night. Eva used The Curse to get him there. Jace had doubted The Curse's ability to stay strong over a series of days during which he didn't see Eva at all, and did his absolute best to forget the fever dream nightmare that had been his first run-in with her.

He worked other cases. He frequented other bars. He poked around into all the seedier parts of Acidalia as the city baked in a summer sun hotter than anyone had remembered. He avoided Ludwig Abramov's calls, although he couldn't tell if that was something Eva had compelled him to do with The Curse or something he wanted to do himself, to avoid the embarrassment of telling the man he was off the case. All the while he intended to be somewhere else -- anywhere else -- other than Lady O'Leary's on Saturday night.

And yet here he was, in the darkened alleyway behind the shoe factory that served as a front for the place. Eva said she knew someone here -- a regular customer -- who might know where Zena Abramov was. They just had to play the part in order to mix with the crowd. And playing the part meant being her slave.

He knew the speakeasy was in the basement, but he didn't know where the secret entrance was. He would have preferred never to know.

"Well look who decided to show up," Eva's voice said from behind him, and he spun, then swallowed hard. Eva stood in the alleyway behind him, an ermine fur thrown over one shoulder, a fedora cocked at a theatrical angle, the clutch of pearls at her throat gleaming in what little light there was in the alleyway. "Tell me, boy, was it your own freewill that brought you here? Or The Curse? Or can you even tell?"

"You can rule out freewill," Jace said through gritted teeth.

She smiled, brought her body close to him, and kissed him on the lips again, slow, sensual. Then she hit him across the face, hard enough to make his ears ring. There were no gloves to pad the blow this time either.

He brought a hand to his face and scowled.

"Either way is fine with me," she said. "They say it's better to be loved than feared, but I find fear to be much more efficient. Especially for what we're about to do tonight."

She smirked, looked absolutely diabolical in the dimness.

"How's your ass, after last time?" She reached behind him and gave it a playful squeeze.

He jumped, unused to people touching him with such abandon.

"I thought so," she said. "Come on now. Follow me."

He did, as she slipped between a narrow hole between the wooden fence behind the shoe factory and the redbrick corner of the factory itself. High above them smokestacks and machinery stood dark and silent, ominous black patches against an otherwise clear, star-studded sky.

She knelt down to a basement window and rapped out a rhythm on the glass. They waited for a few minutes in the darkness -- the temperature had dropped down to a cool 88 degrees at last -- listening to the noises of the city all around them. Just when Jace was starting to think nothing would happen, one of the window panes opened upward and Jace could see -- by the flickering scarlet light of a filthy lantern -- the bright eyes of a woman, the bottom half of her face obscured by a bandana, the top half by a wide-brimmed hat.

"The Queen holds court in full regalia tonight," the woman said.

"May the king's knife chip and shatter," Eva responded.

The woman nodded; Jace watched her eyes shift from Eva to himself, watched suspicion cloud her gaze.

"He's with me, Nadia," Eva said.

"Does he belong to you?"

Eva smirked. "Yes."

"Will he be dressed appropriately?" The bandana-clad woman -- Nadia -- asked.

"Yes," Eva said, and Jace's blood ran cold. She'd said nothing to him about dressing appropriately. "We'll stop off at the dressing rooms on our way down."

This seemed to satisfy Nadia, who nodded and stepped aside, revealing maybe the steepest staircase Jace had ever seen.

"Welcome back, Eva," Nadia said, and turned to Jace. "And you, boy, behave yourself and listen to your mistress at all times."

Jace felt the blood run to his face, clenched his fists at this, the retort already on the tip of his tongue.

"Silence," Eva said, and snapped her fingers.

Jace found he could no longer form the words he'd wanted to say.

"You really do have to stay on top of them," Nadia said, helping Eva down the staircase.

"This one seems to have a good heart, he just has a hell of an ego," Eva responded. "We're still early in his training."

Jace waited a beat and then followed the two women down the staircase, careful not to make a misstep and send himself pitching forward into the darkness. Although a broken neck might be a blessing at this point.

"He's lucky to have a mistress as considerate as you," Nadia said as they alighted on a small landing at the foot of the steep, narrow stairs.

