http://archiveofourown.org/works/3258200
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50 Shades of Grey - E. L. James
Marketplace Series - Laura Antoniou
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Published: 2015-01-30 Completed: 2015-03-08 Chapters: 21/21
Words: 104661
50 Flavors of Creampuff
Summary
I dared myself to transplant Hollstein into the book that shall not be named.
Notes
I personally have a love/hate relationship with the 50 Shades series as a practicing person
in the Kink and Leather communities because it conveys the worst possible example of
what SSC/RACK BDSM can be.
(The Marketplace tag was added only because there is a very obscure reference to it in one
of the chapters.)
The Interview
A/N: This is purely literary trash, and I will not ever make money off of this. But it's too damn
funny to not try out. I personally have a love/hate relationship with the 50 Shades series as a
practicing person in the Kink and Leather communities because it conveys the worst possible
example of what SSC/RACK BDSM can be.
Prologue: Carmilla
Mother told me it wouldn't hurt. Mother said we would live forever. Mother said just one more
time, one more girl, and we'd be done.
Ever since Ell, I quit hunting humans like I used to. I refused to play Mother's games. And she
buried me un-dead as punishment.
I went to sleep for a long time in the cold, still earth. When I awoke to the booming vibrations, I
awoke thirsty. I awoke hungry. And I awoke in the dark. And the only thing scarier than the Dark
was the Light.
"I think we found something!" I heard, and I was thankful that the languages had not changed that
much.
"What the hell happened here?"
"Who the fuck wraps a coffin in crosses?"
"I bet someone buried treasure in it; did this to scare off the gypsy grave-robbers."
"Get back to your trenches, everyone!" I chorus of "yes, sir's" alerted me that it was a military
operation of some sort. The cannons only got louder over the decades. Or had centuries passed?
The sound of shovels hit the coffin as I was unearthed, and I plead for forgiveness to whatever
Gods hadn't competely abandoned me because I wouldn't be able to restrain my thirst.
The Interview
Betty is my roommate, and she has chosen today of all days to be a complete flake. I don't know
what's going on with her, but seeing as I'm a journalism major, I decide to take up her appointment
with some mega-bigshot, industrialist tycoon I've never heard of for the Silas University
newspaper. I still have my exams to cram for, an essay to revise, and I was supposed to be
working this afternoon, but no - instead I have to bike twenty-five miles to the largest town nearby
in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Karnstein Industries Inc. Apparently he's some exceptional
entrepreneur and major benefactor to our University, and his time is extraordinarily precious -
emphasis on much more precious than mine - but since he granted Betty an interview, it behooves
me to go and at least meet the guy. I hope I get credit at least in her by-line.
Betty sent me all this by text message to boot. I swear, I bet she is hungover or something at some
skeevy guy's place.
I read the message on my phone twice because I had to decipher it.
'Laura, I'm sorry. It took me months 2 get this interview. By the time we can reschedule, the
semester will b over. Please go 4 me. Thanx.'
I winced at her butchering of the English language and typed a quick 'Okay' in reply.
"I know nothing about him," I murmur, trying and failing to suppress my rising panic as I make
my way out. She promised me a list of questions to ask that she would send shortly along with the
address. Gathering my satchel, I head out the door to my bike. I cannot believe I am being this
nice for Betty. But maybe I can get a paid internship with the paper next year?
Probably not. Betty would probably get it. She's beautiful, well-connected, persuasive,
argumentative, and friendly with the Alchemy club - all things I don't have.
My destination is the headquarters of Mr. C. Karnstein's global enterprise. It's a huge twenty-story
office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect's utilitarian fantasy, with Karnstein written
discreetly in steel over the glass front doors. It's a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that
I'm not late as I walk into the enormous - and frankly intimidating - glass, steel, and white marble
lobby.
Behind the solid black marble desk, a very attractive, impeccably groomed, young blonde woman
smiles pleasantly at me. I feel like I've entered Stepford. She looks immaculate.
"I'm here to see Mr. Karnstein. Laura Hollis for Katherine Spielsdorf."
"Excuse me one moment, Miss Hollis." She arches her eyebrowslightly as I stand self-consciously
before her. I feel terribly under-dressed; wishing I'd borrowed one of Betty's blazers rather than
wear my brown jacket over my blue button-up blouse. I made some effort with dark slacks and
my sensible brown knee-length boots. For me, this is smart. Judging from the building I'm in, I
may as well be slumming. Maybe he'll think I'm wearing this ironically? I pull my hair behind my
shoulders as I pretend she doesn't intimidate me.
"Miss Spielsdorf is expected. Please sign-in here, Miss Hollis. You'll want the last elevator on the
right, press for the twentieth floor." She smiles at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in. "Enjoy your
interview."
She hands me a security pass that has
VISITOR boldly stamped on the front. I can't help but
smirk. Itt's obvious that I don't fit in here at all. Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators
past the two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than I am in their well-cut black
suits.
The elevator whisks me with gut-wrenching velocity to the twentieth floor. I feel like my breakfast
arrived twenty seconds later. The doors slide open, and I'm in yet another lobby - again all glass,
steel, and black marble. I'm confronted by another desk and another young blonde woman dressed
impeccably in black and white who rises to greet me.
"Miss Hollis, could you wait here, please?" She points to a seated area of white leather chairs. Did
the decorator here just decide to be colorblind and go fully monochromatic?
Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious ebony
wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling
window with a view of the city skyline that triggers my acrophobia. I immediately take a few steps
back from the edge and fall into a chair and flip through my phone, finally receiving the questions
that Betty promised me half an hour ago. Not even a brief biography? I know nothing about this
man I'm about to interview. He could be ninety or he could be thirty. He could be a serial killer
like in American Psycho. Or he could just be gay. He could be a gay serial killer. I shake off the
idle wondering as my nerves resurface, making me fidget. I've never been comfortable with one-
on-one interviews, preferring the anonymity of a group discussion where I can sit inconspicuously
at the back of the room. To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading British literature, curled
up in a chair in the campus library. Until it gets dark. Silas University had some strange warnings
about the library at night.
I roll my eyes at myself. Girl the hell up, Hollis. Judging from the building, which is too clinical
and modern, I guess Karnstein is in his forties: fit, tanned, and fair-haired to match the rest of the
personnel. Probably enjoys soy vegan lattes and big rare steaks. Hypocrite.
Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with
all the immaculate blondes? It hits me that Betty would have fit right in here. Taking a deep
breath, I stand up. "Miss Hollis?" the latest blonde asks.
"Yes," I croak, and clear my throat. "Yes." There, that sounded more confident.
"Ms. Karnstein just woke up, and will see you in a moment. May I take your jacket?" Just woke
up? Jeez, I guess zillionaires do get to sleep in.
"Uh, sure." I struggle out of the poorly-fitting jacket. Wait, did she say Miss Karnstein?!
"Have you been offered any refreshment?"
"Um - no." Was Stepford Wife #1 in trouble?
Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk. I wonder if they have
Tribunals here as well.
"Would you like tea, coffee, water?" she asks, turning her attention back to me.
"Uh, just water. Thank you," I murmur. I didn't mean to get anyone into trouble.
"Olivia, please fetch Miss Hollis a glass of water." Her voice is stern. Olivia scoots up
immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.
"My apologies, Miss Hollis, Olivia is our new intern. Please be seated. It may be another five
minutes." I guess Olivia is going to get flogged or reprogrammed until she's an obedient minion.
Olivia returns with a glass of iced water and a nervous smile.
"Here you go, Miss Hollis." Perhaps Ms. Karnstein insists on all the employees being blonde. I
wonder idly if that's even legal.
"Thank you." I reply, seeing the large office door open slightly. I can't see anyone there, and it's
slightly unnerving.
"Ms. Karnstein will see you now, Miss Hollis. Do go through," Blonde Number Two says.
I stand rather shakily trying to suppress my nerves. Tugging my jacket down, I abandon my glass
of water and make my way to the partially open door.
"You don't need to knock - just go in." She smiles kindly.
I push open the door and realize I left my cell phone on the table, turning on my heel and tripping
over the door ledge leading into the office.
Blonde Number Two gets my phone for me and hands it over to my interviewee as I am on my
hands and knees trying to get up. A pair of gentle hands easily lift me to my feet. It's not every day
hands and knees trying to get up. A pair of gentle hands easily lift me to my feet. It's not every day
I'm lifted up like a sack of flour. Holy cow - she's so young.
"Miss Hollis." She extends a pale hand, holding my phone out to me once I'm upright. "I'm
Carmilla Karnstein. Are you all right? Would you like to sit?"
So young - and attractive, very attractive. She's tall, dressed in a fine gray skirt suit that hugs a pert
butt, white blouse, and silver necklace with unruly curly black hair and intense, dark brown eyes
that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice.
"Um. Actually - " I mutter. If she is over thirty then I'm a monkey's uncle. In a daze, I place my
hand in hers and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me.
There was a strength in her hands, and the confidence was rolling off her in waves. I withdrew my
hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate. It's
as if her eyes linger for a second too long on me and realize my pulse went up.
"Miss Spielsdorf is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind, Ms. Karnstein."
"And you are?" Her voice is rich and warm, possibly amused, but it's difficult to tell from her
impassive expression. She looks mildly interested, but above all, polite.
"Laura Hollis. I'm studying English Literature with Betty, um... Miss...um... Miss Spielsdorf at
Silas University."
"I see," she says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile in her expression, but I'm not sure. "I'm
Carmilla Karnstein. Would you like to sit?" She waves me toward a white leather buttoned chase
lounge. I know it was only a polite request, but I felt like it was more than that.
Her office is way too big for just one person. Unless she's the kind of CEO to sometimes sleep in
here. In front of the floor-to-ceiling heavy-tinted windows, there's a huge dark-wood desk that six
people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is
white and black - ceiling, floors, and walls except, on the wall by the door, where a mosaic of
small paintings hang, a splash of red in the utter absence of color. They are exquisite - a series of
mundane, simple objects painted in such clarity and sharp precision they look like photographs.
"A local artist. Do you enjoy art?" says Ms. Karnstein when she catches my gaze.
"They're lovely. Bringing life into the bleak," I murmur, distracted both by her and the paintings.
She cocks her head to one side and regards me intently.
"I couldn't agree more, Miss Hollis," she replies, her voice soft and for some inexplicable reason I
find myself blushing.
Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the
personality of the woman who slinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me.
The skirt rides up and my eyes lock onto the modest slit, revealing the most perfect pale legs I
have ever seen. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts, and retrieve Betty's
questions from my cell phone. Next, I set up the recorder app and nearly drop my cell twice before
I get everything settled. Ms. Karnstein says nothing, waiting patiently - I hope - as I become
increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I pluck up the courage to look at her, she's
watching me, one hand relaxed in her lap and the other cupping her chin and trailing a short black
fingernail across her lips. I think she's trying to suppress a smile.
"Sorry," I stutter. "I'm not used to this."
"Take all the time you need, Miss Hollis," she says, and it feels like my name was said playfully,
as if she would rather be calling me 'cupcake' or something. If a guy did that, it would feel
completely sexist. But with Miss Karnstein... whoa.
"Um, do you mind if I record your answers?"
"After you've taken so much trouble with your cell - you ask me now?"
I flush. She's teasing me... I hope. I blink at her, unsure what to say, and I think she takes pity on
me because she relents. "No, I don't mind."
"Did Betty, I mean, Miss Spielsdorf, explain what the interview was for?" She rolled her eyes at
that.
"Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of your little student newspaper as I shall be conferring
the degrees at this year's graduation ceremony."
Oh! This is news to me, but I'm temporarily preoccupied by the thought that someone not much
older than me - okay, maybe a few years or so, still - is going to be presenting diplomas. I frown,
dragging my wayward attention back to the task at hand.
"Good," I swallow nervously. "I have some questions, Ms. Karnstein." I smooth a stray lock of
hair behind my ear. Even my hair is getting flustered!
"I thought you might," she says, deadpan. She's smirking at me. My cheeks heat at the realization,
and I sit up and square my shoulders in an attempt to look taller, perhaps professional and more
intimidating. Pressing the start button on the recorder, I try to look unfazed.
"You're very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?" I
glance up at her. Her smile is rueful, but she looks vaguely disappointed. This was a pretty bad
question.
"Business is all about people, Miss Hollis, and I'm very good at reading people. I know how they
tick, what makes them flourish, what makes them fail, what inspires them, and how to...
incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well." she pauses and fixes me
with her dark stare. "My belief is to achieve success in any scheme, one has to make oneself
master of that scheme, know it inside and out; know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do
that. I make decisions based on observation, logic, and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can
spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is, it's always down to good
people." Her eyes didn't seem to blink as she took me in, and I could have sworn she was doing
Legilimancy.
"Maybe you're just lucky." This wasn't on Betty's list - but she's so arrogant. Her eyes flare
momentarily in surprise.
"I don't believe in luck or chance, Miss Hollis. Today's generation doesn't seem to grasp that the
Fates ignore the day-to-day hubbub. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all
about having the right people beneath you and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was
Harvey Firestone who said 'the growth and development of people is the highest calling of
leadership.'"
"You sound like a control freak." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
"Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Hollis," she says without a trace of humor in her smile. I
look at her, and she holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens, and my face
flushes again. Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second before she regains control.
Why does she have such an unnerving effect on me? Her overwhelming good looks maybe? The
way her eyes blaze at me? The way she strokes her index finger against her lower lip? I wish
she'd stop doing that.
"Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were
born to control things," she continues, her voice soft.
"Do you feel that you have immense power?" Ugh. Control Freak.
"I employ over forty thousand people, Miss Hollis. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility
- power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications
business and sell up, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments
after a month or so."
My mouth drops open. I am staggered by her lack of humanity.
"Don't you have a board to answer to?" I ask, disgusted. She obviously wouldn't care about the
people getting laid off.
"I own my company. I don't have to answer to a board." She raises an eyebrow at me.
I flush. Of course, I would know this if I had done some research. But holy crap, she's so arrogant.
I change tack.
"And do you have any interests outside your work?"
"I have... varied interests, Miss Hollis." A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "Very varied." And
for some reason, I'm confounded and heated by her steady gaze. Her eyes are alight with some
wicked thought.
"But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?"
"Chill out?" she smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. She asked that as if the expression were
foreign to her. I can't remember to talk.
"Well, to 'chill out' as you put it - I read, I volunteer at a big cat rescue, I indulge in various...
physical pursuits." How can she make that last part do suggestive?
I glance quickly at Betty's questions, wanting to get off this subject.
"You invest in manufacturing. Why, specifically?" I ask. Why does she make me so
uncomfortable?
"I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct
and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?"
"That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts."
Her mouth quirks up, and she stares appraisingly at me.
"Possibly. Though there are people who'd say I don't have a heart."
"Why would they say that?"
"Because they know me well, cutie." Her lip curls in a wry smile.
"Would your friends say you're easy to get to know?" And I regret the question as soon as I say it.
It's not on Betty's list.
"I'm a very private person, Miss Hollis. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don't often give
interviews," she trails off.
"Why did you agree to do this one?" My roommate fits in as a perfect blonde here?
"Because I'm a benefactor of the University, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn't get Miss
Spielsdorf off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire that kind of
tenacity."
I know how tenacious Betty can be. That's why I'm sitting here squirming uncomfortably under
her penetrating gaze, when I should be studying for my exams. I hope it was a really bad
hangover.
"You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?"
"We can't eat money, Miss Hollis, and there are too many people on this planet who don't have
enough to eat." She's worried about world hunger?
"That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world's
poor?"
She shrugs, very non-committal. "It's shrewd business," she murmurs, though I think she's being
disingenuous. It doesn't make sense - feeding the world's poor? I can't see the financial benefits of
this, only the virtue of the ideal. I glance at the next question, confused by her attitude.
"Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?"
"I'm very singular; one might say driven. I like control - of myself and those around me."
"So you want to possess things?" You are a control freak.
"I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do."
"You sound like the ultimate consumer."
"I am." She smiles, but the smile doesn't touch her eyes. Again this is at odds with someone who
wants to feed the world, so I can't help thinking that we're talking about something else, but I'm
absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The temperature in the room is rising or
maybe it's just me. I just want this interview to be over. Surely Betty has enough material now. I
glance at the next question.
"You were adopted. How far do you think that's shaped the way you are?" Oh, this is personal. I
stare at her, hoping she's not offended. Her brow furrows.
"I have no way of knowing."
My interest is piqued.
"How old were you when you were adopted?"
"That seems awfully personal, Miss Hollis." Her tone is stern. I flush, again. Crap.
I move on quickly.
"You've had to sacrifice a family life for your work."
"That's not a question." She's terse.
"Sorry." I squirm, and she's made me feel like an errant child. I try again. "Have you had to
sacrifice a family life for your work?"
"I have a family. I have a brother, a sister, and a mother. I'm not interested in extending my family
beyond that."
"Are you gay, Ms. Karnstein?"
She inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. Crap. Why didn't I employ some kind of filter before I
read this straight out? How can I tell her I'm just reading the questions Betty gave me?
"No, Laura, I'm not." She raises her eyebrows, a cold gleam in her eyes. She does not look
pleased. She doesn't look pleased at all.
"I apologize. It's um... written here." It's the first time she's said my name. I found myself not
enjoying it. My heartbeat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck
my loosened hair behind my ear.
She cocks her head to one side. "These aren't your own questions?"
The blood drains from my head. Oh no.
"Err... no. Betty - Miss Spielsdorf - she compiled the questions."
"Are you even colleagues on the student paper?" Oh crap. I have nothing to do with the student
paper yet.
"No. She's my roommate."
She licks her lips in thought, her dark eyes appraising me.
"Did you volunteer to do this interview?" She asks, her low voice evoking a reaction deep within
me.
Her eyes burned into me, and I'm compelled to answer with the truth.
"I was drafted. She's not well." My voice is weak and apologetic.
"That explains a great deal."
There's a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters.
"Ms. Karnstein, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes."
"We're not finished here. Please cancel my next meeting."
The blonde hesitates, gaping at her. She appears lost. Carmilla Karnstein turns her head slowly to
face the blonde and raises her eyebrows. The blonde balks and nods in acquiescence.
"Very well, Ms. Karnstein," she mutters, then exits. She frowns, and turns her attention back to
me.
"Where were we, Miss Hollis?"
Oh, we're back to 'Miss Hollis' now.
"Please don't let me keep you from anything." I just want to leave now.
"I want to know about you, cupcake. I think that's only fair." Her dark eyes were an abyss pulling
me in. Double crap. Where's she going with this? She places her elbows on the arms of the chair
and steeples her fingers in front of her mouth. It was quite the powerful and evocative pose. Her
mouth is very... distracting. I swallow.
"There's not much to know," I say, flushing again.
"I doubt that. What are your plans after you graduate?"
I shrug, thrown by her interest. Go back home and live with dad as I find a place, get a job. I
haven't really thought beyond my finals.
"I haven't made any plans, Ms. Karnstein. I just need to get through my final exams."
Which I should be studying for now rather than sitting in your palatial, swanky, sterile office,
feeling uncomfortable under your seduction eyes.
"I have an excellent internship program here," she says quietly. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is
she offering me a job?
"Oh. I'll bear that in mind," I murmur, completely confounded. "Though I'm not sure I'd fit in
here." Betty would, though.
"Why do you say that?" She cocks her head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on her
lips.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" I'm uncoordinated, scruffy, and I'm not blonde.
"Not to me," she murmurs. her gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep within
me clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from her scrutiny and stare blindly down at my knotted
fingers. What's going on here? I have to go - now. I lean forward to retrieve the recorder.
"Would you like me to show you around?" She asks.
"I'm sure you're far too busy, Ms. Karnstein, and I do have a long bike ride."
"You're biking back to Silas?" She sounds surprised, anxious even. She glances out of the
window. It's about to rain. "Well, you'd better be careful." her tone is stern, authoritative. Why
should she care? "Did you get everything you need?" she adds.
"Yes ma'am," I reply, packing the recorder into my satchel. her eyes narrow, speculatively.
"At least you now know I'm not a man." She replied playfully.
"And not into women." I said apologetically.
"I never said that, Laura. I'm not one for labels."
"Oh, sorry. I guess you find them restricting." There is something in the way she looks at me, like
she's trying to appraise something quite valuable.
"You would be surprised at what I find restricting." I know I'm blushing now.
"Thank you for the interview, Ms. Karnstein."
"The pleasure's been all mine," she says, polite yet holding a subtle meaning beneath it. Was she
flirting with me?
As I rise, she stands and holds out her hand.
"Until we meet again, Miss Hollis." And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I'm not sure which.
I frown. When will we ever meet again? I shake her hand once more, astounded that that odd
current between us is still there. I pull my hand back and rub it as I put on a polite smile.
"Ms. Karnstein." I nod at her. Moving with a lithe, feline grace she beats me and my short stubby
legs the door, opening it wide.
"Just making certain you get past the door safely, buttercup." she gives me a small smile.
Obviously, she's referring to my earlier less-than-elegant entry into her office. I flush.
"That's very considerate, Ms. Karnstein," I snap, and her smile widens. I'm glad you find me
entertaining, I glower inwardly, walking into the foyer. I'm surprised when she follows me out.
The blondes both look up, equally surprised.
"Did you have a coat?" Ms. Karnstein asks.
"Yes." A blonde leaps up and retrieves my jacket, which Ms. Karnstein takes from her before she
can hand it to me. She holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, like I'm being dressed
for the first day of school, I shrug it on.
Carmilla Karnstein, CEO, places her hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If
she notices my reaction, she gives nothing away. Her long index finger presses the button
summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting - awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on
her.
The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here. When I turn to
look at her, she's leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. She
really is very gorgeous and she knows it. It's distracting, her dark eyes burning a gaze at me.
"Until next time, Laura," She says as a farewell. She didn't wield my name like a wrapping this
time. I finally summon enough courage and try out her given name.
"Carmilla," I reply. A flash of something went over her features and mercifully, the doors start to
close before I can understand it.
The elevator dings as the doors begin to open again. "Cancel the rest of my day." She calls out,
"I'll drive her home." She steps into the tiny elevator and I can't help but realize how close she is
to me.
"Oh, you don't have to do that." I said, though it could be raining cats and dogs out there for all I
knew.
Her eyes and lips were way too close and I felt the need to back up from her as I felt the cold
metal of the elevator on my back. How come everyone was taller than me?
"Buckle up, creampuff, I'm giving you a second chance to actually interview me. I want to know
what Laura Hollis wants to know about me."
Conversation and Decompression
Chapter Notes
A/N: other issues I have with 50SoG: Main female character is too much of a bookish
stereotype while having nearly every guy wanting her. And every female the must be
after the male lead and therefore all women are competition. And the dialogue here is
waaaay too obvious that it was a Twilight fanfic re-write.
A/N #2: The pace is a bit slow so I'll be rearranging parts of the story to flow better,
and I'm sorry I haven't brought in the rest of the characters yet. This might come out
as a series of the more memorable scenes rather than my more expansive, multi-POV,
daily details that One Step Left has done. (Seriously, other than writing really bad
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle fanfic before it was cool (1987, hand-written and
delivered by bicycle to a few friends of mine) OSL is my first lengthy writing that
I've posted for public consumption.)
Conversation and Decompression
We're by her massive Jeep Wrangler and I struggle to climb into what I can only affectionately call
the Hummer's baby brother. Carmilla raises a bemused eyebrow at me as she's already secured my
bike on the rack and buckled herself in.
"I feel like I need a winch system to get me into this. Why do you have such a... beast?"
"Well, I was thinking about getting a Subaru, but that seemed too stereotypical." Again with the
lesbian hints.
Once I got situated, she pulled out and made it to the highway, squinting slightly as she reached
and put on a pair of sunglasses.
"You seem the type of girl will always play it safe, and never take a risk for an opportunity that is
right before her. Have you ever stepped outside of your comfort zone?"
"Why do you ask?"
"You seem nervous around me."
Holy crap, that's personal. I'm just nervous around you, Karnstein.
"I find you intimidating." I flush scarlet, but mentally pat myself on the back for my candor, and
gaze at my hands again. I hear her sharp intake of breath.
"You should find me intimidating," she nods. "That's what I go for most days; and why I'm
dressed like this. When I'm allowed to be comfortable, I'm rocking leather pants, doc martens, and
a flannel top."
I look away, trying to not imagine her in skin-tight pants and flannel. God, she could pull off
wearing anything and look absolutely stunning.
"You're very honest, Laura. Please don't look down; I like to see your face."
Oh. I glance at her, and she gives me an encouraging but wry smile.
"It gives me some sort of clue what you might be thinking," she breathes. "You're quite the
conundrum, Miss Hollis."
"I, uh- there's nothing mysterious about me."
"I think you're very self-contained," she murmurs, "I daresay - repressed."
I'm not used to someone being this up front with me. This is bewildering. Me, self-contained?
No way. I try to take a breath to make a reply, but lose my nerve.
"Except when you blush, of course, which is often. I just wish I knew what you were blushing
about." After she switches lanes, she takes a second to glance at me. And as if on cue, I blush.
Crap!
"Do you always make such personal observations?"
"I hadn't realized I was. Have I offended you?" she sounds surprised.
"No," I answer truthfully.
"Good."
"But you're very supercilious," I retaliate quietly.
She raises her eyebrows in surprise and, if I'm not mistaken, pales slightly too.
"I'm used to getting my own way, Laura," she murmurs. "In all things."
"I don't doubt it. Why haven't you asked me to call you by your first name?" I'm surprised by my
own audacity. Why has this conversation become so serious? I can't believe I'm being so
antagonistic towards her.
Her posture changes, even though she's still driving. It's like she's trying to warn me off.
"The only people who use my given name are my family and a few close friends. That's the way I
like it."
Oh. I can't help but remind myself she still hasn't said, 'Call me Carmilla.' She's a control freak;
part of me is thinking maybe it would have been better if Betty had interviewed her. Two control
freaks together. Plus of course she's blonde like all the women in her office. And she's beautiful,
my subconscious reminds me. I don't like the idea of Carmilla and Betty, even though she says
she's not a lesbian and Betty is as bad as Captain Kirk landing on a new planet everyday.
"Are you an only child?" she asks.
Whoa... she keeps changing direction.
"Yes."
"Tell me about your parents."
Why does she want to know this? It's so dull.
"My mom died when I was real young; cancer. My dad's the only cop in some small town."
"I'm sorry," she mutters and a fleeting troubled look crosses her face.
"I don't remember her."
"Did your father ever remarry?"
I snort. "You could say that."
She frowns at me.
"You're not giving much away, are you?" she says dryly, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought.
"Well neither are you."
"You've interviewed me once already, and I can recollect some quite probing questions then." She
smirks at me.
Crap. She's remembering the 'Are you gay?' question. Once again, I'm mortified. I start babbling
about my father - anything to block that memory.
"My dad is great. He just can't seem to find, um, the right one. He's currently on his fourth wife."
Carmilla raises her eyebrows in surprise.
"And what's number four like?"
"She's... accommodating."
Carmilla doesn't ask anything after that, and the quiet gets to me.
"Tell me about your parents," I ask.
She shrugs.
"My dad was a lawyer, mother's in finance. She's in Seattle." She rattles it off like it's nothing. I
wonder about how a successful couple adopts three kids, and how they must be proud that one of
them took on the business world and conquered it single-handed. What drove her to be that way?
Her folks must be proud.
"What do your siblings do?" She sighed in what I could only guess was boredom.
"Will is in construction, and my little sister is in Paris. I haven't heard from her in ages." Her eyes
cloud with irritation. She really doesn't want to talk about her family or herself.
"I hear Paris is lovely," I murmur. Why doesn't she want to talk about her family? Is it because
she's adopted?
"It's beautiful. Have you been?" She asks, her irritation forgotten.
"I've never left the country." So now we're back to banalities. What is she hiding?
"Would you like to go?"
"To Paris?" I squeak. This has thrown me - who wouldn't want to go to Paris? "Of course," I
concede. "But it's England that I'd really like to visit."
She tilts her head slightly, barely biting her bottom lip with her canine as she gives a curious
'hmm'. Oh my.
"Because?"
I blink rapidly. Focus, Hollis.
"It's the home of Shakespeare, Austen, the Brontë sisters, and J.K. Rowling. I'd like to see the
places that inspired those people to write such wonderful books."
All this talk of literary greats reminds me that I should be studying. I realize we're already back at
my dorm. Did we just pull up?
"I'd better go. I have to study."
"For your exams?"
"Yeah. They start Tuesday."
"Here, you'll need this." She hands me an umbrella from the backseat as I thank her for the ride. I
get my bike off of her Jeep and lock it up on the rack as she drives away, and I'm left even more
unsure than I was before.
"Laura! You're back." Betty sits between our beds, surrounded by books. She's clearly been
studying for finals - something that I would have been doing if she hadn't volun-told me to go
interview Ms. Karnstein in her place. She bounds up to me and hugs me hard.
"I was beginning to worry. I expected you back sooner."
"Oh, I thought I made good time considering the interview ran over." I attach my phone to her
computer and transfer the audio file.
"Laura, thank you so much for doing this. I owe you, I know. How was it? What was she like?"
I struggle to answer her question. What can I say?
"I'm glad it's over, and I don't have to see her again. She was rather intimidating, you know." I
shrug. "She's very focused, intense even - and young. Really young."
Betty gazes innocently at me. I frown at her.
"Don't you look so innocent. Why didn't you give me a basic biography? I looked like a complete
fool asking for a Mister Karnstein to three different people!" Betty clamps a hand to her mouth.
"Jeez, Laura, I'm sorry - I didn't think."
I huff.
"Mostly she was courteous, formal, slightly stuffy - like she's old before her time. She doesn't talk
like she's twenty-something. How old is she anyway?"
"Twenty-seven. Jeez, Laura, I'm sorry. I should have briefed you, but I was really under the
weather."
Carmilla is only six years older than me?
"You look better," I said bitterly, fairly certain she could have done the interview if she really
wanted to this morning. I looked at my watch.
"Oh, I have to get to work! We're getting ready for the end of semester buy-back!" I grabbed a
muffin from our mini-fridge and ran for the university bookstore.
Shop Talk and Coffee
Chapter Notes
A/N: Yet another thing I didn't like in 50SoG: Masking tape, really? Duct Tape is so
much better for bondage!
A/N #2: Removed the "one of these days, you'll say yes" conversation with Paul.
That is just too much rape culture for any female protagonist in the 21st century to
ignore/'let down easy'. She had a boundary and apparently he kept pushing it for
years. And if she loved Tess of the d'Urbervilles so much, she must have seen what
could be coming next.
Shop Talk and Coffee
I'm shocked as a familiar voice distracts me as I'm flipping through the different web pages open
on my phone, bored as there wasn't anything to do at work yet. It's like detention for money.
"Miss Hollis, I do not believe my eyes." I put my phone away, expecting to hear my boss ask me
to sweep the floors again or something. I turn to face the dark curls and darker eyes of Carmilla
Karnstein, CEO and possible stalker.
"Ms. Karnstein! What are you doing here?"
"Since I was already on the campus, I wanted to check in on the research project I'm funding. And
I wanted to grab a coffee. Would you care to join me for a cup?"
I stammered, knowing I should look busy. "I really should be working..."
She whispered to me conspiratorially. "I asked the manager if I could borrow you for a bit and get
some first-hand knowledge about the rising costs of textbooks. I've been thinking of a way to
subsidize the reading materials on a sliding scale based on need. Or I could leave you to your
Snape/Ron fanfic that you were reading. Honestly, if you can handle a hetero pairing, I'd
recommend something by snape-submiss."
I blushed furiously as I nodded and she lead us out of the bookstore and over to the coffee shop
across the street. God, she knows I like fanfiction now, she must think... She just recommended an
author to me.
"Why don't you choose a table, while I get the drinks. What would you like?" She asks, polite as
ever. I winced at the question, feeling awkward in my request.
"I'll have... um - English Breakfast tea?"
She raises her eyebrows. "No coffee?"
"I'm not a fan of coffee."
She smiles. "Here I thought the 'Friends' generation would all be slaves to coffee. But alright, tea.
Sugar?"
"No thanks." I stare down at my knotted fingers.
"Anything to eat?"
"No thank you." I shake my head, and she heads to the counter.
I surreptitiously gaze at her from beneath my lashes as she stands in line waiting to be served. I
could watch her all day... She's tall, slim, confident, and the way that skirt hugs her curves... Oh
my. Once or twice she runs her long, graceful fingers through her curly hair. Hmm... I'd like to do
that. The thought comes unbidden into my mind, and my face flames. I bite my lip and stare down
at my hands again not liking where my wayward thoughts are headed. Stop thinking of her like
that, she probably just wants to ask a scholarship recipient working part time about how I afford
my books.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Karnstein is back, startling me.
I go crimson. I can't just say, 'I was just thinking about running my fingers through your hair and
wondering if it would feel soft to the touch.' I shake my head. She hands me a paper cup, lid
covering it and a string dangling from it labeled 'Twinings English Breakfast' - my favorite. She
has some fancy coffee which has a hint of chocolate and raspberry. She must have a sweet tooth.
She sits opposite me and crosses her long legs, tip of her shoe grazing my ankle. She looks so
comfortable and so at ease with her body; I envy her.
"Your thoughts?" She prompts me.
"This is my favorite tea." My voice is quiet, breathy. I simply can't believe I'm sitting opposite
Carmilla Karnstein in a coffee shop at Silas. She frowns. She knows I'm hiding something. I pop
the teabag out of the cup and toss it away.
"I like my tea black and weak," I mutter as an explanation.
"I see. Do you have a girlfriend?"
Whoa... What?
"What? Why do you think that?"
"The way you just came and interviewed me even though you were unprepared and nervous. I
thought you and Betty must be-"
I laugh, nervous yet baffled. What gave her that impression?
"No. She's been my roommate since freshman year and is a good friend of mine, that's all. Why
did you think I would have a girlfriend?" She's fishing for details still, Hollis. Two birds with one
stone.
"The way you dropped everything for her, right before exams. And the way you look at women."
Her dark brown gaze holds mine. She's so unnerving. I want to look away but I'm caught -
spellbound.
"She's more like family," I whisper.
Karnstein nods slightly, seemingly satisfied with my response, and glances down at her coffee. I
blink a few times and tend to my own tea. Her long fingers wrap around her coffee cup, and I
watch, fascinated. Why am I fascinated with her fingers?
"Do you want something?" She asks, and that amused, secret smile is back. I feel like I can't keep
track of time around her.
