Fic: Feed the Emptiness
Title: Feed the Emptiness
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker (LotS)
Pairing: Kahlan/Dahlia, Cara/Dahlia, Kahlan/Cara, Cara/Dahlia/Kahlan
Words: 2645
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up to Eternity
Warnings: Mentions of torture, rough sex, Dubcon, threesomes, dom/sub, some angst, character death (no not of our lovely ladies lol)... Also: this is AU, where Tears/Unbroken did not actually happen :D This is also kind of PWP
Summary: After a month apart, Dahlia visits Cara with a small gift for having returned to her sisters.
A/N: This is just a one shot... did it real quick so please forgive me for grammar/spelling issues. I’m suffering from writer’s block and thought this might spice things up for me a bit. Also, this is my first foray into this fandom. I hope I don’t disappoint. I'm completely and utterly in love with Cara *swoon* and think Dahlia had major potential for epic hawtness.
The Seeker was dead.
Lord Rahl had healed the rift between the underworld and the living with the help of his Mord-Sith. He would not be returning to the Keeper.
Where D’Hara had once been in chaos it had begun returning to order. The Resistance was flushed out, decimated and lost with the dismantling of their hopes and dreams. Richard was gone. The Wizard had managed to lay low for about a week before he was caught and killed. They had no legend to cling to and other citizens quickly fell back into their devotion to the Lord Rahl. Their saviour. He, who only wanted peace and happiness for his people.
And Cara was back where she belonged, at his side. She was his favourite. His right arm. The reason he had been able to obtain his victory. For this, she ran her own temple, as was expected of her status. Lord Rahl trusted her entirely.
It took her barely a month before her sisters fell back in line behind her. There had been some resistance, some doubt, but she quickly reminded them of her worth. Though her blonde tresses were still far too short - a reminder of her shame - her sisters bowed their heads in respect as she passed by them.
Yet, for all her power, she was dissatisfied. There was a nagging, persistent emptiness that haunted her wherever she went. It was a confusing sensation that left her restless and agitated.
She had hoped that with Dahlia visiting, she would be able to find some relief from the tension. While she never lacked a bed-mate, she had found most of her sisters woefully inadequate.
Cara shifted, moving toward the window of her cramped, sparse bedroom. The feeling was back, that unpleasant, almost sickening drop in her abdomen. Though she kept a tight hold over herself and would never admit to any weakness, deep down she knew that if she allowed herself such a moment she might have vomited or broken her fist through a wall. They were completely pointless and irrational urges. It didn't make sense.
What, exactly, did Cara want?
A soft knock on the door broke her reverie.
“Enter.” She called out curtly, irritated by her own incessant moodiness. Cara didn't bother looking away from the window. No one would dare get close to her without permission. She had seen to that.
The creak of leather, the harsh steps, and the scent that reached her nose quickly alerted her to who was standing at her doorway. Her body visibly relaxed.
“Dahlia. You’re early.” She couldn't help the way her voice turned a bit husky, the command in her tone dwindling. This was no ordinary Sister. This was the woman who had saved her. Dahlia had brought her back to her home. To her senses. The ache within her quickly dispelled to be replaced by pleasure.
“It’s been a month....” Dahlia sounded almost playful, amused at the way Cara kept staring out the window, holding onto her stoicism. “I would be lying if I said I had not missed you while Lord Rahl sent me away to tend to rambunctious villagers...” her voice lowered, “would it please you to send me away?”
Cara smirked a little, enjoying Dahlia’s private habit of openly admitting to weakness in front of her. When the silence became prolonged, she listened to Dahlia turn around and start to make her way back out of the room. But before the Mord-Sith had the chance, Cara fisted Dahlia’s braid and jerked her roughly, so her back pressed into Cara’s front.
“I did not permit you to leave, Sister. Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten your place?” She grazed her teeth along Dahlia’s jaw, tugging harder when she heard Dahlia’s gasp.
“No Mistress. Forgive me.”
Gripping her hard by the neck, she turned Dahlia to face her so she could mark her territory. She was not the jealous type; she allowed others to play with her toys. But they needed to know whose toys belonged to whom.
With the door to her room still ajar, she slammed Dahlia into the hard wall and practically tore the leather from Dahlia’s sweat slicked skin. She had removed the upper half of Dahlia’s armour, ravishing the exposed skin of her breasts and throat. Never one to be very patient, she quickly unbuckled Dahlia’s pants and only loosened them enough to slide her fingers down to cup Dahlia’s heat.
“Mistress.... please.... the glove....” The mewling delighted her. She brought her slick fingers up to Dahlia’s mouth so she could remove the glove with her teeth.
Dahlia’s eyes darkened and she bit harder than necessary, revelling in the way green eyes flashed at her dangerously.
