Giselle raised one of her restored hands, bending it at the wrist for better display. “Nothing that was permanent, as you can see.” She lowered her hand and smiled again. “You’ll want to know about that, of course. A god assisted me. Do you have any direct experience with the death gods, Ms. Wickman?”
Ms. Wickman’s gaze hardened. “I do not.” Her terse manner indicated this was an admission she was furious to have to make in front of her followers. “But I know a death god would not assist you without a suitable offering…”
“A sacrifice, you mean.” Giselle moved a hand over the empty patch of bedsheet next to her, enjoying the feel of the smooth silk beneath her restored flesh. “Yes, a death god granted me temporal transport to a location far from here. There I made the required sacrifice by killing one of the men instrumental in the Master’s demise.”
Ms. Wickman grunted. “How very fitting.”
“The Master should never have died,” Giselle said, the sincerity in her voice surprising even her. “I’ve changed. And I’ve seen the error of my ways. I want to serve here with you, Mistress, to honor and exalt you. I want to kill for you. Torture for you. Anything you desire…”
Ms. Wickman continued to regard her coolly for several long moments, her expression giving away nothing as she mulled over Giselle’s words. Then she said, “Is there anything else you want, Giselle?”
Giselle patted the smoothed-down silk sheet and said, “I would like for you to lie here with me for a while.”
Something subtle sparked in Ms. Wickman’s dark eyes. Giselle felt a deep satisfaction at having prompted it. Without moving her eyes from Giselle’s face, Ms. Wickman barked out a single command:“Leave us!”
The others in the room reacted as if slapped. They scurried almost as one out of the room, even the guards, responding to the undeniable imperative in their Mistress’s tone. The big door slammed shut, the sound echoing in the large room for a moment.
They were alone. At last.
Ms. Wickman held Giselle’s gaze a short moment longer. Then she turned her back on Giselle, dipped her head, and said, “Unzip me.”
Giselle got to her knees and moved to the edge of the bed. She took the tiny zipper tab at the collar of Ms. Wickman’s dress and began to slowly draw it down, unveiling a wedge of flesh nearly as pale as Giselle’s own. Then a surprise, a hint of color as she pulled the zipper further down. Then further still, Giselle’s breath catching in her throat as she slid the zipper all the way down to Ms. Wickman’s waist.
“Oh, my…that’s…beautiful.”
She gripped the flaps of the dress and pulled them farther apart to better admire the illustration. Ms. Wickman had a large and intricate tattoo of a dragon etched into the flesh of her back. Its scales, nostrils, teeth, talons, and glaring eyes were all stunningly rendered. Giselle touched a forefinger to the back of Ms. Wickman’s neck. Her flesh was cool and marblelike, but warmed nicely to her touch. She drew the tip of her finger down the length of her spine, moving through the dragon’s mouth before stopping at the small of her back. Then she splayed her fingers and moved her hand slowly over the bared flesh. Ms. Wickman made a soft sound and reached behind her to undo the bun at the back of her head. She shook her hair loose and turned around.
Giselle’s excitement level rose yet again. They were no more than a foot apart. Ms. Wickman placed a hand between her breasts and shoved her backward. Giselle fell into the plush mattress and watched as Ms. Wickman pulled the dress off and tossed it to the floor. Then she stepped out of her heels and climbed onto the bed, moving toward Giselle on her hands and knees, stalking her like an alley cat about to pounce on its prey. Giselle squirmed backward, toward the headboard, then stopped as her head met the pillows. Ms. Wickman reached Giselle and climbed atop her, one leg to either side of her waist, hands braced on the pillows above Giselle’s shoulders. She lowered herself slightly and her erect nipples brushed Giselle’s soft breasts. Giselle placed her hands on Ms. Wickman’s waist and urged her even closer. Their faces were only inches apart now. An electric sensuality tingled within her as she looked into Ms. Wickman’s wide, hungry eyes.
