FIC: THUNDER ONLY HAPPENS WHEN IT'S RAINING (30/?)
Title: Thunder only happens when it's raining
Author: zagadka4_lj
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: PG 17
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Legend of The Seeker and this was written for enjoyment; certainly mine, hopefully yours.
Summary: Set immediatly after Tears.
When the Keeper was defeated, it seemed that life should start again with happiness and joy, but now Kahlan was feeling only woe and sadness. Along the way toward home, things go awry for the Seeker and his band. They are forced to take paths which will bring them to face what future holds and deal with events from the past. Kahlan will find out that love has many sides and shapes.
Words Count: 5744
A/N: This is my very first writing work and for this reason my style and my skill with english will change as the chapters go by (hopefully improving...)
I consider this fic as my personal version of season 3 and it is entirely based on the TV Show also because I haven't read the books. The title of the fic and of the chapters are all titles or verses taken from songs of my favorite band The Corrs.
I am posting this story also on Fanfiction.net (username zagadka4); my aim is to catch up here and then proceed at the same pace on both sites.
Chapter 30 - She'll explore you and adore you in her way
(Verse from the song “Love in the Milky Way”)
The new cell was better than the previous.
When Amelia woke up after the animated conclusion of her bath with the Mord-Sith, she was dressed with a clean tunic and resting in a new dungeon, slightly larger than the previous, less dirty and adorned with the extraordinary luxury of a very little window, allowing entry to a beam of daylight.
Several days had passed from her awakening, probably more than a fortnight, and her Mistress never came to her; it was unusual as Zafire usually visited her if not on daily basis, every two or three days at most. Nobody else came to beat or interrogate the Sister of the Dark during this period, which seemed to her like a welcomed vacation. The only human contact she had in those days was with the slave who brought her meals; the poor soul always left the cell very briskly however. The meals were again made up of black bread and water, but occasionally a small piece of meat or some vegetables appeared in the dish.
Amelia observed another unexpected change in her stay at the Temple during this period: she never incurred into her surges of anger, even if she had switched between her lucid and subjugated sides several times. When the latter was in charge, she tremendously missed her Mistress, blaming herself for having disappointed her, wishing that her beloved could forgive her stupidity. But when she regained clearness in her mind, she kept on repeating herself that the Mord-Sith was playing with her, administering pleasure other than pain, with the undoubted aim of bending her more efficiently. Amelia couldn’t say why, but since the red-clad woman had begun to grant her a better treatment, she didn’t feel the urge to explode and burst in screams any longer.
The Sister of the Dark feared that Zafire’s new approach was actually working. Indeed also her lucid side somehow missed her Mistress. Her mind kept on returning to the heated moments they had shared in that bathroom, in which - she was fairly sure - also the Mord-Sith had felt more than what she expected.
But Amelia’s will was strong, stronger than the Mord-Sith’s and she made her mind up to turn this absurd situation to her own advantage. Yes, maybe she was a bit attracted - she had to admit it - but it was an unimportant detail, because primarily she had a mission. The Keeper trusted her and she'd die before disappointing him. She had to stay focused on her Lord and stop wondering about that evil woman and her marvelous dark blue eyes.
Zafire was nervous. The new kind of treatment was giving some results, because for nearly three weeks the Sister of the Dark hadn’t exploded in her usual and unnervingly pointless screams and threats. But still the Mord-Sith hadn’t bent the prisoner completely. Still Amelia kept on refusing to admit that she was her Mistress and this was bothering Zafire immensely.
The Sister of the Dark was hers, full stop.
Zafire had never craved to possess a prisoner this way, but that damn sorceress was an irresistible challenge to her, she couldn’t help but wanting her completely and all for herself.
When Zafire recalled how Amelia showed again signs of rebellion in the bathroom, she still felt the anger pulsing inside of her and a persisting nervousness. It wasn't planned to be a moment of such a closeness, almost intimacy between them, but it naturally slipped to that degree and the black haired woman had acquiesced the vibe to deepen because it seemed that it was working. Lowering her guard when it came with making out was something she'd never allowed with a pet before - or with any of her sisters Mord-Sith or anyone else at all to be honest - but this woman with her soft auburn hair and her obstinate character was terribly attractive in her eyes, she was beautiful... heady...
Hence it felt like a slap in her face hearing the Sister refusing her one more time, after all the dedication she gave her. As absurd as it seemed Zafire felt like... jilted and consequentially saw all red by the rage and frustration and even a hint of delusion. If the touches they had exchanged in those moments were engaging for the Mord-Sith, the same it had to be for the Sister, hadn't it? Actually the red-haired woman looked to appreciate the care Zafire lavished on her, nonetheless Amelia mustered enough force to resist her.
It took a considerable effort to the Mord-Sith to stop herself from giving up the breaking task and just killing that impossible pet on the spot - a big mistake which would earn her the blame from her Master and undoubted death; which one of the two was worse in the Mord-Sith's eyes wasn't something even she was sure about. Zafire had never known anybody as mysterious and intriguing as this absurd woman, who she obsessively needed to tame. Because until Amelia's will was free, not only Zafire was failing her Master, but also she was exposed to a pet capable of getting her carried way. Not being in control made Zafire nervous and unsure; it drag out of her the most forbidden of the emotions: fear.
The Mord-Sith decided it was better to stay apart from her jailed for some time, since it was clear that her engagement in this challenge was growing unhealthy; detachment is the soul of a good trainer and ultimately of a good Mord-Sith. Anyway she provided to send signals of her care assigning her pet to a new slightly more comfortable cell and ensuring that she was unscathed and decently fed. The sorceress would probably think that after months of resistance to the brutalizing tortures she had gained a little respect and deserved a little reward. But the truth was that prisoners tended to break more easily if smashed after having sampled a bit of pity or hope. Furthermore it seemed that giving the sorceress a little respite, was working fine at sparing them all the annoying bursts of exasperation.
Now Zafire was pacing through her prey’s lodge and caught herself anxious by the idea to see her; her heart rate was slightly increased as much as her breathing. She was impatient and definitely too much eager to see the Sister of the Dark. This was absolutely unacceptable. So she changed her mind and recruited two sisters in red leathers to help her with a training session. A good dose of pain issued from a couple of skilled and prodigal Agiel-equipped Mord-Sith, was what she needed to focus her mind on her priority and regain the needed detachment.
When the dusk covered the skies with a bluey grey blanket, Zafire walked again the corridor toward the new cell she had assigned to her favorite prisoner; the Mord-Sith was confident and reinforced by the good torturing and fighting session she had just engaged. She slammed opened the door of the jail and stepped in.
Sister Amelia was sitting on the pallet, fiddling with the lace of her dress, slightly shaking her head and patting with her feet on the floor, lost in her thoughts. But as soon as she saw the Mord-Sith she threw herself at her feet, shrilling her devotion to her.