"Um, no. This is nice." We chatted a bit about the pros and cons of used book sales versus book
rentals as I drank in her appearance and sipped my beverage.
Before long I had finished my tea and tossed it into the recycling bin. "Thank you for the tea, Ms.
Karnstein."
"You're welcome, Laura. It's my pleasure. Here," She commands, holding out her card to me. I
take it, bemused, and follow her out of the coffee shop.
We wait at the curb for the 'walk' sign. She at least looks her usual calm, collected self. As for me,
I'm desperately trying to gauge how our little coffee meeting has gone. I feel like I've been
interviewed for a position, but I'm not sure what it is.
"Do you always wear jeans?" She asks out of the blue.
"Um, yeah. Mostly."
She nods. My mind is reeling. What an odd question... And I'm aware that our time together is
ending. This is it. I've completely blown it, I know. Perhaps she has someone.
"Well, do you have a girlfriend?" I blurt out. Holy crap - I just said that out loud?
Her lips quirk up in a half-smile, and she looks down at me.
"No, Laura. I don't do the... girlfriend... thing," She says softly.
Oh... what does that mean? She's not gay. Or maybe she is - she must have lied to me in her
interview because she doesn't want to hurt her business. So maybe she can't be seen with a
woman on her arm? For a moment, I think she's going to follow up with an explanation, some
clue to her cryptic statement - but she doesn't.
I'm over-thinking all of this. I have to go. I have to get away from her. I see the bookstore and
cross the road, knowing I'll feel better once I'm back at work.
"Shit, Laura!" She cries. She grabs me by my waist and pulls me back onto the curb as a cyclist
whips past, barely missing me.
It was all a blur - one minute I'm stepping away, the next I'm in her arms, and she's holding me
tightly against her chest. I inhale her clean, vital scent. I can't place why but parts of me have
clenched in anticipation. Oh my, it's intoxicating. I inhale deeply.
"Are you okay?" She whispers. She has one arm around my waist, clasping me to her, while the
other hand slowly pushes us apart. She's staring into my eyes, and I hold her anxious, worried
gaze for a moment or maybe it's forever... but eventually, my attention is drawn to her beautiful
mouth. Oh my. And for the first time in twenty-one years, I want to be kissed. I want to feel her
mouth on me.
Kiss me damn it! I implore her, but I can't move. I'm paralyzed with a strange, unfamiliar need,
completely captivated by her. I'm mesmerized by Carmilla Karnstein's exquisitely sculptured
mouth, lips red as rubies, and she's looking down at me, her gaze hooded, her eyes darkening.
She's breathing harder than usual, and I've stopped breathing altogether.
Kiss me, please. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and gives me a small shake of her head
as if in answer to my silent question. When she opens her eyes again, it's with some new purpose,
a steely resolve has taken hold as if she slammed a door to her heart.
"Laura, you should steer clear of me. I'm not the one for you," She whispers.
What? Where is this coming from? Surely I should be the judge of that. I frown up at her, and my
head swims with rejection.
"Breathe, Laura, breathe. I'm going to help you cross the road and then let you go," She says
quietly, and she gently pulls me across. The way she said 'let you go' seemed almost painful.
Adrenaline has spiked through my body, from the near miss with the cyclist or the heady
proximity to Carmilla, leaving me wired and weak. NO! My psyche screams as she pulls away
barely leaving her hands on my shoulders at arm's length, watching my reactions carefully. And
the only thing I can think is that I wanted to be kissed, made it pretty damned obvious, and she
didn't do it. She doesn't want me. She really doesn't want me. I have royally screwed up whatever
we were doing just now.
"I've got this," I breathe, finding my voice. "Thank you," I mutter awash with humiliation. How
could I have misread the situation between us so utterly? I need to get away from her.
"For what?" She frowns. She hasn't taken her hands off me. My fingers trail hers, and that
unmistakable energy is still there between us.
"For saving me," I whisper.
Whatever emotions that were on her face was now gone. She went so neutral not even Voldemort
could get in with Legilimancy.
"That lack-wit was riding the wrong way. I'm glad I was here; I shudder to think what could have
happened to you. Do you need anything?" She releases me, her hands by her sides, and I'm
standing in front of her feeling like a fool.
With a shake, I clear my head. I just want to go. All my vague, un-articulated hopes have been
dashed. She doesn't want me. What would Carmilla Karnstein want with you? My subconscious
mocks me. I wrap my arms around myself and turn to face the road to see where I was almost
plowed into the pavement, conscious that Karnstein is behind me. Outside the bookstore, I turn
briefly to face her but cannot look her in the eye.
"Thanks for the tea and the ride." I murmur.
"Laura... I... " She stops, and the anguish in her voice demands my attention, so I peer unwillingly
up at her. Her dark eyes are bleak as she runs her hand through her hair.
She looks torn, frustrated, her expression stark, all her careful control has evaporated.
"What, Carmilla?" I snap irritably after she says - nothing. I just want to go. I need to take my
fragile, wounded pride away and somehow nurse it back to health. She clenches her jaw at the
sound of her given name.
"God, what am I doing?" She murmurs, letting out a shaky sigh. "Good luck with your exams."
Huh? This is why she looks so desolate? This is the big send off? Just to wish me luck in my
exams?
"Thanks." I can't disguise the sarcasm in my voice. "Goodbye, Ms. Karnstein."
The rest of the week was a blur of studying, writing essays, and sleeping whenever I could.
Betty's article on Carmilla Karnstein was a hit, and she's guaranteed a paid internship with the
school paper for her senior year. Good for her.
After my last final was done, I checked my mail only to find a package waiting for me. Odd. I
haven't ordered anything from Amazon recently.That's when I realize there's Amazon markings
on it, either. Just Laura Hollis. There's no sender's address or name. Perhaps it's from daddy.
"It's probably from my dad." I explain as Betty looks at it with interest.
"Open it!" Betty says as she heads into the kitchen for our 'Exams are finished hurrah!'
Champagne.
I open the parcel, and inside I find a box containing a very well-preserved early printing of The
Picture of Dorian Grey. Written on a white note card, in black ink in neat cursive handwriting, is:
"You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to
commit."
"That looks really expensive. Wow, she's full of herself." Betty says as we both realize who may
have sent it.
"It's a quote from the book." I inform her.
"What is Karnstein trying to say?"
"I think it's a warning - for some reason she keeps warning me off. I have no idea why. It's not
like I'm beating her door down." I frown.
"I know you don't want to talk about her, Laura, but she's seriously into you. Warnings or no."
I agree with her as I shake my head. "I can't accept these from her. I'll send them back with an
equally baffling quote from some obscure part of the book." I think about it and decide on a
lengthier quote in reply:
"To realize one's nature perfectly—that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of
themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to
one's self. Of course they are charitable. They feed the hungry, and clothe the beggar. But their
own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had
it. "
I repack the books and leave them on the dining table. Betty hands me a glass of champagne.
"Well, enough with her. To the end of exams and our final summer of freedom," she grins.
"Hear, hear." We clink glasses and drink.
The Bar Scene
Chapter Notes
A/N: The Bar Scene from 50SoG. TW: taking advantage of inebriation, potential
sexual assault. Problem I had with the book here: How did the (totally not a vampire
in the re-write from twilight fanfiction) enigmatic CEO get back over here so quickly
and find our poor damsel in distress *just in time*? I use the GPS in my phone and I
can't get more than a city block specific, and add that to a crowded bar right after
finals? Also, 5 margaritas after champagne? A girl her size would have blacked out
and possibly be dead if she doesn't regularly drink.
The Bar Scene
The bar is loud and hectic, full of soon to be graduates out to get trashed. My former Lit TA
Danny joins us. We won't graduate for another year, but we're in the mood to party and the
Summer Society knows just how to get into the spirit of freedom by buying a pitcher of margaritas
for the table. As I down my third, I realize this is not a good idea on top of the champagne.
"So what now Laura?" Danny shouts at me over the noise.
"I have two months of freedom to do whatever I want. So I'll probably stay at the bookstore and in
my dorm room and relax. Perry already cleared it." Betty was going to Olympia and enjoying
some family condo.
"So you'll be around for the Adonis Festival and Hunt!"
"Of course, Danny, I wouldn't miss it for the world." I smile, still not entirely certain what that
was about. Sounds like some sort of field day and Lilith Fair. She smiles as she puts her arm
around my waist and pulls me close.
"It means a lot to me that you'll be there Laura," She whispers in my ear. "Another margarita?"
"Danny Lawrence - are you trying to get me drunk?" I say, giggling slightly. Because I think it's
working.
Danny winks at me, and I try to remember where I am. "I think I'd better quit with the tequila
now. I'll go get us a pitcher of beer."
"More drink, Laura!" Betty bellows, obviously hammered but taking it in better stride than I can.
Betty has the constitution of an ox. She's got her arm draped over Jamie, a fellow English students
and her usual photographer on her student newspaper. Jamie has given up taking photos of the
drunkenness that surrounds them as Jamie only has eyes for Betty. She, of course is in a tiny
camisole, tight jeans, and high heels, hair piled high with tendrils hanging down softly around her
face, her usual stunning self. I'm comfortable in with my Converse and t-shirt style, though I'm
wearing my most flattering jeans. I guess I am kind of pulling off a soft butch look that is catnip to
the tall redhead. I move out of Danny's hold and get up from our table. Whoa. Head spin. I have
to grab the back of the chair. Tequila is my tequila.
I make my way to the bar and decide that I should hit the ladies' room while I'm on my feet. I
stagger off through the crowd, un-surprised at the line. At least it's quiet and cooler here. I reach
for my cell phone to relieve the boredom of waiting in line. Hmm... Did I pocket-dial someone?
Whose number is this? I didn't save a name to the number because I was at work... oh yeah.
Control-freak Karnstein, this was her number from her card. I giggle. I have no idea time it is,
maybe I'll wake her. Whatever. She can tell me why she sent me that book and that creepy quote.
I'll show you courage to commit sins. I hit the call button and she answers on the second ring.
"Laura?" She's surprised to hear from me. Well, frankly, I'm surprised to have called her.
Then my befuddled brain registers... how does she know it's me? I didn't give her my number.
"Why did you send me that book?" I slur, putting a finger in my other ear to listen better.
"Laura, are you okay? You sound... strange." Her voice is filled with concern.
"I'm not the strange one, you are," I accuse. You and your piercing gaze.
"Laura, have you been drinking?"
"What's it to you?" She sounds genuinely worried.
"I'm - curious. Where are you?"
"In a bar."
"Which bar?" She sounds exasperated.
"A bar by my school, duh."
"How are you getting home?"
"With Betty." This conversation is not going how I expected.
"The flake? Which bar are you in?"
"Why did you send me the book, Carmilla?" She didn't like me using her first name, and I didn't
care.
"Laura, where are you, tell me now." Her tone is so... dictatorial, total control freak. I could see
her as an old-time movie director wearing a beret and leggins, holding an old-fashioned
megaphone and wielding a riding crop. The image makes me laugh out loud.
"You're so... domineering," I giggle.
"Laura, so help me, where in Hades are you?"
Carmilla Karnstein is swearing at me. I giggle again. "I'm in a bar, like I said."
"Which bar?!"
"Goodnight, Carmilla."
"Laura!"
I hang up. Ha! Though she didn't tell me about the book. I frown.
I wait at the bar for what feels like an eternity for the pitcher of beer and eventually return to the
table.
"You've been gone so long." Betty scolds me. "Where were you?"
"I was in line for the restroom."
Danny and Jamie are having some heated debate about our local softball team. Danny pauses in
her tirade to pour us all beers, and I take a long sip, forgetting how drunk I was already.
"Betty, I think I'd better step outside and get some fresh air."
"Laura, you are such a lightweight."
"I'll be five minutes."
I make my way through the crowd again. I am beginning to feel nauseous, my head is spinning
uncomfortably, and I can't recall making my way outside.
I blink and realize I'm swaying in the cool evening air of the parking lot, and there's someone
calling my name. I can't turn my head or eyes, and that makes me realize exactly how drunk I am.
I blink again, and I thought my Hall Don Perry was there, but she was too tall. My face is at her
boob height. I think I'm going to be sick. Why did I let myself get this messed up?
"Laura," Oh, it was Danny. "You okay?"
"I think I've just had a bit too much to drink." I smile weakly at her. I'm having a conversation
with her boobs? I giggle at that.
"Do you need a hand?" She asks and steps closer, putting her arm around me. Her warmth is nice,
but it's not right.
"Danny, I'm okay. I've got this." I try and push her away rather feebly.
"Laura, please," She whispers, and now she's holding me in her arms, pulling me close. What's
going on?
"Danny, what you doing?"
"You know we like each other, Laura." She has one hand at the small of my back holding me
against her, the other under my chin tipping back my head. The world spins as I realize that she's
going to kiss me. "No Danny, stop - no." I push, but she's too strong and I cannot stop her.
Her hand has slipped into my hair, and she give my hair a sharp tug. A wave of pleasure runs
through me at that, but it feels completely wrong as I'm wishing it were Carmilla and not her. I
struggle against her and it makes her seem to think twice about this.
"Please, Laura..." She whispers against my lips. Her breath is soft and smells of margarita. She
gently trails kisses on my neck and up my jaw up to the side of my mouth. I start to feel panicky,
drunk, and out of control. Heat blossoms in my chest, but it's not the good kind.
"Danny, no," I plead. I don't want this. You are my friend, and I think I'm going to throw up.
"I think the hottie said no." A voice in the dark says quietly. Holy shit! Carmilla's here. How?
Danny releases me.
"Hey, Psycho Society, the lady said no." Psycho Society?
"Back off, man. I'm just talking with my good friend here."
"Zetas don't let bros take advantage of drunk girls, and I'm
so not leaving her with you, Psycho
Sappho."
"Kirsch." she says tersely. I glance anxiously up at Carmilla, confused at the short hair and
tall...ness. He's glowering at Danny, and furious. Crap. My stomach heaves, and I double over,
my body rejecting the alcohol as I vomit spectacularly on to the ground.
I blink again, and I'm bent over a flowerbed, my hair pulled back as I dry-heave nothing from my
stomach. I'm throwing up?
"Hottie is getting quite the ab workout tonight. I got you." I try awkwardly to push him away, but
I vomit again... and again. Oh shit...how long is this going to last?
I finally have my hands barely holding me up - vomiting profusely is exhausting, and I think I've
broken out into a cold sweat. Hands lets go of me and passes me a handkerchief.
I blink, and my eyes focus on the monogrammed, linen handkerchief. Of course control freak
Carmilla has one.
ZΩM? I try to get the handkerchief to my face and start to lose my balance,
ashamed and disgusted with myself. I don't want her to see me like this. My mouth gets wiped by
the handkerchief before I realize it was taken out of my hands.
I blink again, and I can't understand the conversation going on between Carmilla and Danny. I
feel like I should apologize to her for the drunken phone call.
"I'm sorry," I mutter, staring at the yellowed handkerchief which smells horrible now. Or did I
throw up on myself?
"What are you talking about? Oh, don't worry about it, Laura."
Like with the vomiting, I can't seem to stop myself once I start.
"I'm sorry for the phone call. For being sick. For asking if you're gay." I murmur, shivering as the
air hits me. Yeah, I think I got it on myself.
"Did you have a jacket or purse?" The voice seemed a bit deep for Karnstein. Was it Kirsch? I
called Carmilla, though.
"Err... yes, I came with both. Carmilla, please, I need to tell Betty. She'll worry."
"If you say so."
We go back in and it's noisy, crowded, and the music is throbbing in my ears. It's too warm in
there, and I blink.
I'm in a car as the wind from the open window feels good.
"Drink," order is shouted at me. I seem to have a bottle of water in my hand and it's a miracle that
I get the bottle to my mouth.
The moving lights are twisting and turning overhead as the world spins to the left.
"All of it," the voice commands.
She's so overbearing. I want to be upset that Carmilla came all this way to take care of me. But I
did drunk-dial her, so maybe I did need rescuing.
And my friend totally violated my boundaries.
I blinked again, and I was in a comfortable warm bed, and I quit fighting the urge to sleep.
The Hangover
Chapter Notes
A/N: Yes, I wrote that last part like that on purpose. I wanted Kirsch to rescue Laura,
even though Laura was blacking out so much that she couldn't realize it was him and
not Carmilla. Issue with 50SoG: the language choices of the main guy are massive
red flags to me that it was originally intended for someone who was born two
centuries before. (I liked 'basket-making' better, btw)
The Hangover
It's quiet and serene. I am comfortable and warm, in this bed, that... isn't mine. I open my eyes
wide and in panic as the headache starts to throb. I have no idea where I am, but it seems familiar.
The room smells funny and the surroundings look like something I have seen before. My fuzzy
brain realizes that this reminds me of my dorm room. The Zeta Omega Mu paddle on the wall tells
me that I went home with a frat guy.
Oh, shit.
Fractured memories of the previous night come slowly back to haunt me. I was drunk. And I
drunk-dialed Carmilla! Then Danny... I shivered at the memory of her forcing herself on me. I
had no recollection of coming here, though. I take stock of myself and realize that I'm sleeping in
an oversized t-shirt, bra, and panties. The bra was unhooked in the back, but not taken off of me. I
don't think I had sex last night, but would I know? I have heard it makes you feel sore, and I don't
feel sore at all. But I lost my shoes, my top, and my jeans?
I glance at the bedside table. On it is a glass of water, a yellow powerade, and two different bottles
for headaches. Carmilla's overprotective control-freakishness? No, this doesn't make sense. I
check the bottles and the tablets inside, and this doesn't look like some elaborate trap. My phone is
plugged in and charging in front of a piece of macaroni art to Brody. I crack open the sports drink
and take some pain medicine as I realize I am in Kirsch's dorm room.
It's thirst quenching and refreshing. My mouth and brain are dry and begging for water.
There's a knock on the door. My heart leaps into my mouth, and I can't seem to find my voice.
Kirsch comes back in with a bag of greasy bacon goodness for breakfast. I take a deep breath and
close my eyes. Okay, this happened. What would Hermione Granger do? Not shirk away.
"Good morning Laura. How are you feeling?"
Oh no.
"Better than I deserve," I mumble.
"Greasy, salty food and electrolytes will put you to rights."
"How did I get here?" My voice is small, contrite. Tell me this wasn't my first time.
"You drank too much and have a hangover. You hungry?"
I peek up at him. He places the bag on a chair and pulls out two biscuit sausage things, one with
cheese and another with cheese and bacon. He's staring at me, offering me to have one for
breakfast. I took the one with bacon and tore into it. Usually I found this disgusting, but today it
was delicious.
He comes and sits down on the edge of the bed. I begin to curl up and he backs off, realizing what
I am thinking.
"We didn't," I whisper, my mouth drying in mortified horror as I can't complete the question. I
stare at my hands.
"No, I slept on my futon last night. Laura, you were comatose. I hate that frat guys get assigned
that kind of reputation. I like my women to be able to consent, and honestly, taller." he says dryly.
"Oh." I replied sheepishly.
"Sorry, Laura, you got really drunk and started to black out, and your roomie looked like she was
taking a guy home so I brought you here," he says apologetically. "I wasn't about to let someone
take advantage of you like that. I have a little sister and I wouldn't be cool with anyone doing that
to her." His eyes lingered on the elbow macaroni by his bed and I felt a lot better.
"Did you put me to bed?"
"Yes." His face is impassive. I could handle this.
"Did I throw up again?" My voice is quieter.
"No. You let it all out by the bar. My truck thanks you."
"Did you undress me?" I whisper.
"Yes." He quirks an eyebrow at me as I blush furiously. "You gacked all over yourself, so I hand-
washed your shirt and jeans and they are hanging to dry outside. I put my shirt on you before
unhooking the bra clasp. It looked really uncomfortable to sleep in."
"I'm so sorry."
His mouth lifts slightly in a wry smile. "Nah, I get it. Fairly certain Danny is going to be a bit
pissed because I clam jammed her." Clam-jammed? Oh...
"How did you know I was there?"
"I didn't; I was going to the bar to party myself when I saw what looked like some bro trying to
take advantage of you. Bro code says to stop it from happening."
"I wish you could have stopped me from drunk-dialing a friend last night."
"That explains why you called me Carmilla. She must be a lucky girl. Anyways, there's a
women's shower on the other end of the floor. I can walk you there if you want." I shook my head
as he handed me a towel and PJ pants.
"Thanks, Brody."
By the time I got out of the shower and was back at his dorm room, I could hear raised voices
arguing.
"How do I know you didn't take advantage of her?! When she called me she sounded way too out
of it to remember much of anything!"
"Chill, Karnstein! I've got a code I live by; and I was too busy keeping Psycho Society from
making like Malfoy so she could Slytherin last night!"
I cleared my throat as I witnessed Carmilla Karnstein and Brody Kirsch facing each other off.
Even though the Zeta was taller, Carmilla seemed to exude some sort of 'don't mess with me' vibe
that made the air thicker. It could have been because Kirsch was in plaid shorts and his Zeta shirt
and Carmilla was every bit of the corporate tycoon in her pinstriped suit with slacks that looked
like they were painted on around her hips.
"Carmilla! You didn't have to track me down with whatever... James Bond spying stuff you're
developing for the highest bidder," I snap at her. She stares at me, surprised, and if I'm not
mistaken, a little wounded.
"Firstly, the technology to track cell phones is readily available over the Internet. Secondly, my
company does not invest or manufacture any kind of surveillance devices, and thirdly, Betty told
me that you were... basket-making with Kirsch here!" she says acidly.
"Basket making?!" I glance up at Carmilla, she's glaring at me, her dark eyes blazing, aggrieved. I
try to bite my lip, but I fail to repress my laughter.
"Amorous Congress, then." Was she for real?!
"Which medieval chronicle did you escape from?" I giggle. "You sound like some courtly
knight."
Her mood visibly shifts. Her eyes soften and his expression warms, and I see a trace of a smile on
her beautifully chiseled lips.
"Kirsch was the courtly knight, it seems. I'm the dark knight." Her smile is sardonic, and she
shakes her head. "Did you even eat last night?" Her tone is accusatory. I shake my head. What
major transgression have I committed now? Her jaw clenches, but her face remains impassive.
"You need to eat. That's why you became so ill. Honestly Laura, it's drinking rule number one."
She runs a hand through her hair, and I know it's because she's exasperated. Brody nods in
agreement.
"Are you going to continue to scold me?" I ask.
"Is that what I'm doing?" She retorted.
"I think so."
Kirsch realized that an argument was about to happen and he wanted to nip that. "Ladies, nobody
was really hurt, so-"
Carmilla's eyes narrowed at me. "-You're lucky I'm just scolding you." Huh?
"What do you mean?" Her nostrils flared as a hint of accent slipped out.
"I swan, if you were mine, you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled
yesterday. You didn't eat, you got drunk, you put yourself at risk." She closes her eyes, dread
etched on her lovely face, and she shudders slightly. When she opens her eyes, she glares at me. "I
hate to think what could have happened to you."
I scowl back at her. Swan? What is her problem? What's it to - If I was hers - well I'm not.
Though maybe, part of me would like to be. The thought pierces through the irritation I feel at her
high-handed words.
"I would have been fine. I was with Betty."
Kirsch snorted at that. "And Psycho Society?" he snaps at me.
Hmm... Danny. I'll need to face her at some point.
"Danny... just got out of line." I shrug.
"Well the next time she gets out of line, maybe someone should teach her some manners."
"Yeah, you're quite the disciplinarian," I hiss at her.
She chuckled darkly. "Oh, Laura, you have no idea." Her eyes narrow, and then she grins
wickedly. It's disarming. One minute, I'm confused and angry, the next I'm gazing at her gorgeous
smile.
Wow... I am entranced, and it's because her smile is so rare. I quite forget what she's talking about.
Brody interjects again. "Ladies, I'm going to have a shower. A really cold one. So uh, lock up
behind you, I'll have my key on me."
Carmilla looks him over as if analyzing him. "You're graduating, right?"
He sighed. "Yeah, I'm moving out this weekend and doing the big job search from the 'rents
home."
She jots down a note and hands him one of her cards. "I like that you have a code. If you want a
job, call Natalie. I could use someone like you."
He gaped at the number. "That's the offer?" She nodded.
"You'll get professional training, too."
"Um, thanks, Ms. Karnstein." He took his towel and left us alone in his dorm room.
I let out the breath that I've been holding. Why is she so damned attractive? I can't the the words
'If you were mine' out of my head. I want to be hers. I have never felt this way about anyone.
I feel like squirming with a needy, achy... discomfort. I don't understand this reaction. She's the
only person who has ever made my blood race inside my body. Yet, she's so difficult,
complicated, and confusing. One minute she rebuffs me, the next she sends me a twelve-thousand-
dollar book, then she tracks me down like a stalker.
Yet she cares enough to come and check on me after Betty let her think some random guy took
me home. Carmilla looked around and gathered my top and jeans from the night before. They
were still damp, unfortunately.
"Looks like I'm doing a walk of shame." I said, resigned.
Carmilla shrugged. "I'll drive you home, cupcake." I smiled my thanks to her, and I could have
sworn she smiled back.
The Elevator Scene
Chapter Notes
A/N: Unlike 50SoG, I won't have any "inner Goddess" claptrap.
A/N #2: Watch "Fifty Shades of Karnstein" to know the music that should be in your
head when they are in the elevator.
The Elevator Scene
We get back to my place and I'm relieved to find the dorm room empty. I was worried that we
would walk in on Betty with some guy here and I'd wind up seeing yet another unwanted penis.
My stomach rumbles and I look embarassed.
Carmilla stares at me imperiously. She removes her jacket exposing a white blouse, taking stock of
the area.
"Sit," she commands, pointing to a chair. I make my way across the room and sit as I've been
directed. She roots around and finds the biscuits as she fills my electric kettle and prepares some
tea for me.
"English Breakfast?" she asks.
"Yes, please."
She passes me a clean mug with a Twining's English Breakfast teabag. Jeez, she remembered
which tea I liked.
"Your hair's still damp," she scolds.
"I couldn't find the hairdryer there." I mutter, embarrassed. Not that I looked. Boys don't usually
have them.
Carmilla's mouth presses into a hard line, but she doesn't say anything as she pours herself a cup
of tea as well.
"I can't accept that book as a gift," I started, getting up to return it. The sound of her clearing her
throat indicated that I should remain seated.
"Laura, trust me, I can afford it." She poured the water into the mug and set the kettle down,
reading the note with the quotation I wrote in reply to her.
"To realize one's nature perfectly—that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of
themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to
one's self. Of course they are charitable. They feed the hungry, and clothe the beggar. But their
own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had
it. "
She blushed slightly.
"That's not the point. Why should you buy that for me?"
"That's not the point. Why should you buy that for me?"
"Because I can," her eyes flash with a wicked gleam, "And I wanted to."
"Just because you can doesn't mean that you should," I reply quietly as she arches an eyebrow at
me, her eyes twinkling, and suddenly I feel that we're talking about something else, but I don't
know what it is. Which reminds me...
"Why did you give me that book, Carmilla?" My voice is soft. She puts down her tea and regards
me intently, her eyes burning with some unfathomable emotion.
Holy crap - my mouth dries.
"Well, when you were nearly run over by the cyclist - and I was holding you and you were
looking up at me - all kiss me, kiss me, Carmilla," she pauses and shrugs slightly, "Oh, it was
obvious... I felt I owed you an apology and a warning." She runs her hand through her hair.
"Laura, I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of woman; I don't do romance. My tastes are very
singular."
What does that mean?
"You should steer clear from me." She closes her eyes as if in defeat. "There's something about
you, though, and I'm finding it impossible to stay away. But I think you've figured that out
already."
My appetite vanishes. She can't stay away!
"Then don't," I whisper.
She gasps, her eyes wide. "You don't know what you're saying."
"Enlighten me, then." We sit gazing at each other, neither of us touching our tea.
"You're not celibate then?" I breathe.
Amusement lights up her face. "No, Laura, I'm not celibate." She pauses for this information to
sink in, and I flush scarlet. The mouth-to-brain filter is broken again. I can't believe I've just said
that out loud.
"What are your plans for the next few days?" she asks, her voice low.
"I'm working today, from midday. What time is it now?" I panic suddenly.
"Half past eleven, I can take you so you're there on time. What about tomorrow?" She has her
elbows on the table, and her chin is resting on her long steepled fingers. I can't help but think of
what she could do with those fingers. I forget to answer her.
"So what are you going to do for the fall?"
Where is she going with all these questions?
"I've applied for some internships. I'm waiting to hear."
"Have you applied to my company?"
I flush... of course not. "Um... no."
She looks perturbed. "And what's wrong with my company?"
"Your company or your company?" I smirk.
She smiles slightly. "Are you smirking at me, Miss Hollis?" She cocks her head to one side, and I
think she looks amused, but it's hard to tell. I flush and glance down at my unfinished breakfast. I
can't look her in the eye when she uses that tone of voice. "I'd like to bite that lip," she whispers
darkly.
Oh my. I am completely unaware that I am chewing my bottom lip. My mouth pops open as I
gasp and swallow at the same time. That has to be the sexiest thing anybody has ever said to me.
My heart beat spikes, and I think I'm panting. Jeez, I'm a quivering, moist mess, and she hasn't
even touched me. Her voice is magic to my libido.
"Why don't you?" I challenge quietly.
"Because I'm not going to touch you Laura - not until I have your written consent to do so." Her
lips hint at a smile.
What? "What does that mean?"
"Exactly what I said." She sighs and shakes her head at me, amused, but exasperated too. "I need
to show you, Laura. What time do you finish work this evening?"
"About eight."
"Well, we could have dinner at my place, and I'll acquaint you with the facts then. The choice is
yours."
"Why can't you tell me now?" I sound petulant.
"Because I'm enjoying my tea and your company. Once you're enlightened, you probably won't
want to see me again."
Holy shit. What does that mean? Does she white-slave small children to some God-forsaken part
of the planet? Is she part of some underworld crime syndicate? It would explain why she's so rich.
Is she deeply religious? Is she demisexual? Surely not, she could prove that to me right now. I
flush scarlet thinking about the possibilities. This is getting me nowhere. I'd like to solve the riddle
that is Carmilla Karnstein sooner rather than later. If it means that whatever secret she has is so
gross that I don't want to know her any more then, quite frankly, it will be a relief. Don't lie to
yourself - my subconscious yells at me - it'll have to be pretty bloody bad to have you running for
the hills.
"Tonight."
Grabbing a change of clean clothes for the day, I brush my teeth and get dressed as Carmilla is on
her blackberry with someone.
"They want to?... How much will this cost?... Okay, and what safety measures do we have in
place?... And we can deliver it via Suez?... How safe is Ben Sudan?... And when do they arrive in
Darfur?... Okay, let's do it. Keep me abreast of progress, LaFontaine." She hangs up and starts to
text someone else.
I'm grateful to find a hair tie in my bag. Carmilla is watching me as I tie my hair into a braid, her
expression unreadable. I feel her eyes follow me as I sit down and wait for her to finish texting.
"Ready to go?"
I nod. I wonder what her conversation was about. She slips back on her pinstriped jacket, picks up
her car keys, and heads for the door.
"After you, Miss Hollis," she murmurs, opening the door for me. She looks so casually elegant.
I pause, fractionally too long, drinking in the sight of her. And to think after all the tequila and the
throwing up, she's still here. What's more, she wants to see me tonight. Why me? I don't
understand it. I head out the door recalling her words - There's something about you - Well the
feeling is entirely mutual Ms. Karnstein, and I aim to find out what it is.
We walk in silence down the corridor toward the elevator. As we wait, I peek up at her through
my lashes, and she looks out of the corner of her eyes down at me. I smile, and her lips twitch.
The elevator arrives, and we step in. We're alone. Suddenly, for some inexplicable reason,
possibly our proximity in such an enclosed space, the atmosphere between us changes, charging
with an electric, exhilarating anticipation. My breathing alters as my heart races. Her head turns
fractionally toward me, her eyes darkest slate. It's like she heard my heart race. I bite my lip and
her restraint finally breaks.
"Oh, fuck the paperwork," she growls. She lunges at me, pushing me against the wall of the
elevator. Before I know it, she's got both of my hands in one of hers in a vice-like grip above my
head, and she's pinning me to the wall using her hips. Holy shit. Her other hand grabs my braid
and yanks down, bringing my face up, and her lips are on mine. It's only just not painful. I moan
into her mouth, giving her tongue an opening. She takes full advantage, her tongue expertly
exploring my mouth. I have never been kissed like this.
My tongue tentatively strokes her and joins her in a slow erotic dance that's all about touch and
sensation, all bump and grind. She brings her hand up to grasp my chin and holds me in place. I
am helpless, my hands pinned, my face held, and her hips restraining me. I feel her need in her
kiss. Oh my... She wants me. Carmilla Karnstein, Roman Goddess, wants me, and I want her,
here... now, in the elevator.
"You. Are. So. Sweet," she murmurs, each word a staccato.
The elevator stops, the doors open, and she pushes away from me in the blink of an eye, leaving
me hanging. Three freshmen holding boxes look at both of us and smirk as they enter. My heart
rate is through the roof, I feel like I've run an uphill race. I want to lean over and grasp my knees...
but that's just too obvious.
She looks so cool and calm, like she's been doing the Seattle Times crossword. How unfair. She
glances at me out of the corner of her eye, and she gently blows out a shuddering breath. Oh, she's
affected all right.
"Oh, Laura Hollis, what am I going to do with you?"
The doors open at the first floor, and she takes my hand and pulls me out.
"What is it about elevators?"
Carmilla opens the passenger door to the Jeep, and I clamber in. It's a beast of a car. She hasn't
mentioned the outburst of passion that exploded in the elevator. Should I? Should we talk about it
or pretend that it didn't happen? It hardly seems real, my first proper no-holds-barred kiss. As time
ticks on, I wonder if it was just in my imagination. It never happened, it never existed. Except that
I'm slightly wet and I'm being dropped off at work.
No. I touch my lips, swollen from her kiss. It definitely happened. I am a changed woman. I want
her, desperately, and she wanted me.
I glance at her. Carmilla is her usual polite, slightly distant self.
How confusing.
She starts the engine and reverses out of her space in the parking lot. She switches on the MP3
player. The car interior is filled with a slow beat and a woman's voice that... Oh wow... all my
senses are in disarray, this is doubly affecting. It sends delicious shivers up my spine. Carmilla
pulls out on to SW Park Avenue, and she drives with easy, lazy confidence.
"What are we listening to?"
"Crazy in Love by Beyonce. It's a special remix. Do you like it?"
