Chapter 34: The Advantage of Being Nothing

Alicia lay curled up on the bed — softly breathing. A tiny wet bubble grew and slunk in the corner of her mouth. Her lips were half open, giving her the face of a child. Angique embraced her naked limbs and frowned, thinking back to what happened in Winter Garden.

The girl had been amazingly sweet all day — on the street, in the park. She'd obeyed and apparently enjoyed whatever came her way — even if it scared her. Later on in Winter Garden she seemed to forget the prying eyes of twenty-plus women who watched her being turned into a willing object of lust. Alicia knew many watchers personally, but she nevertheless told them about her kinky adventures without the slightest hesitation. She'd brazenly displayed her shaven cunt and shown them her ass hole. She had masturbated, rubbing her clit and fucking her cunt until she floated in lala-land, riding the waves of self-induced arousal. She'd moaned and gasped and then exploded into climax, gushing juices around her fingers.

Excitement had taken her breath away when Angique watched the girl orgasm. In her mind she saw her walk straight up to the mystic Gate of Shame — proud and fearless. She saw her stand in its shadow, offering her arched body to the eternal goddess of sexual bliss. And then the taut line had snapped just as suddenly. Alicia had broken down, crumbling, crying her eyes out. The demons of shame had reclaimed her, it seemed, pulling her back down into the abyss of her miserable life.

A collective cry had risen from her audience. A few of the women stepped forward to offer her comfort, but the huge dog stopped them, baring its teeth, raising its hackles. It gave Angique a chance to walk around the chair and pick up Alicia. She'd carried her out of the room, up the stairs and straight to her hidden Villa, where she took her to bed — cradling the girl until her sobbing turned into exhausted sleep.

When she at last woke up, Alicia's world floated in a blurred bowl of grayish dusk. Everything was warm and fuzzy; she felt as if wrapped in gossamer — a web of tentacles, maybe, or limbs draped over her naked body. She looked aside and saw a face. It was the source of slow and regular breathing. She knew the face, the closed eyes, the sensuous mouth. Part of her also knew she had to get away from it, even if a larger part didn't want to.

Alicia rolled onto her back, staring at an invisible ceiling. Her face glowed; there was a burning sensation in her eyes. She felt as if she were slowly rising from warm, viscous depths. She gasped. Then she just lay still, feeling sad. Why would she feel sad?

Memories returned, and with them despair, the same burning despair that made her break down in Winter Garden. Despair of what — shame? Maybe, but surely not the familiar shame of exposing her secret darkness to the world; not the shallow fear of being finally exposed as the total slut she knew she was. In one day she had walked the streets naked, chained to a dog, and given blowjobs in a park, for God's sake ≠— so why break down while masturbating in the Club? Everybody fucked and sucked and masturbated there — or at least everybody knew everybody did it. So why this — failure? This feeling as if something had been within reach and slipped from her at the very last moment?

Or, to be more precise, why was this failure such a big thing, all of a sudden?

Failure had never been a big thing to her; she'd failed too often for that. It had become second nature, so why worry now, especially at the Club? Why would not failing at the Club suddenly be important? Oh, she had felt sorry for what she did to Sarah and even to Anna, but that had never felt like failure. Why should it? She had never taken it seriously enough to think that her actions might really hurt them — or herself — not really, surely. It had all been in good fun, hadn't it? Wasn't it all a game?

She once more turned to the woman beside her. Could Angique be the cause? The woman kept saying she loved her all the time, whatever she did or how often she fled. She kept taking her back and telling her she could do it — that she wouldn't fail at this, this ... whatever it was. She watched the sleeping face, the soft breathing, the fluttering eyelashes — and the unbearable panic returned.

She untangled herself from the limbs holding her and slid off the bed. She plodded quietly to the adjacent bathroom, where she watched herself in one of the mirrors — shaking, but not from the cold. The face staring back at her was pale and puffy around the eyes. She halfheartedly tried to fluff the draggling mess of her hair with one hand, while the other one rubbed her encrusted lashes. She watched again, her mouth shaping inaudible words. She knew they were curses, lame, ineffective curses.