“Mistress! At last you’ve come to me! I missed you so much… Forgive me. I’m a stupid, miserable idiot. Mistress I beg you, don’t leave me anymore. I suffered so much- Ouch!“
Zafire brutally kicked her on her face almost out of a reflex; this miserable servility was oddly even more unnerving than the usual intemperance. Only after doing so, she realized that her captive had just voiced what she was waiting for since a very long time. The sorceress addressing to her as a Mistress was at last obtained and with immediacy, unwaveringly, but most of all willingly and without any torture to coerce the Sister. Thus the job was done? But with that, also that certain thrill connected to the breaking mission had to be gone. It bothered the Mord-Sith even more than her repeated failures with Amelia. And it disappointed her. Being apart for three weeks was the only thing needed to break her? After all the challenging glares, the screamed threats, the resistance to beatings and violence, the Sister was effortlessly bending for a bit of neglect from her Mistress?
“Shut up and stay away from me!” The Mord-Sith barked, adding after a moment: “And for the Spirits’ sake stay still!”
Amelia crawled back, rubbing her bruised jaw, with a broken-hearted look. She nuzzled in a corner of the cell, avoiding whatever movement and barely allowing herself to breathe.
The Mord-Sith started pacing furiously in the small space, with a deep scowl on her face and her lips pressed to a thin line. She was annoyed and she didn’t know why. Her pet seemed tamed and this was what she wanted the most, so why was she feeling upset? She sensed that something was misguided.
The red-clad woman abruptly stopped and turned around to face the Sister of the Dark, staring at her with that particular gaze, which made Amelia feel like the Mord-Sith was disrobing her of all her confines, watching straight into her inner soul.
The Sister’s breath hitched; her emerald eyes got locked into the other woman’s and she sensed that her personality was already shaking under that intense dark blue look; she took a deep breath and briefly closed her eyes. When she reopened them Zafire was sitting on the floor close to her; that woman moved as fast and silent as a panther Amelia thought. The Mord-Sith kept on gazing at her and never broke the eye contact, but remained completely silent. Then she extended a gloved hand and grabbed Amelia’s wrist, holding it firmly but not painfully.
“Who is your Mistress?” She asked in a rude tone. A rhetorical question given the just spoken affirmation from the Sister. But she needed to ask it anyway.
“You are! Only you! No one else.” Amelia not only immediately complied, but she seemed looking forward to proclaiming her belonging to her Mistress. Zafire should have been satisfied about the reached and owed meekness of this creature, but was not. A chafing was vexing the pit of her stomach and she needed to work it out.
“Will you obey my orders? Always? Unquestioningly?”
“Always Mistress! I’m yours. Forever.” The devotion promptly spoken was accompanied with a cretin grin plastered upon the Sister’s face.
The Mord-Sith frowned even deeper and hardly refrained from slamming her Agiel against that visage to remove that imbecile expression - she needed her pet to be able to talk further and that faculty had already been compromised with the previous kick. What the sorceress was voicing were the words expected from a good pet, adequately and evidently broken. She was also pretty sure that Amelia wasn’t faking, but somewhat this wasn’t the way she wanted the Sister to tell those things. It was distort. Something was missing and Zafire didn't know how to reach that proud part of the Sister she was so urgently craving to confront now. That part she came to see today and the one she thought of in the past days. That part she passionately kissed three weeks ago.
“What about the Keeper?” She snarled with a jerk of her chin upward, taking on her defiant mode.
Amelia winced and an utter confusion dropped upon her expression, erasing the idiotic smile.
“The Keeper…? He is… my Master…”
The Sister’s eyes turned darker as well as her voice. Her face lost the confused features to reach the fierce ones of the tenacity; she had just switched her personality and with that also Zafire's impatience was at last alleviated. This one was her Amelia: the challenge she wanted to engage and the woman she longed to possess. The thrill was again immediately ignited and the Mord-Sith couldn’t help but spread her lips in a toothy saucy smile. Her heart picked a speeder race and the red-clad warrior recorded it, but it suddenly didn’t matter to her. Being involved in a skirmish with that living temptation that this pet was to her, was the only thing she was now focused on.
“Thus,” Zafire kept on, shifting to her seasoned velvety tone. “If the Keeper is your Master, what am I to you?”
Amelia looked at her for some heartbeats, seriously meditating her answer. “You are my enemy.” She growled, deeply furrowing her eyebrows. The black haired woman almost moaned by the pleasure of hearing such a provocation; the beginning of the game elicited liquid heat starting to gather in her lower belly and her eyes twinkled with defiance.
“Things don’t have to be perforce this way, you know?” Zafire purred seductively. “You could serve the Lord Rahl by my side.” She pulled the prisoner’s wrist she was still holding, forcing her closer. The intensity of the gaze deepened even more and slid from Amelia’s eyes to her mouth; the Mord-Sith licked her lips and sharply breathed in. That cell was becoming hotter.
“I will never serve that slithery coward!” Amelia snapped and wrenched her arm from the Mord-Sith’s grasp. “And I wonder why you do. He hasn’t magic; you’re not bonded to him. You are such a strong woman… brave… worthier than him. Why do you remain under his vile shadow?” The Sister didn’t even recorded the oddity of the flattering words she had just absently addressed to her tormentor.
Instead the Mord-Sith did and she pondered for some moments. Then she backhanded the Sister with all of her strength, sending the red head to violently crash against the wall. “Don’t you dare speak a single word about my Lord anymore or you’ll regret it.” Her voice was pure ice, but in her eyes something was stirring. The rage had replaced the lust, but the Mord-Sith felt that there was something more, other than the offenses made to her Lord, to make her unsettled.
Amelia stared back at her, holding the new bleeding wound on her temple. “Darken is a fool if he thinks he can trick the Keeper. He has no chances.” A disgusted frown explained the disdain the Sister felt for the aspiring Master of D’Hara. Then her look returned back into the Mord-Sith’s blue eyes and her expression became intense and serious. “And if you’ll stay by his side, you will share his same tragic fate.”
Zafire gritted her teeth and grabbed the other woman by her soft auburn hair, pulling her close while ragingly panting. The hot breath warmed Amelia’s lips, which were dangerously close to the other woman’s; for a fleeting moment the Sister felt for sure that the Mord-Sith was about to kiss her. But she instead punched her hard on her cheekbone, opening a new deep cut and sending the sorceress to the ground.
“I told you not to talk about my Master.” She barked angered. Her voice was even colder than before, but her eyes betrayed that something was moving inside of the Mord-Sith more and more forcefully. There were ghosts of thoughts swirling around her head and confusing her somehow; that was definitely something uncommon… Zafire was never confused. She was a sturdy undaunted Mord-Sith. A Mord-Sith who wasn't easy to lose her temper and would not allow her prisoner to driver her mad one more time. A Mord-Sith who now needed to get rid of a peculiar kind of tension and show her pet where she belonged.
Amelia remained on the floor shutting her eyes and waiting for the pain to loosen the grip from her. Then she slowly lifted and found the Mord-Sith hovering over her, deeply biting her lower lip with labored breath. She was evidently drinking the sight of her prey and envisioning her next moves.
The red haired woman didn't need any other confirmation to know that the Mord-Sith was now fully aroused. The quick breaths, the widened eyes and the visible pulsing in Zafire’s neck were unmistakable signs Amelia had learned to recognize during the time she spent in the Mord-Sith’s company. But the Sister didn’t honestly understand the reason of this attraction. She had never thought that her appearance could interest anyone, because her powers frightened people before they could even think of getting in touch with her. Truth be told, she never did much to make an approach with her easy or inviting; least of all she did anything appealing with the Mord-Sith.