And then Cara went back to eating her alive. Skin bruised under harsh lips, burst under sharp teeth and glistened from the attentions of Cara’s tongue. Her hand worked Dahlia roughly and quickly, making Dahlia grunt and pant - refusing to plead for any relief. Cara’s arm ached from exertion and Dahlia’s legs threatened to give but neither woman would admit defeat.
When climax finally overtook her, Dahlia arched, her hands scrambling over smooth stone in an effort to find some leverage. Cara refused to stop, pinning the other Mord-Sith to the wall in an effort to keep her standing. Her hand only sped up, making Dahlia’s breath catch in her throat in agony as Cara continued to abuse her hypersensitive flesh. Gritting her teeth, Dahlia gripped Cara’s shoulders, her head smacking the wall as another wave of pleasure overtook her. And still, Cara would not stop until Dahlia was reduced to whimpers and moans.
Dahlia had to submit.
“Mistress..... please.... no more.....”
With a deadly glint in Cara’s eyes and a malicious smile on her face, she made Dahlia endure one more ride before the woman collapsed onto the floor completely spent.
“I do hope protocol does not escape you in the future Dahlia. Next time I should not be so kind with you.” The breathy quality of her voice stole away the threat in her tone but Dahlia shivered nonetheless.
“Never again Mistress.” Dahlia sounded winded, as if she had spent hours under an Agiel.
Cara reached down and grabbed her glove, placing it back on her hand while Dahlia returned to her feet, no indication of redressing herself.
“You may dress yourself.” She raised an eyebrow at the pleased look on Dahlia’s face. “While it brings me pleasure to have you here, we cannot actually spend all day in this room. I have obligations....”
“Of course Mistress. I would never wish to delay you. However... I have brought you something. I think you should like to receive her now.”
“Her?” There was no curiosity in the way she asked the question, though she was rather interested in what could possibly make her former school mate almost gleeful.
“Come in my pet.” Dahlia called out, almost singing the words as a form walked in through the open door.
Cara felt her heart stop beating.
In a plain white smock, Kahlan Amnell walked into the room.
It was the Mother Confessor.
Her eyes were glued to the floor and her back slouched as she shuffled over to Dahlia. Cara watched as the Mother Confessor flushed deeply at the sight of Dahlia’s nudity, her eyes darting along Dahlia’s marred skin before falling back on the floor.
“Kah... Confessor...” She blinked as Dahlia walked over to Kahlan and stroked her dark curls affectionately.
“Yes.... I found her Cara. Almost immediately after you came back to us.” Dahlia traced her fingers down Kahlan’s cheeks to her neck where an elegant Rada’Han lay innocently along her collar bone. “I asked Lord Rahl if I could train her. For you. He thought it fitting that a Mord-Sith own the last Confessor.”
“Mistress....” The word that passed through Kahlan’s lips was so adoring and meek that it struck Cara dumb.
The Mother Confessor had submitted. She had been broken.
In one irrational, inexplicable moment, Cara had a powerful urge to take her Agiel and ram it down Dahlia’s throat until she died swallowing it. The image in her mind was so vivid that were she not a Mord-Sith she would have called it shocking. In that same space of time she wanted to strike the Mother Confessor in the face.
A strange, unwanted gut reaction told her this was wrong.
And then Kahlan leaned in to nuzzle Dahlia’s throat. Cara licked her lips, the strange thoughts and feelings forgotten as she caught sight of Kahlan’s muscled thigh under the fabric of her smock.
“It took you a month to break her?”
“No,” Dahlia shook her head, tightly wrapping her fingers in Kahlan’s luscious locks and pulling her head away. She kissed the brunette’s forehead briefly before returning her attention to Cara. “It only took about two and a half weeks. But I needed time for her to heal. To clean her up. I didn't want to bring you a mangled body.” She smirked a little and leaned into the Mother Confessor, whispering.
Kahlan immediately shifted away from Dahlia and stood before Cara, her head bowed and body tensed for punishment.
“She’s yours. I broke her just for you. Lord Rahl was just going to kill her.”
“I thought she was hiding.... or missing.” Cara murmured, her eyes fixated on the Mother Confessor but not touching.
Dahlia moved to stand by her pet; Kahlan leaned into her Mistress, her eyes glassy and blindly loving. She looked as if she ached for Dahlia’s touch, yearned for Dahlia’s attention. It made Cara’s stomach turn.
“You’ve already had her.” She scowled.
“Well....” Dahlia smiled a little, running her fingers along the faint scars along Kahlan’s neck - no doubt placed there by Dahlia. “I did take her. But she is my gift to you. A trinket. In honour of your deeds to Rahl. I have no doubt that under your touch she will cease to be mine and quickly become yours.”
Cara allowed herself a small grin in acknowledgement and Dahlia’s displays of power and domination did not offend her as much as it would with any other Sister.
Kahlan let out a pitiful moan.
“But Mistress... I’m yours.... please-” Her words were cut off by Cara’s powerful strike. She had no idea when she had picked up her Agiel or even where she had left it last but suddenly it was in her hand. Kahlan’s cheek split open and she almost fell over in a daze, except Cara jerked Kahlan’s head up by the Rada’Han, cutting into Kahlan’s neck.