Jace joined them there, eager for more certain footing.

"You hear that, boy?" Nadia asked, turning to Jace now. She'd taken her bandana down; it hung low around her throat now. "You're lucky to have someone as kind as Eva in charge of you. If it were me..."

She laughed, let out a low whistle, and gave him a smack on the ass hard enough to make him jump, as much with surprise as anything else.

"Dressing rooms are through that door, Eva," Nadia said, pointing to a narrow wooden door to their right. "When you're ready to join the party, of course, just head on down."

She pointed down another flight of dark stairs, and now Jace could hear the muffled sounds of a crowded speakeasy -- laughter and shouts and conversation; the clinking and breaking of glasses; the muted tones of a jazz band; and, he now registered, the blunted sounds of smacks and slaps and the impact of whip on flesh.

Eva flashed a smile and opened the door to their right. "Thanks Nadia. Come along, boy."

Jace followed her into the most claustrophobic hallway yet; pipes hissed along the crumbling redbrick confines and only the occasional candle offered some semblance of light.

"I should have told you," Eva said, smiling. "Men at Lady O'Leary's are considered free use. That probably won't be the last time someone gives that cute butt of yours a slap tonight. You're expected, of course, to smile and maybe thank them for it."

"Looking forward to it," Jace said, as Eva opened another door off the hallway and stepped into one of the dressing rooms.

It was well lit by a number of gas lamps on a few ornate side tables. A body-length mirror dominated one side of the small room. A massive wardrobe held sway over the other. A bucket of ice, filled with bottles of champagne and whiskey, sat on another table, between two armchairs.

"All right," Eva said, and sighed, then spun and looked at him. "Strip."

Jace blinked, but didn't move. "No."

Eva smiled. "Oh Jace," she said. "That was a test. I wanted to see if you'd do this willingly. Because you have to know by now I can just do this --" she snapped her fingers "and say 'strip' right?"

Jace watched as his hands removed his jacket and tie, fedora and shoes.

"You know though," Eva said, as he slipped out of his pants and undershirt. "I kind of like the fact that you're fighting this so much. Each time I make you submit to me is a new, humiliating low for you. And it's a huge rush for me. Turns me the fuck on, Jace."

Jace gritted his teeth as he dropped his underwear and caught sight of his tiny penis in the mirror, then looked away. Eva cackled, then walked up to him and slid one hand beneath his balls. He breathed deep, angry at the rush of pleasure blooming in the pit of his stomach.

"What do you want me to wear," he asked.

"Nothing," Eva said, then paused, and shrugged. "Or. A few accessories. But you'll be pretty much naked. And we'll certainly be treating everyone to a front row seat of this cute, tiny little penis of yours. I think they'll appreciate the chance to set the record straight about what it might be like to go to bed with Jace Falcon, legendary private investigator himself."

Panic coiled tight in Jace's chest now. "Eva, please. They...they might recognize me. This crowd. It's a small..."

"What's small baby?" She asked, and kissed him on the cheek. "I think they *will* recognize you actually. At least a few people. But is that too great a price to pay to break The Curse? You heard Nadia -- I've been pretty nice to you, all things considered. Can you imagine if someone really sadistic got control of the trigger to your little hypnosis problem?"

She giggled. Jace was, by this point, curious about her definition of "really sadistic."

"All right," she said, and walked over to the wardrobe. "Let's get you ready for the party."

She pulled out a leather-and-wooden contraption, two narrow planks maybe 18-inches long, linked by bolts on either end.

"What the fuck is that?" Jace asked, annoyed at the anxiety even he could hear in his own voice.

"It's a humbler," Eva said, and burst out laughing. "God, I wish you could see your own face. Actually, you can, since we have a mirror in here, but we'll wait until you're all ready to go."

"What the fuck is a humbler?"

"I'll show you," Eva said, and walked back over to him, grabbed his balls, and slid them between the two planks, then slid the planks up to where his scrotum connected with his penis. She tightened the bolts and then -- before Jace could stop her (or maybe The Curse prevented him from doing so) -- she slipped the two planks -- with his balls in tow -- behind him.