Zafire's interest sounded truly weird to Amelia because the two women stood on opposite front lines and Amelia expected mostly hatred and despise from her enemy. Using sexual violence to bend her was something she could comprehend from a Sister of the Agiel; an attempt of seduction was another tactic she deemed expected from a woman addicted to pleasure and pain. But being physically engaged by her jailed, feeling and even more giving into a desire stemming out of thin air, those were things Amelia didn't understand from the Mord-Sith. It was irrational; it didn't serve any purpose - any reasonable at least - it could be easily mistaken for weakness...
“I want you.” The Mord-Sith soughed in a husky murmur and it just reinforced Amelia's pondering.
Suddenly Zafire jumped on top of her and forced her back on the floor; she impatiently attacked her lips and started devouring them. Gloved hands were holding both sides of Amelia’s face whereas an eager mouth was sealed to hers; hungry lips brushing and sucking and biting. A throaty moan escaped from Amelia’s mouth as the other woman’s tongue slid between her lips and poked against her teeth. Surrendering was the last thing the Sister wanted, but she realized too late she had already spread her opening, allowing that eager warm tongue to swipe inside her mouth, gliding against her own and apparently as eager tongue.
The Mord-Sith was kissing her with such heated want and holding her so tight, that the Sister was breathless. Amelia needed oxygen, but she marveled realizing that even more she wished this contact not to cease. When Zafire suddenly recoiled from the deep kiss and began chewing her lower lip, she was allowed the air she needed, which she sucked in wide intakes. The Mord-Sith took a moment to stare at her still holding Amelia's face in her hands; there were so many things the Sister couldn't tell beyond the surface of the deep waters swirling in those darkened blue eyes. And she found that she didn't care to decipher what was going on in that incomprehensible Mord-Sith head. She just wanted another kiss. Zafire was maybe telepathic because right after the Sister inwardly made the wish, she lowered to place a trail of licks and small kisses on the other woman’s face aiming to the shaking and already parted lips.
Soon lips met again and the feverish exchange restarted. Like it happened in the bathroom, this surge of kisses was different from the others Amelia had received in her captivity. It wasn’t the usual demonstration of domination, rather a sharing of passion, an encouragement to dive into a devouring swirl of fire. It was a promise speaking of pleasure given and received, telling of a trip through the abandon into each other’s bodies. It was the continuation of what they had left suspended at the end of their session in the bathroom.
Amelia recalled the intent she formulated just few hours before: to turn this absurd situation to her own advantage. She was entirely at her Lord's service and her body didn't except; that was a vessel crafted to serve her Master as much as her magic powers or her iron will. So, well, if the Mord-Sith had a fancy on her and desired her body so much, then she'd catch the chance of profiting from this weakness to get close to her aims and please her Lord.
Thus Amelia started to openly replying to the other woman’s attentions and with the same intensity, folding her arms around the Mord-Sith’s back and brushing her body against hers. Zafire groaned in pleasure, sensing the collaboration the Sister was granting her and adjusted her position, placing a thigh between the other woman’s legs. The red-clad woman’s mouth slid on the Sister’s neck, placing wet kisses, alternating with bites, which made Amelia quiver in hesitation. Zafire reached her earlobe and nibbled there, resoundingly sucking it; apparently the Mord-Sith was keen on this spot on her and Amelia imagined this kind of attention given to another sensitive and already pulsing part of her.
The eagerness in the Sister's responses spoke volumes about how she hadn't reckoned with Zafire's experience in matter of seduction and about her scarce resistance to the primal call of the pleasure. Sure she may think that she'd trick her jailer, that she was in control of the situation, but she was ultimately too poorly trained with that kind of proof. And in very truth, Amelia just longed to feel that enticing touch that had so easily confused and inebriated her three weeks before. Back then she was willingly tangled in the alluring net and introduced to a new kind of experience in which her dear Lord wasn't even vaguely contemplated. Such an experience she was now eager to repeat, wishing that the introduction would develop and deepen to a surprising degree. The red haired woman felt new shivers running down her spine; the anxiety and wavering slowly washed away by the liquid heat rising inside of her.
The Mord-Sith lifted her head and hastened at removing her gloves, helping with her teeth. Then she grabbed Amelia’s breast through the fabric and sank her face, kissing her chest and brushing her leg against the sex of the other woman, who struggled to increase the pressure, evidently enjoying the contact. Zafire was gliding down with her kisses more and more until the neckline of the tunic prevented her from reaching more bare skin with her mouth; the black braided woman grabbed the front hems of the garment and ripped them brusquely down to the bottom, revealing the complete nudity of the body she was longing to possess.
Amelia couldn’t restrain a gasp of fear and excitement, seeing such a zeal in the other woman’s need to have her; quivers of cold and hot coursed throughout her slim body leaving a trail of goose bumps. It was a completely different stance, distant from the Mord-Sith’s calculated indifference and cruel methodology in violating her, that Amelia had sampled in their previous meetings. Formerly Zafire had used to mercilessly take from her, or forced her to give with implacable violence. If the Mord-Sith gave, it wasn’t meant to deliver pleasure, but only to stress her control on the other woman and mostly those were painful attentions. Now all the Mord-Sith’s actions were eliciting pure pleasure for Amelia, who unexpectedly found herself caught in an arousal as intense as she had never felt before in her life. In the face of her purpose to be the one in control...
The Sister was indeed stunned realizing how her body was reacting on its own accord and responding to the other woman’s sensual call. After completing to pull off the simple dress and a brief contemplation of her prey’s naked form, Zafire lowered on her closing again the distance between their hot bodies and capturing a small breast in her mouth. A helpless Amelia rolled back her head delighted by the liquid warmth of that tongue coiling around her hardening nipple. Zafire was sucking and licking her there, emitting delicious wet sounds while intently fondling the other mound with her hand; every time the wicked mouth tightened against her rosy peak, Amelia clenched her sex in sympathy. This - coupled with the rubbing of the Mord-Sith’s thigh between her legs - was turning the Sister's center completely soaked. She wished with all herself to feel the contact skin to skin with the startling woman above her, like they had been in the bathroom. The ghost of that soft amber skin brushing against hers still haunted Amelia and was now making her body even more languorous for a direct touch. But the Sister didn’t dare trying to disrobe the other woman, because she was unsure about Zafire’s intentions and didn’t want to turn this pleasing introduction into a beating conclusion.
The Mord-Sith left her nipple with a click and passed to kiss and nip the other; new gasps escaped from the Sister’s mouth, whereas Zafire kept on moaning, tasting that soft and smooth flesh. The way the sorceress was rubbing her hips against her thigh, spoke volumes about the fast unsealing of the sexual inhibitions of the woman beneath her. The Mord-Sith had thought that she was some sort of frigid, but in the end Amelia’s previous insensitivity was simply owed to Zafire’s choosing the wrong type of sexual approach. After all, not all the women loved pain as much as the Sisters of the Agiel did.