Then she felt hands on her shoulders. She felt them before she saw the face in the mirror. Soft breasts pushed into her back, lips kissed her neck — and a voice breathed hot air on her skin.

"Did you sleep well, honey?" the voice said. As the hands started massaging her shoulders she noticed how knotted her muscles were. The second set of eyes in the mirror never left her, but they were soft now and sweet — not intense or hypnotic. Their sadness echoed Alicia's and it hurt.

"I let you down," she said with the cracked sound of an unused throat.

"Yes," Angique answered, her voice a mere sigh. "But more important, honey, you let yourself down."

Alicia didn't know if she really cried. There surely were no tears, but it felt as if the dam of a huge lake inside her burst, letting out the pent-up sadness. She shook and shivered, but the hands went on massaging her. The warm body hugged her even closer. And the voice kept soothing her.

"Don't feel sad, darling. It was just too much, too sudden," it said. "I was impatient. I was too intent on pushing you. We will try again, honey cunt. Would you try again? Please say yes."

The hands slid between her arms and her chest, cupping her breasts, pinching a nipple. She recalled what happened and she wondered if she could try again. Maybe if she understood why she'd broken down? She'd been so close. The memory of what she did in the bar and in the park still took her breath away; so did her outrageous actions in Winter Garden. She had enjoyed it all, even if she'd been scared shitless. She never felt ashamed for what she did there, not even now — so why this crushing feeling of failure? Why didn't she just cop out and put the blame on Angique for forcing her; for going too fast?

It would have been easy to regard it all as an act forced upon her. It would free her of guilt and shame. But she would be lying. The actions had been hers, even while she relived them. She'd welcomed them, enjoyed them, and there had been no shame, no regret.

"You were not impatient, Mistress," she murmured, arching against the rubbing hands. "I loved it all ... and then I got scared." She turned around, embracing the woman. "If anything, you've been too patient with me. In the end I needed you to force me — to take away my responsibility. It would have overridden my silly fear. I am sure I can do anything for you if you just would make me do them."

Angique's eyes turned sad.

"No, honey," she whispered, pecking the girl's cheek with a kiss. Then she let go of Alicia's body. "It will never be like that. It would be useless if I'd force you, do you understand? This Journey isn't about me, it is about you. You must feel the need to do it, or the Journey will fail before it even started."

They stared at each other for a minute; it seemed like an hour. Then Alicia slowly nodded.

"I understand, I think," she said and her voice gained strength. "You ask me to prove that I want this for myself. I never realized — not until now — but yes, I understand ... I think."

Angique embraced her again and they kissed a long kiss of need and desperation — was it love? They pulled away and panted. Their eyes sparkled.

"Tell me, honey," Angique said, after regaining her voice. "Tell me why you broke down in Winter Garden. It wasn't out of shame, was it?"

Alicia hesitated. Then she pulled her shoulders up to almost her earlobes and dropped them. It did wondrous things to her tits and the sparkling jewel. Angique chuckled.

"Lets first get wet and talk later." And she pulled the girl with her to the walk-in shower.

After showering together, Angique got dressed, asking Alicia to help lacing her tightly into her black satin over bust corset. The girl also helped her into black, sheer stockings, a knee length black skirt and a short jacket. Angique then asked her to please kiss her toes before putting on the high-heeled ankle boots. She suggested for Alicia not to dress, but to have breakfast in the nude — a breakfast the girl prepared while Angique fired up her laptop, starting her workday.

"I love serving you like this, Mistress," Alicia said when they at last sipped their tea and nibbled at the freshly heated croissants. Angique smiled.

"You still owe me an answer, darling," she said, catching a drop of honey with her finger before it fell off her bread. She reached out and smeared the sweetness on Alicia's lips, making them shine. The girl sucked on the fingertip before answering.

