Chapter 18: Sick Magic

What did she do, Alicia thought. Why had she agreed to fold her naked body over the back of a chair, leaving herself exposed and completely available to punishment and abuse by this woman? She hung forward. Her face and breasts pressed into the chair. She was surrounded by darkness, inhaling the potent fragrance of old leather that she stirred with her ragged breath. Her fingers gripped the arms of the chair; only her toes reached the floor. A gloved hand caressed her raised buttocks with feather-light, maddening strokes.

It made her thighs tremble.

Someone moaned — it must be herself. The woman was right; she was a slut, and a cowardly one to boot. She only used the Club as an excuse, reassuring herself that things weren't real here; she could safely sin. It was all just a game and had no consequence. What went on at the Club, stayed at the Club — blah blah blah and so on. She had used the excuse over and over to get sucked and fucked in supposed anonymity, allowing herself to be treated in ways she would never accept in the outside world.

And now she hung here, gasping, while hot, wet lips kissed the entrance to her ass, making her shudder with the taboo of it all. Why didn't she run? Why indeed. She had stripped and walked over to this chair of her own free will. She'd had ample chance to leave, but instead she had climbed to her naked feet and walked over to the chair, draping her body over its high back.

The woman was right. She was a slut, and to her own surprise it had not offended her at all when Angique told her she was. To the contrary, the thought brought a sudden peace of mind that engulfed her like a warm and comforting bath. It made even the tiniest of her muscles relax. Her white knuckles relaxed — her tight sphincter yielded to the insisting tongue.

A tear ran down her forehead. Or was it up?

Downstairs at the bar Angique had probed her with questions that exposed her — peeling her dishonesty off, layer after layer. The woman's eyes and the calm directness of her voice had shredded the cocoon of hypocrisy she had wrapped around her soul. It still hurt how easily Angique exposed the shallowness of her relation with Carmela. How she'd pointed out Alicia's insincere ways of using women here at the Club — turning them into meaningless venues of a greedy lifestyle. Angique had stripped Alicia naked long before she actually took off her clothes here at Villa.

As she hung over the chair, inhaling hot air in this cradle of leather and fragrant hair, she wondered if anyone could ever be with this woman and not be naked. Or if anyone could ever deny her what she wanted if she set her mind to it. She wondered if free will existed at all between those green, probing eyes and the soft, insisting voice.

New tears ran from her eyes to drip down her brow. She had agreed that she was a slut and to her amazement saying it had relieved her. It felt painful for a minute, like parting with an old friend even if he had long since become a burden. There was guilt of course, but mostly there was a rush of freedom. She knew now who she truly was, and felt an incredible joy in allowing that epiphany to rush through her veins. It chased away her shame, her fear and the crumbling ruins of her guilt.

The woman's voice had seeped into her ears like warm syrup, making her recall every word. She remembered the warm, leather clad hands that had cupped her breasts, back when she'd lain kneeling on the cold marble. The woman had called them tits. 'Sluts have tits, ' she'd said, and her strong fingers had crushed her nipples, twisting them and pulling them out.

And after she'd walked over to the chair, presenting her bare behind, she'd felt open hands slapping her buttocks. While they jiggled from the impact the woman called them her ass, judging them her best asset. Then Angique had kissed the tightly closed muscle of her anus and named it her asshole, mocking the hypocrisy of calling it by any other name.

By the time the gloved hand started kneading her oozing pussy, Alicia was sure that she never had breasts or a vagina — alien words from a forgotten past. She was a slut. Sluts have tits and cunts. Sluts have an asshole. She was a slut.

"It's tits now, sweet whore, tits and a cunt," the voice murmured. "Be proud of them. You have the sweetest and easiest cunt ever. Now tell me. Say it." Oh God, yes, Alicia knew how right the woman was — and she shuddered, coming hard on the invading tongue.

"I-I am a s-slut," she stammered through the waves of utter bliss, her words muffled by her leather cage. "I-I have tits. I have a c-cunt; I have an ass-asshole. I-I am ... I am ... oh God..."

The first bite of the whip scattered the sweet glow of her orgasm. It seared through her skin, flashing like a shooting star across her mind. A riot of comets followed as the crop kept mercilessly punishing her flesh. It was pain all right, pure and cruel pain. But it also seemed to be a forest of barbed exclamation marks, intended to define a newfound identity.

The physical pain made her cry out. There was no way to avoid the flood of tears. But starting with the first blow she knew things were sliding. Certainties were crumbling; believes were fading and morphing into their opposites. Her entire world seemed to stop turning — then to start revolving again, but into an entirely new direction. Things would never again be as they were, and yet they were exactly as they should be. Things were right at last. The woman had a right to punish her — a right to purge her of the lies that ruled her life — the dishonesties and hypocrisies. The ancient crop rained blows that marked her ass and thighs with red and purple lines. But to her it felt like a rainstorm drowning a thirsty desert after eons of drought.

"Thank me, whore," Angique panted, exhausted from wielding the crop. It was very easy to comply. "Thank you," she stuttered and her words were rewarded with another downpour of blessing pain.

And now, returning from near unconsciousness, she felt the woman's sweet tongue tracing the fiery lines of ecstasy. She once more broke down sobbing as she heard Angique's whispered words: "I love you, Alicia. I love you so."