Ms. Wickman let out a heavy breath that was almost a moan. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by this. You have always been such a resourceful little whore.”
Giselle caressed Ms. Wickman’s back before allowing her hands to settle on the woman’s upraised ass. “And you have always been a consummately evil cunt. We were made for each other.”
Ms. Wickman’s eyes flared again, and this time the carnal need was unmistakable. She abruptly lowered her mouth and kissed Giselle with a hunger Giselle met with equal enthusiasm. They squirmed against each other, hands grasping and probing, wet tongues thrusting between cries of pleasure. After several minutes of this, Ms. Wickman moved lower, her mouth drawing in each of Giselle’s engorged nipples in turn. Giselle moaned and squirmed, running her hands through Ms. Wickman’s long, unfettered hair. Then Ms. Wickman moved lower still, Giselle spreading her legs as the other woman’s tongue found her clit and began flicking at it energetically. Giselle thrashed on the bed as waves of intense pleasure crashed through her. She grabbed the iron bars of the headboard behind her, arched her back, and let out a piercing scream. And after Giselle had been made to scream and pant several more times, Ms. Wickman eased away from her throbbing pussy and laid down next to her.
Giselle let out a feral grunt and rolled on top of the woman. “Your turn.”
Ms. Wickman made a growling sound and scooted toward the headboard, better positioning herself for Giselle’s attentions. Giselle kissed Ms. Wickman lightly on the mouth before sliding down and taking a nipple into her mouth. And now it was Ms. Wickman’s turn to moan, writhe, and pant. After a little of this, Giselle moved south, her tongue tracing a wet trail down Ms. Wickman’s flat belly. She laid a hand flat on Ms. Wickman’s stomach.
“I made you want me, you know.”
Ms. Wickman moaned again and said, “Mmm?” Her eyes were closed and her mouth open, her lips curled back to bare her teeth. She writhed slowly and clutched at the bedsheet with both hands. She arched her back and lifted her pelvis, her thighs and stomach muscles quivering with the force of her need. For Giselle, that need was a lovely thing to behold. It was gratifying to see the cold and merciless Ms. Wickman reduced to this helpless animal level. She was a prisoner of overpowering desire—just as Giselle had planned.
Giselle moved her hand in a slow, circular motion over Ms. Wickman’s stomach, drifting to a stop at a spot just below her prisoner’s sternum. She brought her fingers together, forming a wedge of flesh that pushed against Ms. Wickman’s soft abdomen. “You’ve forgotten some things about me, cunt, beginning with how adept I was at sex magic when I served under the Master. Haven’t you wondered why you were so quick to dismiss all your lackeys and leap into bed with me?”
Ms. Wickman’s eyes fluttered open and her gaze floated lazily toward Giselle’s intent face. She wasn’t quite alarmed yet—the erotic charge sizzling through her body was still too powerful—but Giselle’s words stirred a part of her mind that had been sleeping. “What is this?” She grunted and lifted her pelvis again. “Please…”
Giselle sneered. “Pathetic. You want me to penetrate you? Okay.”
She leaned forward and thrust her hand forward with all her considerable strength, the wedge of fingers splitting Ms. Wickman’s flesh as easily as if she’d shoved them into jelly. Ms. Wickman’s eyes opened wide and her mouth stretched to issue a scream, but Giselle slapped a hand over the opening and muffled the sound. Her other hand delved further into Ms. Wickman’s body, pushing aside organs and digging through layers of muscle to reach for her heart. Ms. Wickman thrashed in agony. She scratched and flailed at Giselle’s face. But Giselle held on with ease. She was stronger than Ms. Wickman now. She pressed her face against Ms. Wickman’s, staring into her bugged-out eyes as her questing fingers found the throbbing mass of muscle. She held that gaze a moment longer, savoring the mass murderer’s agony and terror. Then her hand closed around the heart, gave it a savage twist, and yanked it from her body, her dripping red hand emerging from the hole beneath the woman’s sternum with a moist plop.