"Carmilla, it's wonderful."
"It is, isn't it?" she grins, glancing at me. And for a fleeting moment, she seems her age; young,
carefree, and heart-stoppingly beautiful. Is this the key to her? Music? I sit and listen as it feels like
the singer is slinking through a jazz hall, sprawled over a grand piano, teasing and seducing me.
"Can I hear that again?"
"Sure." Carmilla pushes a button, and the music is caressing me once more. It's a gentle, slow,
sweet, and sure assault on my aural senses.
"So you like music?" I ask, hoping for a rare insight into her personal preferences.
"My taste is eclectic, Laura, everything from Emilie Autumn to Bach to Nine Inch Nails. It
depends on my mood. You?"
"Me too. Though I don't know who Emilie Autumn is."
She turns and gazes at me briefly before her eyes are back on the road.
"I'll play it for you sometime. She's a calls her stuff victoriandustrial: industrial steampunk meets
victorian." Carmilla grins at me. "She can shred on a violin, she's been locked up in asylums, and
a complete feminist. There's something... magical to her, Laura."
She presses a button, and a marching drumbeat begins. Hmm... I'll have to listen to the lyrics. The
music is interrupted by the sound of a cell phone ringing over the MP3 speakers. Carmilla hits a
button on the steering wheel.
"Karnstein," She snaps. She's so brusque.
"Mr. Karnstein, it's Hall here. I have the information you require." A rasping, disembodied voice
comes over the speakers.
"Good. Email it to me. Anything to add?"
"No ma'am, looks like a good choice."
She presses the button, then the call ceases and the music is back. No goodbye or thanks. I'm so
glad that I never seriously entertained the thought of working for her. I shudder at the very idea.
She's just too controlling and cold with her employees. The music cuts off again for the phone.
"Karnstein."
"The NDA has been emailed to you, Mr. Karnstein." A woman's voice.
"Good. That's all, Natalie."
"Good day, ma'am."
Carmilla hangs up by pressing a button on the steering wheel. The music is on very briefly when
the phone rings again. Holy hell, is this her life, constant nagging phone calls?
"Karnstein," She snaps, sounding annoyed.
"Hi, Carmilla, d'you get laid?"
"Hello, Will - I'm on speaker phone, and I'm not alone in the car," Carmilla sighs.
"Who's with you?"
Carmilla rolls her eyes. "None of your business, brother."
"I'm Laura. Laura Hollis." I interject, wanting to meet her family. Oh god, I want to meet her
family?
"Hi, Laura!"
"Hello, Will."
"Heard a lot about you," Will murmurs huskily. Carmilla frowns.
"I'm dropping Laura off at work now." She hits a button and hangs up on him. I look out and see
that we are indeed at work. "Nevermind my brother, he's... boys."
"Pick me up tonight?" I ask hopefully. Carmilla smiles as if she can't help it.
"Sure thing, cupcake."
The First Real Date
Chapter Notes
A/N: The lingo used for the helicopter and tower/flight plan was completely wrong. It
didn't have to be in there. Hell, that entire sequence didn't have to be in there. Yes,
crazy-young Marty Stu dude has money and hobbies and can take you flying
whenever. I'm replacing it with something much better.
The First Real Date
"So, did you?" Betty asks as soon as I got home.
"No," I snap irritably, hoping that will halt the questions. We head back into the apartment. "You
obviously did, though." I can't contain my envy. Betty always manages to ensnare men. She is
irresistible, beautiful, sexy, funny, forward... all the things that I'm not. But her answering grin is
infectious.
"Kirsch is a decent guy."
"He really is after last night. Doesn't mean I'm going to drop my panties for him."
"A lot better than Karnstein. She was on a warpath this morning when she realized you weren't
here."
"Carmilla and I are going out this evening."
"Carmilla? You're going out with her?"
"Yes. Well, dinner at her place."
"Maybe you will then?"
"Oh, I hope so."
"You like her then?"
"Yes."
"Like her enough to... ?"
"Yes."
She raises her eyebrows.
"Wow. Laura Hollis, finally falling for someone, and it's Carmilla Karnstein - hot, sexy
billionaire."
"Oh yeah - it's all about the money." I smirk, and we both fall into a fit of giggles.
"Has she kissed you yet?" she asks as she examines me over.
I blush. "Once."
"Once!" she scoffs.
I nod, rather shame faced.
"It was a really good kiss."
She frowns. "That's odd."
"I don't think odd covers it really," I murmur.
"We need to make sure you're simply irresistible for this evening," she says with determination.
Oh no... this sounds like it will be time consuming, humiliating, and painful.
Under Betty's tireless and frankly intrusive instruction, my legs and underarms are shaved to
perfection, my eyebrows plucked, and I am buffed all over. I didn't even know you could
be
buffed. It has been a most unpleasant experience. But she assures me that this is what will seal the
deal.
What else will she expect?
I have to convince Betty that this is what I want to do. For some strange reason, she doesn't trust
her, maybe because she's so stiff and formal. She says she can't put her finger on it, but I have
promised to text her when I get there.
I also have the Danny issue. She's left three messages and seven missed calls on my cell. Missed
suggests that I didn't reach the phone in time. She's also called home twice. Betty has been very
vague as to where I am. She'll know she's covering for me. Betty doesn't do vague. But I have
decided to let her stew. I'm still too angry with her.
Carmilla mentioned some kind of written paperwork, and I don't know if she was joking or if I'm
going to have to sign something. It's so frustrating trying to guess. And on top of all the angst, I
can barely contain my excitement or my nerves. Tonight's the night!
After all this time, am I ready for this? I think I've been ready for this for years, ready for anything
once the right person came along and it's going to be with Carmilla Karnstein. I can't really
understand what she sees in me... Laura Hollis - but okay! I'm in an outfit Betty put together,
clingy tank top with lace, jeans so stretchy I had to lay down on the bed to put them on, and heels.
I am literally wearing heels with jeans.
She is punctual, of course, right to my dorm. Her eyes rake over me and my breath hitches right
there. "Good evening, Miss Hollis," she says.
"Ms. Karnstein." I nod politely to her as I realize she's in skin tight leather pants, doc martens, and
flannel. Just like in my dreams...
She extends her arm to me. "Shall we?"
I put my hand into the crook of her arm and seemed to float away as we made our way to her car.
"How was work?" she asks.
"Very long," I reply, and my voice is husky, too low, and full of need. There was no mistaking it.
"Yes, it's been a long day for me too." Her tone is serious as we get into her Jeep.
"What did you do?" I manage.
"Got talked into hiring a new housekeeper since the last one went into early retirement. I didn't
know hospitality management was a degree plan."
"Oh! My Dorm Don-"
"-LaFontaine sold me on Perry, already. Those two joined at the hip?"
"Pretty much." I said, and she nodded.
"Figures." She looks at her phone as she starts the engine. "Wanna go feed a kitty?"
Feed a kitty? Is that some sort of lesbian slang for sex? I shrug, deciding to play it cool.
"Sure. I like feeding kitty." I bite my lip as I wonder if I could do that to a- who am I kidding of
COURSE I can! My mind starts to wander on what it would be like to trace my tongue up her
thighs...
Carmilla chuckled at that. "Buttercup, you can't handle these kitties. They will take one look at
you and eat you you up."
Wait, that's a good thing, right? There's more than one?
"You would first have to be trained and let them get used to you. First time I did this, they had
tranq guns out just in case."
Trained? Gun? "You're not taking me to some sort of lesbian orgy fight club, are you?"
Carmilla busted out laughing, shaking her head no as she caught her breath. "No, sweetness. Oh,
oh god..." She swallowed and took a deep breath. "Remember I said I volunteer at a big cat
rescue? It's kind of my sanctuary away from being the CEO."
I turned beet red. "You meant actual cats."
We keep driving down a dusty dirt road and make it to what appears to be some sort of ranch with
a really high chain-linked fence surrounding the perimeter with a sign saying 'This fence isn't to
protect US, but to protect YOU. KEEP OUT'. There was someone at the gate to let us in as
Carmilla drove us in and greeted the person directing us to park.
"Carmilla!" an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair said, extending a hand.
"Director, how are the kitties today?" She seemed at home here and went by her first name.
"Most of them are behaving themselves. Babut is being a bit of a pain, though, but I think he just
misses you."
"He must think he can pass for a house cat and come home with me." Carmilla said, rolling her
eyes.
"That's what the first people who thought an ocelot was - Oh hi! Who is your friend?" She
extended her hand to shake mine as well.
"I'm um, Laura."
"Good to meet you, Laura! I'm Sharon, the Director here. Carmilla here hasn't ever brought
someone here to see the cats." Carmilla frowned slightly, embarassed. I'm the first person she
brought here? I swoon at the peek into her life.
"Any sign of your phantom Bagheera?" Carmilla asked as we went inside to grab what I could
only guess was a large bowl of kibble.
Sharon shook her head. "It's weird that a black panther would come up and sniff the lions and roll
around in the grass with them, only to return and visit again. I've got it on video and wondered
how it's surviving so close to civilization." She turned to me. "See, a lot of people think they want
these animals as pets because they are cute when they are young. Except that they grow up and
nature takes over. They aren't pets, they are meant to be in the wild where they can hunt and play.
I try to recreate that here, while giving them exceptional medical care."
Carmilla pulls out a giant bone-in steak from the fridge, with Hawaogopi written on the plastic
wrap over it. A few keystrokes on the microwave later, and the steak is mostly warm. "I can call
the lioness over."
I furrowed my eyebrows at her. "I don't know much about lions, but I know that cats don't answer
when they are called."
Carmilla and Sharon smiled at me and Ms. Karnstein shook her head knowingly. "They come
when I call them. I use their true name."
"Hawa-ogie?" I asked.
"It means fearless in Swahili. But that's what the humans call her. I mean I call her by the name
she calls herself." Carmilla said, pride in her voice.
"You're going to have to teach me that someday." Sharon said as the three of us made our way out
as a groaning sound died into a series of chirps. I saw cougar's head perk up and sniff the air as he
huffed sadly.
"You already got fed." Sharon said to the cougar.
"I think if you gave him a bunny to chase, he'd be happy."
Bunny? I thought, forgetting that big cats would enjoy chasing and devouring a small prey animal
like that. We make it to what must be Fearless, as there is a lioness on her back legs, front paws
holding her up against the fence to her part of the yard. Enclosed in her area is a tiger who is also
walking over towards us. Sharon went to the gate to unlock it as the Lioness was huffing and
smelling Carmilla through the chain links. We're letting the cats out?!
"Yeah, I have a friend now too, big mama." Carmilla said, holding her hand against the fence in
greeting.
The gate opened and Carmilla took the steak in, and Sharon closed the gate behind her. What if
the lion or the tiger decide to attack her? I thought, and I could hear Carmilla shushing and
soothing the cats in there.
"Hey, Laura, I need you to calm down a little, okay?" She was talking to me, not them, "Act like
you know you can take them on but don't want to. They are smelling your fear."
Okay, the girl I like is... actually petting the lioness as she starts to munch on her food. I give a
chuckle as I realize Carmilla must be some sort of super cat whisperer.
"Yeah, she's short, but I think larger people don't see her as a predator. She is quick and resilient,
big mama." Carmilla replies as she scratches between the lion's shoulder blades.
"Big mama?" I ask Sharon. She shrugs.
"She says that Hawaogopi sees her like one of her cubs or something. I try to not believe her, but
as you can see..." I turn to see the lion licking Carmilla's face, and she chuckles at it.
"I tried to wash the stink off, but I live in the city." The lioness huffed as if saying, 'no excuse'.
She got up and Sharon let her out of the large enclosed area. Remembering something, she pulled
out something that looked like a large pen and handed it to the older woman.
"Before I forget, cyanide-argon laser pointer. Much brighter." Carmilla said as the Director shot
the laser pointer down at the grass, instantly making the tiger an the lioness alert and try to pounce
it. I chuckled at it as Ms. Karnstein put her arm around me and looked into my eyes. "Like it
here?"
"Yeah, think I can come back sometime and play with the Ocelot? He's really cute." I replied as
we made our way back to her Jeep.
She shook her head. "Bastard almost nipped one of my fingers off. Always be wary of the cute,
tiny ones." She narrowed her eyes at me. "I'm watching you, Hollis."
I shrugged, deciding to be playful. "Your fingers are safe inside me, Ms. Karnstein." Carmilla
froze for a split second as I smirked at her, waiting by the passenger door.
The drive back to her place is remarkably short and, before I know it, we arrive. I'm surprised as I
see Kirsch there and looking fabulous in a suit as we pull up and get out of the car. "Brody!
You're her valet guy?"
Carmilla rolled her eyes as he shook his head. "No, little hot - Miss Hollis - I'm part of her security
detail. Getting to be an occasional driver for Ms. Karnstein just happens to be a perk of the job.
She's got really good taste." Carmilla is beside me in an instant and takes my hand again.
"Ready?" she asks. I nod and want to say for anything, but I can't articulate the words as I'm too
nervous, too excited. "Welcome to my home." She says softly.
Her look is so intense, half in shadow and half in the bright white light from the building. Dark
knight and white knight, it's a fitting metaphor for Carmilla. Her confidence looks a bit shaky jaw
is clenched and her eyes are tight. Her face is inches from mine. "You don't have to do anything
you don't want to do. You know that don't you?" Her tone is so earnest, desperate even, her dark
eyes impassioned. She takes me by surprise.
"I'd never do anything I didn't want to do, Carmilla." And as I say the words, I don't quite feel
their conviction because at this moment in time - I'd probably do anything for her. But this does
the trick. She's mollified.
She eyes me warily for a moment and somehow she manages to lead me easily to the front glass
doors and opens it. "Come," she whispers in my ear, taking me into an elevator and, after tapping
a number into a keypad, the doors close. It's warm inside and all mirrored glass. I can see Carmilla
to infinity everywhere I look, and the wonderful thing is, she's glancing at me to infinity too.
Moments later, we're in an all-white foyer. My stomach caught up a moment later as I winced. In
the middle is a round, dark wood table, and on it is an unbelievably huge bunch of white flowers.
On the walls there are paintings, everywhere. She opens two double doors, and the white theme
continues through the wide corridor and directly opposite where a palatial room opens up. It's the
main living area, double height. Huge is too small a word for it. The far wall is glass and leads on
to a balcony that overlooks the city. We're on the top floor because of course we are.
"Did you know that living on the ground floor used to be a luxury when residential buildings were
first being built with multiple stories?" She said wistfully. "They didn't have plumbing, so
chamber pots were emptied out of the windows. I'm glad that changed."
To the right is an imposing 'U' shaped sofa that could sit ten adults comfortably. It faces a state-of-
the-art stainless steel modern fireplace.
"Do you own this building?" I ask curiously.
"Only a few floors of it. I have staff that live here too, like Kirsch."
The fire is lit and flaming gently. On the left beside us, by the entryway, is the kitchen area. There
are a few baked goods all wrapped up, along with a fruit basket with Carmilla's name on it. She
seems touched by the thought as she reads the card.
"Who sent you that?"
"My housekeeper; I retired her with a great pension and she finally feels free to pursue her heart's
desire." The corner of her mouth curled slightly. "Glad I found Kirsch when I did."
Near the kitchen area, in front of the glass wall, is a dining table surrounded by sixteen chairs.
And tucked in the corner is a what appears to be a violin case. Oh yes... she probably plays it
magnificently too. There is art of all shapes and sizes on all the walls. In fact, this apartment looks
more like a gallery than a place to live.
"Would you like a drink?" she asks. I blink at her. After last night, is she trying to be funny?
She shrugs. "I'm going to have a glass of red wine, would you like to join me?"
Oh. "Yes, please," I murmur. I am standing in this enormous room feeling out of place as she pulls
down two wine glasses.
"Malbec okay with you?"
"I know nothing about wine, Carmilla. I'm sure it will be fine." My voice is soft and hesitant. My
heart is thumping. I want to run. This is seriously rich. Seriously over-the-top Bill Gates style
wealthy. What am I doing here? Okay, I know very well what I'm doing here - I want to be in
Carmilla Karnstein's bed.
"Here." She hands me the glass of wine. I take a sip, and the wine is fruity, spicy, and delicious.
"You're very quiet, and you're not even blushing. In fact - I think this is the palest I've ever seen
you, Laura," she murmurs. "Are you hungry?"
I shake my head. Not for food. "It's a very big place you have here."
"Big?"
"Yeah, big." I shrug, lost for conversation.
"It's big," she agrees, and her eyes glow with amusement. I take another sip of wine.
"Do you play?" I point my chin at the violin.
"Yes."
"Of course you do. And I bet you're amazing at it. Is there anything you can't do well?"
"Yes... a few things." She takes a sip of her wine. She doesn't take her eyes off me. I feel them
following me as I turn and glance around this vast room. Room is the wrong word.
"Like?"
"I'm not a morning person. I've tried."
She takes the lead and sits on the large off-white couch, patting a spot next to her and I take my
cue to come sit next to her. As I sit, I'm struck by the fact that I feel like Pip first seeing Estella's
house and the feeling of being overwhelmed lessens, and I smile slightly.
"What's so amusing?" She sits down beside me, turning to face me. She rests her head on her right
hand, her elbow propped on the back of the couch.
"Why did you give me The Portrait of Dorian Gray specifically?" I ask. Carmilla stares at me for
a moment. I think she's surprised by my question.
"Well, you said you liked English literature."
"Is that the only reason?" Even I can hear the disappointment in my voice. Her mouth presses into
a hard line.
"It seemed appropriate. You don't get to be where where I am in life without some stains being
hidden away." she murmurs, and her dark eyes flash a strange mix of remorse and danger. She's
only twenty-seven, though.
"You don't seem like that bad of a person." I whisper, gazing at her. She gasps.
"Laura, stop biting your lip, please. It's very distracting. You don't know what I want to do to that
lip of yours."
I decide to be bold with her. "That's why I'm here."
She gulps nervously. "Yes. Would you excuse me a moment?" She disappears through a wide
doorway on the far side of the room. She's gone for a couple of minutes and returns with a
document.
"This is a non-disclosure agreement." She shrugs and has the grace to look a little embarrassed.
"My lawyer insists on it." She hands it to me. I'm completely bemused. "If you're wanting
anything to happen, you'll need to sign this." This was the paperwork she meant?
"What does this agreement mean?"
"It means you cannot disclose anything about us. Anything, to anyone."
"Why would I say anything?"
"It's really difficult for women to make it in the business world, and the last thing I need is to lose
contracts because of some good-old boys who slut shame me for doing the same thing they are.
And because... of my particular tastes."
I stare at her in disbelief. Holy shit. It's bad, really bad, and now I'm very curious to know. "Okay.
I'll sign."
She hands me a pen, looking at me in disbelief. "Aren't you even going to read it?"
"No."
She frowns.
"Laura, you should always read anything you sign," she admonishes me. "You've read Faust,
right?"
"Carmilla, what you fail to understand is that I wouldn't talk about us to anyone, anyway. Even
Betty. So it's immaterial whether I sign an agreement or not. If it means so much to you, or your
lawyer... whom you obviously talk to, then fine. I'll sign."
She gazes down at me, and she nods gravely. "Very well, Miss Hollis."
I lavishly sign on the dotted line of both copies and hand one back to her. Folding the other, I
place it my purse and take a large swig of my wine for courage. "Does this mean you're going to
make love to me tonight, Carmilla?"
Her mouth drops open slightly, but she recovers quickly.
"No, Laura, it doesn't. Firstly, I don't make love. I fuck.
Hard. Secondly, there's a lot more
paperwork to do, and thirdly, you don't know what you're in for. You might still run away in
fear." She closes her eyes and recomposes herself. This is the first time I've ever seen her appear
vulnerable. "Come, I want to show you my playroom."
My mouth drops open. Fuck hard? Holy shit, that sounds so... hot. But why are we looking at a
playroom?
"You want to play on your Xbox?" I ask. She laughs, loudly.
"Saints alive, Laura, no Xbox, no Playstation. Come." She stands, holding out her hand. I let her
lead me back out to the corridor. On the right of the double doors, where we came in, another
door leads to a staircase. We go up to the second floor and turn right. Producing a key from her
pocket, she unlocks yet another door and takes a deep breath. She has a locked door on a floor
where you need a passcode just to get to?
"You can leave anytime. Kirsch is on stand-by to take you home whenever you want to go, you
can stay the night and go home in the morning. It's fine whatever you decide." The suspense was
killing me.
"Just open the damn door, Carmilla." I said, slightly snapping at her.
She opens the door and stands back to let me in. I gaze at her once more as I've never seen her this
vulnerable and I just want to hug her and tell her that it's going to be okay. I take a deep breath
and walk in.
And it feels like I've somehow walked into Westeros and I'm at the Dreadfort and expect to see
Ramsay Snow.
Holy fuck.
Red Room of Pain
Chapter Notes
A/N: A big thank you to all of the Creampuffs who have read and commented on
this, as well as those who aren't well-acquainted to the Carmilla series but are reading
this in pure curiosity from my One Step Left fic (which will makes its eventual way
here to AO3). Though I've been doing lots of short posts here, it's really helped me
deal with my burn-out factor I was getting with OSL.
A/N #2: Flaws in 50SoG: 1: 'carabiners' isn't spelled with a k, you can find them at
any sporting goods store. 2: The whole "Here, have more wine as we negotiate your
boundaries and limits." ? NEVER Negotiate boundaries when imbibing alcohol. 3:
The list of 'rules' was more like a Master/slave thing rather than a more friendly
Dominant/submissive contract. (So I may have had one lying around on my
computer...)
See the end of the chapter for more
Red Room of Pain
The first thing I notice is the smell; leather, wood, polish with a faint citrus scent. If the door is
locked, does she clean it herself? I shake off the thought as I realize that overall it smells pleasant
in here, and the lighting is soft, subtle. With the exception of the torture equipment, I could see this
as some sort of mediation room. The walls and ceiling are a deep, dark grey, giving a cave-like
effect to the spacious room, though the floor is old varnished wood. There is a large wooden cross
like an X fastened to the wall facing the door. It's made of high-polished mahogany, and there are
restraining cuffs bolted to each corner. Above it is an expansive iron grid suspended from the
ceiling, eight-foot square at least, and from it hang all manner of ropes, chains, and glinting
shackles. At least she's organized her torture devices... By the door, two long, polished, ornately
carved poles, like spindles from a banister but longer, hang like curtain rods across the wall. From
them swing a startling assortment of paddles, whips, riding crops, and funny-looking feathery
implements. Feathers? How are feathers painful? I wasn't certain I wanted to know.
Beside the door stands a substantial mahogany chest of drawers, each drawer slim as if designed
to contain specimens in a crusty old museum. I wonder briefly what the drawers actually do hold.
Do I want to know In the far corner is an oxblood leather padded bench, and fixed to the wall
beside it is a wooden, polished rack that looks like a pool or billiard cue holder, but on closer
inspection, it holds canes of varying lengths and widths. There's a stout six-foot-long table in the
opposite corner - polished wood with intricately carved legs - and two matching stools underneath.
But what dominates the room is a bed. It's an ornately carved rococo four-poster king-size bed
with a flat top. It looks late nineteenth century. Under the canopy, I can see more gleaming chains
and cuffs. There is no bedding... just a mattress covered in red leather and red satin cushions piled
at one end.
At the foot of the bed, set apart a few feet, is a large oxblood chaise lounge, just stuck in the
middle of the room facing the bed. An odd arrangement... to have a couch facing the bed, and I
smile to myself - I've picked on the couch as odd, when really it's the most mundane piece of
furniture in the room. Well, there's no television in the room, so this must be the source of enter...
Oh. I glance up and stare at the ceiling. There are carabiners all over the ceiling at odd intervals. I
vaguely wonder what they're for. Weirdly, all the wood, dark walls, moody lighting, and oxblood
leather makes the room kind of soft and romantic... I know it's anything but, this is Carmilla's
version of soft and romantic.
I turn, and she's regarding me intently as I knew she would be, her expression completely
unreadable. I walk further into the room, and she follows me. The feathery thing has me intrigued.
I touch it hesitantly. It's suede, like a small cat-of-nine-tails but bushier, and there are very small
plastic beads on the end.
"It's called a flogger," Carmilla's voice is quiet and soft. So that's what a flogger looks like in
person. This doesn't look like it can cause much damage. I remind myself to do some research
about this kind of stuff later.
It hits me that I'm actually looking at this room and it feels... different, but it's not scaring me off.
What is the appropriate response to finding out a potential lover is a complete freaky sadist or
masochist? Fear? That does seem to be the over-riding feeling. But I'm not afraid not of her - I
don't think she'd hurt me, well, not without my consent.
Why- How - When - How often - Who? I walk toward the bed and run my hands down one of the
intricately carved posts. The post is very sturdy, the craftsmanship outstanding. So not Ikea's
Döminätriks Series.
"Say something," Carmilla commands, her voice deceptively soft.
"Um, do you do this to people or do they do it to you?"
Her mouth quirks up, either amused or relieved. "I dominate women who want me to."
I don't understand. "If you have willing volunteers, why am I here?"
"Because I want to do this with you, very much."
"Oh," I gasp. Why? I wander to the far corner of the room and pat the waist high padded bench
and run my fingers over the leather and the large, imposing metal rings that I can only assume are
for restraints. She likes to hurt women. The thought confuses and slightly depresses me.
"So you're a sadist?"
"I'm a Dominant." Her eyes are scorching and intense.
"What's the difference?" I whisper.
"To me, it means that I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, in all things. It's not all
about giving pain, but about the dynamic of letting go and trusting someone else." I frown at her
as I try to assimilate this idea.
"Why would I do that?"
"To please me," she whispers as she cocks her head to one side, and I see a ghost of a smile. "I'm
a Dominant because that's how I like to fuck. I enjoy being in charge, of having someone want me
to be in charge, and I don't just mean some pillow princess who will lay back and let me do what I
want."
Carmilla wants me to please her. I think my mouth drops open. Please Carmilla Karnstein. And I
realize as my heart skips a beat, that yes, that's exactly what I want to do. I want her to be damned
delighted with me. It's a revelation that has me at the edge of a cliff, and I have to willingly jump
into this decision. I have to let go and trust her.
"In very simple terms, I want you to want to please me, because pleasing me will also please
yourself." she says softly. Her voice is hypnotic. I nodded in understanding.
"How would I do that?" My mouth is dry, and I wish I had more wine. Wait, water. I should be
completely sober for this.
Okay, I think I understand the pleasing bit, but I am puzzled by how this warm boudoir-torture
room will please anyone. Do I want to know the answer?
"I have certain rules, and I want you to comply with them. They are for your benefit and for our
mutual pleasure. Follow these rules to my satisfaction, and I'll reward you. If you don't, I will
correct you, and you will learn," she whispers. I glance at the rack of canes as she says this.
"And where does all this fit in?" I wave my hand in the general direction of the room.
"It's all part of the incentive package. Both reward and punishment."
I frowned at that. "So you'll get your kicks by exerting your will over me."
"It's about gaining your trust and your respect, so you'll want me to exert my will over you. Yes, I
will gain a great deal of pleasure and joy in your submission. It's a very simple equation." I get
that.
"Okay, and what do I get out of this?"
"I think what you're missing is that the people who do this don't feel exploited. The submissive
enjoys the ability to escape from the day-to-day crap when they are kneeling at the feet of their
Dominant; of not having to worry about bills, or work, or stress as they are blindfolded. Yes, there
is pain when I use a paddle, but it's not a serious injury because the spankings are designed to
release more endorphins than are needed, causing a natural chemical high from what we do
together. But that's separate from the the pleasure you would get out of pleasing someone else and
them calling you a good girl."
Oh my. Carmilla's voice made 'good girl' run shivers down my spine and warmth pool into my
clenching nethers. She rakes her hand through her hair as she gazes at me.
"You're not saying anything, Laura," she murmurs, exasperated. "Let's go back downstairs where
I can concentrate better. It's... very distracting having you in here because all I want to do is tear
your clothes off."
She holds her hand out to me, and now I'm hesitant to take it. Betty had said she was dangerous,
and it looks like she might be right. How did she know? She's dangerous because I know I'm
going to say yes. And part of me doesn't want to. Part of me wants to run screaming from this
room and all it represents. I am so out of my depth here.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Laura." Her dark eyes implore, and I know she speaks the truth. I take
her hand, and she leads me out of the door and down the corridor in a different direction.
"If you do this, let me show you something." We pass several doors until we reach the one at the
end. Beyond it is a bedroom with a large double bed, all in white... everything, furniture, walls,
bedding. It's sterile and cold but with the most glorious view of the city through the glass wall. It
needs a splash of color.
"This will be your room. You can decorate it how you like, have whateveryou like in here." My
eyes widened in shock.
"My room?! You're just expecting me to move in?" I can't hide the horror in my voice.
"God no! I just... in case you felt like you needed a room to yourself, this would be yours. And if
you want to spend the night, you can sleep here." she says, her voice quiet and hesitant.
"I'll sleep here?"
"Yes." She said matter-of-factly.
"Not with you." I kind of thought that a post-sex snuggle would turn into falling asleep in her
arms. I want to fall asleep in her arms.
This time it was her turn to be shocked. "No. I told you, I don't sleep with anyone." Her eyes are
reprimanding.
My mouth presses in a hard line. This is what I cannot reconcile. Kind, caring Carmilla, who
wants to end world hunger and donates her time to a big cat sanctuary, and the monster who
possesses whips and chains in a sexy dungeon.
"Well, where do you sleep?"
"My room is downstairs." She shrugged off-handedly. "Come, you must be hungry." That was a
change in conversation.
"I seem to have lost my appetite," I murmur petulantly.
"You must eat, Laura. Come down." she admonishes and, taking my hand, leads me back
downstairs.
Back in the impossibly big room, I am filled with deep trepidation. I realize again that I am on the
edge of a precipice, and I have to decide whether or not to jump.
"Laura, I'm fully aware that this is a dark path I'm leading you down, which is why I really want
you to think about this. You must have some questions," she says as she wanders into the kitchen
area, releasing my hand.
I do. But where to start?
"You've signed your NDA, you can ask me anything you want, and I'll answer."
I stand at the breakfast bar watching her as she opens the refrigerator and pulls out a plate of
different cheeses with two large bunches of green and red grapes. She sets the plate down on the
worktop and proceeds to cut up a French baguette.
"Sit." She points to one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar, and I automatically obey her
command. That just came naturally. I realize she's been this bossy ever since I met her.
"You mentioned paperwork." I said, trying to grab a thought out of my head.
"Yes."
"What paperwork?"
"Well, apart from the NDA, a contract saying what we will and won't do. I need to know your
hard limits, and you need to know mine. This is consensual, Laura. I won't force you to do
anything you're not okay with, and would like to push your boundaries in areas that you're unsure
of because you might find out you really enjoy it. That is, once you get over whatever negative
connotation you already have about it."
"And if I don't want to do this?"
"That's fine," she says carefully.
"But then we won't have any sort of relationship?" I ask.
"I'm sorry, but no."
"Why?"
"This is the only sort of relationship I can do."
"Why?" She shrugs.
"It's... the way I am."
"How did you become this way?"
"Why is anyone the way they are? Why do some people like cheese and other people hate it? Do
you like cheese?" She takes some large, white plates from a cupboard and places one in front of
me.
We're talking about cheese? "What are your rules that I have to follow?"
She looks at me dubiously. "Well, it's not as bad as I'm guessing you're imagining; I have them
written down. We'll go through them once we've eaten."
Again with the food. How can I eat now?
"I'm really not hungry," I whisper.
"You will eat," she urges quietly. Dominating Carmilla, it all becomes clear. "Would you like
some water?"
"Yes, please."
She hands me a glass of water and comes to sit beside me. I take a hasty sip.
"Help yourself to some food, Laura."
I take a small bunch of grapes. This I can manage. She narrows her eyes.
"Have you been like this for a while?" I ask.
"Yes."
"Is it easy to find women who want to do this?" She raises an eyebrow at me.
"You'd be amazed," she says dryly. Then why is she coming to me?
"Why me? I really don't understand."
"Laura, I've told you. There's something about you. I can't leave you alone." She smiles ironically.
"I'm like a moth to your flame." Her voice darkens. "I want you very badly, especially now, when
you're biting that lip of yours again." She takes a deep breath and swallows.
My stomach somersaults - she wants me... in a weird way, true, but this beautiful, strange, kinky
woman wants me.
"I think you have that cliche the wrong way round." I grumble. I am the moth and she is the
flame, and I'm going to get burnt.
"Eat!"
"No. I haven't signed anything yet, so I think I'll hang on to my free will for a bit longer, thank you
very much." Her eyes soften, and her lips turn up in a smile.
"As you wish, Miss Hollis."
"How many women?" I blurt out the question, but I'm so curious.
"Fifteen."
Oh... not as many as I thought.
"For long periods of time?"
"Some of them, yes."
"Have you ever hurt anyone?"
"Yes."
Holy shit.
"Badly?"
"No."
"Will you hurt me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Physically, will you hurt me?"
"I will discipline you when you require it, and it might be painful. It might be... doing lines, for all
I know. Depends on the infraction." I feel faint.
"Have you ever been beaten?" I ask.
"Yes." Her eyes flick away, unwilling to look at me as she said that.
Oh... that surprises me. Before I can question her on this revelation further, she interrupts my train
of thought.
"Let's discuss this in my study. I would like to show you something."
This is so much to process. Here I was foolishly thinking that I'd spend a night of passion in her
bed, and we're negotiating this weird arrangement. I follow her into her study, a spacious room
with another floor-to-ceiling window that opens out on to the balcony. She sits on the desk,
motions for me to sit on a leather chairin front of her, and hands me a piece of paper.
"This is the basic part of the contract, which you can also have a copy of. We'll have to attach
pages for your limits and a few other details, but that's neither here nor there. Read it over and let's
discuss."
TEMPORARY CONTRACT OF CONSENSUAL OWNERSHIP
The purpose of this document is to:
-State the full mutual consent of the undersigned in regards to this relationship.
-Explain the responsibilities and duties of both Dominant and submissive.
-Define safewords and their use and explain the use of punishment.
-Foster a greater sense of communication between the respective parties.
This contract is in no way legally binding, and is meant only as an aid to better understanding of
the needs, duties, and responsibilities of the Dominant and submissive.
I _ _ _, hereinafter referred to as submissive, do of my own free will, and being of sound mind and
body, do hereby offer myself in consensual submissivery to Carmilla Karnstein, hereinafter
referred to as Dominant, for the period beginning at midnight o and ending at midnight on _ _ _.