The black haired woman sluggishly aimed upward, planting a new path of open mouthed kisses on Amelia’s chest, passing to her neck and along her jawline and then she propped up on her elbows and remained for a moment to contemplate the swollen parted lips in front of her. Her eyes were imbued with craving and both women were panting. When their eyes locked into each other, Zafire felt the air growing thicker and for a moment filled with unexpected opportunities. This impelling desire was shared between them and the complicity was now undeniable.
Amelia stared at the woman upon her: she was extremely fascinating and had awesome deep blue eyes. During her lucid periods she had never consciously recorded it and much less lingered in admiring such a beauty, but now she was… And that scent… their proximity was bringing blows of that enchanting scent of sea, which filled Amelia’s mind erasing whatever other intention she had and leaving only a shattering desire. The red haired woman grabbed the Mord-Sith’s head and pulled her against her mouth, claiming her for a new deep kiss which the other woman gladly allowed, despite her feeling uncomfortably submissive in this compliance.
Amelia spread her legs more open, feeling the ache in her center growing higher and rocking faster to find release from this luscious torture. Zafire's hand was promptly sent to help the other woman with her needs; it slid down between them reaching the junction between Amelia’s thigh and lower abdomen, mildly stroking the sensitive skin in anticipation and unhurriedly approaching to the center of the other woman's need. When she cupped and brushed her hand against the Sister’s sex, a deep long moan of desperate pleasure was her reward. The Mord-Sith placed her fingers at her entrance, smiling wide within the kisses, at the feeling of how much sticky were Amelia’s folds.
“I knew you’d be wet for me sooner or later.” Zafire confidently whispered with hoarse voice into the red-haired woman mouth. “You are mine.” She added and for the second time the statement sounded like a prayer.
It made Amelia writhe even more to hear those lewd words, made even more sensual by the amazing deep Mord-Sith’s timbre. The black-haired woman dampened her fingers into Amelia’s warm arousal and began to place slow circles around her clit, alternating with teasing of her folds and small incursion in her entrance. The Sister was completely crazy by the longing to reach the climax, which she felt being just few caresses away. The Mord-Sith returned to sucking and gently biting her breasts, making the other woman clench her inner walls in desperate need and her arms tightening around her shoulders. Feeling Amelia holding her so intently was an unexpected pleasure and Zafire was constantly fighting to keep herself in balance between pleasing her pet and maintaining her position in charge.
The Mord-Sith dug her fingers a little deeper into the other woman’s tight slit and milked as much slickness as she could, then she brought the hand to her own lips and coated them with that precious juice, doing the same with Amelia’s lips then forcefully kissing her. Tasting her flavor spread on both their mouths and moaning at that feeling.
“You taste really good, you know?” She purred with obscene sensuality and the Sister shuddered both scandalized and thrilled. Zafire thoroughly licked her fingers and placed them back where they were missed, namely between the Sister’s legs where the teasing restarted. Amelia struggled to avoid miserably showing her need, but a new gasp was however stolen from her wet lips. She craved for a deeper contact, but bit her tongue to prevent her imploring request to roll out of her mouth.
“Do you have an idea how much desirable you are? How much wet I could drive you? Which unimaginable pleasure I could make you feel if you’d let me?”
A fresh surge of mewling was the eloquent answer Amelia sent in return to this tempting offer, which was combined with the rhythmic motions of the Mord-Sith’s hips against her sweated body and never ending stimulating strokes on her sex. The black haired woman placed her lips on the Sister’s throat and began to run long licks all over the length of her neck, reaching the peak of her chin just to dive once again into Amelia’s mouth.
All of a sudden the Mord-Sith deeply entered her with her fingers inside Amelia’s womanhood and she arched her back, sending her head to rasp against the floor.
“Oh Spirits… yes… yes…” Amelia gasped, incapable of restraining her voice and by now giving up whatever attempt to hide how much she enjoyed the other woman screwing her. The shameful pleading for more was another forbidden line she crossed, but she didn't care as long as it could give her a little more pleasure.
The Sister increased the bucking of her hips, to get what she desperately wanted, squeezing her sex around the black haired woman’s fingers. Zafire decided to take her at the top of the pleasure and moved from her upper body to settle her face between the Sister’s legs, never ceasing to pump with her fingers up to the knuckles.
The Mord-Sith first lick made Amelia practically scream between her heavy pants. Zafire smugly smiled and started placing soft sucks on the other woman’s clit, then alternating shy brief licks with the tip of her tongue to a firm dragging up and down with the broad bold tongue. Zafire turned out to be absolutely generous in giving that special kind of kisses delivered to Amelia’s responsive spot, sometimes slowing, sometimes hastening the ministration, but always in delicious synch with the pace of the thrusting of her fingers inside the other woman’s sex. The Mord-Sith also sent appreciation hums which drove more shudders from the Sister, by the pleasure of the vibrating contact.
“So good…” Zafire hummed again, before restarting with an eager lapping and hard sucking at the throbbing clit.
Amelia was panting so hard that her throat had turned arid and she was grasping the other woman’s hair, to maintain the lustful pressure that made her squirm. She was just on the verge of the climax when suddenly Zafire moved away from her, making her whimper in complaint for the loss of the sweet warmth of her mouth and the filling presence of her digits inside of her. The contact was replaced by the slight touch of the skilled Mord-Sith’s finger pads, moving in an enjoyable rhythm, but touching her sensitive nub just too slightly to make her come undone. Zafire was renowned for her great capacity in acknowledging the moment to stop before it was too late. She got close to Amelia’s ear and softly murmured:
“Who is your Mistress?” She was provocative and as smug as anything.
Amelia hurried at sobbing between her pants. “You! You are my Mistress…”
“You know your Mistress can please you. Do you want me to?” The low purr purposely torturing Amelia and dripping with satisfaction.
“Please Mistress! Please, release me...” Amelia begged with closed eyes, delirious by the desire.
Zafire removed her hand from the other woman’s sex and gripped her Agiel.
“I am so sorry, my dear.” Zafire hummed, scorning her. “I know this is not how you meant it, but I have to teach you. Forgive me.” Then she sent her shocking weapon against the other woman’s center.
Amelia’s squeals were so loud that everyone in the Temple heard them.
Later that night Zafire was feeling a sort of uneasiness inside of her. The conclusion of her tryst with her pet had left her somehow unsatisfied, as if she felt that things had to go differently. She knew very well she had to issue a lesson to Amelia, explaining her that she was her Mistress and she could choose to administer pain and pleasure with the quantity, the times and ways she wanted.
But after devastating the other woman with a ruthless pain - delivered just in the spot which few moments before was graced by the most delightful pleasure - she sensed a sour sensation at the base of her throat. She reluctantly came to admit that she would have preferred to please her pet instead of crushing her.
And despite her efforts to distract herself, she couldn’t stop thinking of that unpredictable sorceress.
Even in this moment, with the same two Mord-Sith who helped her in the afternoon with a training session, and were helping her now with a night session of liberating sex, she could not help but wonder about the red haired woman. That’s why when she arched her back, overwhelmed by the lewd attentions she was given by the two sisters - one with the head buried between her thighs furiously working on her sex and the other equally eagerly tonguing her breasts - it was Amelia’s name that bloomed on her lips.