The endless stretch of sand was white and powdery like flour. It stuck to her oiled and deeply tanned skin wherever the warm beach touched her. She loved to soak in the sun, stretching her limbs. The murmuring surf was a distant backdrop; a sea bird cried in the blue expanse. She tickled the hound's broad skull with lazy fingers. He groaned. His tongue licked her shivering thigh.

"Brynn, " she said, "you are so sweet." Her eyes never opened behind her sunglasses. Her thoughts went back to the past few weeks — all kinds of amazing images tumbling by. God, she thought, watching the girl at the center of it all — had this been her? Her hand left the dog's head and started traveling across her body. She caressed the gentle valley of her belly, touching the curved rim of her rib cage until she found the soft sweet flesh of her breasts — ah no, her tits. She sighed.

Back at Villa, seemingly ages ago, Angique had kissed her bruises after punishing her. Then she tenderly rubbed the welts with cool, soothing salve, spreading it over her ass cheeks and the backside of her tortured thighs. Alicia had winced and gasped whenever the touches became painful. Angique hummed a sweet little song, kissing and licking the worst places until the soreness melted away.

Then she started rubbing the creamy salve around and into the girl's tight ass hole, sinking one finger in past its second digit. Alicia had stiffened at first and winced a bit, not so much from pain as from surprise. Soon the wincing changed into soft groaning, and after Angique added a second finger, the girl started moving back on it.

In less than a minute Angique was fucking Alicia. The velvet inner muscles strangled her fingers as she moved in and out to the rhythm of desperate moans. Angique smiled and searched for Alicia's cunt with her other hand. Soon she stimulated a very aroused clit. The girl did her tiptoed dancing again and cried out when orgasm hit her. She drowned Angique's busy hand with a torrent of juices.

Here and now at the beach Alicia felt her cunt cream up with the memory. The dog stirred and sniffled. Then his hot tongue extended its area of licking. It got closer to her loins with every stroke until it found the source of her scent. Alicia shrieked. But she spread her legs to allow him access, slowly gyrating her hips.

"Oh God," she mumbled. "Oh God."

In a flash her feelings took her back to that other afternoon at Villa, two days after her punishment. The tenderness and the bruises had almost left her skin by then, healing quickly from the salve Angique gave her. The pale globes of her ass cheeks only showed a bluish marbling by then, like deeply hidden veins vaguely showing.

She and Angique had made love slowly in front of the fireplace. Afterwards they fed each other morsels of mango and melon, and licked the sticky juices off each other's bodies. They nodded off for a while, cuddling up and feeling satisfied. Then Angique had smiled at her and asked how far she was prepared to go.

The question had confused Alicia. Angique's smile grew wider as she caressed a strand of hair away from the girl's face.

"You look puzzled, honey," she'd said. "I bet you still think this is an ongoing picnic where two part-time lovers drift off into a pink sunset, fucking and sucking leisurely until reality calls you back to be your romance-writer's fuck toy again."

Angique's hand had drifted down while she talked. Between her nails she'd caught an exposed nipple, twisting it hard. Alicia yelped. She pulled her breast away, only causing its nipple to stretch into sharper pain.

"I... , " she gasped. Angique chuckled.

"I don't know?" she asked, completing Alicia's one-syllable sentence with a mocking voice. The girl blushed, cradling her abused breast.

"I ... I never think of anything," she whispered. A tear had sprung from her eyes when the pain hit her. She rubbed it away with the back of her hand.

"I can't think when I am with you," she went on. "I never know what will happen next and it keeps me giddy with uncertainty. Please understand that you sometimes scare me. You arouse me all the time, but it scares me. My body takes over, wanting to be yours; and that scares me even more..."

Her voice had become softer with each word. Her eyes were down, watching her fidgeting hands. Then she looked up again.

"I am sorry if I let you down, Angique. I love knowing you and being with you. But this is all new and scary to me. I am confused."

Angique had pulled her closer and kissed her open mouth.

"I love you, Alicia," she'd said. She picked up a strawberry, dipped it into a bowl of cream and fed it to the girl. Then she closed her lips over Alicia's mouth, sucking the fruit out and returning it. They passed the soft fruit back and forth, sucking the sweet flesh into mush, relishing its taste.

"I love you," Angique said again, licking a pink drop of juice off the girl's lower lip. "I can't help it." She smiled, holding Alicia's gaze.

"Please wait," she then said, rising to her feet. "I'll be back." And she'd left the room.

When she returned, Angique was dressed in tight leather. The half-closed zipper of her short jacket pressed her pale tits into a deep cleavage. From a low-slung belt hung black leather chaps that failed to cover her cunt and probably her ass too. Square-heeled boots showed from under the chaps; thin gloves covered her hands.

One of those gloved hands held a chain leash that was fastened to a wide, studded dog collar. The dog wearing it was huge — a silver gray Dane whose back reached almost to Angique's hips. His pink tongue hung from his mouth and he panted.

Alicia had seen him before and remembered bolting in panic. This time all her muscles tightened and a gush of adrenalin made her scramble to her hands and knees.

"Oh God, no!" she cried out, but she stayed where she was — scared but fascinated.

"Meet Brynn, honey," Angique said. She sank to her haunches next to the brute, caressing his silver pelt. "You have met before, I believe, albeit for a short time." She chuckled, now patting the dog's haunches.