This agreement may be terminated at any time before the above named date by either party only in
the event of breach of contract. On the above named date this agreement will be reviewed,
renegotiated and rewritten, or terminated.
Provisions of Contract
submissive agrees to obey to the best of her ability, and to devote herself entirely to the pleasure
and desires of her Dominant. Dominant agrees to learn what excites submissive through
exploration and communication and try to incorporate this into the relationship.
Dominant accepts full responsibility of submissive. This includes but is not limited to: submissive's
survival, health, physical well being, and mental well being. submissive accepts full responsibility
for informing her Dominant of any real or perceived dangers or safety concerns, but also agrees
that her Dominant's decision will be final regarding these issues. Dominant agrees that submissive
will not be punished for respectfully stating these concerns. The Dominant further agrees to listen
to submissive's concerns with a clear and open mind. The Dominant shall endeavor not to inflict
physical harm upon submissive which might require the attention of someone outside the
relationship.
submissive agrees at all times to make her body readily available to her Dominant for her use.
submissive will have hair washed and brushed in the style her Dominant prefers at all times.
submissive agrees to wear any and all clothing, makeup, jewelry, etc. that her Dominant chooses.
submissive agrees to accept the responsibility of using a safeword or safe gesture when necessary.
submissive acknowledges that safeword is "RED" and safe gesture is Double Finger Snap. The
Dominant accepts the responsibility of stopping activities in progress to assess situations where
submissive safewords and will, to the best of her ability, make judgement on whether to modify
the activity or stop activity entirely. submissive agrees to hold no ill will due to her Dominant's
decision. The Dominant agrees not to punish submissive for the use of a safeword or safe gesture.
submissive agrees to answer any and all questions asked by her Dominant freely, promptly, and to
the best of her knowledge. submissive further agrees to volunteer any information that her
Dominant should know regarding submissive's physical or emotional state. The Dominant agrees
to never use this information to harm submissive in any way.
The Dominant agrees to furnish all toys such as vibrators, etc. and punishment implements such as
crops and whips. submissive agrees to clean and maintain all personally owned toys and
implements, have them available for her Domiant's use at all times, and inform her Dominant of
any needed repairs or replacements.
submissive states that her hard limits are, but are not limited to: [see attached page]. The Dominant
agrees to never violate these limits without prior negotiation of, and consent by, submissive.
submissive agrees to address her Dominant as 'Mistress' unless otherwise directed. submissive
agrees to speak respectfully to her Dominant at all times during a scene. The Dominant may
address submissive in any way she so chooses.
The Dominant agrees to furnish submissive with a symbolic token of ownership. submissive
agrees to wear this symbol at all times, except when the Dominant states to do so would be
inappropriate or would non-consensually involve others.
submissive agrees and understands that any infractions of this agreement, or any act submissive
commits which displeases her Dominant, will result in punishment. submissive will gracefully
accept punishment and try to learn from it. submissive agrees to assemble the punishment materials
as ordered by her Dominant and assume any position needed to accept the punishment. submissive
understands that failure to comply with her Dominant's orders will result in a more severe
punishment. The Dominant will inform submissive that she is being punished when punishment
occurs, and will explain the reason for punishment either before, or during punishment. The
Dominant agrees to discipline only out of a desire to better the submissive and her servitude, and
further agrees to never punish out of, or during, feelings of anger.
Accepted, understood, and agreed to this day of _ _ _, _ _ _:
By:
_ _ _, Dominant
_ _ _, submissive
Holy fuck.
"Hard limits?" I ask.
"Yes. What you won't do, what I won't do, we need to specify in our agreement. There's a really
good spreadsheet that you can fill out so I can tell on a scale from 1 to 5 if you love it, are curious
about it, or hate it.
"I'm not sure about you dressing me or telling me how to do my hair." I shift uncomfortably.
"I may want to spoil you a bit, possibly buy you some clothes. As for the hair, I may need you to
pull it back or french braid it so that it won't get in the way when I'm doing something with you,
or I'll want it down so I can slip my fingers through your scalp and give you a good hair tug."
"I don't have to follow your hair or clothing rules when I'm not with you?"
"No."
"Okay." This is her being pragmatic.
"What's a scene?"
"When we play. Suffice it to say, as soon as we enter the playroom and until we leave it again,
consider that the 'scene'. I don't play outside of there."
"So, limits. These are mine." She hands me another piece of paper, and it was shorter than the
first.
Hard Limits
No acts involving fire play.
No acts involving urination, defecation, and the products thereof.
No acts involving needles, knives, nor bodily piercing.
No acts involving gynecological medical instruments.
No acts involving children or animals.
No acts that will leave any permanent marks on the skin.
Ugh. She has to write these down!? Of course - they all look very sensible, and frankly,
necessary... any sane person wouldn't want to be involved in this sort of thing surely?
Though I now feel a little queasy.
"Is there anything you'd like to add?" she asks kindly.
Crap. I've no idea. I am completely stumped. She gazes at me and furrows her brow.
"Is there anything you won't do?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?" I squirm uncomfortably.
"I've never done anything like this."
"Well, when you've had sex, was there anything that you didn't like doing?" For the first time in
what seems to be ages, I blush.
"Come on, cupcake, you can tell me. We have to be honest with each other or this isn't going to
work."
I squirm uncomfortably again and stare at my knotted fingers.
"Tell me," she commands. There is something about the way she said it that it made me need to
reply.
"Well... I've not had sex before, so I don't know." My voice is small. I peek up at her, and she's
staring at me, mouth-open, frozen, and pale - really pale.
"Never?" she whispers. I shake my head.
"You're a virgin?" she breathes. I nod, flushing again. She closes her eyes and looks to be
counting to ten. When she opens them again, she's surprised, maybe even angry. I feel like I
should apologize, but that doesn't make sense.
"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" she growls.
Chapter End Notes
A/N: Reply to silverm: Laura IS cuter, feistier, and less annoying than her
counterpart! THAT'S THE POINT. lol. And Carmilla also has more depth and
nuance than her own counterpart in 50SoG. (I usually don't reply to guest reviews
and prefer to personally privately reply to every review I get, but I wanted to make
this one known.)
The Situation
Chapter Notes
A/N: I love how there is more chemistry with Hollstein IRL (See Pillow Talk) than
there is with the actors doing the 50SoG movie. Issue with 50SoG: Mary-Sue who is
*not* Bella Swan is a virgin at 22? Fine. But NEVER masturbated or even tried to?
And somehow *everyone* wants her??
Carmilla is running both of her hands through her hair and pacing up and down her study. Two
hands - that's double exasperation. Her usual concrete control seems to have slipped a notch.
"I don't understand why you didn't tell me," she castigates me.
"The subject never came up. I'm not in the habit of revealing my sexual status to everyone I meet.
I just signed a DNA for you! Besides, we hardly know each other." I'm staring at my hands. Why
am I feeling guilty? I peek up at her. She's not angry at me, but herself.
"Could you just walk away now? Because that would be less mortifying than this conversation."
she replied, her mouth presses into a hard line. "I knew you were inexperienced, but not a
complete virgin..." She says it like it's a really dirty word.
"Well I know what sex is." I reply, too petulant for my liking.
"Hell, Laura, I just showed you," she groans. "May God forgive me. Have you even been kissed,
other than me?"
"Of course I have." I try my best to look affronted. Okay... maybe twice.
"And nobody has swept you off your feet? I just don't understand. You're twenty-one, nearly
twenty-two. And beautiful." She runs her hand through her hairagain.
Beautiful. I flush with pleasure. Carmilla Karnstein thinks I'm beautiful. I knot my fingers
together, staring at them hard, trying to conceal my goofy grin.
"And we're seriously discussing what I want to do to you, when you have no experience."
Her brows knit together. "How have you avoided sex? Tell me, please." I shrug.
"No one's really, you know." Really done it for me. And you turn out to be some kind of monster.
"Why are you so angry with me?" I whisper.
"I'm not angry with you, I'm angry with myself. I just assumed I might be corrupting you, not
outright defiling your chastity." She sighs. She regards me in shock and horror and shakes her
head. "Do you want to go?" she asks, her voice gentle.
"No, unless you want me to go," I murmur. Oh no... I don't want to leave.
"Of course not. I like having you here." She frowns as she says this and then glances at her watch.
"It's late." And she turns to look at me. "You're biting your lip again." Her voice is husky, and
she's eyeing me speculatively.
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize. It's just that I want to bite it too, hard." I gasp... how can she say things like that
to me and not expect me to be affected.
"If I am to be condemned for my sins, I should at least have pleasure of committing them first."
She murmurs.
"What?"
"We're going to rectify the situation right now."
"What do you mean? What situation?"
"Your situation. Laura, I'm going to make love to you, now."
"Oh." The floor has fallen away. I'm a situation. She realizes that I'm frozen in surprise.
"That's if you want to - I mean - I don't want to push my luck."
"I thought you didn't make love. I thought you fucked. Hard." I swallow, my mouth suddenly
dry. She gives me a wicked grin, the effects of which travel all the way down there.
"Special exception, sweetness. I really want to make love to you. I want our arrangement to work,
but you really need to have some idea what you're getting yourself into. Come to bed with me."
Her Cheshire grin softened to something significant. "This doesn't mean I've come over all hearts
and flowers; it's a means to an end, hopefully an end we both want." Her dark gaze is intense.
I flush as my mind races with spurious thoughts. Is this how girls lose their virginity? As a favor?
"But I haven't done all the things you require from your list of rules." My voice is all breathy,
hesitant.
"Forget the rules. Forget about all that... for tonight. I want you. I've wanted you ever since you
fell into my office, and I know you want me. You wouldn't be sitting here calmly discussing
punishment and hard limits if you didn't. Please, Laura." She holds her hand out to me, her eyes
are bright, fervent... excited, and I put my hand in hers. She pulls me up and into her arms so I can
feel the length of her body against mine, the swiftness taking me by surprise. She runs her fingers
round the nape of my neck, winds my ponytail around her wrist, and gently pulls so I'm forced to
look up at her. She gazes down at me.
"You are one brave young woman," she whispers. "I am in awe of you." Her words are like some
kind of incendiary device; my blood flames. She leans down and kisses my lips gently, and she
sucks at my lower lip.
"I want to bite this lip," she murmurs against my mouth, and carefully she tugs at it with her teeth.
I moan, and she smiles. "Please Laura, let me make love to you."
"Yes," I whisper, because that's why I'm here. Her smile is triumphant as she releases me and
takes my hand and leads me through the apartment. Her bedroom is vast. The walls are white, and
the furnishings are pale blue. The enormous bed is ultra-modern, dark iron with four posts, but no
canopy. On the wall above it is a stunning painting of the sea.
I am quaking like a leaf. This is it. Finally, after all this time, I'm going to do it, with none other
than Carmilla Karnstein. My breath is shallow, and I can't take my eyes off her. She removes her
watch and places it on top of a chest of drawers that matches the bed, and removes her flannel
shirt, tossing it onto a chair. She's dressed in her white tank top and leather pants.
She is simply beautiful. Her dark curly hair is a mess, her clothing is skin-tight in all the right
places - her dark eyes bold and dazzling. She steps out of her Doc Martens and turns to the
window.
"Do you want the blinds drawn?"
"I don't mind." I whisper. She strolls slowly toward me. Confident, sexy, eyes blazing, and my
heart begins to pound. My blood's pumping around my body. Desire, thick and hot, pools in my
belly. She stands in front of me, staring down into my eyes.
"Let's get this off, shall we?" she says softly, and takes hold of the lacy top and pulls it up over my
head and shoulders. She drops it on the chair.
"Do you have any idea how much I want you, Laura Hollis?" she whispers. My breath hitches. I
cannot take my eyes off her. She reaches up and gently runs her fingers down my cheek to my
chin. "Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?" she adds, caressing my chin.
The muscles inside the deepest, darkest part of me clench in the most delicious fashion. The pain
is so sweet and sharp I want to close my eyes, but I'm hypnotized by her eyes staring fervently
into mine. Leaning down, she kisses me. Her lips are demanding, firm and slow, molding mine.
She starts unbuttoning my jeans while she places feather-like kisses across my jaw, my chin, and
the corners of my mouth. Slowly she peels it off me and lets it fall to the floor. She stands back
and gazes at me. I'm in the pale blue lacy perfect-fit bra. I want to cross my arms to cover myself,
but instead step out of the heels finally.
Thank heavens.
"Oh, Laura," she breathes. "You have the most beautiful skin, pale and flawless. I want to kiss
every single inch of it."
I flush. Oh my... Why did she say she couldn't make love? I will do anything she wants.
She runs her fingers through my hair, making a quiet sound of pleasure. "I like brunettes," she
murmurs, and both of her hands are in my hair, grasping each side of my head. Her kiss is
demanding, her tongue and lips coaxing mine. I moan, and my tongue tentatively meets hers. She
puts her arms around me and molds herself against my body, squeezing me tightly. One hand
remains in my hair, the other travels down my spine to my waist and down to my behind. Her
hand squeezes gently and I moan once more into her mouth.
I can hardly contain the riotous feelings - or is it hormones - that rampage through my body. I
want her so badly.
She eases me toward the bed, until I feel it behind my knees. Releasing me, she suddenly drops to
her knees. She grabs my hips with both her hands and runs her tongue around my navel, then
gently nips her way to my hipbone, then across my belly to my other hipbone. I groan as I realize
I'm growing wet for her.
Seeing her on her knees in front of me, feeling her mouth on me, it's so unexpected, and hot. My
hands travel to her head and begin to stroke her hair, pulling gently as I try to quiet my too-loud
breathing. She gazes up at me through impossibly long lashes, her eyes scorching.
"You smell so good," she murmurs and closes her eyes, a look of pure pleasure on her face, and I
practically convulse. She reaches up and tugs the duvet off the bed, then pushes me gently so I fall
on to the mattress. She climbs onto the bed, her grace feline and predatory.
"Oh, Laura, what I could do to you," she whispers as she's staring down at me. "I can't wait to be
inside you."
Holy shit. I gulp at her words.
"Show me how you pleasure yourself."
What? I frown.
"Don't be coy, show me," she whispers. I shake my head.
"I can't... I forgot how." My voice is hoarse. I hardly recognize it, laced with desire. She shakes
her head in disbelief.
"You forgot how do you make yourself come? Well, we'll have to see what we can do about
that." Her voice is soft, challenging, a delicious sensual threat. She gets up and undoes the buttons
of leather pants and slowly pulls them down, her eyes on mine the whole time. She leans down
over me and, grasping each of my ankles, quickly jerks my legs apart and crawls onto the bed
between my legs. She let her warm breath trail over my center as she hovers over me. I am
squirming with need.
"Keep still," she murmurs, and leaning down and kissing the inside of my thigh, trailing kisses up,
over the thin lacy material of my panties, kissing me.
Oh... I can't keep still. I wriggle beneath her.
"We're going to have to work on keeping you still, baby." She trails kisses up my belly, and her
tongue dips into my navel. Still she's heading north, kissing me across my torso.
My skin is burning. I'm too hot, too cold, and I'm clawing at the sheet beneath me. She lays down
beside me, and her hand trails up from my hip, to my waist, and up to my breast. She gazes down
at me, her expression unreadable, and cups my breast. Her lips meet mine as her index finger dips
into the cup of my bra and gently yanks it down freeing my breast, but the under wire and fabric
of the cup force it upward. Her finger moves to my other breast and repeats the process. My
breasts swell, and my nipples harden under her steady gaze. I am trussed-up by my ownbra."Very
nice," she whispers appreciatively, and my nipples harden even more.
She blows very gently on one as her hand moves to my other breast, and her thumb slowly rolls
the end of my nipple, elongating it. I groan, feeling the sweet sensation all the way to my groin. I
am so wet. Oh please, I beg internally as my fingers clasp the sheet tighter. Her lips close around
my other nipple and as she tugs, I nearly convulse.
"Let's see if we can make you come like this," she whispers, continuing her slow, sensual assault.
My nipples bear the delicious brunt of her deft fingers and lips, setting alight every single nerve
ending in my body so that my whole body sings with the sweet agony.
She just doesn't stop.
"Oh... please," I beg, and I pull my head back, my mouth open as I groan, my legs stiffening.
Holy hell, what's happening to me?
"Let go, baby," she murmurs. Her teeth close round my nipple, and her thumb and finger pull
hard, and I fall apart in her hands, my body convulsing and shattering into a thousand pieces. She
kisses me, deeply, her tongue in my mouth absorbing my cries.
Oh my. That was extraordinary. Now I know what all the fuss is about. She gazes down at me, a
satisfied smile on her face, while I'm sure there's nothing but gratitude and awe on mine.
"You are very responsive," she breathes. "You're going to have to learn to control that, and it's
going to be so much fun teaching you how." She kisses me again.
My breathing is still ragged as I come down from my orgasm. She did all that just from my
breasts?! Her hand moves down my waist, to my hips, and then slips through the fine lace and
slowly circles around me - there. Briefly she closes her eyes, and her breathing hitches.
"You're so deliciously wet. God, I want you." Her dark eyes open and look directly into mine as
she thrusts her finger inside me, and I cry out as she does it again and again. She palms my clitoris,
and I cry out once more. She pushes inside me harder and harder still. I groan. There's a warm
chuckle coming from her throat, a knowing sound as she is burning this moment into her memory
forever.
Suddenly, she sits up and tugs my panties off and throws them on the floor. She licks her fingers,
and the sound she makes at how I taste makes me clench even more. That's when I realize she's
licking three fingers, not just one.
"Don't worry," she breathes, her eyes on mine, "You'll expand to fit me." She leans down, her
hands on either side of my head, so she's hovering over me, staring down into my eyes, her jaw
clenched, eyes burning. It's only now that I register she's still wearing her top.
"You really want to do this?" she asks softly.
"Please," I beg.
"You are mine," she whispers. "Only
mine. Don't forget it." Her voice is intoxicating, her words
heady, seductive. If this is what she can do to me, yes, I'm hers.
Her thumb begins to gently massage my clitoris, circling slowly. Her breath is soft against my face
as she slowly nips me along my jaw.
"You smell divine, cupcake" she nuzzles behind my ear. Her thumb rubs against me, grinding a
firm, tight circle. Reflexively, my hips start to circle, mirroring her thumb, as excruciating pleasure
spikes through me like adrenaline.
"Keep still," she orders, voice soft but urgent, and slowly she inserts her fingers inside me, rotating
it round and round, stroking the front wall of my vagina. The effect is mind-blowing - all my
energy concentrating on this one small space inside my body. I moan.
"You like this?" she asks softly, her teeth grazing my outer ear, and she starts to flex her fingers
slowly, in, out, in, out... her thumb still circling.
I close my eyes, trying to keep my breathing under control, trying to absorb the disordered, chaotic
sensations that her fingers are unleashing on me, fire coursing through my body. I moan again.
"You're so wet, so quickly. So responsive. Oh, sweetness, I like that. I like that a lot," she
whispers.
I want to stiffen my legs, but I can't move. She's pinning me down, keeping up a constant, slow,
tortuous rhythm. Sadists don't have to inflict pain to be sadistic it seems. It's absolutely exquisite. I
moan again, and she moves suddenly.
"Open your mouth," she commands and thrusts her fingers into my mouth. My eyes fly open,
blinking wildly. "See how you taste."
She breathes against my ear. "Open, baby." I comply without reservation as my mouth and tongue
close on her digits, sucking wildly. I taste the saltiness and the faint metallic tang of copper. Holy
fuck.
"I want to fuck your mouth, Laura, and I will soon," her voice is hoarse, raw, her breathing more
disjointed.
Fuck my mouth?! I moan, teeth biting down on her fingers. She pulls my hair as a warning and I
release her.
"Good girl," she pants, "We're going to go real slow this time."
And slowly she eases into me, slowly, slowly, until she's buried to the knuckle me. Stretching me,
filling me, fucking me. I groan loudly. It feels deeper this time, delectable. I groan again, and she
deliberately pulls her hand back, pauses a beat, and then slowly eases her way back in.
She repeats this motion again and again. It's driving me insane - her teasing, deliberately slow
thrusts, and the intermittent feeling of fullness is overwhelming.
"You feel so good," she groans, and my insides start to quiver. I start to whimper in need. She
pulls back and waits.
"Oh no, baby, not yet," she murmurs, and as the quivering ceases, she starts the whole delicious
process again.
"Oh, please," I beg. I'm not sure I can take much more. My body is wound so tight, craving
release by her magical fingers.
"I want you sore, buttercup," she murmurs, and she continues her sweet, leisurely torment;
backward, forward. As she sweeps out, she starts to curl her fingers and it adds another level of
intensity.
"Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I've been here. Only me. You
are mine."
I groan.
"Please, Carmilla," I whisper.
"What do you want, Laura. Tell me."
I groan again. She pulls out and moves slowly back into me, and I gasp as I realize there are four
fingers fucking me now.
"Tell me," she murmurs.
"You, please."
She increases the rhythm ever so slightly, and her breathing becomes more erratic. My insides start
quivering as Carmilla picks up the intensity.
"You. Are. So. Sweet," she murmurs between each thrust. "I. Want. You. So. Much."
I moan.
I moan.
"You. Are. Mine. Come for me," she growls.
Her words are my undoing, tipping me over the precipice. My body convulses around her and I
come, loudly calling out a garbled version of her name into the night and Carmilla finishes with
two deep, sharp thrusts as my thighs quiver beneath her. Her mouth is pressed against my neck,
and I'm uncertain if she's deciding to put a hickey on me or not as she sharply turns her head away
and rests her head on my chest.
"Fuck. Laura," she breathes. She pulls out of me gently and rolls onto her side of the bed. I pull
my knees up to my chest, utterly spent, and immediately drift off or pass out into an exhausted
sleep.
The Morning After
Chapter Notes
A/N: This is the chapter where the silver-grey tie was supposed to come in. I don't
know why but it somehow turned into a Slytherin scarf. Oh and bacon pancakes are
better than bacon and pancakes because obvious reasons.
A/N #2: My issue with 50SoG: The mother character was too two-dimensional and
'perfect happy mother', and could have been a cardboard cutout with post-it notes
attached with lines that a teenager would want to hear a parent say. So I cut her out
entirely. Also, the main male character is a billionaire/fluent French speaker/concert
level pianist/fully trained pilot/athletic/gorgeous/perfect-enormous penis/best lover
ever. Who never seems to actually work and is using his money to combat world
hunger at age of 26. (Hence why I'm using LaFontaine's biology degree as part of a
foil to put some depth and tension to make being a billionare business mogul have
some stress/tension in proving why someone that young has earned that much money
in the business world. Because the shipment that has a problem in Darfur in 50SoG
never gets brought back AT ALL.)
The Morning After
When I wake, it's still dark. I have no idea how long I've slept. I stretch out beneath the duvet, and
I feel sore, deliciously sore. Carmilla is nowhere to be seen. I sit up, realizing that she has blackout
curtains in her bedroom. I hear music. The violin is mourning a sad, sweet lament. Carmilla is
playing, and playing really well. I can't recognize the tune, though.
I wrap the duvet round me and quietly pad down the corridor toward the big room.
Carmilla is completely lost in the music she's playing. Her eyes are closed as her expression is sad
and forlorn, like the music. Her playing is stunning. Leaning against the wall at the entrance, I
listen enraptured. She's such an accomplished musician. She is wearing a plush robe, her body
kissed by the cool light cast by her MP3 player that is hooked up to her entertainment system.
With the rest of the large room in darkness, it's like she's in her own isolated little pool of light,
untouchable... lonely, in a bubble.
I pad quietly toward her, enticed by the sublime, melancholy music. I'm mesmerized watching her
long skilled fingers as they slide over the strings, remembering how those same fingers have
expertly handled and caressed my body. I flush and gasp at the memory and press my thighs
together. She glances up, her dark eyes bright, her expression unreadable. I then realize she has
Bluetooth ear buds in and she was listening to "Criminal" by Fiona Apple.
"Sorry," I whisper. "I didn't mean to disturb you." She puts down the violin and the bow as a
frown flits across her face. She pulls out the earbuds as I can now barely hear 'And I need to be
redeemed to the one I've sinned against..' as she stops the playback.
"Surely, I should be saying that to you," she murmurs. She runs her fingers through her hair and
stands.
Her robe gives a flash of leg, all the way up... oh my. My mouth goes dry as she casually strolls
around the piano toward me. She has delicate shoulders, perfect hips, and kisses the top of my
head.
"You should be in bed," she admonishes.
"That was beautiful playing."
"Thank you."
"Why were you playing that?" I blurted out, wondering if she felt guilty over last night.
Her lips quirk up in a half smile.
"Bed," she orders. "You'll be exhausted in the morning."
"I woke up and you weren't there."
"It's hard for me to catch any sleep, and I'm definitely not used to sleeping with anyone," she
murmurs. I can't fathom her mood. She seems a little despondent, but it's difficult to tell in the
darkness. Perhaps it was the tone of the piece she was playing. She puts her arm around me and
gently walks me back to the bedroom.
"How long have you been playing? You play beautifully."
"Feels like a lifetime."
"How are you feeling?" she asks when we are back in the room. She switches on a sidelight.
"I'm good."
We both glance down at the bed at the same time. There's an obvious wet spot there from our sex.
I flush, embarrassed, pulling the duvet tighter around me.
"Well, that's going to give Perry something to think about," Carmilla mutters as she stands in front
of me. She puts her hand under my chin and tips my head back, staring down at me. Her eyes are
intense as she examines my face. I realize that I've not seen topless. Instinctively, I reach out to run
my fingers to the bit of flesh not covered by her robe. Immediately, she steps back out of my
reach.
"Get into bed," she says sharply. "I'll come and lie down with you." Her voice softens.
I drop my hand and frown. I don't think I've ever touched nor seen her breasts. She opens a chest
of drawers and pulls out a t-shirt and quickly slips it on.
"Bed," she orders again. I climb back onto the bed, trying not to think about the wet spot.
She clambers in beside me and pulls me into her embrace, wrapping her arms around me so that
I'm facing away from her. She likes to be the big spoon it seems. She kisses my hair gently, and
she inhales deeply.
"Sleep, sweetness." she murmurs, and I close my eyes, but I can't help feel a residual melancholy,
either from the music or her demeanor. Carmilla Karnstein has a sad side.
Light fills the room, coaxing me from deep sleep to wakefulness. I stretch out and open my eyes.
It's a beautiful May morning. Beside me, Carmilla Karnstein is fast asleep. I'm surprised she's still
in bed. She's facing me, and I have an unprecedented opportunity to study her. Her lovely face
looks younger, relaxed in sleep. Her sculptured, delicious lips are parted slightly, and her shiny,
clean hair is a glorious mess. How could anyone look this angelic? I remember her room upstairs...
perhaps she's not. I shake my head, so much to think about. It's tempting to reach out and touch
her; she's so lovely while asleep. I don't want to disturb her right now.
I could gaze at her all day, but I have needs - bathroom needs. Slipping out of bed, I find her white
shirt on the floor and shrug it on. I walk through a door thinking that it might be the bathroom, but
I'm in a vast walk-in closet as big as my bedroom. Lines and lines of expensive suits, shirts, skirts,
and shoes. How can anyone need this many shoes? I tut with disapproval. Actually, Betty's shoe
collection might rival this. Betty! Oh no. I didn't think about her all evening. I was supposed to text
her. Crap. I'm going to be in trouble. I wonder briefly how she's getting on with Jamie.
Returning to the bedroom, Carmilla is still asleep. I try the other door. It's the bathroom, and it's
bigger than my dorm room. Why does one woman need so much space? Two sinks, I notice with
irony. Maybe she uses each sink on different days, I chuckle to myself.
I stare at myself in the gigantic mirror above the sinks. Do I look different? I feel different. I feel a
little sore, if I'm honest, and my muscles - jeez it's like I've never done any exercise in my life.
You don't do any exercise in your life outside of lift brownies out of the oven, Hollis.
So you've just slept with her, given her your virginity, and she didn't even say she loves you. In
fact, she has very odd ideas about you, and wants to make you some sort of kinky sex slave.
I wince as I look in the mirror. I am going to have to process all this. Honestly, I finally fall for
someone who's gorgeous, more than self-sufficiently wealthy, and has a Red Room of Pain
waiting for me. I shudder. My hair, of course, is in its usual tousled manner. Just-fucked hair
doesn't suit me. I try and bring order to the chaos with my fingers but fail miserably and give up -
and of course Carmilla won't have a brush for straight hair here. Maybe I'll find hair ties in my
purse.
I'm starving. I head back out to the bedroom. Sleeping beauty is still sleeping, so I leave her and
head for the kitchen.
Oh no... Betty. I left my purse in Carmilla's study. I fetch it and reach for my cell phone. Three
texts.
'R U OK Laura'
'Where R U Laura'
'Damn it Laura'
Would a few extra keystrokes kill her? I call Betty. When she doesn't answer, I leave her an
apologetic message to tell her that I am alive and have not been tortured or killed. Oh this is so
confusing. I have to try and categorize and analyze my feelings for Carmilla Karnstein. It's an
impossible task. I shake my head in defeat. I need alone time, away from here to think.
I find two welcome hair ties at the same time in my bag and quickly tie my hair in pigtails. Yes!
The more girly I look, perhaps the safer I'll be from her. I take my iPod out of the bag and plug my
headphones in. There's nothing like music to cook by. I slip it into the cup of my bra, turn it up,
and get to work.
Holy hell, I'm hungry.
I am daunted by her kitchen. It's so sleek and modern and none of the cupboards have handles. It
takes me a few seconds longer than it should to deduce that I have to push the cupboard doors to
open them. Perhaps I should cook Carmilla breakfast. I have no idea what she likes to eat. I
check in the fridge, where there are plenty of eggs, and decide I want bacon pancakes. I set about
making some batter as the pan heats up.
Being busy is good. It allows a bit of time to think, but not too deeply. The music helps stave off
any deep thoughts or guilt. I came here to spend the night in Carmilla Karnstein's bed and did it,
even though she doesn't let anyone in her bed. I smile, mission accomplished. I grin. I scored, big
time, and I'm distracted by the memory of last night. Her words, her body, her lovemaking... I
close my eyes as my body hums at the recollection, and my muscles contract deliciously as I
realize the cast-iron skillet is ready for the bacon. I shake my head to concentrate on the task at
hand.
I put the bacon on the skillet as I hunt around for the pancake mix. Avril Lavigne is doing Joan
Jett's cover about a bad reputation. I always liked the song, though it didn't always seem to fit for
me. It was good for a bit of confidence when I came out to daddy, but it was a moot point because
he just wanted me happy and to not get pregnant before I was ready. I have an indecent proposal
to consider from the only woman whom I actually want to please.
I pulled the bacon off of the skillet and let it dry on some paper towels, and while it's drying off, I
make the batter. I turn, and Carmilla is sitting on one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar, leaning
on it, her face supported by her steepled hands. She's still wearing the t-shirt she's slept in. Just-
fucked hair really, really suits her. She looks both amused and bewildered.
I freeze, flush, then gather myself and pull the headphones out of my ears, my knees weak at the
sight of her.
"Good morning, Miss Hollis. You're very energetic this morning," she says dryly.
"I slept well," I stutter my explanation. Her lips try to mask her smile.
"I can't imagine why." She pauses and frowns. "So did I, after I came back to bed."
"Are you hungry?"
"Very," she says with an intense look, and I don't think she's referring to food.
"Bacon Pancakes?"
"Sounds great."
"I don't know where you keep your placemats." I shrug, trying desperately hard not to look
flustered.
"I'll do that. You cook. Would you like me to put some music on so you can continue your...
dancing?" I stare down at my fingers, knowing that I am turning puce. "Please, don't stop on my
account. It's very entertaining." Her tone is one of wry amusement.
I purse my lips. Entertaining? I turn and crumble the bacon into the batter, preparing to pour the
first pancake out.
In a moment, she's beside me. She winds her fingers around and then gently tugs at a pigtail.
"I love these," she whispers playfully. "They won't protect you." Of course she's also into pulling
pigtails...
I roll my eyes at her, focusing on making pancakes. She's hard to stay mad at. Especially when
she's being so uncharacteristically playful. She opens a drawer and takes out two black slate
placemats for the breakfast bar. I pour the bacon-pancake mix into a pan, and watch the batter rise
and bubble to be thick and fluffy.
When I turn back round, there is orange juice on the table, and she's making coffee.
"Would you like some tea?"
"Yes, please. If you have some." I find a couple of plates and place them on the placemats as I
wait to flip the pancake. Carmilla reaches into a cupboard and pulls out some Twining's English
Breakfast tea. I purse my lips. She already has it stocked, too.
"Bit of a foregone conclusion wasn't I?"
"Are you I'm not sure we've concluded anything yet, Miss Hollis," she murmurs.
What does she mean by that? Our negotiations? Our 'relationship'? She's still so cryptic. I serve up
the pancakes onto the plates and hunt in the refrigerator to find some maple syrup.
I glance up at Carmilla, and she's waiting for me to sit down.
"Miss Hollis." She motions to one of the bar stools.
"Ms. Karnstein." I nod in acknowledgement. I climb up and wince slightly as I sit down. She
chuckles darkly at that, as if congratulating herself on a job well done.
"Just how sore are you?" she asks as she sits down. I flush. Why does she ask such personal
questions?
"Well, to be truthful, I have nothing to compare this to," I snap at her. "Unless you wish to offer
an apology?" I ask too sweetly. I think she's trying to stifle a smile, but I can't be sure.
"No. I wondered if we could have another round this morning. Maybe delve into some of the
training I'd have you do."
"Oh." I stare at her dumbfounded as I stop breathing and everything inside me clenches tight.
"Eat, Laura." My appetite has become uncertain again... more... more sex... yes please.
"This is delicious, incidentally." She grins at me.
I try a forkful of bacon pancake but can barely taste it. I recall what she said last night, 'I want to
fuck your mouth'. Is this what she meant by training?
"Stop biting your lip. It's very distracting, and I happen to know you're not wearing anything
under my shirt which makes it even more distracting," she growls.
I dunk my teabag in the small pot that Carmilla has provided. My mind is in a whirl.
"What sort of training did you have in mind?" I ask, my voice slightly too high, betraying my wish
to sound as natural, disinterested, and calm as I can with my hormones wreaking havoc through
my body.
"Well, as you're sore, I thought we could stick to... oral skills."
I choke on my tea, and I stare at her, eyes wide and gaping. She pats me gently on the back and
passes me some orange juice. I cannot tell what she's thinking.