Zafire had to bite her lower lip until it bled to avoid screaming the Sister of the Dark’s name, as she was run by the shocks of the climax.
Author: zagadka4_lj
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: PG 17
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Legend of The Seeker and this was written for enjoyment; certainly mine, hopefully yours.
Summary: Set immediatly after Tears.
When the Keeper was defeated, it seemed that life should start again with happiness and joy, but now Kahlan was feeling only woe and sadness. Along the way toward home, things go awry for the Seeker and his band. They are forced to take paths which will bring them to face what future holds and deal with events from the past. Kahlan will find out that love has many sides and shapes.
Words Count: 5744
A/N: This is my very first writing work and for this reason my style and my skill with english will change as the chapters go by (hopefully improving...)
I consider this fic as my personal version of season 3 and it is entirely based on the TV Show also because I haven't read the books. The title of the fic and of the chapters are all titles or verses taken from songs of my favorite band The Corrs.
I am posting this story also on Fanfiction.net (username zagadka4); my aim is to catch up here and then proceed at the same pace on both sites.
Chapter 30 - She'll explore you and adore you in her way
(Verse from the song “Love in the Milky Way”)
The new cell was better than the previous.
When Amelia woke up after the animated conclusion of her bath with the Mord-Sith, she was dressed with a clean tunic and resting in a new dungeon, slightly larger than the previous, less dirty and adorned with the extraordinary luxury of a very little window, allowing entry to a beam of daylight.
Several days had passed from her awakening, probably more than a fortnight, and her Mistress never came to her; it was unusual as Zafire usually visited her if not on daily basis, every two or three days at most. Nobody else came to beat or interrogate the Sister of the Dark during this period, which seemed to her like a welcomed vacation. The only human contact she had in those days was with the slave who brought her meals; the poor soul always left the cell very briskly however. The meals were again made up of black bread and water, but occasionally a small piece of meat or some vegetables appeared in the dish.
Amelia observed another unexpected change in her stay at the Temple during this period: she never incurred into her surges of anger, even if she had switched between her lucid and subjugated sides several times. When the latter was in charge, she tremendously missed her Mistress, blaming herself for having disappointed her, wishing that her beloved could forgive her stupidity. But when she regained clearness in her mind, she kept on repeating herself that the Mord-Sith was playing with her, administering pleasure other than pain, with the undoubted aim of bending her more efficiently. Amelia couldn’t say why, but since the red-clad woman had begun to grant her a better treatment, she didn’t feel the urge to explode and burst in screams any longer.
The Sister of the Dark feared that Zafire’s new approach was actually working. Indeed also her lucid side somehow missed her Mistress. Her mind kept on returning to the heated moments they had shared in that bathroom, in which - she was fairly sure - also the Mord-Sith had felt more than what she expected.
But Amelia’s will was strong, stronger than the Mord-Sith’s and she made her mind up to turn this absurd situation to her own advantage. Yes, maybe she was a bit attracted - she had to admit it - but it was an unimportant detail, because primarily she had a mission. The Keeper trusted her and she'd die before disappointing him. She had to stay focused on her Lord and stop wondering about that evil woman and her marvelous dark blue eyes.
Zafire was nervous. The new kind of treatment was giving some results, because for nearly three weeks the Sister of the Dark hadn’t exploded in her usual and unnervingly pointless screams and threats. But still the Mord-Sith hadn’t bent the prisoner completely. Still Amelia kept on refusing to admit that she was her Mistress and this was bothering Zafire immensely.
The Sister of the Dark was hers, full stop.
Zafire had never craved to possess a prisoner this way, but that damn sorceress was an irresistible challenge to her, she couldn’t help but wanting her completely and all for herself.
When Zafire recalled how Amelia showed again signs of rebellion in the bathroom, she still felt the anger pulsing inside of her and a persisting nervousness. It wasn't planned to be a moment of such a closeness, almost intimacy between them, but it naturally slipped to that degree and the black haired woman had acquiesced the vibe to deepen because it seemed that it was working. Lowering her guard when it came with making out was something she'd never allowed with a pet before - or with any of her sisters Mord-Sith or anyone else at all to be honest - but this woman with her soft auburn hair and her obstinate character was terribly attractive in her eyes, she was beautiful... heady...
Hence it felt like a slap in her face hearing the Sister refusing her one more time, after all the dedication she gave her. As absurd as it seemed Zafire felt like... jilted and consequentially saw all red by the rage and frustration and even a hint of delusion. If the touches they had exchanged in those moments were engaging for the Mord-Sith, the same it had to be for the Sister, hadn't it? Actually the red-haired woman looked to appreciate the care Zafire lavished on her, nonetheless Amelia mustered enough force to resist her.
It took a considerable effort to the Mord-Sith to stop herself from giving up the breaking task and just killing that impossible pet on the spot - a big mistake which would earn her the blame from her Master and undoubted death; which one of the two was worse in the Mord-Sith's eyes wasn't something even she was sure about. Zafire had never known anybody as mysterious and intriguing as this absurd woman, who she obsessively needed to tame. Because until Amelia's will was free, not only Zafire was failing her Master, but also she was exposed to a pet capable of getting her carried way. Not being in control made Zafire nervous and unsure; it drag out of her the most forbidden of the emotions: fear.
The Mord-Sith decided it was better to stay apart from her jailed for some time, since it was clear that her engagement in this challenge was growing unhealthy; detachment is the soul of a good trainer and ultimately of a good Mord-Sith. Anyway she provided to send signals of her care assigning her pet to a new slightly more comfortable cell and ensuring that she was unscathed and decently fed. The sorceress would probably think that after months of resistance to the brutalizing tortures she had gained a little respect and deserved a little reward. But the truth was that prisoners tended to break more easily if smashed after having sampled a bit of pity or hope. Furthermore it seemed that giving the sorceress a little respite, was working fine at sparing them all the annoying bursts of exasperation.
Now Zafire was pacing through her prey’s lodge and caught herself anxious by the idea to see her; her heart rate was slightly increased as much as her breathing. She was impatient and definitely too much eager to see the Sister of the Dark. This was absolutely unacceptable. So she changed her mind and recruited two sisters in red leathers to help her with a training session. A good dose of pain issued from a couple of skilled and prodigal Agiel-equipped Mord-Sith, was what she needed to focus her mind on her priority and regain the needed detachment.
When the dusk covered the skies with a bluey grey blanket, Zafire walked again the corridor toward the new cell she had assigned to her favorite prisoner; the Mord-Sith was confident and reinforced by the good torturing and fighting session she had just engaged. She slammed opened the door of the jail and stepped in.
Sister Amelia was sitting on the pallet, fiddling with the lace of her dress, slightly shaking her head and patting with her feet on the floor, lost in her thoughts. But as soon as she saw the Mord-Sith she threw herself at her feet, shrilling her devotion to her.