“Dahlia has been gentle with you Confessor. No pet of mine speaks out of turn. Never. Do you understand me?”
Dahlia flushed at the dark look on Cara’s face and Kahlan shivered.
“Y-yes... Mistress.”
Cara smiled then, leaning in to flick her tongue over the wound. Though all blood should taste the same, for some reason Kahlan’s tasted sweeter than Dahlia’s. She craved more of it.
“Mistress.... will you not enjoy your gift before your obligations?” Dahlia tried not to sound too eager, but she had been denied Cara’s body for a month and far too long before then.
Cara eyed the Mother Confessor before she reached out and ran her fingers through Kahlan’s hair, stroking down her body until she cupped a breast. Kahlan’s eyes darted to Dahlia for approval. The small nod of permission was not lost on Cara. She squeezed Kahlan none too gently.
Dahlia’s hold on the Mother Confessor would have to be rectified immediately.
She would break Kahlan. Tear her to pieces. This woman had taken her away from her family. Her and the Seeker. There had to be consequences.
She licked her lips before roughly grabbing Kahlan by the neck and tossing her on the bed. A strained gurgle was all she got for her efforts. But she would soon have the Mother Confessor begging, screaming and writhing before her.
Dahlia was quickly working the ties of her leather armour as Cara leered at Kahlan’s prone form on the bed. She could practically taste the fear and anticipation coming off of Kahlan as those blue eyes darted nervously between the Mord-Sith. Her pallor had grown pale since her time with Dahlia and there were faint small scars along her legs and face that Cara could only just barely take notice of as she mapped out Kahlan’s body with her eyes.
Cara could taste bile in her throat. She determined it was because Kahlan’s eyes focused on Dahlia, imploring the other woman. But Kahlan belonged to Cara. She wasn’t sure if she could forgive Dahlia for taking away her chance to break the Mother Confessor.... but if Lord Rahl had saw fit to give Dahlia that honour it was not her place to question or doubt her Master. Kahlan would be hers soon enough.
Fully stripped, she stalked over to the immobile form on the bed. In the background she could hear Dahlia rushing to shed her leathers. The predatory way her body moved ensured Kahlan’s utmost attention, pleasing Cara greatly.
Without hesitation she yanked the smock off of Kahlan to reveal thinning skin, faint marks and pronounced bone. Dahlia had not been so gentle after all.
Mine.
She clung to that thought. It was her only explanation for the tumult that was brewing in her gut. Cara pounced on Kahlan’s weakened form savagely. Kahlan barely had time to cry out before Cara’s teeth attacked her lips.
Dahlia quickly wrapped herself around Cara from behind, worshipping the hard muscles of her back and reaching around to stroke her hot core.
“Mmmm Mistress is pleased....” she gasped at the wetness she felt coat her hand.
Cara ignored the comment, her touch on Kahlan’s skin violent and demanding. She wanted to destroy this Confessor. Those soft pert breasts met with her angry mouth. That firm stomach learned of her nails. Thick beautiful hair was pulled taut by her hands. She hated Kahlan with her body. Her conscious mind raged because Kahlan had been her humiliation.
But deep down another voice screamed in outrage. This Kahlan was an imposter. This Kahlan was false. Kahlan was dead. This thing had to die.
Her mind whirled with confusion and the way Kahlan clung to Dahlia’s arm for support, her whimpers calling out to her mistress, only fed the flames of her ire. She struck Kahlan hard across the face, along her broken skin. The warm wetness of Kahlan’s blood quieted the cacophony of her mind. She was Mord-Sith. Behaving so erratically was beneath her.
She focused on the feel of Dahlia’s fingers, bucking hard as she rode faster. She grinned at Kahlan, baring her teeth, before she plunged her hand inside the Confessor, her fingers still coated with Dahlia’s sex.
So she rode the high of climax, forcing Kahlan up with her. Cara collapsed on top of the Confessor, too exhausted to punish Kahlan for calling out to Dahlia in ecstasy.
For a few moments nothing was said and Cara listened to the hypnotic beat of the Confessor’s heart. The Rada’Han - warmed by Kahlan’s skin - pressed into Cara’s forehead. The emptiness was back. Dahlia’s soft chuckle brought her back to reality.
“I assure you she is far more enjoyable when she’s been broken. She will stop whining for me.”
Cara sneered, shifting away from Kahlan.
“Take her to the training room.” She spoke without emotion. “You will await me outside. We are to bring in new recruits for tonight.”
“Yes Mistress.” Dahlia nodded and Kahlan quickly jumped out of bed to follow her mistress. They walked out of the room quietly and completely unaware of their nudity.
Cara glanced down at Kahlan’s crusted blood on her hand.
Without thinking unbidden words left her mouth as a whisper:
“She will be mine.”
And that should make everything right.