"That's if you want to stay," she adds. I glance up at her, trying to recover my equilibrium. Her
expression is unreadable. It's so frustrating.
"I'd like to stay for today...if that's okay. I have work tomorrow."
"What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?"
"Nine."
"I'll get you to work by nine tomorrow."
I frown. Does she want me to stay another night?
"I'll need to go home tonight - I need clean clothes."
"We can get you some here, if that's the problem."
I don't have spare cash to spend on clothes. Or is she saying she'd buy me clothes? I'm not ready
for that. Her hand comes up, and she grasps my chin, tugging it so my lip is released from the grip
of my teeth.
"What is it?" she asks.
"I need to be home this evening." Her mouth is a hard line.
"Okay, this evening," she acquiesces. "Now eat your breakfast."
My thoughts and my stomach are in turmoil. My appetite has vanished. I stare at my half-eaten
breakfast. I'm just not hungry.
"Eat, Laura. You didn't eat last night."
"I'm really not hungry," I whisper. Her eyes narrow.
"I would really like you to finish your breakfast."
"What is it with you and food?" I blurt out. Her brow knits.
"I told you, I have issues with wasted food. Eat," she snaps. Her eyes are dark, pained. Holy
Crap. What is that all about? I pick up my fork and eat slowly, trying to chew.
I must remember not to put so much on my plate if she's going to be weird about food. Her
expression softens as I carefully make my way through my breakfast. I note that she cleans her
plate. She waits for me to finish, and then she cleans my plate.
"You cooked, I'll clean."
"That's very democratic."
"Yes." She frowns after saying that. "Not my usual style. After I've done this, meet me in bed."
"Oh, okay." Oh my... I'd much rather have a shower. My cell rings, interrupting my reverie. It's
Betty.
"Hi." I wander over to the glass doors of the balcony, away from her. I try to not look down.
"Laura, why didn't you text last night?" She's angry.
"I'm sorry, I was overtaken by... events."
"You're okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"Did you?" She's fishing for information. I roll my eyes at the expectation in her voice.
"Betty, I don't want to talk over the phone." Carmilla glances up at me.
"You did... I can tell."
How can she tell? She's bluffing, and I can't talk about this. I've signed a damned agreement.
"Betty, please."
"What was it like? I have to know! Are you okay?"
"I've told you I'm okay."
"Was she gentle?"
"Betty, please!" I can't hide my exasperation.
"Laura, don't hold out on me, I've been waiting for this day for nearly three years."
"I don't kiss and tell! Look, I'll see you this evening." I hang up.
She's so tenacious, and she wants to know - in detail, and I can't tell her because I've signed a -
what was it called - NDA. Actually, no. I don't
want to have to tell her. What we did was amazing
and private.
She'll freak and rightly so. I need a plan. I head back to watch Carmilla move gracefully around
her kitchen.
"The NDA, does it cover everything?" I ask tentatively.
"Why?" she turns and gazes at me while putting the Twinings away.
"Well, I have a few questions, you know, about sex." I stare down at my fingers. "And I'd like to
ask Betty."
"You can ask me."
"Carmilla, with all due respect." My voice fades as I take a deep breath. "I can't ask you. I'll get
your biased, kinky-as-hell, distorted world-view regarding sex. I want an impartial opinion. Just
about the mechanics. I swear I won't mention your Red Room of Pain."
She raises her eyebrows.
"Red Room of Pain? It's mostly about pleasure, sweetness. Believe me," she says. "Besides," her
tone is harsher. "Your room-mate is an unyielding journalist looking for gossip and the biggest
scoop she can find. I'd really rather you didn't."
"Does your family know about your... predilection?"
"No. It's none of their business." She saunters toward me until she's standing in front of me. "Nor
is it Betty's." She sighs as she sees the pained expression on my face.
"What do you want to know?" she asks, and raising her hand runs her fingers gently down my
cheek to my chin, tilting my head back so she can look directly into my eyes. I squirm inwardly. I
cannot lie her.
"Nothing specific at the moment," I whisper.
"Well, we can start with - how was last night for you?" Her eyes burn, filled with curiosity. She's
anxious to know. Wow.
"Good," I murmur.
Her lips lift slightly.
"Good? It was good for me too," she murmurs. "I've never had vanilla sex before. There's a lot to
be said for it. But then, maybe it's because I had it with you." She runs her thumb across my lower
lip.
I inhale sharply. Vanilla sex?
"Take off my shirt." I comply, but I grow nervous being completely naked in front of Ms.
Karnstein.
She stands back to gaze at me. I'm naked for heaven's sake. I flush crimson and stare down at my
hands, level with the base of my belly, and I desperately want to hide myself, but I know she
won't want that.
"Hey," she summons me. I peek up at her, and her head is cocked to one side. "Laura, you're a
very beautiful woman, the whole package. Don't hang your head like you're ashamed. You have
nothing to be ashamed of, and it's a real joy to stand here and gaze at you." She takes my chin in
her hand and tilts my head up to reach her eyes. They are soft and warm, heated even. Oh my.
She's so close. I could just reach up and touch her.
"Miss Hollis." She holds her hand out towards me.
I'm standing there, wide-eyed and wary, my arms wrapped around myself. I step forward while
surreptitiously admiring her physique. She is just yummy. I take her hand, and she leads me
towards her bedroom. In her bedroom, she stares down at me as we stand by her bed.
"Turn around, face me," she orders, her voice soft. I do as I'm told. I'll have to get used to it if I'm
going to take her up on her outrageous offer... She's watching me intently.
"Trust me?" she asks suddenly. I nod, wide-eyed with the sudden realization that I do trust her.
What's she going to do to me now? An electric thrill hums through me.
"Good girl," she breathes, her lips brushing the edge of my ear. She steps away into her closet and
comes back with a silver and green scarf. Of course she's a Slytherin.
"Put your hands together in front of you," she orders as her eyes are bright with wild excitement.
I do as she asks, and she binds my wrists together with the scarf, knotting it firmly. She tugs at the
binding. It's very secure. What now? My pulse has gone through the roof, my heart beating a
frantic tattoo. She runs her fingers down my pigtails.
"You look so young with these," she murmurs and moves forward. Instinctively, I move back
until I feel the bed against the back of my knees. She unties her robe, but I can't take my eyes off
her face. Her expression is ardent, full of desire.
"Oh, creampuff, what shall I do to you now?" she whispers as she lowers me on to the bed, lying
beside me, and raising my hands above my head.
"Keep your hands up here, don't move them, understand?" Her eyes burn into mine, and I'm
breathless from their intensity.
"Answer me," she demands, her voice soft.
"I won't move my hands." I'm breathless.
"Good girl," she murmurs and deliberately licks her lips slowly. I'm mesmerized by her tongue as
it sweeps slowly over her upper lip. She's staring into my eyes, watching me, appraising. She
leans down and plants a chaste, swift kiss on my lips.
"I'm going to kiss you all over, Miss Hollis," she says softly, and she cups my chin, pushing it up
giving her access to my throat. Her lips glide down my throat, kissing, sucking, and nipping, to the
small dip at the base of my neck. My body leaps to attention... everywhere. My heat pools low in
my belly, between my legs, right down there. I groan.
I want to touch her. I move my hands and rather awkwardly, given I'm restrained, feel her hair.
She stops kissing me and glares up at me, shaking her head from side to side, tutting as she does.
She reaches for my hands and places them above my head again.
"Don't move your hands, or we just have to start all over again," she scolds me mildly.
Oh, she's such a tease.
"I want to touch you." My voice is all breathy and out of control.
"I know," she murmurs. "Keep your hands above your head," she orders, her voice forceful. "Or
I'll tie them to the bed."
She cups my chin again and starts to kiss my throat as before. Oh... she's so frustrating.
Her hands run down my body and over my breasts as she reaches the dip at the base of my neck
with her lips. She swirls the tip of her nose around it then begins a very leisurely cruise with her
mouth, heading south, following the path of her hands, down my sternum to my breasts. Each one
is kissed and nipped gently and my nipples tenderly sucked. Holy crap.
My hips start swaying and moving of their own accord, grinding to the rhythm of her mouth on
me, and I'm desperately trying to remember to keep my hands above my head.
"Keep still," she warns, her breath warm against my skin. Reaching my navel, she dips her tongue
inside, and then gently grazes my belly with her teeth. My body bows off the bed. "Hmm. Just as I
guessed, sweetness." Her nose glides along the line between my belly and my pubic hair, biting
me gently, teasing me with her tongue. Sitting up suddenly, she kneels at my feet, grasping both
my ankles and spreading my legs wide.
Holy shit. Her lips caress my shin, my knees, and my thighs. I know where she is headed. It's too
erotic. I'm going to explode. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to absorb and manage all the
sensations she's creating. "Oh, please," I moan as she bites my little toe, the action resonating deep
in my belly.
"All good things in time, Miss Hollis," she breathes as she continues up the inside of my thigh,
pushing my thighs apart as she does. And because I know what she's going to do, part of me
wants to push her off because I'm mortified and embarrassed. She's going to kiss me there! I know
it. And part of me is glorying in the anticipation. She turns to my other knee and kisses her way up
my thigh, kissing, licking, sucking, and then she's between my legs, running her nose up and
down my sex, very softly, very gently. I writhe... oh my.
She stops, waiting for me to calm. I do and raise my head to gaze at her, my mouth open as my
pounding heart struggles to come out.
"Do you know how intoxicating you smell, cupcake?" she murmurs, and keeping her eyes on
mine, she pushes her nose into my pubic hair and inhales.
I flush scarlet, everywhere, feeling faint, and I instantly close my eyes. I can't watch her do that!
She blows gently up the length of my sex. Oh fuck...
"I like this." She gently tugs at my pubic hair. "Perhaps we'll keep this."
"Oh... please," I beg.
"Hmm, I like it when you beg." I hear the wicked grin in her voice, and while my body is singing
from her words, her tongue starts to slowly circle my clitoris as her hands hold down my thighs.
"Aargh!" I moan as my body bows and convulses at the touch of her tongue. She swirls her
tongue round and round, again and again, keeping up the torture. I'm losing all sense of self, every
atom of my being concentrating hard on that small, potent powerhouse at the apex of my thighs.
My legs go rigid, and she slips her finger inside me, and I hear her growling groan.
"Oh, baby. I love that you're so wet for me."
She moves her finger in a wide circle, stretching me, pulling at me, her tongue mirroring her
actions, round and round, I groan. It is too much... My body begs for relief, and I can no longer
deny it.
"Come for me, baby." Her voice is harsh as I feel her tongue snake in and penetrate me and I
explode around her as her velvet tongue pounds rapidly into me.
Holy fuck. I let go, losing all cogent thought as my orgasm seizes me, wringing my insides again
and again. I cry out, and the world dips and disappears from view as the force of my climax
renders everything null and void.
"How are you now?" she breathes.
"Fine. Good," I breathe. She's gotten me off twice now, and I have yet to return the favor. "Is there
anything I can do for you?"
"I think there is. Scoot back." she orders. I comply and the scarf gets tied somewhere above my
head where I can't see. I'm restrained to the bed, I don't think we're doing 'vanilla' anymore.
She climbs onto the bed and straddles me, loosening her robe as I see her neatly trimmed pubic
mound come closer as she slips her ankles in between my arms and my head, her eyes glinting
darkly as she looked directly at me. "I think you know what is expected of you. Make me proud."
I open my mouth and extend my tongue, tasting her moist sex. She closes her eyes again, and her
breath hitches in her throat. When she opens them again, her gaze is scorching. "That's right,
cupcake." Her fingers rake through my hair as she rotates her pelvis, grinding her clit into my face.
"I'm going to use you to get off." I nodded, panting. God, please use me! I want to please you, I
want to do this... she holds onto my head as I eagerly lap at her labia and find her clitoris again,
putting some firm pressure on it just like how I have enjoyed touching myself to get off late at
night when I had the dorm room to myself.
My tongue found the tiny bit of flesh and I flicked and sucked on it, using my whole mouth and
allowing my teeth to barely graze her most sensitive spot. She didn't really taste of anything I
could describe except warm and sharp. It wasn't bad at all.
She flexes her hips slightly as a low groan escapes from deep within her throat. Fucking my
mouth... hmm. I lean forward, knowing she has her eyes closed, and place my lips around her and
repetitiously suck, running my tongue over her tip.
"Whoa... Laura." Her eyes fly open, and I suck harder. Hmm... she's soft and firm all at once, and
surprisingly tasty as her hands seem to shake as her thighs quiver against my face.
"Christ," she groans, and she closes her eyes again. I can do this. I can please her with my mouth.
I twirl my tongue around her clit again, and she flexes her hips. Her eyes are open now, blistering
with heat. Her teeth are clenched as she flexes again, and I suck harder with my mouth, reveling in
the shakiness of her thighs. I feel her legs tense beneath my arms.
"Oh... sweetness... that feels good," she murmurs. I suck harder, flicking my tongue back and
forth harder as her breath hisses between her teeth, groaning on the precipice.
My tongue swirls around again and again, sucking harder and harder, letting her fuck my mouth
with her clitoris. I had no idea giving pleasure could be such a turn-on, watching her writhe
subtly with carnal longing.
"Laura, I'm going to come." her breathy tone is warning. She flexes her hips again, her eyes are
wide, wary, and filled with salacious need - need for me. Need for my mouth. Holy crap. Her
hands are really gripping my hair. I can do this. I push even harder and, in a moment of
extraordinary confidence, I bare my teeth. It tips her over the edge.
She cries out and stills, and I can feel her warm, sharp tasting wetness drip down my chin and on
my neck. I take one look at her, and I see she's come apart because of me, and I feel gratified. I did
this. I made her happy. I couldn't help the triumphant, gloating smile on my face. Her breathing is
ragged. Opening her eyes, she pants as she looked right at me. "Never done that before? Christ,
Laura... that was... good, really good, unexpected," she gulps, panting again, "though." She
smiles. "You know, you never cease to amaze me."
"Yet another first, Miss Hollis."
"Thank you, Ms. Karnstein."
She kisses me deeply, and I realize that she doesn't care that I taste of her. Actually, I think she's
turned on by it. She pulls away, her hands on either side of my face, staring intently into my eyes.
She looks lost.
"Say yes," she whispers fervently.
I frown, not understanding.
"To what?"
"Yes to our arrangement. To being mine. Please, Laura." she whispers, emphasizing the last word
and my name, pleading. She kisses me again, sweetly, passionately, before she releases my wrists
from the bed and climbs out from between my arms. I'm stunned at her frank admission. She really
wants this.
She curls up against me, humming softly as I pull my tied hands over her neck and hold her the
best I can. I know in that moment that I would do anything for Carmilla. I am hers. The wonder
that she's introduced me to, it's beyond anything I could have imagined. And she wants to take it
further, so much further, to a place I can't even imagine.
She snuggles her head on me and stares at me, dark eyes intense.
"See how good we are together," she murmurs. "If you give yourself to me, it will be so much
better. Trust me, I can take you places you don't even know exist."
Her words echo my thoughts. She strokes her nose against mine. I am still reeling from my
extraordinary physical reaction to her, and I gaze up at her blankly, grasping for a coherent
thought.
Suddenly we both become aware of voices in the hall outside her bedroom door. We're no longer
alone, it seems.
Returning to Normal
Chapter Notes
A/N: Biggest issue with 50SoG: The 'Is it the money?' line. (See endnote for
context.) Her response was far too weak and she instantly forgave the guy for
suggesting that she's a whore. Obviously in my version she calls that shit out right
then and there. Also, I can't see Laura not owning her own laptop while at college in
today's world. (In 50SoG she gets 'gifted a loaner'.) And yes, my snape-submiss
For the Potions Master's Amusement
which actually got me
interested into finding the local BDSM community and I've very glad that I did.
See the end of the chapter for more
Returning to Normal
Suddenly we both become aware of voices in the hall outside her bedroom door. We're no longer
alone, it seems.
It takes a moment to process what I can hear.
"This is my first official day on the job, and I was given a schedule and specifically told by my
predecessor that Ms. Karnstein isn't a morning person."
"Perry, please."
"Kirsch, I am not about to let you get in the way of me doing my job. This isn't a security
concern."
"Perry, she's not alone."
"What do you mean she's not alone?"
"She has... someone... with her."
"Oh..." Perry seemed confused at how to handle this.
Carmilla blinks rapidly, stretching and yawning like the cat that ate the canary. "Looks like we'll
have to get up, buttercup."
"Carmilla - I can't move." My wrists are still tied together! "I can't have them see me like this."
Her grin widens, as if she's contemplating leaving me like that, but she undoes the tie. The woven
pattern has made an indented pattern around my wrists. It's... sexy. She gazes at me. She's amused,
her eyes dancing with mirth. She kisses my forehead quickly and beams at me.
"Another first for me." she acknowledges, but I have no idea what she's talking about.
"I have no clean clothes in here." I am filled with sudden panic, and considering what I've just
experienced, I'm finding the panic overwhelming. Holy crap. I have no clean clothes, and my
Dorm Don is about to walk in on us! This isn't a nightmare, is it? "Perhaps I should stay here."
"Oh, no, you don't," Carmilla threatens. "You can wear something of mine." She has on a white t-
shirt and runs her hand through her just-fucked hair. In spite of my anxiety, I lose my train of
thought. Will I ever get used to looking at this beautiful woman?
"Laura, you could be wearing a burlap sack and you'd look lovely. Please don't worry and get
dressed. I'll just go and deal with this." Her mouth presses into a hard line. "I will expect you in
that room in five minutes, otherwise I'll come and drag you out of here myself in whatever you're
wearing. My t-shirts are in this drawer. My shirts are in the closet. Help yourself." She eyes me
speculatively for a moment, then leaves the room.
I find my bra under the bed and dress quickly. But if there's one thing I hate, it's not wearing clean
panties. I rifle through Carmilla's chest of drawers and come across some black lacy boy shorts. I
then tug on my impossible jeans and... I can't find my heels. Barefoot it is then.
Gathering my resolve, I dash into the bathroom and stare at my too-bright eyes, my flushed face -
and my hair! Holy crap... just-fucked pigtails do not suit me either. I hunt in the vanity unit and
find a comb. It will have to do. A ponytail is the only answer. I despair at my choice in clothes.
Maybe I should take Carmilla up on her offer of clothing.
I reach into her closet and grab a sapphire blue button-up blouse and fasten a button or two near
my cleavage for some semblance of modesty. "Here she is." Carmilla stands from where she's
lounging on the couch. Her expression is warm and appreciative.
I saw the recognizable red curls of my now former floor Don, Perry. She looked great, really
great. Getting out of Silas seems to have done a lot for her.
"So how did you two meet?" She looks questioningly at Carmilla, unable to hide her curiosity.
"Laura interviewed me for the student paper at WSU because I'm conferring the degrees there this
week."
Double crap. I'd forgotten that.
"Oh, well I'm actually graduating this week, so I'll see you there." Perry replies.
My cell phone starts ringing. Betty, I bet.
"Excuse me." It's in the kitchen. I wander over and lean across the breakfast bar, not checking the
number as I pick up the call.
"Hey, Betty-"
"Hey! Laura!" Holy crap, it's Danny. She sounds desperate. "Where are you? I've been trying to
contact you. I need to see you, to apologize for my behavior on Friday. Why haven't you returned
my calls?" And she sounds flustered.
"Look Danny, now's not a good time." I glance anxiously over at Carmilla who's watching me
intently, her face impassive as she murmurs something to her Perry. I turn my back to her.
"Where are you? Betty is being so evasive," she whines.
"I'm fine, that's all you really need to know."
"Are you with her?"
"Danny, I'll call you later. I can't talk to you now." I hang up.
I walk as nonchalantly as I can back to Carmilla and Perry pretending to not listen in on my phone
call.
"Will you two be wanting lunch? I have a whole list of daily routine things I have to check on,
otherwise." She gathers up a small clipboard that undoubtedly has extensive notes on it.
"That's okay I will drive Laura back to her dorm."
"Of course, Ms. Karnstein. Laura, I'm glad to have run into you. I do hope we meet again."
LaFontaine appears, and they wearing some smart business-casual shirt and slacks. Perry, as
always, turns towards her like a flower does to the sun.
"Ms. Karnstein, there's an issue with the Darfur shipment."
Carmilla nods curtly.
"Our equipment still at the airfield?"
"Yes ma'am."
LaFontaine nods at me. "Laura."
I smile tentatively back, as they turn and leaves.
"Does LaFontaine live here too, like Kirsch?"
"Yes." Her tone is clipped. What is her problem?
Carmilla heads over to the kitchen and picks up her BlackBerry, scrolling through some emails, I
assume. Her mouth presses in a hard line, and she makes a call.
"Sue, what's the issue?" she snaps. She listens, watching me, dark eyes speculative, as I stand in
the middle of the huge room wondering what to do with myself, feeling extraordinarily self-
conscious and out of place.
"I'm not having either crew put at risk. No, cancel... We'll air drop instead... Good."
She hangs up. The warmth in her voice was gone. "I'm having to fight local warlords in order to
deliver technology that could make hunger in Africa a thing of the past." She clenched her jaw as
she growled out, "humans..."
I shrugged, not knowing much about the situation in Darfur. "You can't save everyone."
She rubbed her temples, taking a deep breath. "I know, and I can't just hire an army to kill the
leaders in the genocidal war because the power vacuum will just make the next Kony rise to
power on that side of the continent. Kirsch, get the R8 ready for me to take Miss Hollis home.
Perry, inform Natalie that I'll be on my way into work after that; she must be having kittens over
my late start today."
Carmilla goes over to her desk and pulls a manila folder out. "This is the contract and spreadsheet
to fill out concerning your interests and hard limits. Read it, and we'll discuss it next weekend. I
suggest you do some research, so you know what's involved." She pauses. "That is if you agree,
and I really hope you do." She adds, her tone softer, anxious.
"Research?"
She arches an eyebrow up at me. "You'll be amazed what you can find on the Internet," she
murmurs, "It's got more than just improbable pairing in slash fan-fiction." That reminded me of her
mentioning a particular author before. Couldn't hurt to do research.
"Sure, I'll just make a call," I murmur. I just want to hear Betty's voice. She frowns.
"The tall ginger?" Her jaw clenches, and her eyes burn. I blink at her. "I don't exactly like nor
trust her now." Her quiet, chilling tone is disquieting, and with good reason.
I scowled at her. "I just wanted to call Betty back." She seemed to be biting her cheek as she gave
a slight bow in understanding.
"I apologize."
"I've been ignoring Danny's messages all weekend because I'm not too happy with her either."
That seemed to put a bit of a smile back on her face.
"Ready?" Carmilla asks as we stand by the double doors to the foyer.
I nod uncertainly. She's resumed her distant, polite, uptight persona, her mask back up and on
show. It vaguely reminded me of when Snape had to leave Hogwarts and resume being a Death
Eater at the end of Goblet of Fire. She's got a mask she wears for business and to protect herself
from being hurt.
She's wearing a black leather jacket over a silk boat-necked band tee and black jeans with ankle
boots. She certainly doesn't look like the million-billion whatever-aire in these clothes. She looks
like a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, maybe a badly behaved rock star or a catwalk model.
I sigh inwardly, wishing I had a tenth of her poise. She's so calm and controlled. I frown, recalling
her outburst about Danny... And I didn't exactly disagree with her.
Kirsch was hovering in the background, and I realized I wasn't hearing what was going on.
"Tomorrow then," she says to Kirsch who nods.
"Ms. Karnstein, the R8 is downstairs and ready." He said, handing her the key. "Safe trip, Ms.
Karnstein. Miss Hollis." Kirsch looks kindly at me, though perhaps there's a hint of pity hidden in
the depths of his eyes. Did he also have to sign an NDA? Does everyone here know about her
Red Room of Pain?
"The Jeep is at your disposal for today, Kirsch. I think Perry might need to do some shopping for
the apartment. No Doughnuts!" She says with her eyes narrowed.
Kirsch holds the door open for us and ushers us through. Carmilla summons the elevator. "What is
it, Laura?" she asks. How does she know I'm chewing something over in my mind? She reaches
up and pulls my chin.
"Stop biting your lip, or I will fuck you in the elevator, and I don't care who gets in with us." I
blush, but there's a hint of a smile around her lips, finally her mood seems to be shifting.
"Carmilla, I have a problem."
"Oh?" I have her full attention. The elevator arrives. We walk in, and Carmilla presses the button
marked G.
"Well," I flush. How to say this? "I need to talk to Betty. I've so many questions about sex, and
you're too involved. If you want me to do all these things, how do I know - ?" I pause, struggling
to find the right words. "I just don't have any terms of reference."
She rolls her eyes at me. "Talk to her if you must." She sounds exasperated. "Make sure she
doesn't mention anything to anyone, particularly my brother Will."
I bristle at her insinuation. Betty isn't like that.
"She wouldn't do that." I add quickly.
"Well, the difference is that I don't want to know about his sex life," Carmilla murmurs dryly.
"Will's a nosy bastard. But only talk about what we've done so far, none of the Dominance and
submission stuff, please." she warns.
"Okay," I agree readily, smiling up at her, relieved. Her lip quirks up at me, and she shakes her
head.
"The sooner I have your submission the better, and we can stop all this," she murmurs.
"Stop all what?"
"You, defying me. I'm not used to... this." She reaches down and cups my chin and plants a swift,
sweet kiss on my lips as the doors to the elevator open. She grabs my hand and leads me into the
underground garage.
Me, defying her... how?
Beside the elevator, I can see the black Jeep, but it's the sleek, black sporty number that blips open
and lights up when she points the key fob at it. It's one of those cars that should have a very leggy
blonde, wearing nothing but a sash, sprawled across the hood.
"Nice car," I murmur dryly. She glances up and grins.
"I know," she says, and for a split second, sweet, young, carefree Carmilla is back. It warms my
heart, she's so excited. I roll my eyes at her but can't stifle my smile. She opens the door for me
and I fall in. Whoa... it's low. She moves round the car with easy grace and folds her long frame
elegantly in beside me. How does she do that?
"So what sort of car is this?"
"It's an Audi R8 Spyder. It's a lovely day, we can take the top down. There's a cap in there. In fact
there should be two." She points to the glove box. "And sunglasses if you need them."
She starts the ignition, and the engine roars behind us. She places her bag in the space behind our
seats, presses a button, and the roof slowly reclines. With the flick of a switch, Awakening from
the Underworld soundrack surrounds us. She grins as the opening notes blast into the open air.
"Gotta love this soundtrack," she grins at me and eases the car out of the parking space, and up the
steep ramp where we pause for the barrier.
Then we're out into the bright May morning. I reach into the glove box and retrieve the caps. The
Comets. She likes basketball. I pass her a cap, and she puts it on. I pass my ponytail through the
back of mine and pull the peak down low.
People stare at us as we drive through the streets. For a moment, I think it's at her... and then a
very paranoid part thinks everyone is looking at me because they know what I've been doing
during the last twelve hours, but finally, I realize it's the car. Carmilla seems oblivious, lost in
thought.
The traffic is light and we're soon on the I-5 heading south, the wind sweeping over our heads. I
hear the lyrics, about missing being human anymore. It's kind of catchy. Carmilla glances at me.
She's got her Ray-Bans on so I can't see what she's thinking. Her mouth twitches slightly, and she
reaches across and places her hand on my knee, squeezing gently. My breath hitches.
"I've really enjoyed this weekend," I murmur. She narrows her eyes at me again.
"Stop biting that lip," she growls over the sound of the car and stereo. "Me too," she adds.
"What's vanilla sex?" I shout, if anything to distract myself from the intense, burning, sexy look
she's giving me. She laughs.
"Just straightforward sex, sweetness. No toys, no added extras." She shrugs. "You know... well
actually you don't, but that's what it means."
"Oh; I thought it was chocolate fudge brownie sex that we had, with a cherry on the top!" But
hey, what do I know? "Why have you never had 'vanilla' sex before? Have you always done... err,
what you've done?" I ask, intrigued.
She nods slowly.
"Sort of." Her voice is wary. She frowns for a moment and seems to be engaged in some kind of
internal struggle. Then she glances up, a decision made. "One of my mother's friends seduced me
when I was seventeen."
"Oh." Holy shit that's young!
"She had very particular tastes. I was her submissive for six years." She shrugs.
"Oh." My brain has frozen, stunned into inactivity by this admission.
"So I do know what it involves." Her eyes glow with insight.
I stare at her, unable to articulate anything - even my subconscious is silent.
"I didn't really have a run-of-the-mill introduction to sex."
Curiosity kicks in big time.
"So you never dated anyone at college?"
"No." She shakes her head to emphasize the point.
"Why?"
She smiles sardonically.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yes."
"I didn't want to. I was getting chocolate fudge brownie sex, why settle for diet vanilla? And
besides, she'd have beaten the shit out of me." She smiles fondly at the memory.
Oh, this is way too much information - but I want more.
"So if she was a friend of your mother's, how old was she?"
She smirks.
"Old enough to know better."
"Do you still see her?"
"No. It was a lifetime ago."
Carmilla the submissive... Holy shit. Jeez, all these revelations, it's so much to think about. I need
time to process this, when I'm on my own, not when I'm distracted by her presence. She's so
overwhelming, so Dominant, and now she's thrown this bombshell into the equation. She knows
what it's like.
"But it can't have been full time?" I'm confused.
"Well, it was, though I didn't see her all the time. It was... difficult."
"Is this what our err... relationship will be like?" I whisper, "You, ordering me around?" I can't
quite bring myself to look at her.
"Yes," she murmurs.
"I see."
"And what's more, you'll want me to," she adds, her voice suggestive.
I sincerely doubt that.
"It's a big step," I murmur.
"It is."
"Cupcake, you have to go with your gut. Do the research, read the contract - I'm happy to discuss
any aspect. I'll be in Silas until Friday if you want to talk about it before then." Her words are
coming at me in a rush. "Call me - maybe we can have dinner - say, Wednesday. I really want to
make this work. In fact, I've never wanted anything as much as I want this to work."
Her burning sincerity, her longing, is reflected in her eyes. This is fundamentally what I don't
grasp. Why me? Why not one of the fifteen? Oh no... Will that be me - a number?
Sixteen of many?
"What happened to the fifteen?" I blurt.
She raises her eyebrows in surprise, then looks resigned, shaking her head.
"Various things, but it boils down to," she pauses, struggling to find the words I think.
"Incompatibility." She shrugs.
"And you think that I might be compatible with you?"
"Yes."
"So you're not seeing any of them anymore?"
"No, Laura, I'm not. I am monogamous in my relationships, though 8 and 9 were a package deal."
She smiled sadly at that. The next song came on, and it was... sex. A woman's crooning that felt
like a suggestive finger going down your spine.
Oh... this is news.
"I see."
"Do the research, Laura."
"I'd give anything to know what you're thinking right at this moment," she murmurs, glancing at
me as I hear, 'Christ is comin' and so am I - You would too if this sexy devil caught your eye' play
from her speakers.
I blush further as she smiles a wicked smile at me. She is a sexy devil.
"I can guess," she teases softly.
"I'm glad you can't read my mind."
"Your mind, no, Laura, but your body - that I've got to know quite well since yesterday." Her
voice is suggestive. How does she switch so quickly from one mood to the next? It's hard to keep
up.
She puts her hand out, palm up, a silent plea to hold my hand. This contact, flesh to flesh, it's what
is so unexpected from her; normal, intimate. I can't reconcile this ordinary, tender gesture with
what she wants to do in that room... The Red Room of Pain. The singer continues to say
something about being a martyr for the hell between those thighs, which reminds me of this
morning and how I know I'm going to walk back into that room for another chance to be with her.
When she parks outside my apartment, it's five in the evening. The lights are on - Betty is at home.
Packing, no doubt, unless Jamie is still there. She switches off the engine, and I realize I'm going
to have to leave her.
"Do you want to come in?" I ask. I don't want her to go. I want to prolong our time together.
"No. I have work to do," she says simply, gazing at me, her expression unfathomable as she lip
synchs to what must be her favorite part of the song.
My pulse has been rising, my temples are pounding, the pressure is so overwhelming and building
So steady now, Freddy, I'm ready to blow; what is she, what is she, what is she waiting for?
I stare down at my hands, as I knot my fingers together. Suddenly I feel emotional.
She's leaving. Reaching over, she takes my hand again and slowly pulls it to her mouth, tenderly
kissing the back of my hand, such an old fashioned, sweet gesture. My heart leaps into my mouth.
"Thank you for this weekend, Laura. It's been... unforgettable. Wednesday, I'll pick you up from
work, from wherever?" she says softly.
"Wednesday," I whisper.
She kisses my hand again and places it back in my lap. She climbs out, comes round to my side,
and opens the passenger door. Why do I feel suddenly bereft? A lump forms in my throat. I must
not let her see me like this. Fixing a smile on my face, I clamber out of the car and head up the
path, knowing and dreading facing Betty. I turn and gaze at her midway. Chin up Hollis, I chide
myself.
"Oh... by the way, I'm wearing your underwear." I give her a small smile and lower the jeans I'm
wearing so she can see. Carmilla's mouth drops open, shocked. What a great reaction. My mood
shifts immediately, and I sashay into the house, part of me wanting to jump and punch the air.
Betty is in the living area packing up her books into crates.
"You're back. Where's Carmilla? How are you?" Her voice is fevered, anxious, and she bounds
up to me, grabbing my shoulders, minutely analyzing my face before I've even said hello.
Crap... I have to deal with Betty's persistence and tenacity, and I'm in possession of a legal signed
document saying I can't talk. It's not a healthy mix.
"Well how was it? I couldn't stop thinking about you, after Jamie left, that is." She grins
mischievously. That sounds kind of creepy. It was very private. All of it. Seeing and knowing
what Carmilla has to hide. But I have to give her some details, because she won't leave me alone
until I do.
"It was good, Betty. Very good, I think," I say quietly, trying to hide my embarrassed tell-all
smile.
"You think?"
"I've got nothing to compare it to, do I?" I shrug apologetically.
"Did she make you come?"
Holy crap. She's so blunt. I go scarlet.
"Yes," I mumble, exasperated. That much is obvious.
Betty pulls me to the couch and we sit. She clasps my hands.
"That is good." Betty looks at me in disbelief. "It was your first time. Wow, Carmilla must really
know what she's doing."
Oh Betty, if only you knew.
"My first time was horrid," she continues, making a sad comedy face. I smiled awkwardly,
wondering if I really wanted to hear this or not.
"Oh?" This was going to be awkward.
"Yes, Paul Sheridan. High school, dickless jock." She shudders. "He was rough, I wasn't ready.