“Mistress! At last you’ve come to me! I missed you so much… Forgive me. I’m a stupid, miserable idiot. Mistress I beg you, don’t leave me anymore. I suffered so much- Ouch!“
Zafire brutally kicked her on her face almost out of a reflex; this miserable servility was oddly even more unnerving than the usual intemperance. Only after doing so, she realized that her captive had just voiced what she was waiting for since a very long time. The sorceress addressing to her as a Mistress was at last obtained and with immediacy, unwaveringly, but most of all willingly and without any torture to coerce the Sister. Thus the job was done? But with that, also that certain thrill connected to the breaking mission had to be gone. It bothered the Mord-Sith even more than her repeated failures with Amelia. And it disappointed her. Being apart for three weeks was the only thing needed to break her? After all the challenging glares, the screamed threats, the resistance to beatings and violence, the Sister was effortlessly bending for a bit of neglect from her Mistress?
“Shut up and stay away from me!” The Mord-Sith barked, adding after a moment: “And for the Spirits’ sake stay still!”
Amelia crawled back, rubbing her bruised jaw, with a broken-hearted look. She nuzzled in a corner of the cell, avoiding whatever movement and barely allowing herself to breathe.
The Mord-Sith started pacing furiously in the small space, with a deep scowl on her face and her lips pressed to a thin line. She was annoyed and she didn’t know why. Her pet seemed tamed and this was what she wanted the most, so why was she feeling upset? She sensed that something was misguided.
The red-clad woman abruptly stopped and turned around to face the Sister of the Dark, staring at her with that particular gaze, which made Amelia feel like the Mord-Sith was disrobing her of all her confines, watching straight into her inner soul.
The Sister’s breath hitched; her emerald eyes got locked into the other woman’s and she sensed that her personality was already shaking under that intense dark blue look; she took a deep breath and briefly closed her eyes. When she reopened them Zafire was sitting on the floor close to her; that woman moved as fast and silent as a panther Amelia thought. The Mord-Sith kept on gazing at her and never broke the eye contact, but remained completely silent. Then she extended a gloved hand and grabbed Amelia’s wrist, holding it firmly but not painfully.
“Who is your Mistress?” She asked in a rude tone. A rhetorical question given the just spoken affirmation from the Sister. But she needed to ask it anyway.
“You are! Only you! No one else.” Amelia not only immediately complied, but she seemed looking forward to proclaiming her belonging to her Mistress. Zafire should have been satisfied about the reached and owed meekness of this creature, but was not. A chafing was vexing the pit of her stomach and she needed to work it out.
“Will you obey my orders? Always? Unquestioningly?”
“Always Mistress! I’m yours. Forever.” The devotion promptly spoken was accompanied with a cretin grin plastered upon the Sister’s face.
The Mord-Sith frowned even deeper and hardly refrained from slamming her Agiel against that visage to remove that imbecile expression - she needed her pet to be able to talk further and that faculty had already been compromised with the previous kick. What the sorceress was voicing were the words expected from a good pet, adequately and evidently broken. She was also pretty sure that Amelia wasn’t faking, but somewhat this wasn’t the way she wanted the Sister to tell those things. It was distort. Something was missing and Zafire didn't know how to reach that proud part of the Sister she was so urgently craving to confront now. That part she came to see today and the one she thought of in the past days. That part she passionately kissed three weeks ago.
“What about the Keeper?” She snarled with a jerk of her chin upward, taking on her defiant mode.
Amelia winced and an utter confusion dropped upon her expression, erasing the idiotic smile.
“The Keeper…? He is… my Master…”
The Sister’s eyes turned darker as well as her voice. Her face lost the confused features to reach the fierce ones of the tenacity; she had just switched her personality and with that also Zafire's impatience was at last alleviated. This one was her Amelia: the challenge she wanted to engage and the woman she longed to possess. The thrill was again immediately ignited and the Mord-Sith couldn’t help but spread her lips in a toothy saucy smile. Her heart picked a speeder race and the red-clad warrior recorded it, but it suddenly didn’t matter to her. Being involved in a skirmish with that living temptation that this pet was to her, was the only thing she was now focused on.
“Thus,” Zafire kept on, shifting to her seasoned velvety tone. “If the Keeper is your Master, what am I to you?”
Amelia looked at her for some heartbeats, seriously meditating her answer. “You are my enemy.” She growled, deeply furrowing her eyebrows. The black haired woman almost moaned by the pleasure of hearing such a provocation; the beginning of the game elicited liquid heat starting to gather in her lower belly and her eyes twinkled with defiance.
“Things don’t have to be perforce this way, you know?” Zafire purred seductively. “You could serve the Lord Rahl by my side.” She pulled the prisoner’s wrist she was still holding, forcing her closer. The intensity of the gaze deepened even more and slid from Amelia’s eyes to her mouth; the Mord-Sith licked her lips and sharply breathed in. That cell was becoming hotter.
“I will never serve that slithery coward!” Amelia snapped and wrenched her arm from the Mord-Sith’s grasp. “And I wonder why you do. He hasn’t magic; you’re not bonded to him. You are such a strong woman… brave… worthier than him. Why do you remain under his vile shadow?” The Sister didn’t even recorded the oddity of the flattering words she had just absently addressed to her tormentor.
Instead the Mord-Sith did and she pondered for some moments. Then she backhanded the Sister with all of her strength, sending the red head to violently crash against the wall. “Don’t you dare speak a single word about my Lord anymore or you’ll regret it.” Her voice was pure ice, but in her eyes something was stirring. The rage had replaced the lust, but the Mord-Sith felt that there was something more, other than the offenses made to her Lord, to make her unsettled.
Amelia stared back at her, holding the new bleeding wound on her temple. “Darken is a fool if he thinks he can trick the Keeper. He has no chances.” A disgusted frown explained the disdain the Sister felt for the aspiring Master of D’Hara. Then her look returned back into the Mord-Sith’s blue eyes and her expression became intense and serious. “And if you’ll stay by his side, you will share his same tragic fate.”
Zafire gritted her teeth and grabbed the other woman by her soft auburn hair, pulling her close while ragingly panting. The hot breath warmed Amelia’s lips, which were dangerously close to the other woman’s; for a fleeting moment the Sister felt for sure that the Mord-Sith was about to kiss her. But she instead punched her hard on her cheekbone, opening a new deep cut and sending the sorceress to the ground.
“I told you not to talk about my Master.” She barked angered. Her voice was even colder than before, but her eyes betrayed that something was moving inside of the Mord-Sith more and more forcefully. There were ghosts of thoughts swirling around her head and confusing her somehow; that was definitely something uncommon… Zafire was never confused. She was a sturdy undaunted Mord-Sith. A Mord-Sith who wasn't easy to lose her temper and would not allow her prisoner to driver her mad one more time. A Mord-Sith who now needed to get rid of a peculiar kind of tension and show her pet where she belonged.
Amelia remained on the floor shutting her eyes and waiting for the pain to loosen the grip from her. Then she slowly lifted and found the Mord-Sith hovering over her, deeply biting her lower lip with labored breath. She was evidently drinking the sight of her prey and envisioning her next moves.
The red haired woman didn't need any other confirmation to know that the Mord-Sith was now fully aroused. The quick breaths, the widened eyes and the visible pulsing in Zafire’s neck were unmistakable signs Amelia had learned to recognize during the time she spent in the Mord-Sith’s company. But the Sister didn’t honestly understand the reason of this attraction. She had never thought that her appearance could interest anyone, because her powers frightened people before they could even think of getting in touch with her. Truth be told, she never did much to make an approach with her easy or inviting; least of all she did anything appealing with the Mord-Sith.