"I don't know, Mistress," she said. They both giggled at the well-worn expression.

"I know! I know!" Alicia cried out. "But this time it's true; it is really hard. My shame has so many sources."

Angique caught her eyes when Alicia said that. She slowly nodded, but said nothing. Her hand went to the lily on the girl's nipple. It dangled just over the tabletop; then she cupped the entire breast. Alicia closed her eyes. She gasped before opening them again.

"But I think this time it's got nothing to do with shame, Mistress. On the contrary, I was shocked that I might no longer feel ashamed — afraid of reaching my goal; of succeeding. I ... I never reach goals, you know? I have learned to embrace failure; it is who I am, and I've learned to live with it. I am comfortable with failing. It is my big excuse, okay? I ... I wouldn't know what to do if I ever succeeded. It scares me." She looked up, moisture glittering in her eyes. "Do I make sense at all?"

This time it was Angique who gasped. Her hands went up to hold the girl's face, pulling her over — kissing her across the small table. The kiss lasted. When they parted, Alicia went on:

"I did feel ashamed all right when you pushed me into that bar — all these men undressing me with their greedy eyes. But after I stripped for them, there was only arousal. God, I was so horny. I think you are right — underneath it all I am a slut; I always have been. Please forget about the lesbian." They chuckled. Alicia took a sip from her tea before going on.

"On the street and in the park I just felt glorious. I was embarrassed when Brynn pulled me out of the car, naked and all, but after that I just felt safe and, and ... light-hearted, adventurous. As long as I didn't think, it felt so right, Mistress." Alicia sighed. She took Angique's hand in hers and rubbed it against her face, almost purring.

"I loved being so alive. I was floating." When her eyes focused again, they darkened. "Winter Garden was different," she said. "The prospect of going into the Club naked, chained to a dog scared me. You saw how it scared me. But when you started commanding me every step of the way, my body took over. It always does when my pussy ... when my cunt starts flowing. I get hot, my whole body tingles and I stop thinking. It seems as if my sane, embarrassed mind moves to a distant place. It sees what I'm doing, but the need is just too overwhelming."

She took another sip and grimaced.

"It makes me feel like a little girl holding on to a roller coaster car, you know? First there is the building fear when the chain pulls me up to the highest point. But right under that fear is an excited anticipation that builds too; it builds with the fear — the bigger the fear, the greater the excitement. And then, when the car goes over the top, the fear poofs — it evaporates! There is only elation — loud and screaming elation; an explosion of total abandon."

Alicia's eyes were on fire as she relived what happened. She squirmed in her chair. Crimson blushes danced on her cheeks; her hand squeezed Angique's.

"It was like that in Winter Garden — even more than that; a higher climb, a deeper plunge ... And then I got scared and I fell back to earth," she whispered. "I crashed into cold, indifferent earth." Her shoulders slumped. All the childlike, excited happiness left her. She looked down, avoiding Angique's gaze.

"That was when the shame hit me," she mumbled. "Or the fear, whatever it is. And it took me by surprise, because it was not at all what I had expected. It was not my usual shame of letting out the beast in front of all these people I knew so well. No, I didn't care at all about that ≠— I was way too far-gone for that. God, this is hard..." Her hand squeezed Angique's.

"You know I fail all the time," Alicia went on, looking away. "Everybody always told me I am a failure and I started believing them. I learned to feel comfortable with failure; it started to fit me. And then you came along..." She smiled and reached out to put a finger on Angique's lips.

"Please, let me finish," she said, amazed by her own audacity. "You taught me that I could succeed; that I could be who I really am. I never believed you. That is why I ran off and why I betrayed you so easily. But you kept pushing me with your belief. And you started to succeed. You got under my skin, convincing me I could be the woman of my secret dreams. And then the courage left me ... the courage not to fail. I just ... slipped back."