We were both drunk. You know - typical teenage post-prom disaster. Ugh - it took me months
before I decided to have another go. And not with him; I was too young. You were right to wait."
"Betty, that sounds awful." Betty looks wistful.
"Yeah, took almost a year to have my first orgasm through penetrative sex and here you are... first
time?"
I nod shyly.
"I'm glad you lost it to someone who knows their ass from their elbow." She winks at me. "So
when are you seeing her again?"
"Wednesday. We're having dinner."
"So you still like her?"
"Yes. But I don't know about... well, if there's a future."
"Why?"
"She's complicated, Betty. You know - she inhabits a very different world to mine." Great excuse.
Much better than - she's got a Red Room of Pain, and she wants to make me her sex slave.
"Oh please, don't let this be about the money, Laura. From what I researched, it's unprecedented
for Carmilla to date anyone."
"Maybe she's really private about that stuff?" Like NDA level private, complete with lawyers and
everything.
"Laura, what is it?"
"I'm just remembering something Carmilla said."
"You look different," Betty says fondly.
"It's only because you now know what happened." I confess.
"You've barely given me any juicy tidbits! What's her bedroom like? Does she have fake boobs?"
"I'm not going to divulge stuff like that! I'm not asking if... Jamie was well hung, or whatever..."
Betty Spielsdorf goes pale in understanding. Or is there something she's dying to say? She gives
me a dewy-eyed look. I've never seen her react this way before. My jaw drops to the floor.
Where's Betty, what have you done with her?
"Oh, Laura," she gushes. "He's just... When we... oh..." She can hardly string a sentence together?
"I think you're trying to tell me that you like him after all this time."
She nods, grinning like a lunatic. "But he's... ugh! I need to just say it. He was born a girl."
"Oh." My mind goes back to a friend I met in high school as I already know what that means and
roll with it. "Okay. So you like him?"
She nods, glad to hear the tacit acceptance. "And I'm seeing him again Saturday. He's going to
help us move." She clasps her hands together, leaps up off the couch, and pirouettes to the
window. Moving. Crap -
I'd forgotten all about that, even with the packing cases surrounding us.
"That's helpful," I say appreciatively. She doesn't know I'm staying this summer because I'll be the
Dorm Don next fall. She nods and picks up two more books to pack.
"So what do you want to do with the whatever-thousand dollar book?" she asks. Carmilla saw the
quote and I told her I was going to return it, but it's still here, and she gave it to me for a reason,
as part of the warning... why? I shook my head at that.
"I'm going to return it to her."
"Really?"
"It's a completely over-the-top gift. I can't accept it, especially now." I grin at Betty, and she nods.
"I understand. By thew way, a couple of letters came for you, and Danny has been calling every
hour on the hour. She sounds desperate."
"I'll call her," I mutter evasively. If I tell Betty about Danny, she'll have her for breakfast. I collect
the letters from the dining table and open them. I have interviews! I can get a head start on my
internship for my senior year!
"Hey, I have interviews! The week after next for internships!"
"I told you your GPA would open doors, Laura." Betty, of course, got her internship with Silas'
paper. The article on Ms. Karnstein was her golden ticket.
"How does Jamie feel about you going away for the summer?" I ask. Betty wanders into the
kitchen, and for the first time this evening, she's disconsolate.
"He's understanding. Part of me doesn't want to go, but it's tempting to lie in the sun for a couple
of weeks. Besides, Mom is hanging in there, thinking this will be our last real family holiday
before Ethan and I head off into the world of paid employment."
I'll be alone in our new dorm room. That will be weird. The phone rings, jolting me from my
reverie.
"That'll be Danny."
I sigh. I know I have to talk to her. I grab the phone.
"Hi."
"Laura, you're back!" Danny shouts her relief at me.
"Obviously." Sarcasm drips from my voice, and I roll my eyes at the phone.
She's silent for a moment.
"Can I see you? I'm sorry about Friday night. I was drunk... and you... well. Laura - please forgive
me."
"Do you know exactly how much you're asking me to forgive you over what happened Friday
night? You really scared me, you know? I always had a fear that some guy would do that to me,
and instead it came from you. You hurt my feelings; you know I don't feel like that about you."
She sighs heavily, sadly.
"I know, Laura. I just thought, if I kissed you, it might change how you feel." Change how I feel?
While I was intoxicated?!
"Danny, I was drunk. I was given the talk by my dad about this kind of stuff happening in college.
I mean, why do you think he gave me bear spray? I trusted as a friend, only to see you try to take
advantage of me and now you're trying to excuse your own actions because you were drunk?
That's rape culture right there, and I don't have to stand this from you." I hated to say it, but it's the
truth.
"So you're with her now?" Her tone is full of disdain.
"So you're with her now?" Her tone is full of disdain.
"Danny, I'm not with anybody."
"But you spent the night with her." She sounded hurt, but damn it, this isn't about her hurt
feelings!
"That's none of your business!"
"Is it the money?" Danny spat jealously.
"
I'M NOT A WHORE!" I shout, staggered by her audacity. "Look, I get you're upset, hurting,
and jealous, but seriously. What I do with someone else is NOT your concern."
"Laura," she whines and apologizes simultaneously. I cannot deal with her pettiness right now.
"Maybe we can hang out or something later on. I'll call you." I try to be conciliatory. She is my
friend, but right now, I don't need this.
"So you'll call?" The hope in her voice twists my heart. She's going to delude herself no matter
what I say, won't she?
"Yes... goodnight, Danny." I hang up, not waiting for her response.
"What was that all about?" Betty demands, her hands on her hips. I decide honesty is the policy.
She's looking more intractable than ever.
"She made a pass at me on Friday."
"Danny and Carmilla?! Laura, your pheromones must be working overtime!" She shakes her head
in humor and returns to packing crates.
"More like she tried to force herself on me when I was way too drunk."
"Oh, that happens." Betty says, rolling her eyes. I realize that it's a lost cause with her as we sit
among the boxes eating, quaffing cheap red wine, and watching crap TV. This is normality. It's so
grounding and welcome after the last forty-eight hours of... madness. I eat my first unhurried, no
nagging, peaceful meal in that time.
Danny is easy to deal with. But Carmilla... Carmilla takes a whole different league of handling, of
understanding. Part of me wants to run and hide. What am I going to do? Her burning dark eyes
and that intense seduction stare come into my mind's eye, and my body tightens at the mere
thought. She's not even here, and I'm turned on. It can't just be about the sex, can it? I recall her
gentle banter this morning at breakfast, her joy at my delight at the big cat sanctuary, her playing
the violin - she's such a complicated person. And now I have an insight as to why.
A young girl deprived of her adolescence, sexually abused by some evil Mrs. Robinson figure...
no wonder she's old before her time. My heart fills with sadness at the thought of what she must
have been through. I'm too naive to know exactly what, but the research should shed some light.
But do I really want to know? Do I want to explore this world I know nothing about?
If I'd not met her, I'd still be sweetly and blissfully oblivious. My mind drifts to last night, and this
morning... and the incredible, sensual things I've experienced. Do I want to say goodbye to that?
Betty wanders back into the living room, grinning from ear to ear. Perhaps she's in love - I gape at
her. She's never behaved like this.
"Laura, I'm off to bed. I'm pretty tired."
"Me too, Betty."
She hugs me.
"I'm glad you're back in one piece. There's something about Carmilla," she adds quietly,
apologetically. I give her a small, reassuring smile - all the while thinking... How the hell does she
know? This is what will make her a great journalist, her unfaltering intuition. And it means I have
to always be wary for Carmilla's sake.
Collecting my purse, I wander listlessly into my bedroom. I am weary from all our carnal exertions
of the last day and from the complete and utter dilemma that I'm faced with. I sit on my bed and
gingerly extract the manila folder from the bag, turning it over and over in my hands. Do I really
want to know the extent of Carmilla's depravity? It's so daunting. I take a deep breath, and with
my heart in my throat, I rip open the envelope.
Chapter End Notes
A/N: Below is the original conversation in 50SoG
"Can I see you? I'm sorry about Friday night. I was drunk... and you... well. Ana -
please forgive me."
"Of course, I forgive you Jose. Just don't do it again. You know I don't feel like that
about you."
He sighs heavily, sadly.
"I know, ana. I just thought, if I kissed you, it might change how you feel."
"Jose, I love you dearly, you mean so much to me. You're like the brother I never
had.
That's not going to change. You know that." I hate to let him down, but it's the truth.
"So you're with him now?" Him tone is full of disdain.
"Jose, I'm not with anybody."
"But you spent the night with him."
"That's none of your business!"
"Is it the money?"
"Jose! How dare you!" I shout, staggered by his audacity.
"Ana," he whines and apologizes simultaneously. I cannot deal with his petty
jealousy now. I know he's hurt, but my plate is overflowing dealing with Christian
Grey.
Contract Negotiations
Chapter Notes
A/N: The contract part here was too dense and dragged the pacing of the story, so
that's out. Instead I use a worksheet system that I also just happen to have on my
laptop. Also, the grandiose gift of lending a macbook pro was removed because
Laura has her own laptop, thank you very much. I also removed the excessive emails
going back and forth. (I listen to 50SoG as an audio book, so let me tell you that this
part is VERY tedious to get through)
See the end of the chapter for more
The worksheet began with a basic series of health questions. Safety first, I like that.
NAME_ Laura Hollis _ AGE_ 21 _ ORIENTATION_ Pansexual _ GENDER_ Female _
Any specific Health & Safety Issues that need to be communicated before Continuing?
(Details/What to do if...)
Diabetes?
Heart?
Prosthetic?
Asthma/COPD?
Anxiety/Panic?
Back/Skeletal
HIV/AIDS
STD
Blood Born Pathogen
Arthritis
Anemia
Birth Control
Other
No physical issues like that, and I'm not on any kind of birth control...
The document continued on with a checklist, and I was fairly certain that I could make all this out.
Safe words and signals
[X] I want standard safe words Red Yellow & Purple
[X] The dominant should establish one or more safe words
[X] When I cry, the scene should stop
[X] I should be able to communicate in plain language
[X] The dominant should be able to read my body language
[-] I want to be tested when I use a safe word or signal
[X] All activity should stop immediately when I use a safe word or signal
[-] I do not want to use any safe word at all and my signals should be ignored completely
[X] When I use a safe word or signal the dominant should establish if the scene can continue
[X] A scene should go on up to the point where I use a safe word or signal
[-] The use of safe words and signals should be avoided as much as possible
Others, please specify: _ _ _
I had to research what exactly a safe word was, but thank goodness for Wikipedia. It went on to
talk about "Safe, Sane, and Consensual" like it was the safety mantra for the BDSM community.
So there's a community? The article went on to suggest that some places would have a Dungeon
Monitor, which made me giggle at the thought of a kinky safety monitor going around and making
sure everyone stayed safe and cleaned up afterwards like you would a bench at the gym.
Does Carmilla go to any of these community events? Judging from her paranoid secrecy, I'd say
she doesn't. I wonder if she'd let me go to one of these events, so I could talk to other submissives
and get a better understanding of what we're expected to do. I continued filling out the form.
To me erotic power exchange is:
[X] Something I like incidentally, just as a kick
[-] Something I like, but not too often
[-] Something I want as much as possible
[-] A lifestyle that I consider important and want to practice as much as possible
[-] A lifestyle that should be present at all times
[-] My way of life
[-] The most important thing I can think of
[-] Something I want exercised at all times and no matter what the consequences are.
Others, please specify: _ _ _
Sex and Sexuality
[-] I need to be sexually aroused when in scene
[-] An orgasm turns me off
[X] I like as many orgasms as I can get
[-] An orgasm must only be allowed as a reward
[-] An orgasm is a must to end the scene
[X] Orgasms are not important, but nice
[X] I want my sexual abilities to be stretched
[X] Not being tied up, but verbally commanded
[?] Being in a public place and dominated in a subtle way
[?] Being taken out with collar and leash
[?] Caned, flogged or whipped without being restrained
[X] I like to be persuaded, rather than commanded
[-] Make me feel guilty
[-] Make me feel cheap
[X] Used as a servant
[X] Make me feel used
[X] Make me feel owned
[-] Make me feel useless
[-] Objectify me
[?] Rough sex/being "raped" (Carmilla: I'm okay with rough sex like before, but not being
'raped'.)
[?] Being tied and tortured
[-] Being tortured without being tied or cuffed
[-] Being used by more than one dominant
[-] Playing in combination with other couples
I understood what rape play was, and it still didn't seem like something I would ever like. A lot of
this list are things I've never tried, so I had no idea how I'd handle some of this, so I left a question
mark on them. The next few pages were simply listing different acts that could be done, and I had
to rank them from 1-5, or mark it off as a Hard Limit. I ignored the 'Done' check-boxes since I
hadn't ever done anything like this before.
Activity
Anal Play
Acts in which the anus is involved.
Beating (General)
Acts in which one is beaten.
Beating - Canes
Acts in which one is beaten with a cane.
Beating - Crops
Acts in which one is beaten with a crop.
Beating - Floggers
Acts in which one is beaten with a flogger.
Beating - Hairbrushes
Acts in which one is beaten with a hairbrush.
Beating - Hard
Acts in which one is beaten hard.
Beating - Paddles
Acts in which one is beaten with a paddle.
Beating - Soft
Acts in which one is beaten softly.
Beating - Spanking
Acts in which one is beaten with a hand.
Beating - Whips
Acts in which one is beaten with a whip.
I sighed, feeling overwhelmed at how this goes on for a few pages. She expects me to fill all of this
out?! I sighed, bored at the lengthy paperwork ahead of me. I flipped a few pages forward to find
"Drinking Blood, Drinking Semen, Drinking Urine..." WHOA! Well, there's my Hard Limit! I
cringed at just the thought of that and turned another page and winced as I glanced over stuff
regarding fisting. I was still sore but I knew enough that I would be more comfortable with fisting
than drinking anything on this list.
Carmilla Karnstein, what kind of freaky world have you drawn me into?!
I put down the worksheets and instead do a web-search for snape-submiss, remembering the
suggested fanfiction. I need a break already. I found the story and started reading, and found
myself pulled into the story before very long. I was biting my thumb in shock and arousal in the
third chapter, intrigued by the thought of Hermione Granger getting turned on by a spanking and
having to call herself a slut.
Okay, this is kinda hot.
I tried to remember if I saw 'being forced to talk dirty' was anywhere in the paperwork. I flipped
the pages over and wrote it out anyways. I got up to get some water and a bite of food, and
realized that it was past midnight. I didn't have work in the morning, so I kept on reading. It wasn't
until I yawned and stretched after awhile that I realized that the sun was coming back up and it
was almost time for breakfast.
Hollis, you stayed up all night reading a fic. Again.
Except that this wasn't just any story; this was my story. I couldn't help but think of Carmilla using
a belt on me, putting her fingers in me, and making me quiver and orgasm and curl into her arms
and feel safe and loved and secure. I was breathing heavy just at reading this smut! A part of me
realized that Carmilla had probably wanted me to read this, so I would understand that being a
submissive didn't mean that I was weak in any sense of the word.
I wanted to keep on reading, but exhaustion was catching up to me. I scramble up and change into
pajamas and brush my teeth, looking at myself in the mirror.
I can't seriously be considering this...
The only person I've ever been attracted to, and she comes with a contract, a worksheet of limits,
an honest to god dungeon, and a world of issues. Well, at least I got my way this weekend.
I flush at the memory of her hands and mouth on me, her talented fingers inside me. Closing my
eyes, I feel the familiar delicious pull of my muscles from deep, deep down. I want to do that
again and again. Maybe if I just sign up for the sex... would she go with that?
Am I submissive? Maybe? I guess I come across that way. Maybe I misled her in the interview.
I'm shy, yes... but submissive? I let Betty bully me - but that's not the same. And those limits, jeez.
My mind boggles, but I'm reassured that they are up for discussion.
I wander back to my bedroom. This is too much to think about. I need a clear head - a fresh
morning approach to the problem. I put the worksheets and contract back in the satchel.
Tomorrow... tomorrow is another day. Clambering into bed, I switch off the light and lie staring
up at the ceiling. Oh, I wish I'd never met her. I'd never have tasted this forbidden fruit and I
wouldn't crave it even more. But I have never felt as alive as I do now.
I close my eyes, and I drift into a heavy sleep with occasional dreams of four-poster beds and
shackles and intensely dark eyes.
Betty wakes me the next day.
"Laura, I've been calling you! You must have been out cold."
My eyes reluctantly open. She's not just up - she's been for a run. I glance at my alarm. It's eleven
in the morning. Holy Moses, I've slept for a solid seven hours.
"Yeah, I was up late. What's up?"
"You have a phone call."
Betty handed me the phone as adrenaline made me wake. I take the phone call into the hallway for
some privacy.
"Wow, Hollis. I thought I wasn't a morning person." Carmilla's voice held her usual detached
sultyness.
I yawned, recalling what kept me up. "Your recommended fic drew me in. I'm at the point where
she's at her first play party. Are they like that in real life?"
"I wouldn't know; I don't want to get outed as a Dominatrix."
"So far, I'm intrigued."
"I see. So you are still considering my proposition?"
"Your indecent proposal? Yes I am. I have issues though."
She chuckles, sounding relieved.
"Well, I'd be disappointed if you didn't."
"I was going to email them to you."
"I think I like being the first thing you hear in morning. What are your issues, 'Hermione'?" I
smiled, realizing she was flirting with me.
"See, I knew you had a sense of humor somewhere in there." I smile.
"Only certain things are funny, cupcake. I worried you would say no, with no discussion at all."
Her voice drops.
"I don't know yet. I haven't made up my mind. Will you collar me?"
She made a small sound of surprise.
"You have been doing your research. I don't know, Laura. I've never collared anyone."
Oh... should I be surprised by this? I know so little about the scene... I don't know.
"Were you collared?" I whisper.
"Yes."
"By Mrs. Robinson?"
"Mrs. Robinson!" she laughs loudly, freely, and she looks so young and carefree, .
"I'll tell her you said that, she'll love it."
"You still talk to her regularly?" I can't keep the shock out of my voice.
"No, it's pretty rare, but she'd love it." She's serious now.
Oh... and part of me is suddenly insanely jealous - I'm disturbed by the depth of my feeling.
"I see." My voice is tight. "So you have someone you can discuss this stuff with, but I'm not
allowed."
She frowns.
"I don't think I've ever thought about it like that. Mrs. Robinson did introduce me to this lifestyle,
but like I told you, that's in my past. If you'd like, I can introduce you to one of my former subs;
you could talk to one of them."
What? Is she deliberately trying to upset me?
"Is this your idea of a joke?"
"No, Laura." She's bemused as she shakes her head earnestly.
"No - I'll do this on my own, thank you very much," I snap at her.
She stares at me, surprised.
"Laura, I... " She's lost for words. A first, I think. "I didn't mean to offend you."
"I'm not offended. I'm appalled."
"Appalled?"
"I don't want to talk to one of your ex-girlfriends... slave... sub... whatever you call them."
"Laura Hollis - are you jealous?"
I flush, crimson. The surge of jealousy I felt only moments ago tells me that I have deeper feelings
for her than I have admitted to myself.
"Do you think I am?" I replied.
She sighed. "Despite what you may see in romance novels or romantic comedies, I do not see
jealousy as a good thing. In fact, most of the time it's someone lashing out due to their own
insecurities." She frowns a bit. "Besides, as I told you, I don't do girlfriends. Nor do I sleep with
my submissives, or anyone. Friday and Saturday night were exceptions. It won't happen again,
cupcake." I can hear the resolve behind her soft, sultry voice.
I purse my lips at that and can't think of a reply.
"So nothing you want to discuss now? About the contract."
"No." I reply petulantly.
"God, I'd like to give you a good hiding. You'd feel a lot better, and so would I."
"You can't say things like that... I haven't signed anything yet."
"A girl can dream" I could hear her smile over the phone. Carmilla sighed quietly. "Sweetness,"
she whispers. "What are you doing to me?"
"I could say the same to you," I whisper back, hanging up.
"Laura?" she whispers as I open the door. She takes one look at me and throws her arms around
me.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying? You never cry." She retrieves my brush from the side table,
and sitting behind me, very slowly starts brushing out the knots.
"I just don't think our relationship is going to go anywhere." I stare down at my fingers.
"I thought you said you were going to see her on Wednesday?"
"I am, that was our original plan."
"So, what happened?"
"I don't think I want to see her anymore."
"Why? I thought she was all smitten as a kitten for you."
I frown. Carmilla, smitten with me? Hardly. She's just looking for a new toy - a convenient new
toy that she can bed and do unspeakable things to. My heart tightens painfully.
This is the reality.
"She wants different things than I can provide."
"Laura, I don't understand, you just let her make love to you?"
"No, Betty, we don't make love - we fuck - Carmilla's terminology. She doesn't do the love
thing."
"I knew there was something weird about her. She has commitment issues."
I nod, as if in agreement. Inwardly, I pine. Oh Betty... I wish I could tell you everything,
everything about this strange, sad, kinky woman, and you could tell me to forget about her. Stop
me from being a fool.
"I guess it's all a little overwhelming," I murmur. That's the understatement of the year. Because I
don't want to talk about Carmilla any more, I ask her about Jamie. Betty's whole demeanor
changes at the mere mention of his name, she lights up from within, beaming at me.
"He's coming over early Saturday to help load up." She hugs the hairbrush, boy has she got it bad,
and I feel a familiar faint stab of envy. Betty has found herself a normal man, and she looks so
happy.
I turn and hug her.
Work at the bookstore comes to a drop-off as most employees are going home for the summer and
only a skeleton crew is needed for the few insane students who think summer courses are a good
idea. Soon enough, however, it's Wednesday and she's picking me up from work so we can go
have dinner together.
Carmilla is leaning casually against the bar, drinking a glass of white wine. She's dressed ina silver
blouse, black jeans, black boots, and black jacket. Her hair is as tousled as ever. I sigh. Of course
she looks gorgeous. I stand for a few seconds in the entrance of the bar, gazing at her, admiring
the view. She is beyond beautiful. She glances, nervously I think, toward the entrance and stills
when she sees me. Blinking a couple of times, she then smiles a slow, lazy, sexy smile that renders
me speechless and all molten inside. Making a supreme effort not to bite my lip, I move forward
aware that I, Laura Hollis of Clumsyville, am in heels. She walks gracefully over to meet me.
"You look stunning," she murmurs as she leans down to briefly kiss my cheek. "A dress, Miss
Hollis. I approve." Taking my arm, she leads me to a secluded booth and signals for the waiter.
"What would you like to drink?"
My lips quirk up in a quick, sly smile as I sit and slide into the booth - well, at least she's asking
me.
"I'll have what you're having, please." See! I can play nice and behave myself.
Amused, she orders another glass of Sancerre and slides in opposite me.
"They have an excellent wine cellar here," she says, cocking her head to one side.
Putting her elbows on the table, she steeples her fingers in front of her beautiful mouth, her gray
eyes alive with some unreadable emotion. And there it is... that familiar pull and charge from her,
it connects somewhere deep inside me. I shift uncomfortably under her scrutiny, my heart
palpitating. I must keep my cool.
"Are you nervous?" she asks softly.
"Yes."
She leans forward.
"Me too," she whispers conspiratorially. My eyes shoot up to meet . Nervous.
Never. I blink at her, and she smiles her adorable lopsided smile at me. The waiter arrives with my
wine, a small dish of mixed nuts, and another of olives.
"So, how are we going to do this?" I ask. "Run through my points one by one?"
"Impatient as ever, Miss Hollis."
"Well, I could ask you what you thought of the weather today?"
She smiles, and her long fingers reach down to collect an olive. She pops it in her mouth, and my
eyes linger on her mouth, that mouth, that's been on me... all parts of me. I flush.
"I thought the weather was particularly unexceptional today," she smirks.
"Are you smirking at me, Ms. Karnstein?"
"I am, Miss Hollis."
"You know this contract is legally unenforceable."
"I am fully aware of that, Miss Hollis."
"Were you going to tell me that at any point?"
She frowns at me.
"You'd think I'd coerce you into something you don't want to do, and then pretend that I have a
legal hold over you?"
"Well... yes."
"You don't think very highly of me at all, do you?"
"You haven't answered my question." At my reply, her playful smile disappears.
"Laura, it doesn't matter if it's legal or not. It represents an arrangement that I would like to make
with you - what I would like from you and what you can expect from me. If you don't like it, then
don't sign. If you do sign, and then decide you don't like it, there are enough get-out clauses so
you can walk away. Even if it were legally binding, do you think I'd drag you through the courts
if you did decide to run?"
I take a long draft of my wine.
"Relationships like this are built on honesty and trust," she continues. "If you don't trust me - trust
me to know how I'm affecting you, how far I can go with you, how far I can take you - if you
can't be honest with me, then we really can't do this."
Oh my, we've cut to the chase quickly. How far she can take me. Holy shit. What does that
mean?
"So it's quite simple, Laura. Do you trust me or not?" Her eyes are burning, fervent.
"Did you have similar discussions with um... the fifteen?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because they were all established submissives. They knew what they wanted out of a
relationship with me and generally what I expected. With them, it was just a question of fine-
tuning the soft limits, details like that."
"Is there a store you go to? Submissives 'R Us?"
She laughs.
"Not exactly."
"Then how?"
"Is that what you want to discuss? Or shall we get down to the nitty-gritty? Your issues, as you
say."
I swallow. Do I trust her? Is that what this all comes down to - trust? Surely that should be a two-
way thing. I remembered her snit when she thought I phoned Danny.
"Have you eaten today?"
I stare at her. Honesty... Holy crap, she's not going to like my answer.
"No." My voice is small.
She narrows her eyes.
"You have to eat, Laura. We can eat here or in my suite. What would you prefer?"
"I think we should stay in public, on neutral ground."
She smiles sardonically.
"Do you think that would stop me?" she says softly, a sensual warning.
My eyes widen, and I swallow again.
"I hope so."
"Come, I have a private dining room booked. No public." She smiles at me enigmatically and
climbs out of the booth, holding her hand out to me.
"Bring your wine," she murmurs.
Placing my hand in her, I slide out and stand up beside her. She releases me, and her hand reaches
for my elbow. She leads me back through the bar and up the grand stairs to a mezzanine floor. A
young man in full Heathman livery approaches us.
"Ms. Karnstein, this way please."
We follow her through a plush seating area to an intimate dining room. Just one secluded table.
The room is small but sumptuous. Beneath a shimmering chandelier, the table is all starched linen,
crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and white rose bouquet. An old-world, sophisticated charm pervades
the wood-paneled room. The waiter pulls out my chair, and I sit. She places my napkin in my lap.
Carmilla sits opposite me. I peek up at her. "Don't bite your lip," she whispers.
I frown. Damn it. I don't even know that I'm doing it.
"I've ordered already. I hope you don't mind."
Frankly, I'm relieved, I'm not sure I can make any further decisions.
"No, that's fine," I acquiesce.
"It's good to know that you can be amenable. Now, where were we?"
"The nitty-gritty." I take another large sip of wine. It really is delicious. Carmilla Karnstein does
wine well. Carmilla does a lot of things well, particularly with that mouth. I blush at the intrusive
thought.
"Yes, your issues." She fishes into her inside jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper.
My email.
"My sexual health. Well, all of my previous partners have had blood tests, and I have regular tests
every six months for all the health risks you mention. All my recent tests are negative. I have never
taken drugs. In fact, I'm vehemently anti-drugs. I have a strict no-tolerance policy with regards to
drugs for all my employees, and I insist on random drug testing."
Wow... control freakery gone mad. I blink at her shocked.
"I have never had any sexually transmitted infections. Does that answer your question?"
I nod, impassive.
"Your next point I mentioned earlier. You can walk away any time, Laura. I won't stop you. If
you go, however - that's it. Just so you know."
"Okay," I answer softly. If I go, that's it. The thought is surprisingly painful.
The waiter arrives with our first course. How can I possibly eat? Holy Moses - she's ordered
oysters on a bed of ice.
"I hope you like oysters," Carmilla's voice is soft.
"I've never had one." Ever.
"Really? Well." She reaches for one. "All you do is tip and swallow. I think you can manage
that." I blush scarlet. She grins at me, squirts some lemon juice onto her oyster, and then tips it into
her mouth.
"Hmm, delicious. Tastes of the sea," she grins at me. "Go on," she encourages.
"So, I don't chew it?"
"No, Laura, you don't." His eyes are alight with humor. She looks so young and carefree right
now, completely unlike the suave and aloof woman I met at first. I'm glad to see past that facade.
I reach across and pick up my first ever oyster. Okay... here goes nothing. I squirt some lemon
juice on it and tip it up. It slips down my throat, all seawater, salt, the sharp tang of citrus, and
fleshiness... ooh. I lick my lips, and she's watching me intently, her eyes hooded.
"Well?"
"I'll have another," I say dryly.
"Good girl," she says proudly.
"Did you choose these deliberately? Aren't they known for their aphrodisiac qualities?"
"No, they are the first item on the menu. I don't need an aphrodisiac near you. I think you know
that, and I think you react the same way near me," she says simply. "So where were we?" She
glances at my email as I reach for another oyster.
She reacts the same way. I affect her... wow.
"Obey me in all things. Yes, I want you to do that. I need you to do that. Think of it as role-play
Laura."
"But I'm worried you'll hurt me."
"Hurt you how?"
"Physically." And emotionally.
"Do you really think I would do that? Go beyond any limit you can't take?"
"You've said you've hurt someone before."
"Yes, I have. It was a long time ago."
"How did you hurt them?"
"I suspended them from my playroom ceiling. There's always the risk of nerve damage and didn't
say anything about going numb because she wanted to impress me instead of calling her yellow
safe-word. In fact, that's one of your questions."
Suspension - that's what the carabiners are for in the playroom. Rope play.
I hold my hand up begging her to stop.
"I don't need to know any more. So you won't suspend me then?"
"Not if you really don't want to. You can make that a hard limit."
"Okay."
"So obeying, do you think you can manage that?"
She stares at me, her dark eyes intense. The seconds tick by.
"I could try," I whisper.
"Good." She smiles. "Now term. One month instead of three is no time at all, especially if you
want a weekend away from me each month. I don't think I'll be able to stay away from you for
that length of time. I can barely manage it now," she pauses.
She can't stay away from me? What?
"How about, one day over one weekend per month you get to yourself - but I get a midweek night
that week?"
"Okay."
"And please, let's try it for three months. If it's not for you then, you can walk away anytime."
"Three months?" I'm feeling railroaded. I take another large sip of wine and treat myself to
another oyster. I could learn to like these.
"The ownership thing, that's just terminology and goes back to the principle of obeying. It's to get
you into the right frame of mind, to understand where I'm coming from. And I want you to know
that as soon as you cross my threshold as my submissive, I will do what I like to you. You have to
accept that and accept it willingly. That's why you have to trust me. I will fuck you, any time, any
way, I want - anywhere I want. I will discipline you, because you will make mistakes. I will train
you to please me. And I know you've not done this before, so we'll take it slowly, and I will help
you. We'll build up to various scenarios. I want you to trust me, but I know I have to earn your
trust, and I will."
"But you say I have to be trained, makes me feel like I'm some sort of pet for your... amusement."
"I know the terminology might seem a bit imposing - it's to help you get into the mindset, it means
anything goes. Within our negotiated limitations."
"Some of this seems really scary."
"I know, sweetness, but... you've gotten to the wax play scene in that fic I suggested? It looks
really scary at first, but once you realize the relative harm is minimal, and you feel the heat upon
your skin and see the pretty designs I can do with different colors..."
She's so passionate, mesmerizing. This is obviously her obsession, the way she is... I can't take my
eyes off her. She really, really wants this. She stops talking and gazes at me.
"Still with me?" she whispers, her voice rich, warm and seductive. She takes a sip of her wine, her
seduction eyes holding mine.
The waiter comes to the door, and Carmilla subtly nods permitting the waiter to clear our table.
"You see, there's a very fine line between pleasure and pain, Laura. They are two sides of the
same coin, one not existing without the other. I can show you how pleasurable pain can be. You
don't believe me now, but this is what I mean about trust. There will be pain, but nothing that you
can't handle. Again, it comes down to trust. Do you trust me, Laura?"
"Yes, I do." I respond spontaneously, not thinking... because it's true - I do trust her.
"Well then," she looks relieved. "The rest of this stuff is just details."
"Important details." She seemed ready to give a slightly frustrated sigh, but stopped herself.
"Okay, let's talk through those."
My head is swimming with all her words. I should have recorded this on my phone so I can listen
back to this. There is so much information, so much to process. The waiter re-emerges with our
entrees: black cod, asparagus, and crushed potatoes with a hollandaise sauce. I have never felt less
like food.
"I hope you like fish," Carmilla says suggestively.
I make a stab at my food and take a long drink of my sparkling water. I vehemently wish it was
wine.
"Why can't I touch you?"
"Because you can't."
Carmilla's mouth sets in a mulish line.
"Is it because of Mrs. Robinson?"
She looks quizzically at me.
"Why the hell would you think that?" And immediately she understands. "You think she
traumatized me?"
I nod as she rolls her eyes.
"No Laura. She's not the reason. Besides, Mrs. Robinson wouldn't take any of that shit from me.
She'd probably know exactly how to get over... well, be more okay with being touched."
Oh... but I have to. I pout.
"So it has nothing to do with her." She took a sip, willing the conversation to change.
"Do you want to go through the soft limits now too?"
I shake my head. "Not over dinner."
She smiles.
"Squeamish?"
"Something like that." I reply.
"You've not eaten very much." I try to not frown at her judgment.
"I've had enough."
"Three oysters, four bites of cod, and one asparagus stalk, no potatoes, no nuts, no olives, and
you've not eaten all day. I need to know you're taking care of yourself."
Jeez. She's kept an inventory.
"Carmilla, please, it's not every day I sit through conversations like this."
She bit her tongue as she seemed to back-pedal. "I need you fit and healthy." She's got a fair point
there.
"I know."
"And right now, I want to peel you out of that dress."
I swallow. Peel me out of my dress. I feel the pull deep in my belly. Muscles that I'm now more
acquainted with clench at her words.
"I don't think that's a good idea," I murmur quietly. "We haven't had dessert."
"You want dessert?" she snorts.
"Yes."
"You could be dessert," she murmurs suggestively.
"I'm not sure I'm sweet enough."
"Cupcake, you're deliciously sweet. I should know."