Zafire's interest sounded truly weird to Amelia because the two women stood on opposite front lines and Amelia expected mostly hatred and despise from her enemy. Using sexual violence to bend her was something she could comprehend from a Sister of the Agiel; an attempt of seduction was another tactic she deemed expected from a woman addicted to pleasure and pain. But being physically engaged by her jailed, feeling and even more giving into a desire stemming out of thin air, those were things Amelia didn't understand from the Mord-Sith. It was irrational; it didn't serve any purpose - any reasonable at least - it could be easily mistaken for weakness...
“I want you.” The Mord-Sith soughed in a husky murmur and it just reinforced Amelia's pondering.
Suddenly Zafire jumped on top of her and forced her back on the floor; she impatiently attacked her lips and started devouring them. Gloved hands were holding both sides of Amelia’s face whereas an eager mouth was sealed to hers; hungry lips brushing and sucking and biting. A throaty moan escaped from Amelia’s mouth as the other woman’s tongue slid between her lips and poked against her teeth. Surrendering was the last thing the Sister wanted, but she realized too late she had already spread her opening, allowing that eager warm tongue to swipe inside her mouth, gliding against her own and apparently as eager tongue.
The Mord-Sith was kissing her with such heated want and holding her so tight, that the Sister was breathless. Amelia needed oxygen, but she marveled realizing that even more she wished this contact not to cease. When Zafire suddenly recoiled from the deep kiss and began chewing her lower lip, she was allowed the air she needed, which she sucked in wide intakes. The Mord-Sith took a moment to stare at her still holding Amelia's face in her hands; there were so many things the Sister couldn't tell beyond the surface of the deep waters swirling in those darkened blue eyes. And she found that she didn't care to decipher what was going on in that incomprehensible Mord-Sith head. She just wanted another kiss. Zafire was maybe telepathic because right after the Sister inwardly made the wish, she lowered to place a trail of licks and small kisses on the other woman’s face aiming to the shaking and already parted lips.
Soon lips met again and the feverish exchange restarted. Like it happened in the bathroom, this surge of kisses was different from the others Amelia had received in her captivity. It wasn’t the usual demonstration of domination, rather a sharing of passion, an encouragement to dive into a devouring swirl of fire. It was a promise speaking of pleasure given and received, telling of a trip through the abandon into each other’s bodies. It was the continuation of what they had left suspended at the end of their session in the bathroom.
Amelia recalled the intent she formulated just few hours before: to turn this absurd situation to her own advantage. She was entirely at her Lord's service and her body didn't except; that was a vessel crafted to serve her Master as much as her magic powers or her iron will. So, well, if the Mord-Sith had a fancy on her and desired her body so much, then she'd catch the chance of profiting from this weakness to get close to her aims and please her Lord.
Thus Amelia started to openly replying to the other woman’s attentions and with the same intensity, folding her arms around the Mord-Sith’s back and brushing her body against hers. Zafire groaned in pleasure, sensing the collaboration the Sister was granting her and adjusted her position, placing a thigh between the other woman’s legs. The red-clad woman’s mouth slid on the Sister’s neck, placing wet kisses, alternating with bites, which made Amelia quiver in hesitation. Zafire reached her earlobe and nibbled there, resoundingly sucking it; apparently the Mord-Sith was keen on this spot on her and Amelia imagined this kind of attention given to another sensitive and already pulsing part of her.
The eagerness in the Sister's responses spoke volumes about how she hadn't reckoned with Zafire's experience in matter of seduction and about her scarce resistance to the primal call of the pleasure. Sure she may think that she'd trick her jailer, that she was in control of the situation, but she was ultimately too poorly trained with that kind of proof. And in very truth, Amelia just longed to feel that enticing touch that had so easily confused and inebriated her three weeks before. Back then she was willingly tangled in the alluring net and introduced to a new kind of experience in which her dear Lord wasn't even vaguely contemplated. Such an experience she was now eager to repeat, wishing that the introduction would develop and deepen to a surprising degree. The red haired woman felt new shivers running down her spine; the anxiety and wavering slowly washed away by the liquid heat rising inside of her.
The Mord-Sith lifted her head and hastened at removing her gloves, helping with her teeth. Then she grabbed Amelia’s breast through the fabric and sank her face, kissing her chest and brushing her leg against the sex of the other woman, who struggled to increase the pressure, evidently enjoying the contact. Zafire was gliding down with her kisses more and more until the neckline of the tunic prevented her from reaching more bare skin with her mouth; the black braided woman grabbed the front hems of the garment and ripped them brusquely down to the bottom, revealing the complete nudity of the body she was longing to possess.
Amelia couldn’t restrain a gasp of fear and excitement, seeing such a zeal in the other woman’s need to have her; quivers of cold and hot coursed throughout her slim body leaving a trail of goose bumps. It was a completely different stance, distant from the Mord-Sith’s calculated indifference and cruel methodology in violating her, that Amelia had sampled in their previous meetings. Formerly Zafire had used to mercilessly take from her, or forced her to give with implacable violence. If the Mord-Sith gave, it wasn’t meant to deliver pleasure, but only to stress her control on the other woman and mostly those were painful attentions. Now all the Mord-Sith’s actions were eliciting pure pleasure for Amelia, who unexpectedly found herself caught in an arousal as intense as she had never felt before in her life. In the face of her purpose to be the one in control...
The Sister was indeed stunned realizing how her body was reacting on its own accord and responding to the other woman’s sensual call. After completing to pull off the simple dress and a brief contemplation of her prey’s naked form, Zafire lowered on her closing again the distance between their hot bodies and capturing a small breast in her mouth. A helpless Amelia rolled back her head delighted by the liquid warmth of that tongue coiling around her hardening nipple. Zafire was sucking and licking her there, emitting delicious wet sounds while intently fondling the other mound with her hand; every time the wicked mouth tightened against her rosy peak, Amelia clenched her sex in sympathy. This - coupled with the rubbing of the Mord-Sith’s thigh between her legs - was turning the Sister's center completely soaked. She wished with all herself to feel the contact skin to skin with the startling woman above her, like they had been in the bathroom. The ghost of that soft amber skin brushing against hers still haunted Amelia and was now making her body even more languorous for a direct touch. But the Sister didn’t dare trying to disrobe the other woman, because she was unsure about Zafire’s intentions and didn’t want to turn this pleasing introduction into a beating conclusion.
The Mord-Sith left her nipple with a click and passed to kiss and nip the other; new gasps escaped from the Sister’s mouth, whereas Zafire kept on moaning, tasting that soft and smooth flesh. The way the sorceress was rubbing her hips against her thigh, spoke volumes about the fast unsealing of the sexual inhibitions of the woman beneath her. The Mord-Sith had thought that she was some sort of frigid, but in the end Amelia’s previous insensitivity was simply owed to Zafire’s choosing the wrong type of sexual approach. After all, not all the women loved pain as much as the Sisters of the Agiel did.