Jace grunted and knelt forward as the two planks pressed into the backs of his thighs. The pressure on his balls was intense, and only by leaning forward into a bowing, humped-over position could he get anything resembling relief.

"Goddammit," he said.

"Might as well show off your best asset," Eva said, and gave him a swat on the butt. "But I like this because it just makes these so accessible."

She grabbed his balls -- held in place by the humbler -- and squeezed. Jace yelled, a lightning bolt of pain shooting up into his gut.

"Fuck," he whispered. "I can't...I can't go down there like this."

Behind him, Eva laughed. "We're not done yet."

Behind him, Jace heard small bells tingling. He tried to turn, but the movement was hard in the humbler; he caught sight of himself in the mirror making slow steps like a confused duck.

He needn't have tried; Eva appeared back in front of him, this time holding a small chain with clamps on either end. The chain was threaded with a series of what looked like heavy lead jingle bells.

"Any guesses on this one, boy?" She asked.

"I --" Jace began, but he didn't have time to finish.

She pinched one of his nipple hard -- hard enough to make him yelp -- and then clamped one of the clamps onto it. Jace bit back a scream, but he didn't have time to register it because then Eva had clamped his other nipple in the corresponding clamp. He exhaled, trying to manage the sting of the clamps, and tried to adjust his weight.

Two things happened.

The first was that he felt as if his nipples were on fire -- the weight of the chain and the bells yanked them downward -- and the second was that the bells themselves offered a lighthearted jingle, as if he were a show horse in a parade.

Eva cackled now as Jace bit his tongue and his eyes watered with the pain.

"Oh they're going to love this down there, God," she said. "So much fun."

"Eva," Jace said. "Eva, please, don't...don't do this. I...we can...whatever you want --"

"Oh baby," Eva said, digging in the wardrobe for something else. "Where was this before? When I asked you to swallow your pride a little, maybe join me here of your own freewill?"

She emerged with a collar and a leash.

"You called my bluff, darling," she said, as she slipped the leather collar around his neck and tightened it. "I had the better hand. You're a poker player; you brag about that all the time. You must know how this works."

She wound the chain leash around her wrist and pulled hard enough to make the nipple clamps rip into Jace's nipples again and to make the humbler snap tight against his balls. Jace yelped.

"I think you're ready to go," she said, and again she knelt in front of him, gripped his chin one hand, her bracelets jingling on her wrist as she did. "Remember, we're a couple, dear heart. You belong to me. We've got to play this part. And the person I'm thinking of should be here around midnight."

"Midnight," Jace yelled. "What the fuck, Eva? It's only 10:00."

Eva pursed her lips and looked away but couldn't keep the smile from her lips. "I mean, you're right. But it's two hours to get into character. I kind of...I mean, I thought *I* might enjoy it at least."

"Eva --"

She stood and retrieved something from one of the armchairs; out of the corner of his eye, in the mirror, Jace saw it was a riding crop. He jumped at the sting of it on his ass.

"I think you owe me an apology," she said, standing in front of him now. His eyes were level with her hips; he couldn't have turned his head to look her in the eye if he'd wanted to. "I'm not going to punish you for that outburst. But I could. I could make so much more painful for you, you ungrateful, arrogant prick. So you're going to ask for forgiveness. And."

She turned around, hiked up the skirt of her dress, put her ass in his face, which wasn't hard given her ass was at eye-level too.

"You are going to kiss my ass as a gesture of goodwill," she said. "Kiss it. Between the cheeks, bitch. And say you are sorry for talking back to me."

Jace scowled. The day had been hot; he could smell the sweat on Eva's skin, between her ass cheeks.

"No," he said.

Eva sighed, and in the mirror he could see her roll her eyes. She snapped her fingers.

"Put your nose in my ass, breathe deep, and apologize to me, then tell me you are a stupid, tiny-dicked man with an ego that needs to be managed," she said.

Before he could process this, Jace had put his nose deep in Eva's ass, his nostrils against the thin fabric of her sweat-soaked panties. He took a deep breath and inhaled that musky, sharp, sweaty aroma. He, of course, would never have done this for any woman on his own. He would have had opinions about men who did.

"I am sorry I am a stupid, tiny-dicked man," Jace heard himself say, as if from another room. "Please manage my ego, Eva. I cannot manage it myself."