"Ms. Karnstein. You're using sex as a weapon. It really isn't fair," I whisper, staring down at my
hands, and then looking directly at her. She raises her eyebrows, surprised, and I see she's
considering my words.
"You're right. I do. In life you use what you know. Doesn't change how much I want you. Here.
Now."
How can she seduce me solely with her voice? I'm panting already - my heated blood rushing
through my veins, my nerves tingling.
"I'd like to try something," she breathes.
I frown. She's just given me a shit load of ideas to process and now this.
"If you were my sub, you wouldn't have to think about this. It would be easy." Her voice is soft,
seductive. "All those decisions - all the wearying thoughts you have to process and judge and
decide - if you were mine, you'd be free from that. That's what I'd do as your Dominant. And right
now, I know you want me, Laura."
My frown deepens. How can she tell?
"I can tell because... "
Holy shit she's answering my unspoken question. Is she psychic as well?
"... Your body gives you away. You're pressing your thighs together, you're flushed, and your
breathing has changed."
Oh, this is too much. I am betraying myself to her.
"How did you know about my thighs?" My voice is low, disbelieving. They're under the table for
heaven's sake.
"I felt the tablecloth move, and it's a calculated guess based on years of experience."
I flush and stare down at my hands. That's what I'm hindered by in this game of seduction. She's
the only one who knows and understands the rules. I'm just too naive and inexperienced. My only
sphere of reference is fictional: Elizabeth Bennett would be outraged, Jane Eyre too frightened,
and Tess d'Urberville would succumb, just as I have.
"I haven't finished my cod." I said, hoping to distract her.
"You'd prefer cold cod to me?"
My head jerks up to glare at her, and her dark eyes burn molten silver, with compelling need.
"I thought you liked me clearing my plate."
"Right now, Miss Hollis, I couldn't give a fuck about your food."
"Carmilla. You just don't fight fair."
"I know." She says with a shrug, "I never have."
Fine, I think, raising the hem of my dress under the table, two can play at this game. Carmilla
raises an eyebrow at me in question as I hook my thumbs around the waistline and shift my weight
and pull my panties down my thighs, letting it drop to my ankles as I feigned her classic look of
indifference.
"What am I doing with my thighs now?" I boldly ask.
Her mouth drops as she pants in need. Her voice comes out calm, too calm. "Laura. What are you
doing?"
I slip my left foot through and reach down to pick the panties off of my right ankle and palm them
as I put them into my purse. They were already getting wet.
"I'm enjoying having this private room to ourselves."
Carmilla shifts in her seat.
"I think you're toying with me, Miss Hollis."
I feign innocence as I lick the tips of my fingers. "I do enjoy fish."
The waiter chooses this moment to knock and, unbidden, enter. She glances briefly at Carmilla,
who frowns at her but then nods, so the waiter clears our plates. The waiter's arrival has broken
the spell. And I grasp this precious moment of clarity. I have to go. Our meeting will only end one
way if I stay, and I need some boundaries after such an intense conversation. As much as my
body craves her touch, my mind is rebelling. I need some distance to think about all she's said. I
still haven't made a decision, and her sexual allure and prowess doesn't make it any easier.
"Would you like some dessert?" Carmilla asks, perfectly polite, but her eyes blaze with their
hidden meaning.
"No, thank you. I think I should go." I stare down at my hands.
"Go?" She can't hide her surprise.
The waiter leaves hastily.
"Yes." It's the right decision. If I stay here, in this room with her, she will fuck me. I stand,
purposefully.
Carmilla stands automatically, revealing years of ingrained civility.
"I don't want you to go."
"Please... I have to."
"Why?"
"Because you've given me so much to consider... and I need some distance."
"I could make you stay," she threatens.
"Yes, you could easily, but I don't want you to. You want me to willfully consent, which means
my mind cannot be drunk on desire."
She runs her hand through her hair, regarding me carefully.
"You know, when you fell into my office to interview me, you were all 'yes ma'am, no ma'am'. I
thought you were a natural-born submissive. But quite frankly, I'm not sure you have a submissive
bone in your delectable body, cupcake." She moves slowly toward me as her speaks, her voice
tense.
"You may be right," I breathe as she stands imperiously over me.
"I want the chance to explore the possibility that you do," she murmurs, staring down at me. She
reaches up and caresses my face, her thumb tracing my lower lip. "I don't know any other way,
Laura. This is who I am."
"I know."
As she drove me back to my dorm, it was silent. I was glad to have the time to think to myself,
while catching myself give coy glances over to the fallen angel beside me, whose ideas of love
were too wicked for me to rationalize. And I can't think clearly when all I want to do is just give
myself over to her and fall under the spell of her seduction eyes. I don't trust her with my body;
not entirely, not like that. I wasn't certain I could ever go back and enjoy 'vanilla sex' if this was as
good as she said it could be.
We get back to my dorm and she's opening the door for me before I even realize that the car had
stopped. I get out and try to thank for her for dinner when I realize we're way too close and my
eyes are locked onto hers, leaving me paralyzed for the briefest moment.
She leans down to kiss me, but pauses before her lips touch mine. What? Kiss me... Carmilla's
eyes searched mine, wanting, asking permission. I raise my lips to touch hers, and at the contact
she kisses me and because I don't know if I'll ever kiss her again, I let go - my hands moving of
their own accord and twisting into her hair, pulling her to me, my mouth opening, my tongue
stroking her.
Fireworks seem to be going off in my chest as we are kissing each other with complete abandon.
Her hand grasps the nape of my neck as she deepens the kiss, responding to my ardor. Her other
hand slides down my back and flattens at the base of my spine as she pushes me against her body.
We melt together right then and there and I feel like I forget where she ends and I begin as I catch
my breath. I feel drunk off of her kiss. "I can't persuade you to stay?" she breathes between kisses.
"No."
"Spend the night with me." I feel the tug as her voice made the barest inflection change and I
knew it was how she'd command me, if she put more strength in it. I can't, not like this.
"And not touch you? No."
She groans.
"You impossible girl." She pulls back, gazing down at me. "Why do I think you're telling me
goodbye?"
"Because I'm leaving now."
"That's not what I mean, and you know it."
"I have to think about this. I don't know if I can have the kind of relationship you want, Ms.
Karnstein."
She closes her eyes and presses her forehead against mine, giving us both the opportunity to slow
our breathing. After a moment, she kisses my forehead, inhales deeply, her nose in my hair, and
then she releases me, stepping back.
"As you wish, Miss Hollis," she says, her face impassive. "I'll walk you to your door."
She holds out her hand. Leaning down, I grab my purse and place my hand in hers. Holy crap,
this could be it. I follow her through the doorway and into the lobby, hands sweating, my blood
pumping. This could be the last goodbye if I decide to say no.
My heart contracts painfully in my chest. What a turnaround. What a difference a moment of
clarity can make to a girl.
"Thank you for dinner," I murmur.
"It's a pleasure as always, Miss Hollis," she says politely, though she looks distant in thought,
completely distracted and perhaps bored.
As I peer up at her, I commit her beautiful profile to memory. The idea that I might not see her
again haunts me, unwelcome and too painful to contemplate. She turns suddenly, staring down at
me, her expression completely blank and unreadable.
"Before you leave..." My voice is hoarse from unbidden, un-shed tears - jeez I'm not going to cry.
I give her a small smile. I open the door to my dorm and retrieve the book she gave me, complete
with my quote in reply that seems inappropriate now. "I can't accept this; I could get a car for as
much money you spent on this."
"It was a gift, Laura." She says, but accepts the book anyways.
"Goodbye, Carmilla." My chest was burning with the need to not do this, to turn away from this
decision as I closed the door and rested my forehead on the frame around it. I can hear her boots
clatter as she walks away, the footfalls going quiet as I let my chest constrict and tears flow from
me. The sobs I had been choking back pour forth as I make my way back to my bed.
I really didn't understand why I was crying. I was holding my own. She explained everything. She
was clear. She wants me, but the truth is, I need more. I need her to want me like I want and need
her, and deep down I know that's not possible. I am just overwhelmed.
I don't even know how to categorize her. If I do this thing... would she even be my girlfriend?
Will I be able to introduce her to my friends? Go out to bars, the cinema, bowling even, with her?
The truth is, I don't think I will. She won't even let me touch her and she won't let me sleep with
her. I know I've not had these things in my past, but I want them in my future.
And that's not the kind of future she sees.
What if I do say yes, and in three months' time she says no, she's had enough of trying to mold me
into something I'm not? How will I feel? I'll have emotionally invested three months, doing things
that I'm not sure I want to do. And if she then says no, agreement over, how could I cope with
that level of rejection? Perhaps it's best to back away now with what self-esteem I have remaining.
But the thought of not seeing her again is agonizing. How has she gotten under my skin so
quickly? It can't just be the sex... can it? I dash the tears from my eyes. I don't want to examine my
feelings for her. I'm frightened what I'll uncover if I do. What am I going to do?
As I prepare for bed, I get an alert on my phone that I received an email from Carmilla.
I don't understand why you ran this evening. I really hope I answered all your questions to your
satisfaction. I know I have given you a great deal to contemplate; and I am certain that you will
give my proposal your serious consideration. I really want to make this work. We will take it slow.
Trust me.
Carmilla Karnstein
Her email makes me weep more. I am not some merger; not... acquisition #16. Reading this, I
might as well be. I don't reply. I just don't know what to say to her. I fumble into my PJs, and
climb into bed. As I lie staring into the darkness, I think of all the times she warned me to stay
away.
'I don't do the girlfriend thing.'
'I'm not coming over all hearts and flowers...'
'I don't make love.'
'This is all I know.'
And as I weep into my pillow silently, it's this last idea I cling to. This is all I know, too.
Perhaps together we can chart a new course.
Chapter End Notes
Carmilla's former submissives didn't 'exactly' come from a 'submissives-r-us' store,
but she wasn't about to mention the Marketplace to her. (Hence my hesitation to even
insert the tag, but I will recommend Laura Antoniou's work to those who are
interested in decent kinky erotica.)
Graduation Day
Chapter Notes
A/N: I've changed the ages and classification of the Carmilla cast, making Perry,
LaFontaine, and Kirsch all graduate here while Laura and Betty have one year
remaining. Also I've removed the valedictorian's speech and added some details to
Carmilla's. Issue I had with 50SoG: the main character's mother just can't come
because her latest husband hurt himself, and doesn't sound like she really gives a
damn about her. (I deleted this mother as well from the story)
A/N #2: Issue with 50SoG: immediate and extreme emotional mood swings, giving
extravagant gifts, and being worried about your partner's anger are signs of an
abusive relationship. I did my best to tone that down here.
Carmilla is standing over me grasping a leather riding-crop. She's wearing those skin tight
leather pants and that's all. She flicks the crop slowly into her palm as she gazes down at me.
She's smiling, triumphant. I cannot move as I am naked and shackled, spread-eagled on a large
four-poster bed. I'm craning my neck as I gaze at her perfect breasts. Reaching forward, she trails
the tip of the crop from my forehead down the length of my nose, so I can smell the leather, and
over my parted, panting lips.
She pushes the tip into my mouth so I can taste the smooth, rich leather.
"Open," she commands her voice soft. My lips part obediently to that voice of hers.
"Enough," she snaps.
I'm panting once more as she tugs the crop out of my mouth, trails it down and under my chin, on
down my neck to the hollow at the base of my throat. She swirls it slowly there and then continues
to drag the tip down my body, along my sternum, taking time to swirl it over each nipple, then
over my torso and down to my navel. I'm panting, squirming, pulling against my restraints that
are biting into my wrists and my ankles. She continues to trail the leather tip south, through my
pubic hair to my clitoris. She flicks the crop and it hits my sweet spot with a sharp slap, and I
come, gloriously, shouting my release.
Abruptly, I wake, gasping for breath, covered in sweat and feeling the aftershocks of an orgasm.
Holy hell. I'm completely disorientated. What the hell just happened? I'm in my bed, alone. How...
Why... I sit bolt upright, shocked... wow. It's morning. I glance at my alarm clock - eight o'clock. I
put my head in my hands. I didn't know I could dream sex. Was it something I ate? Perhaps the
oysters? A part of me said that it was something that I haven't eaten lately, and it's bewildering me
to realize I could crave something to much after just once occurrence.
Betty is dressed and eating when I finally sit up and look around.
"Laura, are you okay? You look... odd."
"I'm fine." I avoid her piercing green eyes.
"Did you sleep at all?"
"Not very well."
I head for the kettle. I need tea.
"How was dinner?"
So it begins.
"We had oysters. Followed by cod, so I'd say it was... fishy."
"Ugh... I hate oysters, and I'm not asking about the food. How was Carmilla? What did you talk
about?"
"She was attentive," I pause. What can I say? Her HIV status is clear, she's heavily into 'role-
play', wants me to obey her every command, she hurt someone she suspended to her bedroom
ceiling, and she wanted to fuck me in the private dining room?. Would that be a good summary? I
try desperately to remember something from my encounter with Carmilla that I can discuss with
Betty.
"Oh, Betty, we talked about lots things. You know - how fussy she is about food. Incidentally,
she liked the dress." The kettle has boiled, so I make myself some tea. "Do you want tea?"
"Yes, please." Phew, Betty Spielsdorf sidetracked. I slice a bagel and pop it into the toaster. I flush
remembering my very vivid dream. What on earth was that about?
Last night was impossible to sleep. My head was buzzing with too many thoughts. I am so
confused; Carmilla's idea of a relationship is more like a job offer. It's not how I envisaged my
first romance - but, of course, Carmilla doesn't do romance. If I tell her I want more, she may say
no... and I could jeopardize what she has offered. And this is what concerns me most, because I
don't want to lose her. But I'm not sure I have the stomach to be her submissive - deep down, it's
the canes and whips that put me off. I'm a physical coward, and I will go a long way to avoid
pain. I think of my dream... is that what it would be like?
Betty comes back into the kitchen with her laptop. I concentrate on my bagel and listen patiently
as she's doing something on the internet. I deliver her tea and she takes it, giving me a polite smile
and a thank you. Maybe Carmilla was right and I am submissive.
I am dressed and ready when Dad arrives. I open the front door, and he's standing on the porch in
his ill-fitting suit. A warm surge of gratitude and love for this uncomplicated man streaks through
me, and I throw my arms around him in an uncharacteristic display of affection. He's taken-aback,
bemused.
"Hey, Laura, I'm pleased to see you too," he mutters as he hugs me, lifting me enough so I kick
my feet in the air. Setting me back down, he looks me up and down, his brow furrowed. "You
okay, kid?"
"Of course, Dad, can't a girl be pleased to see her old man?"
He smiles, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and follows me into the living area.
"You look good," he says.
"It's the dress." I shrug, not taking the compliment. He frowns.
"Where is Betty?"
"She's already on campus."
"Should we head on over?"
"Dad, we have half an hour. Would you like some tea? And you can tell me how everyone back
home is getting along. How was the drive down?" We chit-chat over tea for awhile before we
realize that the crowds will be a small disaster to navigate through and decide to leave sooner
rather than later.
Once we're on the campus proper, we follow the stream of humanity dotted with ubiquitous black
and red gowns, heading toward the sports auditorium.
"Laura, why do you seem so nervous? Are you worried Perry or LaFontaine didn't graduate or
something?"
Holy crap... why has Dad picked today to be so observant?
"No, Daddy. It's a big day." And I'm going to see her.
"Yeah, my baby girl got into college and is starting her last year. I'm proud of you, Laura."
"Aw... thanks." Oh I love this man.
The sports auditorium is crowded. We sit with the other parents and well-wishers in the tiered
seating, while I try to make out where my Dorm Don and her best friend are among the graduates.
There is no one on the stage yet, but I can't seem to steady my nerves. My heart is pounding, and
my breathing is shallow. She's here, somewhere. I wonder if Betty is talking to her, interrogating
her maybe.
At eleven precisely, the Chancellor appears from behind the stage, followed by the three Vice
Chancellors, and then the senior professors, all decked out in their black and red regalia. We stand
and applaud our teaching staff. Some Professors nod and wave, others look bored. Last on to the
stage is Carmilla. She stands out in her ash-gray suit, her white blouse giving her a healthy glow
under the auditorium lights. She looks so serious and self-contained... and I realize this is her cool,
business facade. As she sits, she crosses her legs and undoes her single-breasted jacket, and I
watch as her finger runs up her cleavage and dragged across her lip suggestively. Holy hell! I
cannot take my eyes off her - her beauty as distracting as ever - and she knows that I'm looking at
her. Carmilla just winked at me! I can feel my mouth go dry as I realize I've been panting. The
audience sits down and the applause ceases.
"Look at her!" One of the guys near me pointed out to his friend.
"She's hot."
I stiffen. I'm sure they're not talking about the Dean.
"Must be Carmilla Karnstein."
"Is she single?"
I bristle.
"I don't think so," I murmur.
"Oh." Both guys look at me in surprise.
"I think she's gay," I mutter.
"That's kinda hot." one of them says. I roll my eyes at that.
"What a shame," the other groans. Dad looks at me for a second as if trying to figure something
out, before turning back to the stage.
As the Chancellor gets to her feet and kicks off the proceedings with a speech, I recall my dream
from this morning as muscles begin to repeat that delectable clenching. I inhale sharply as she
catches my gaze again. I can see the shadow of a smile cross her lips, but it's fleeting. She briefly
closes her eyes, and on opening them, resumes her indifferent expression.
I try to pay attention to the droning speech, but I only have eyes for her. She, however, doesn't
turn her eyes toward me again. Despite my attempts to beckon for eye contact with my staring, she
just stares fixedly ahead.
Why won't she look at me? Perhaps she's changed her mind? A wave of unease washes over me.
Perhaps declining yet another illicit liaison was the end for her too. She's bored of waiting for me
to make up my mind. I remember her email last night. Maybe she's mad that I haven't replied.
Suddenly, the room erupts into applause as the Chancellor rises and introduces Carmilla... holy
shit, Carmilla's going to give a speech. The Chancellor touches briefly on Carmilla's
achievements: CEO of her own extraordinarily successful company, a real self-made woman.
"And also a major benefactor to our University, please welcome, Ms. Carmilla Karnstein."
The Chancellor pumps Carmilla's hand, and there is a swell of polite applause. My heart's in my
throat. She approaches the lectern and surveys the hall. She looks so confident standing in front of
us all, the two guys near me lean in, enraptured. In fact, I think most of the male members of the
audience inch closer and a few of the women. She begins, her voice soft, measured, and
mesmerizing.
"I'm profoundly grateful and touched to have been invited to speak here today at this year's
graduation. It offers me a rare opportunity to talk about the impressive collaboration between the
biology and alchemy departments here at Silas University. Our aim is to develop viable and
ecologically sustainable methods of irrigation and farming for third world countries; our ultimate
goal is to help eradicate hunger and poverty across the globe. Over a billion people, mainly in
Sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, and Latin America, live in abject poverty. Agricultural
dysfunction is rife within these parts of the world and the result is ecological and social
destruction. Because of the limited resources, tyrants rule by withholding something we here take
for granted: water. Fertilizer. Tools to grow your own food. I have known what it's like to be
profoundly hungry, to the point where your own morality is tested because of the need to survive.
This is a very personal journey for me, as I have seen first-hand the damage that it has done when
a child soldier talks without remorse over cannibalizing his enemies to become stronger."
My jaw falls to the floor. Carmilla was hungry once. That explains a great deal. And I recall the
interview; she really does want to feed the world. I desperately rack my brains to remember what
Betty had written in her article. I swallow, my heart constricting at the thought of a hungry, dark-
eyed toddler.
Oh no. What kind of life did she have before she was adopted?
I'm seized by a sense of raw outrage; poor, fucked-up, kinky, philanthropic Carmilla - though I'm
sure she wouldn't see herself this way and would repel any thoughts of sympathy or pity.
Abruptly, everyone bursts into applause and stands. I follow, though I haven't heard half her
speech. She's doing all of these good works, running a huge company, and chasing me at the same
time. It's overwhelming. I remember the brief snippets of conversations she's had about Darfur... it
all falls into place. Food.
She smiles briefly at the warm applause - but doesn't look my way, and I'm off-kilter trying to
assimilate this new information about her.
The ceremony takes another hour to conclude. It's interminable, but I applaud loudly when Kirsch,
LaFontaine, and Perry all walk across the stage. Finally, the Chancellor leads the faculty members
off the stage to yet more rousing applause, before we all conclude the graduation and begin to
disperse. An eager Kirsch seems to almost tackle me as he finds me in the crowd.
"Ms. Karnstein wants to talk to you," he calls out. The two guys who were now standing beside
me turn and gape.
"She's sent me out here," he continues, "also, I get to borrow the R8 for tactical driving." He turns
to see my dad. "Oh hey, you must be Mr. Hollis."
My dad shook hands as they went through a brief introduction. Before very long, he's focused
back on me. "Are you coming? She can be... very insistent." I roll my eyes as he grins.
"I wouldn't mind meeting her either. I can be insistent, too." I smiled awkardly at that. You have
no idea. I glance up at Dad and hold my fingers up indicating five minutes. He nods, pointing he'll
be outside by a statue as I follow Kirsch into the corridor behind the stage. Carmilla is talking to
the Assistant Chancellor and two of the teaching staff. She looks up when she sees me.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," I hear her murmur. She comes toward me and smiles briefly at Brody.
"Thank you," she says, and before he can reply, Carmilla takes my elbow and steers me into what
looks like a women's locker room. She checks to see if it's empty, and then she locks the door.
Holy shit, what does she have in mind? I blink up at her as she turns on me.
"Why haven't you emailed me? Or texted me back?" She glares. I'm confused but not too worried.
"I haven't looked at my computer today, or my phone." Crap, has she been trying to call? I catch
myself before I bite my lip. "That was a great speech."
"Thank you."
"Explains your food issues to me."
She runs a hand through her hair, exasperated.
"I don't want to go there at the moment." She closes her eyes, looking pained.
"I've been hoping for your reply, or at least more questions."
"Sorry."
"I want an answer from you. This waiting around is driving me crazy."
"Carmilla, I... look, I've left my dad on his own." I didn't know how I would answer.
"Tomorrow. I want an answer by tomorrow."
"Okay. Tomorrow, I'll tell you then." I blink at her.
She steps back, regarding me coolly, and her shoulders relax.
"Are you staying for drinks?" she asks.
"I don't know what Dadd-um, my dad wants to do."
"I'd like to meet him." Oh no... why?
"I'm not sure that's a good idea."
Carmilla unlocks the door, her mouth in a grim line.
"Are you ashamed of me?"
"No!" It's my turn to sound exasperated. "Introduce you to my dad as what? 'This is the woman
who deflowered me and wants us to start a BDSM relationship'? You're not wearing running
shoes, and I'm fairly certain he's got his service pistol on him."
Carmilla glares down at me, and then her lips twitch up in a smile. And in spite of the fact I'm mad
at her, my face is unwillingly pulled into an answering grin.
"Just so you know, I can run quite fast. Just tell him I'm your friend, buttercup." Friend. Out of the
many things I want with this woman, 'friend' seems lacking.
She opens the door, and I head out. My mind is whirling. The Chancellor, the three Vice
Chancellors, four professors, and Kirsch stare at me as I walk hastily past them. Tell her I'm your
friend... friend with benefits. I shake the unpleasant thought away. How will I introduce her to
Dad? He sees me, waves, and I make my way down. Perry and LaFontaine are once again
inseparable as they shake their head to make the tassle dance suggestively. Perry is doing her best
to be all smiles despite having her family disown her last year. When that had happened, my father
had automatically adopted her into our family and disclosed that he was one of the founding
members of his town's PFLAG group.
Ironically, when LaFontaine explained their preference for gender neutral pronouns, my dad
impressed them both by taking it in stride by explaining his love for Hollywood actress Katherine
Hepburn. Apparently she wished she could have not been a woman in that era because of the
gender typecasting and Katherine always went out of her way to play assertive, educated and
liberated female roles which was unheard of in the 1930's. She even broke convention and wore
trousers before it was the fashion, and her best film was possibly Desk Set with Spencer Tracy in
1957. Needless to say, he got LaFontaine's stamp of approval.
"Mr. Hollis, would you like to come and have a drink in the marquee?" they asked.
"Sure. It's your day. Lead the way."
"We don't have to if you don't want to." I said, backpedaling. Please say no...
"Laura, I've just sat for two and half hours listening to all kinds of jabbering. I need a drink." He
extended his arm to me and the four of us strolled out with the throng into the warmth of the early
afternoon. We pass the line for the official photographer.
"Oh, that reminds me." Dad pulls a digital camera out of his pocket. "One for the album, you
guys." I roll my eyes at her as he snaps a picture of us.
Perry's face hurts from holding her smile too long. "Can I take the cap and gown off now? I feel
kind of dorky."
LaFontaine beamed at her. "You look kind of hot, actually."
"Okay, now just the graduates." I pull out of the frame as my dad takes a few more. "What's it like
finally graduating from Silas?"
"Relieved," Perry said. "There have been quite a few odd incidents and I'll be glad to leave this
and have a normal life."
"I don't know about you, but I thought that at the least, the Dean would turn into a giant snake or
something." LaFontaine replied. My dad just laughed it off as we made it to the marquee. I was
handed a glass of what must have been sparkling wine (too cheap to technically be champagne) as
I sipped it and felt someone tapping me on the shoulder.
I turn and look up into the frosty eyes of Carmilla Karnstein. Betty is beside her with a
mischievous grin.
"Hello, Dave," Betty hugs my father, and I can hear a wicked tone in her voice. "Have you met
Laura's girlfriend? Carmilla Karnstein?"
Holy shit... Betty! Fuck! All the blood drains from my face.
"Mr. Hollis, it's a pleasure to meet you." Carmilla says smoothly, warmly, completely unaffected
by Betty's introduction. She holds out her hand, which, all credit to my dad, doesn't show a hint of
the surprise she's just had thrust upon him.
Thank you very much, Betty Spielsdorf, I fume.
"Ms. Karnstein," Dad murmurs, his expression indecipherable except perhaps for the slight
widening of his eyes. They slide over my face with a when-were-you-going-to-give-me-this-news
look. I bite my lip and I see Carmilla's jaw flex for a split second.
They shake hands. Carmilla holds her hand out to me.
"Laura, darling," she murmurs, and I nearly expire at the endearment. Cold chills run through me
because I'm fairly certain she's angry at my roommate's machinations. Carmilla smiles icily at
Betty as I take my place at her side. Betty grins at me, and I realize what she thinks she's doing.
She thinks she's helping me.
"Lola, Susan, I think these three have some catching up to do." Betty says sweetly as Perry and
LaFontaine glare daggers at her.
"So how long have you kids known each other?" Dad looks impassively from Carmilla to me.
The power of speech has deserted me. I want the ground to swallow me up. Carmilla puts her arm
around me, her thumb skimming the open back of my dress before her hand clasps my shoulder. I
do all that I can to avoid whimpering.
"Couple of weeks or so now," she says smoothly. "We met when Laura came to interview me for
the student paper."
"Didn't know you worked there, Laura." Dad's voice is a quiet admonishment, revealing his
irritation. Shit.
"Betty was ill," I murmur. It's all I can manage.
"You mean Betty was hungover." He offered, and I gave a crooked smiled in response,
confirming his guess. He faced Carmilla and let me out of the hot seat. "Fine speech you gave,
Ms. Karnstein."
"Thank you, sir. I understand that you're a bit of a classic movie aficionado."
Dad raises his eyebrows and smiles - a rare, genuine, bona-fide Dave Hollis smile - and off they
go, talking about Hollywood's gilded age. In fact, I soon feel like the third wheel when they talk
about Flight of the Phoenix. She's charming the pants off my dad... like she did me. I excuse
myself to go and find Betty.
She's talking to her parents, who are delightful as ever and greet me warmly. We exchange brief
pleasantries, mostly about their upcoming holiday.
"Betty, how could you out me to my dad?" I hiss at the first opportunity we won't be over-heard.
"Because I knew you never would, and I want to help with Carmilla's commitment issues." Betty
smiles at me sweetly.
I scowl. "It's me that won't commit to her! Do me a favor and
don't out me again."
Betty shrugged it off. "She seems cool about it, Laura. Look at her now - Carmilla can't take her
eyes off you." I glance up, and both my father and Carmilla are looking at me. "She's been
watching you like a hawk."
"I'd better go rescue Dad or Carmilla... I don't know which. You haven't heard the last of this,
Betty Spielsdorf!" I glare at her.
"Laura, I did you a favor," she calls after me.
"Hi." I smile at both of them on my return.
They seem okay. Carmilla is enjoying some private joke, and my dad looks unbelievably relaxed
given she's in a crowded social situation. What have they been discussing apart from movies?
"Laura, where are the restrooms?" I point it out to my dad he nods his thanks and kisses my
forehead.
"See you in a moment. You kids enjoy yourselves."
Dad heads out as I glance nervously up at Carmilla. We pause briefly as a photographer asks to
take a picture of both of us.
"Thank you, Ms. Karnstein." The photographer scurries off. I blink from the flash as I swear I
hear a slight growl from Carmilla.
"So you've charmed my father as well?"
"As well?" Carmilla's dark eyes burn, and she raises a questioning eyebrow. I flush. She lifts her
hand and traces my cheek with her fingers. "Oh, I wish I knew what you were thinking, Laura,"
she whispers darkly, cupping my chin and raising my head so that we gaze intently into each
other's eyes.
My breath hitches. How can she have this effect on me, even in this crowded area?
"Right now, I'm glad you don't know Legilimancy." I breathe.
She chuckles.
"Oh, I still think I know how to get inside you." She purrs as I gulp. "You look lovely, cupcake.
This halter-neck dress suits you, and I get to stroke your back, feel your beautiful skin."
Suddenly, it's like we're on our own in the room. I never realized how such a light touch of skin
could evoke so much of a response. My whole body has come alive, every nerve ending singing
softly as an undiscovered current pulled me towards her, my eyes locked on her pouty lips.
"You know it's going to be good, don't you, baby?" she whispers as her fingers trail down my
spine. I close my eyes as my insides uncoil and melt.
"But I want more," I whisper.
"More?" she looks down at me puzzled, her eyes darkening. I nod and swallow. Now she knows.
"More," she says again softly. Testing the word - a small, simple word, but so full of promise. Her
thumb traces my lower lip. "You want hearts and flowers."
I nod again. She blinks down at me, and I watch an internal struggle play out in her eyes."Laura."
Her voice is soft, and I've come to realize she doens't use my name lightly. "It's not something I
know."
"Me either, Ms. Karnstein." My eyes reflect the pleading in my soul.
She smiles slightly. "You don't know much," she murmurs.
I shake my head slightly. "You know all the wrong things."
"Wrong? No, just different." She shakes her head. She looks so sincere. "Try it," she whispers. A
challenge, daring me, and she cocks her head to one side and smiles her crooked, dazzling smile. I
gasp as her hand pulls away from my back, and I'm left wanting, yearning... it's a Faustian
bargain, but who turns down a deal with the devil?
"Okay," I whisper.
"What?" Her eyes widen in surprise. I have her full, undivided attention.
"Okay. I'll try."
"You're agreeing?" Her disbelief is evident.
"Subject to the soft limits, yes. I'll try." My voice is so small. Carmilla closes her eyes and pulls me
into an embrace.
"Gods below, Laura, you're so unexpected. Thank you."
She steps back, and suddenly Dad's back, and the volume in the marquee gradually rises and fills
my ears. We are not alone. Holy shit, I've just agreed to be her submissive. Carmilla smiles at my
dad, and her eyes are dancing with joy.
"Laura, should we get some lunch?"
"Okay." I blink up, disoriented, trying to find my equilibrium. What have I done?
"Would you like to join us, Carmilla?" He asks. He can use her given name?
Carmilla! I stare up at her, imploring her to refuse. I need space to think... what the fuck have I
done?
"Thank you, Dave, but I have plans. It's been great to meet you, sir."
"Likewise," Dad responds. "Look after my baby girl."
"Oh, I fully intend to."
They shake hands. I feel sick. Dad has no idea how Carmilla intends to look after me. Carmilla
takes my hand and raises it to her lips and kisses my knuckles tenderly, her scorching eyes intent
on mine.
"Later, Miss Hollis," she breathes, her voice full of promise.
My belly curls at the thought... oh my. Hang on... later?
Dad takes my elbow and leads me toward the entrance.
"Seems a solid young woman. Knows where she's going in life. You could do a lot worse, Laura.
Though why I had to hear about her from Betty," he scolds.
I shrug apologetically. "I've only seen her a few times; Betty decided to call her my girlfriend
when we hadn't even decided on the term yet."
"Well, any woman who likes and knows her classic movies is okay with me."
Holy cow - Dad approves. If only he knew. We caught up with Perry and LaFontaine, and dad
was surprised to hear that LaFontaine was able to hardball Carmilla into hiring Perry at a salary
that she would never have gotten straight out of college. He seemed happy to know that all three
of his kids would still be together even though I've got my senior year ahead of me.
First thing I do when I get back to my dorm is check my cell phone. It needs recharging, so I have
to hunt down the charger and plug it in before I can collect my messages. Four missed calls, one
voice message, and two texts. Three missed calls from Carmilla... no messages. One missed call
from Danny and a voice mail asking if we can hang out sometime soon.
I open the texts.
'Are you home yet'
'Call me'
They are both from Carmilla, why didn't she call the dorm room? I sit on my bed and check my
email.
What can I say that I haven't already?
Happy to talk about the soft limits anytime.
You looked beautiful today.
Carmilla Karnstein
I thought about it and realized that if I wanted to try this out, I'd have to discuss all of the issues
and limitations that I'd need to have.
I began to compose my reply.
I can come over this evening to discuss if you'd like.
Laura
Her response was almost immediate, making me jump to get ready.
I'll come to you. The campus is full of drunk college students and I'd rather not see you try to bike
your way up here.
I'll be with you shortly.
Carmilla Karnstein
Within twenty minutes I heard a soft knock. "Hi." I feel unbearably shy when I open the door.
Carmilla is standing there in her leather pants and and a distressed Sisters of Mercy shirt.
"Hi," she says, and her face lights up with her radiant smile. I take a moment to admire the pretty.
Oh my, she's hot in leather.
"Come in." I see her eyes rake me up and down, lips slightly parted in desire as she's seemingly
overwhelmed. I'm just being comfortable changing into a white shift dress.
"My," she says amused. She holds up a bottle of champagne as she walks in. "Don't you look like
a virgin sacrifice."
"Fairly certain that sacrifice was already given freely," I comment dryly, "does that make your bed
an altar?"
She grins.