The black haired woman sluggishly aimed upward, planting a new path of open mouthed kisses on Amelia’s chest, passing to her neck and along her jawline and then she propped up on her elbows and remained for a moment to contemplate the swollen parted lips in front of her. Her eyes were imbued with craving and both women were panting. When their eyes locked into each other, Zafire felt the air growing thicker and for a moment filled with unexpected opportunities. This impelling desire was shared between them and the complicity was now undeniable.
Amelia stared at the woman upon her: she was extremely fascinating and had awesome deep blue eyes. During her lucid periods she had never consciously recorded it and much less lingered in admiring such a beauty, but now she was… And that scent… their proximity was bringing blows of that enchanting scent of sea, which filled Amelia’s mind erasing whatever other intention she had and leaving only a shattering desire. The red haired woman grabbed the Mord-Sith’s head and pulled her against her mouth, claiming her for a new deep kiss which the other woman gladly allowed, despite her feeling uncomfortably submissive in this compliance.
Amelia spread her legs more open, feeling the ache in her center growing higher and rocking faster to find release from this luscious torture. Zafire's hand was promptly sent to help the other woman with her needs; it slid down between them reaching the junction between Amelia’s thigh and lower abdomen, mildly stroking the sensitive skin in anticipation and unhurriedly approaching to the center of the other woman's need. When she cupped and brushed her hand against the Sister’s sex, a deep long moan of desperate pleasure was her reward. The Mord-Sith placed her fingers at her entrance, smiling wide within the kisses, at the feeling of how much sticky were Amelia’s folds.
“I knew you’d be wet for me sooner or later.” Zafire confidently whispered with hoarse voice into the red-haired woman mouth. “You are mine.” She added and for the second time the statement sounded like a prayer.
It made Amelia writhe even more to hear those lewd words, made even more sensual by the amazing deep Mord-Sith’s timbre. The black-haired woman dampened her fingers into Amelia’s warm arousal and began to place slow circles around her clit, alternating with teasing of her folds and small incursion in her entrance. The Sister was completely crazy by the longing to reach the climax, which she felt being just few caresses away. The Mord-Sith returned to sucking and gently biting her breasts, making the other woman clench her inner walls in desperate need and her arms tightening around her shoulders. Feeling Amelia holding her so intently was an unexpected pleasure and Zafire was constantly fighting to keep herself in balance between pleasing her pet and maintaining her position in charge.
The Mord-Sith dug her fingers a little deeper into the other woman’s tight slit and milked as much slickness as she could, then she brought the hand to her own lips and coated them with that precious juice, doing the same with Amelia’s lips then forcefully kissing her. Tasting her flavor spread on both their mouths and moaning at that feeling.
“You taste really good, you know?” She purred with obscene sensuality and the Sister shuddered both scandalized and thrilled. Zafire thoroughly licked her fingers and placed them back where they were missed, namely between the Sister’s legs where the teasing restarted. Amelia struggled to avoid miserably showing her need, but a new gasp was however stolen from her wet lips. She craved for a deeper contact, but bit her tongue to prevent her imploring request to roll out of her mouth.
“Do you have an idea how much desirable you are? How much wet I could drive you? Which unimaginable pleasure I could make you feel if you’d let me?”
A fresh surge of mewling was the eloquent answer Amelia sent in return to this tempting offer, which was combined with the rhythmic motions of the Mord-Sith’s hips against her sweated body and never ending stimulating strokes on her sex. The black haired woman placed her lips on the Sister’s throat and began to run long licks all over the length of her neck, reaching the peak of her chin just to dive once again into Amelia’s mouth.
All of a sudden the Mord-Sith deeply entered her with her fingers inside Amelia’s womanhood and she arched her back, sending her head to rasp against the floor.
“Oh Spirits… yes… yes…” Amelia gasped, incapable of restraining her voice and by now giving up whatever attempt to hide how much she enjoyed the other woman screwing her. The shameful pleading for more was another forbidden line she crossed, but she didn't care as long as it could give her a little more pleasure.
The Sister increased the bucking of her hips, to get what she desperately wanted, squeezing her sex around the black haired woman’s fingers. Zafire decided to take her at the top of the pleasure and moved from her upper body to settle her face between the Sister’s legs, never ceasing to pump with her fingers up to the knuckles.
The Mord-Sith first lick made Amelia practically scream between her heavy pants. Zafire smugly smiled and started placing soft sucks on the other woman’s clit, then alternating shy brief licks with the tip of her tongue to a firm dragging up and down with the broad bold tongue. Zafire turned out to be absolutely generous in giving that special kind of kisses delivered to Amelia’s responsive spot, sometimes slowing, sometimes hastening the ministration, but always in delicious synch with the pace of the thrusting of her fingers inside the other woman’s sex. The Mord-Sith also sent appreciation hums which drove more shudders from the Sister, by the pleasure of the vibrating contact.
“So good…” Zafire hummed again, before restarting with an eager lapping and hard sucking at the throbbing clit.
Amelia was panting so hard that her throat had turned arid and she was grasping the other woman’s hair, to maintain the lustful pressure that made her squirm. She was just on the verge of the climax when suddenly Zafire moved away from her, making her whimper in complaint for the loss of the sweet warmth of her mouth and the filling presence of her digits inside of her. The contact was replaced by the slight touch of the skilled Mord-Sith’s finger pads, moving in an enjoyable rhythm, but touching her sensitive nub just too slightly to make her come undone. Zafire was renowned for her great capacity in acknowledging the moment to stop before it was too late. She got close to Amelia’s ear and softly murmured:
“Who is your Mistress?” She was provocative and as smug as anything.
Amelia hurried at sobbing between her pants. “You! You are my Mistress…”
“You know your Mistress can please you. Do you want me to?” The low purr purposely torturing Amelia and dripping with satisfaction.
“Please Mistress! Please, release me...” Amelia begged with closed eyes, delirious by the desire.
Zafire removed her hand from the other woman’s sex and gripped her Agiel.
“I am so sorry, my dear.” Zafire hummed, scorning her. “I know this is not how you meant it, but I have to teach you. Forgive me.” Then she sent her shocking weapon against the other woman’s center.
Amelia’s squeals were so loud that everyone in the Temple heard them.
Later that night Zafire was feeling a sort of uneasiness inside of her. The conclusion of her tryst with her pet had left her somehow unsatisfied, as if she felt that things had to go differently. She knew very well she had to issue a lesson to Amelia, explaining her that she was her Mistress and she could choose to administer pain and pleasure with the quantity, the times and ways she wanted.
But after devastating the other woman with a ruthless pain - delivered just in the spot which few moments before was graced by the most delightful pleasure - she sensed a sour sensation at the base of her throat. She reluctantly came to admit that she would have preferred to please her pet instead of crushing her.
And despite her efforts to distract herself, she couldn’t stop thinking of that unpredictable sorceress.
Even in this moment, with the same two Mord-Sith who helped her in the afternoon with a training session, and were helping her now with a night session of liberating sex, she could not help but wonder about the red haired woman. That’s why when she arched her back, overwhelmed by the lewd attentions she was given by the two sisters - one with the head buried between her thighs furiously working on her sex and the other equally eagerly tonguing her breasts - it was Amelia’s name that bloomed on her lips.
Zafire had to bite her lower lip until it bled to avoid screaming the Sister of the Dark’s name, as she was run by the shocks of the climax.