She turned around, took her ass from his face, and left him staring at his own reflection as his face turned a deep scarlet.

She shook her head and sighed as she pulled her panties down.

"I don't know why you can't get this through your head," Eva told him as she stepped out of her underwear and took it one hand, balled it up. "You don't have a choice, boy. I will win every single time. And I'm going to make it more painful for you every time you try to resist. Now open your mouth."

Jace didn't.

Eva slapped him across the face again -- this time from the other side -- and snapped her fingers.

"Open your mouth."

Jace's mouth opened, without consulting his brain.

She shoved her panties between his teeth. He'd processed the smell first -- they'd smelled like Eva, mixed with sweat and arousal -- and then the taste: salty with sweat and the deeper, baser taste of her sex.

"I've had it with you and your fucking arrogance and you're attitude, so you won't be talking until I want you to," she said. "All right now, move."

She hit him especially hard on the ass with the crop.

Jace made his way toward the door and into the narrow, dim hallway again. Each step was difficult, because the humbler meant he had to all but scoot along the floor with his back bent in an already-painful position. Plus, with each step, the nipple clamps gave a slight movement, eliciting a fresh sting and setting off the jingle bells in all their infuriating, maddening mockery. Eva took the handle of the leash attached to the collar around his neck and led him down the hallway, the admittedly-intoxicating sway of her hips now at perfect eye level.

After what felt like an eternity, they made it to the landing again. Somewhere in the darkness, Jace heard Nadia laugh.

"Nicely done girl!" She yelled to Eva, who giggled and offered a mock salute as they headed down the main stairs toward the speakeasy itself.

The stairs were difficult, but they were much wider and longer than the first set. Eva helped him negotiate them, one hand on his upper arm.

She opened the door and led him inside by the leash.

Lady O'Leary's proved to be a large, windowless, basement space lit by the occasional gas lamp. Booths and tables ringed the perimeter of the square space, and a circular bar -- much like a theater-in-the-round -- dominated the center of the space. Jace could see a dance floor on the bar's far end, and a stage beyond that. A jazz band played in one corner. A naked man -- collared, his hands cuffed behind his back -- stood on stage in a vat of ice, shifting his weight from foot to foot to avoid the frozen sting. His movements gave the illusion of dancing to the music, and a crowd in front of the stage seemed to think this was endlessly hilarious.

The whole bar was very crowded, mostly with women in cocktail dresses or furs or short skirts and headbands. Jace spotted a few men -- naked and collared -- and even a few men dressed ordinarily, but the message was clear at Lady O'Leary's: men tread carefully.

Jace breathed out and tried to focus despite the pain in his balls and nipples. He was glad for the crowd and the dimness. Even though there were a great many people here, this wasn't a situation in which he'd be easily recognized.

Eva led him to an empty booth against one wall with a good view of the bar and the dancefloor and the stage. She took a seat but didn't let him sit down.

"All right," she said, "go get me a drink. A gin fizz. And if you drop it on your way back I swear to God, bitch, you will have to move 100 miles from Acidalia to ever start your life over again, and that's if I ever release you from The Curse."

Jace tried to talk around her panties in his mouth, the sweaty, crusted cloth in the back of his throat.

"No," she said. "I'm not taking the panties out of your mouth. I wasn't going to do that to you initially, but you annoyed me. The bartender is a good friend of mine and she knows you're with me. She'll help you out eventually, but it's going to be humiliating for you. I know you didn't want to draw attention to yourself, but you're going to now. Based on your own choices. You see how this works?"

She snapped her fingers.

"Now go. And if you take too long I'm going to make things worse for you."

Jace made his careful way through the crowd, half-step by careful half-step, wincing as the humbler dug into his balls and the chain between the nipple clamps swung from side to side. Every time they did, the heavy jingle bells put pressure on his nipples and made the pain even worse. All this to say nothing of the insulting ring they made as well, as if he were some sort of circus animal.

More people were clothed than he thought, which, of course, made him stand out more. No one else -- save for the hapless fuck dancing on ice on the stage -- was actually naked. Jace's face grew hot as he approached the bar.