"I like it when you're witty, Laura." She looks around for glasses and I smile sheepishly.
"I only have teacups. Betty packed all her glasses."
"Teacups? Still better than swigging from the bottle like pirates."
I head into the kitchen. Nervous butterflies flood my stomach; it's like having a predatory panther
or mountain lion in my living room. At least she's just undressing me with her eyes and doesn't see
me as meat.
"Do you want saucers as well?" I ask automatically, wishing I had a second TARDIS mug
because maybe that would have been a bit better.
"Teacups will be fine, Laura," Carmilla calls distractedly from the living room. When I return,
she's perusing my small library that takes up a shelf in the closet space.
"So you do enjoy having books, just not any from me, it seems." Were we about to fight?
"I couldn't accept it; it cost too much." I swallow convulsively.
"I bought it for you," she says quietly her gaze impassive. "You see, this is what I was talking
about; you defying me. I wanted you to have it, and that's the end of the discussion. It's very
simple. You wouldn't have to think about this. As my submissive, you would just be grateful for
them. You just accept what I buy you because it pleases me to do so."
"Well I wasn't a submissive when you bought them for me," I whisper.
"No... but you've agreed now, Laura." Her eyes turn wary. "I want to give you things from time
to time."
I sigh. I am not going to win this. "So you want me to accept the book?"
She eyes me suspiciously, but concedes.
"I did, but I've already traded it to an avid book collector." Oh, it's gone.
She puts the champagne bottle on the table and stands in front of me. Putting her hand under my
chin, she tilts my head up. She gazes down at me, her expression grave.
"I will buy you things, Laura. Please accept that; besides, I can afford it." She leans down and
plants a swift, chaste kiss on my lips. "Please." She releases me.
"It makes me feel cheap," I murmur.
Carmilla runs her hand through her hair, exasperated.
"It shouldn't. You're over-thinking it, Laura. Don't place some vague moral judgment on yourself
based on what others might think. I'm certain you want to get me a gift for my birthday or a
holiday. It's only because you have reservations about our arrangement, you saw that as me trying
to buy you. I'm not buying you, I'm... wooing you."
I frown, trying to process her words. Wooing doesn't necessarily mean 'trying to date', either.
"Hey, stop that," she commands softly, cupping my chin again and pulling at it gently so I release
my lower lip from my teeth. "There is nothing about you that is cheap, Laura. I won't have you
thinking that. I just bought you an old book because I thought you'd like it, that's all." Her eyes
warm and soften, and I smile tentatively back up at her. "That's better," she murmurs. She picks
up the champagne, takes off the foil top and cage, twists the bottle rather than the cork, and opens
it with a small pop and a practiced flourish that doesn't spill a drop. I gawk, impressed at her as she
half fills the cups.
"It's pink," I murmur, surprised.
"It's a Rose." she says with relish.
"In teacups."
She grins.
"In teacups. Thank you for accepting, Laura." We clink cups, and she takes a drink.
"Thank you," I murmur and take a sip. Of course it's delicious. "Shall we go through the soft
limits?"
She smiles, and I blush.
She smiles, and I blush.
"Always so eager." Carmilla takes my hand and leads me to the couch where she sits and tugs me
down beside her.
"Your father's a fascinating man."
Oh... not soft limits then. I just want to get this out of the way; the anxiety is gnawing at me.
"You managed to have him eating out of your hand." I pout.
Carmilla laughs softly.
"Only because I know about the movies from sixty years ago."
"How do you know he liked that?"
"I told you, I can read people really well."
I take another sip. Wow she was good, then. Hmm... this champagne really is very good. "Did
you try the wine at the reception?"
Carmilla makes a face.
"Yes. It was horrid. Either the University was going cheap or ensuring that nobody got drunk on
that swill." She took another sip of the blush champagne.
"I thought of you when I tasted it. How did you get to be so knowledgeable about wine?"
"I wouldn't call myself knowledgeable, Laura, I just know what I like." Her dark eyes shine,
almost silver, and it makes me flush. She seems to shrug some errant though away before asking,
"Some more?"
"Please."
Carmilla rises gracefully and collects the bottle. She fills my cup. Is she getting me tipsy? I eye her
suspiciously.
"Are you working tomorrow?"
"Yes, my last day at the bookstore."
"I'd help you move, but I promised to meet my brother Will at the airport."
Oh... this is news.
"He will be visiting for a few days, I think he wants to do some expansion of his construction
business."
"So what will you be doing after the bookstore job?"
When are we going to talk about the limits? What's her angle?
"I have a couple of interviews for internships for journalism."
"Is that what you want to do, something like that?"
I nod warily.
"Well?" She looks at me patiently wanting more information.
"Well what?"
"Don't be obtuse, Laura, where are you trying to work?" she scolds.
"Just small places I know of," I murmur.
She narrows her eyes at me. "Why don't you want me to know?"
"I don't want you exerting your undue influence."
She frowns.
I smiled at her frown. "Oh, don't give me that look, I know you're not obtuse."
She laughs.
"Obtuse? Me? God, you're challenging. Okay, let's talk about these limits." She pulls out her
phone and has the document out, her stylus ready to made modifications.
I down the rest of my teacup like a shot. She glances quickly at me.
"Have you eaten anything?"
Oh no... not this old argument.
"Yes. I had a three course meal with my dad." I roll my eyes at her. The champagne is making me
bold.
She leans forward and holds my chin, staring intently into my eyes. There was something in there,
like a carefully checked energy willing to spill out. I've never seen her eyes this silver before, have
I?
"Next time you roll your eyes at me, I will take you across my knee."
What?!
"Oh," I breathe, and I realize the excitement in her eyes.
She makes a hum of agreement. "So it begins, Laura."
My heart slams against my chest, and I can't help but realize how much I want her to take me.
Why is that hot?
"Got your attention now, haven't I?"
I nod.
"Answer me out loud, Miss Hollis."
"Yes... you've got my attention." I met her eyes and added, "Ms. Karnstein."
"Good," she smiles a knowing smile. "So sexual acts. We've done most of this."
I blush furiously as I move closer to her on the couch and look at the list.
Soft Limits
Masturbation
Fellatio
Cunnilingus
Vaginal intercourse
Vaginal fisting
Anal intercourse
Anal fisting
"Exactly how can we do some of these? We're both women." I ask.
"Oh trust me, it's entirely possible."
"But fisting seems... scary."
"No fisting? We practically did that already when... well, I'll leave that as a soft limit. Anything
else you object to?" she asks softly.
I swallow.
"Anal intercourse doesn't exactly float my boat."
"I'll agree to setting anal fisting as a Hard Limit, but I'd really like to fuck your ass, Laura. To lay
claim over every inch of your body possible... but of course we'll wait for that. It's not exactly
something we can dive into," she smirks at me. "Your ass will need training."
"Training?" I whisper.
"Oh yes. It'll need careful preparation. Anal intercourse can be very pleasurable, trust me. But if
we try it and you don't like it, we don't have to do it again." She grins down at me. I blink up at
her. She thinks I'll enjoy it? How does she know it's pleasurable?
"Have you done that?" I whisper.
She shrugs nonchalantly. "Yes."
Holy crap. I gasp.
"With a man?"
"Ew, no. I've never had sex with a man. Not my scene."
"Mrs. Robinson?"
"Yes."
I frown. She moves on down the list.
"Okay... drinking semen and urine? Why is that even on this list?" She draws a line through it and
it disappears. I breathed a sigh of relief at that.
"Sex toys?" she asks.
I shrug, glancing down the list.
Sex Toys
Vibrators
Dildos
Butt Plugs
Other
"Butt plug? Does it do what I think it does?" I scrunch my nose up in distaste.
"Yes," she smiles. "And it would be the training you need for the anal intercourse listed above."
"Oh... what's 'other'?"
"Beads, eggs... that sort of stuff."
"Eggs?" I'm alarmed.
"Not real eggs," she laughs loudly, shaking her head.
I purse my lips at her.
"I'm glad you find me funny." I can't keep my injured feelings out of my voice.
She stops laughing.
"I apologize. Miss Hollis, I'm sorry," she says, trying to look contrite, but her eyes are still dancing
with humor. "Didn't mean to ruffle any feathers. Any problem with toys?"
"No," I snap.
"Laura," she cautions, "watch your tone. I am sorry, believe me. I've never had this conversation
in so much detail. You're just inexperienced, okay?" Her eyes are sincere.
"Right - bondage," she says, returning to the list.
Bondage
Hands in front
Hands behind back
Ankles
Knees
Elbows
Wrists to ankles
Spreader bars
Tied to furniture
Blindfolding
Gagging
Bondage with Rope
Bondage with Tape
Bondage with leather cuffs
Suspension
Bondage with handcuffs/metal restraints
"We've talked about suspension. And it's fine if you want to set that up as a hard limit. It takes a
great deal of time, and I rarely am in the mood for that. Anything else?"
I frown. "Don't laugh at me, but what's a spreader bar?"
"I've apologized twice, cupcake." She glares at me. "Don't make me do it again," she warns. And
I think I visibly shrink... oh, she's so bossy. "A spreader is a bar with cuffs for ankles and/or
wrists. They're fun."
"Okay... Well gagging me. I'd be worried I wouldn't be able to breathe."
"I'd be worried if you couldn't breathe. I don't want to suffocate you. The ball gags only go in the
mouth and don't block your nasal passages. I wouldn't use them if you were having a cold or
something."
"And how will I use the safe words if I'm gagged?"
She pauses. "Good question. Though I hope you never have to use them, we'll use hand signals,"
she says simply. "Finger snap, or have you let go of a red flag."
I blink up at her. "I'm nervous about the gagging."
"Okay. I'll take note on that."
I stare up at her, realization dawning.
"Do you like tying your submissives up so they can't touch you?"
She gazes at me, her eyes widening ever so slightly.
"That's... yeah, one of the reasons," she says quietly.
"Is that why you tied my hands?"
"Yes." She looks back at the list.
"You don't like talking about that," I murmur.
"No, I don't. Tell me what your general attitude is to receiving pain."
Holy crap... this is the tricky part. Carmilla looks expectantly at me.
"You're biting your lip," she says darkly, one eyebrow arched suggestively. She's doing this on
purpose.
I stop immediately, but I don't know what to say. I flush and stare down at my hands.
Carmilla tries to get me to open up. "Were you physically punished as a child?"
"No." My father never had to resort to that.
"So you have no sphere of reference at all?"
"No."
"It's not as bad as you think. Your imagination is making this seem worse than it is," she whispers.
I look at her. "Do you have to do it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Her lip curls, but it's not a smile.
"Goes with the territory, Laura. It's what I do."
She shows me the list.
Spanking
Paddling
Whipping
Caning
Biting
Nipple clamps
Genital clamps
Ice
Hot wax
Electrical
Other types/methods of pain
"Well, you said no to genital clamps. That's fine. It's caning that hurts the most."
I blanch.
"Don't worry, we can work up to that."
"Or not do it at all," I whisper.
She sighs patiently.
"This is part of the deal, sweetness, but we'll start slow. I won't push you too far."
"This punishment thing, it worries me the most." My voice is very small.
"Okay, I'm glad you've told me. We'll keep caning off the list for now. As you get more
comfortable with this stuff, we'll increase intensity. We'll take it slow."
I swallow, and she leans forward and kisses me on my lips.
"There, that wasn't so bad was it?"
I shrug uncertainly.
"Look, I want to talk about one more thing, then I'm taking you to bed."
"Bed?" I blink rapidly, and my blood pounds round my body, warming places I didn't know
existed until very recently.
"After talking through all this, I want to fuck you into next week, buttercup."
My eyes are large and hopeful at that.
"Besides, there's something I want to try."
"Something painful?"
"Ugh - You're not Schopenhauer, please stop seeing pain everywhere. It's mainly pleasure." She
takes my hands in hers, and I realize how cold she feels. "Have I hurt you yet?"
I flush.
"No."
"Look, earlier today you were talking about wanting more," she halts, uncertain all of a sudden.
Where's this going?
"Outside of the when you're my submissive, perhaps we could try." I heard uncertainty and fear in
her voice. "I don't know if it will work. I've never even tried separating everything. It may not
work, but I'm willing to try. Maybe one night a week. I don't know." She was almost rambling
there.
My mouth is open in shock. She's willing to try the normal girlfriend thing?
"I have one condition." She looks warily at my stunned expression.
"What?" I breathe. "Anything."
"You must graciously accept my present to you."
"Oh." Dread spawns in my belly. But she traded away the book.
She's staring down at me, gauging my reaction.
"Come on," she murmurs and rises, dragging me up. Grabbing her jacket, she drapes it over my
shoulders and heads for the door.
Parked outside is a red smart car. It's so tiny and... cute.
"It's for you." she murmurs, pulling me into her arms and kissing my hair.
She's bought me a damned car, brand new by the looks of it. I stare at it blankly, trying
desperately to determine how I feel about this. I am appalled, grateful, shocked... but the
overriding emotion is anger. Yes, I'm angry, especially after everything I told her about the
books... but then she'd already bought this. Taking my hand, she leads me down the path toward
this new acquisition.
"Laura, you need your own vehicle. And just like you, this gets underestimated because nobody
takes the time to see what she's really capable of." she trails off. Her eyes are on me, but at the
moment I cannot bring myself to look at her. I stand silently staring at its awesome bright red
newness. She clicks a button on the key fob, and the top begins to roll back.
It's a tiny red convertible... roller skate.
"I mentioned it to your father. He was all for it," she murmurs.
Turning, I glare at her, my mouth open in horror.
"You mentioned this to him? How could you?!" I can barely spit the words out. How dare she? I
feel sick, mortified for my dad.
"It's a gift, Laura. Can't you just say thank you?"
"But you know it's too much."
"Too much? I traded the book for his, and I'm fairly certain that he came out on top. It's two years
old, has leather heated seats, power steering, radio and 6 CD player, bluetooth whatnot, and was
barely used at the rental place because everyone overlooked 'the tiny one'."
I frown at her, at a loss what to say. She just doesn't get it! She can't just throw money at
everything! Not all of us were born with a silver spoon in their mouth!
Okay, not born that way - not as a small child when she was hungry - and my view shifts. Her
intentions are good, perhaps misguided, but not from a bad place. She is looking at me in the same
way she's looking at the car, and I realize that she sees potential in me.
"I'm happy for you to borrow this from me."
I sigh heavily, and relent. "Okay. On loan." It would help me go to my interviews and whatever
internship I get.
"Indefinitely."
I give her a withering look. "No, not indefinitely, but for now. Thank you."
She frowns. I reach up with my hand and kiss her briefly on her cheek. She stills, seemingly
shocked at this. She really doesn't like it when I touch her.
"Thank you for the car, Ms. Karnstein." I say as sweetly as I can manage.
She grabs me suddenly and yanks me up against her, one hand at my back holding me to her and
the other fisting in my hair with a sharp tug. The tug seems to pull at lower parts of me as I gasp in
desire.
"You are one challenging woman, Laura Hollis." She kisses me passionately, forcing my lips
apart with her tongue, and I'm returning her kiss with my own passion. I want her badly - in spite
of the car, the book, the soft limits... heck, even the caning... I want her.
"Cupcake, It's taking all my self-control not to fuck you on the hood of this car right now, just to
show you that you are mine, and if I want to buy you a bloody car, I'll buy you a bloody car," she
growls, teeth grazing the upper part of neck, just behind my ear. "Now let's get you inside and
naked." She plants a swift rough kiss on me.
I can't tell if she's turned on or angry as she grabs my hand and leads me back into the dormitory
and straight to my bed... Glad Betty is off with Jamie tonight. She switches on the sidelight and
halts, staring at me.
"Please don't be angry with me," I whisper.
Her gaze is impassive; her dark eyes cold shards of obsidian with flecks of silver as she took me
in.
"You scare me when you're angry," I breathe, staring at her. She remains silent and brooding.
She closes her eyes and shakes her head, shuddering all over. When she opens them, her
expression has softened fractionally and the silver is gone. She takes a deep breath and swallows.
"Turn round," she whispers. "I want to get you out of that dress."
Obediently, I turn and my heart is thumping, desire instantly replacing my unease. She scoops my
hair off my back so it hangs down my right side, ending at my breast. She places her index finger
at the nape of my neck and achingly slowly unzips it down my spine. Her well-manicured
fingernail gently grazes down my back.
"I like to see your flawless skin." she murmurs, pulling me closer so that I step back against her. I
feel her flush against my body. Leaning down, she inhales my hair.
"You smell so good, creampuff. So sweet." Her nose skims past my ear down my neck, and she
trails soft, feather light kisses along my shoulder.
My breathing changes, becoming shallow, rushed, full of expectation. Her fingers undo the clasp
of my bra with more grace than I have ever had on a good day. Achingly slow, she slides the strap
and dress over one shoulder as her lips begin licking and kissing and sucking their way across to
my other shoulder. She is so tantalizingly good at this. My body resonates, and I start to squirm
languidly beneath her touch.
"Still," she whispers, her teeth poised to bite the meaty part of my shoulder. She slides the other
shoulder off and the dress drops and pools at my feet along with my bra.
Her hands reach round and cup my breasts, and my nipples pucker at her slight pinch.
"Mmm... " she murmurs into that space behind my ear, as she starts to extend my nipples with her
long fingers, mirroring my hands in her hair.
I groan as the sensation registers sharp and clear in my groin. My eyes are half-lidded and I barely
register where we are.
"Shall I make you come this way?" she whispers. "You like this, don't you, Miss Hollis?"
"Mmm... " I feel her move around me, standing to face me now.
"Tell me." She continues the slow sensuous torture, pulling gently.
"Yes."
"Yes, what."
"Yes... Miss...tress..." I moan out, giving myself over to the sensation.
"Good girl." She pinches me hard, and my body writhes convulsively against her frontal assault.
I gasp at the exquisite, acute, pleasure/pain. I feel her against me. I moan and my hands shake with
need to hold something.
"I don't think you're ready to come yet," she whispers, stilling her hands, and she gently bites my
earlobe and tugs at it. "Perhaps I won't let you come after all." She returns the attention of her
fingers to my nipples, pulling, twisting, kneading.
"Let me pleasure you, please." I beg, and I open my eyes to see her looking at me, a serious look
on her face.
"Okay. Undress me," she commands quietly, staring down at me, eyes hooded.
I'm taken aback. I've never undressed her before. I haven't even really touched her before.
"You can do it," she cajoles softly, stepping out of her boots.
Oh my. I blink rapidly. Where to start? I reach for her t-shirt, and she grabs my hands and shakes
her head, smiling slyly at me.
"Oh no." She shakes her head, grinning. "Not the t-shirt, my pants." Her eyes are alive with
excitement.
"I want you inside me. Take my jeans off. You're in charge."
Holy fuck... me in charge. My mouth drops open as I unbutton her leather pants and lower them
over her hips and help her out of them as, with a dose of Gryffindor courage, I push her onto the
bed. She laughs as she falls, and I gaze down at her feeling victorious. She's staring up at me, her
eyes luminous with amusement and desire.
"You'll have to learn to keep still," I scold, and I tug at the hair under her waistband.
Her breath hitches, and she grins at me.
"Yes, Miss Hollis," she murmurs, eyes burning bright. I look down at her panties and hook my
fingers around them, biting my lip as I expose her sex and see her for the first time.
"I can't keep still if you're going to bite that lip," she warns, then arches her pelvis up off the bed
so I'm able to pull her panties all the way off.
"Sorry." I apologize, my fingers trailing up her thighs as I kiss her deeply. Holy Moses, she's all
mine to play with! I think I can understand why she enjoys being in charge now.
"Now what are you going to do?" she breathes, all trace of humor gone. I reach and slide a finger
inside her, watching her expression as I do. Her mouth shapes like a letter O as she takes a sharp
breath. Her skin is so smooth and wet... hmm, what a delicious combination. I lean forward, my
hair falling around me, and her tongue is in my mouth as we kiss. I curl my finger once, firmly.
She moans sharply, her hips jerking beneath me.
"Jeez, Laura, steady," she groans.
I feel so powerful, it's such a heady feeling, teasing and testing her with my fingers inside her. She
tenses underneath me as I run my mouth up and down her jaw, trailing kisses over this woman I'm
hopelessly falling for.
"Oh, yes. My girl is all ready," I breath huskily. Her breathing has quickened. I lick my finger,
savoring her. "And amazing."
I resume fucking her with two fingers now as I sit up and use my other hand to slide up her belly,
just under her shirt.
She reacts like she had ice water poured on her as she begins to scramble away from me. There
was genuine fear there, and I couldn't help but realize that the fear was towards me.
"Stop, Laura, stop. I don't want you to touch me there."
I sit up, blinking at her, and I'm panting like her, but confused. I thought I was in charge?
"You're innocence and enthusiasm are very disarming," she gasps. "but, um, no-go zone. Okay?"
Oh. And very slowly, concentrating hard, I re-position us to continue.
"God's blood, I want to come," she groans, biting her lip. She's really turned on and wants me. I
have to admit that woman, looking at me this way is very, very arousing.
"Carmilla. I want to be buried inside you," I murmur as I stare down at her, and she saw the sheer
need on my face.
"So eager, Miss Hollis," she murmurs, her voice laced with humor. "Think you can do it?"
I groan as I realize I'm stretching her a bit, filling her, four fingers in to the knuckle as her mouth
hangs open in surprise at the sweet, agonizing, over-full feeling.
"That's right, baby," I purr as she briefly closes her eyes. Once she's no longer fighting it, I rock
my hand back and forth, my thumb finding her clitoris and circling it just how I like as I slowly
start to pound into her.
Her eyes open wide, looking straight into mine as I lose track of time and just keep up with my
rhythm inside her. She flexes and swivels her hips to meet the motion, and she begins to groan...
oh my...
Her eyes are burning with wild anticipation. Her breathing is ragged, matching mine, and we pick
up the rhythm... and it feels so... good. Between my panting breaths, the brimming fullness... the
sensation of her pulsing against me that's building quickly, and I watch her, our eyes locked... and
I see wonder there, wonder at me.
I am fucking her. I am in charge. She's mine, and I'm hers. The thought pushes me to continue as
she climaxes beneath me... shouting incoherently.
"Laura," She whispers almost silently as she is utterly spent. I pull out of her, kissing her deeply
once more as she starts to fall asleep. I pull the sheets over us and decide to get myself off as well
while she's blissfully unconscious beside me.
The First Spanking
Chapter Summary
Shoddy spanking scene with some sex made better.
Slowly the outside world invades my senses. Oh my, I've woken up next to Carmilla. It's still dark
out as I'm lying on top of her, my head on her chest, and she smells divine: fresh, light perfume
that reminds me of incense, and this woman's body is a temple that I've happily sacrificed my
virginity to. Getting to please her and hear her moan was like worshiping the angels above. I don't
want to move, I want to breathe this elixir for eternity. I nuzzle her, wishing I didn't have the
barrier of her t-shirt. And as I see her laying there peacefully, I stretch my hand out on her chest.
This is the first time I've touched her here. She's so soft... Her hand swoops up and grabs mine,
pulling it from her chest to her mouth and sweetly kissed my knuckles.
She rolls over so she's gazing down at me.
"Don't," she murmurs, then kisses me lightly.
"Why don't you like to be touched?" I whisper, staring up into her eyes.
"Because I'm fifty different flavors of messed-up, cupcake. This is why I sleep alone."
Oh... her honesty is completely disarming. I blink up at her.
"I've had a... very rough time of it to last a few lifetimes. I don't want to burden you with the
details."
"It's not a burden-"
"-Just don't." She strokes her nose against mine, then kisses my cheek and sits up. "I'm sorry, but
the last thing I want to do is drag you down into all this."
She looks thoroughly pleased from last night and sounds very matter-of-fact, like she's just marked
another tick box in a checklist. I'm still reeling from the rough lifetimes comment. It's so frustrating
- I am desperate to know more. But she won't tell me. I cock my head to one side, like she does,
and make an enormous effort to smile at her.
"If you imagine for one minute that I think you ceded control to me, well you haven't taken into
account my deductive skills." I smile shyly at her. "But thank you for the illusion."
"Miss Hollis, you are not just a pretty face. You've had half a dozen orgasms so far and all of them
belong to me," she boasts, playful again.
I flush and blink at the same time, as she stares down at me. I frown as start to mentally count
them out, unsure of her accounting. "I'm fairly certain it has only been... Carmilla!" I am startled as
I realize what's she's doing to me down there with her tongue. Her brow furrows.
"Do you have something to tell me?" her voice is playfully stern.
I gasp as my thighs are trembling as she blows on my most sensitive bits.
"I had a dream yesterday morning."
"Oh?" She asks me as she seems to dutifully attend to my blossoming need.
"I think I came in my sleep." I cover my face with my hands to hide my embarrassment. She says
nothing. I peek up at her from between my fingers, and she looks amused.
"In your sleep?"
"Woke me up."
"I'm sure it did. What were you dreaming about?"
Crap.
"You."
"What was I doing?"
I hide my face again. And like a small child, I briefly entertain the thought that if I can't see her,
then she can't see me.
"So, what was I doing? You're pretty vocal, so I'm pretty certain I can get you to talk one way or
the other." She's threatening me with an orgasm? A wicked slap to my pubic mound left me
gasping and needing more, betraying myself.
"You had a riding crop." I say though my hands.
She moves one of my wrists.
"Really?"
"Yes." I am crimson.
"There's hope for you yet," she murmurs. "I have several riding crops."
"Brown plaited leather?"
She laughs.
"Wow, that's specific, but I'm sure I could get one." Her dark eyes blaze with excitement as her
tongue snaked into me and caressed my most intimate parts, pushing me over the edge as I begin
to scream my orgasm into my yellow pillow.
I awaken as she gives me a brief kiss then stands and grabs her pants, oh no... she's going. I glance
quickly at the time - it's only nine-forty. I scoot out of bed too and grab my TARDIS pj pants and
a cami top, then sit back on the bed, cross-legged, watching her. I don't want her to go. What can I
do?
"When is your period due?" She interrupts my thoughts.
What!?
"I want to know in case we cycle together." she grumbles, obviously not happy being awake this
early.
"Well?" she prompts when I don't reply, and she looks at me expectantly as if she's waiting for my
opinion on the weather. Holy crap... this is personal stuff.
"Next week." I stare down at my hands.
"I'd really like it if we could confirm our STI statuses."
She is so bossy. I stare at her blankly. She sits back on the bed as she puts on her shoes and socks.
"Do you have a doctor?" There's the health clinic, but I don't entire trust the horned Healers with
vials of my blood. I'm not even certain they are human...
I shake my head. We are back to mergers and acquisitions - another 180-degree mood swing.
She frowns.
"I can have mine come and see you at your apartment - Sunday morning before you come and see
me. Or she can see you at my place. Which would you prefer?"
No pressure then. Something else that she's paying for... but actually this is for her benefit.
"Your place." That means I am guaranteed to see her Sunday.
"Okay. I'll let you know the time."
"Are you leaving?"
Don't go... stay with me please.
"Yes."
Why?
"How are you getting back?" I whisper.
"Kirsch is taking me home."
"I can drive you. I have a lovely new car."
She gazes at me, her expression warm.
"That's more like it. But he's already here."
"Why?"
"Because I've got a company to run, and I shouldn't have spent the night here. Another first.
"I'd like you to stay and let me return the favor."
She smiles and her eyes glow with humor.
"Sweetness, I have crossed so many lines here already. I have to go. I'll see you on Sunday. I'll
have the revised contract ready for you, and then we can really start to play."
"Play?" Holy shit. My heart leaps into my mouth.
"I'd like to do a scene with you. But I won't until you've signed, so I know you're ready."
"Oh. So I could stretch this out, if I don't sign?"
She gazes at me assessing, and then her lips twitch into a smile.
"Well, I suppose you could try, but I may crack under the strain."
"Crack? How?"
She nods slowly, and then she grins, teasing.
"Could get really ugly."
Her grin is infectious.
"Ugly, how?"
"Oh you know: kidnapping, waterboarding, interrogation, incarceration." She had a sexy, wicked
grin that made me uncertain if she was just joking about that.
"You'd kidnap me?"
"Oh yes," she grins.
"Hold me against my will?" Jeez this is hot. Wrong, but hot.
"Oh yes," she nods. "And then we're talking TPE 24/7."
"You've lost me," I breathe, my heart is pounding... is she serious?
"Total Power Exchange - round the clock." Her eyes are shining, and I can feel her excitement
from where I sit.
Holy shit.
"So you have no choice," she says sardonically.
"Clearly." I can't keep the sarcasm out of my voice as my eyes reach for the heavens.
"Oh, Laura Hollis, did you just roll your eyes at me?"
Crap.
"No," I squeak.
"I think you did. What did I say I'd do to you if you rolled your eyes at me again?"
Shit. She sits down on the edge of the bed.
"Come here," she says softly.
I blanch. Jeez... she's serious. I sit staring at her completely immobile.
"I haven't signed," I whisper.
"I told you what I'd do. I'm a woman of my word. I'm going to spank you, and then you're going
to thank me."
Her voice is so soft, menacing, and it's damned hot. My insides practically contort with potent,
needy, liquid, desire. She gazes at me, waiting, eyes blazing. Tentatively, I uncurl my legs. Should
I run? This is it, our relationship hangs in the balance, right here, right now. Do I let her do this or
do I say no, and then that's itB? ecause I know it will be over if I say no.
"I'm waiting," she says. "I don't have all day."
Oh for the love of all that's holy. I'm panting, afraid, turned on. Blood pounding through my body,
my legs are like jelly. There is no way in hell or Hogwarts that I'm ready for this. Slowly, I crawl
over to her until I am beside her.
"Good girl," she murmurs. "Now stand up."
Oh shit... can't she just get this over with? I'm not sure if I can stand. Hesitantly, I clamber to my
feet. Suddenly she grabs me, tipping me across her lap. With one smooth movement, she angles
her body so my torso is resting on the bed beside her. She throws her right leg over both of mine
and plants her left forearm on the small of my back, holding me down so I cannot move. Oh fuck.
"Put your hands up on either side of your head," she orders.
I obey immediately.
"Why am I doing this, Laura?" she asks.
"Because I rolled my eyes at you," I can barely speak.
"Do you think that's polite?"
"No."
"Will you do it again?"
"No." Maybe... Probably.
"I will spank you each time you do it, do you understand?"
Very slowly, she pulls down my sleep pants. Oh, how demeaning is this, demeaning and scary
and hot. She's making such a production out of this. My heart is in my mouth. I can barely
breathe. Shit, is this going to hurt?
She places her hand on my naked behind, softly fondling me, stroking round and round with her
flat palm. And then her hand is no longer there... and she hits me - hard. Ow! My eyes spring
open in response to the stinging pain, and I try to rise, but her hand moves between my shoulder
blades keeping me down. Merlin, she's strong! She caresses me again where she's hit me, and her
breathing's changed - it's louder, harsher. She hits me again and again, quickly in succession.
Holy fuck it hurts. I make no sound, my face screwed up against the pain. I try and wriggle away
from the blows - spurred on by adrenaline spiking and coursing through my body. I can feel my
cheeks grow warm with each impact, and the sensations start to travel towards my groin and I'm
confused as the endorphins start to flood my system and I'm... floating and happy.
"Keep still," she growls. "Or I'll spank you for longer."
She's rubbing me now, and the blow follows. The floating feeling shatters at the imact, and then
return again. I gasp at the sensation, my mind reeling at the fact I'm getting pleasure out of it. A
rhythmic pattern emerges - caress, fondle, slap hard. My mind empties as I absorb the grueling
pattern of sensations. She doesn't hit me in the same place twice in succession - she's spreading the
pain.
"Aargh!" I cry out on the tenth slap - and I'm unaware that I have been mentally counting the
blows.
"I'm just getting warmed up. My hand isn't even hurting yet." She thinks I care if her hand hurts
right now?
She hits me again then she strokes me softly. The combination of the hard stinging blow and her
gentle caress is so mind numbing. She hits me again... the resulting wave of pleasure has me
becoming wet. What the hell? She strokes me gently and then the blow comes. I cry out again.
"No one to hear you, baby, just me."
And she spanks me again and again. From somewhere deep inside, I want to beg her to stop. But I
won't give her the satisfaction. She continues the unrelenting rhythm. I cry out six more times.
Eighteen slaps in total. My body is singing, singing from her merciless assault. Her last strike is
over my mound, and the impact on my clit comes as pure pleasure and not painful at all.
"Enough," she breathes hoarsely. "Well done, Laura. Now I'm going to fuck you."
She caresses my behind gently, and it burns as she strokes me round and round and down.
Suddenly, she inserts two fingers inside me, taking me completely by surprise. I gasp, this new
assault breaking through the numbness around my brain.
"Feel this. See how much your body likes this, Laura. You're soaking just for me."
There is awe in her voice. She moves her fingers, in and out in quick succession.
I groan wantonly, and then her fingers are gone... and I'm left wanting. Come back!
"Next time, I will have you count. 'One spank, ah-ah-ah... Two, two spankings, ah-ah-ah..." She
just ruined Sesame Street for me.
"I'm going to take you now. You can come," she murmurs.
What? Like I have a choice.
And she's flipped me onto my back and on top me, on her knees and rubbing her own exposed
slick folds against mine as I moan loudly. She moves, grinding into me a fast, intense pace against
me. The feeling is beyond exquisite, raw and debasing and blowing my mind. My senses are
ravaged, disconnected, solely concentrating on what she's doing to me. I never thought this could
actually feel good... As I focus on how she's making me feel, there's a familiar pull deep in my
belly, tightening, quickening. She rolls her head back joyously and my traitorous body explodes in
an intense, body-shattering orgasm.
"Oh, Gods!" she cries out loudly as she finds her release, gripping my thighs firmly as she
shudders while pressed against me. She collapses, panting hard beside me, and her hair sprawls
out covering both of us as she is holding me close.
"Oh, sweetness," she breathes. "Welcome to my world."
We lie there, panting together, waiting for our breathing to slow. She gently strokes my hair while
I don't even have the strength to lift my hand and feel hers. I survived. That wasn't so bad. I'm
more okay with that than I thought I would be. Carmilla nuzzles my neck again, inhaling deeply.
"Well done, buttercup," she whispers, quiet joy in her voice. Her words curl around me like a soft
fluffy towel, and I'm so pleased that she's happy. She picks at the strap on my camisole.
"Is this what you sleep in?" she asks gently.
"Yes," I breathe sleepily.
"You should be in silk and satin, you beautiful girl. I'll take you shopping."
"I like my sweats," I murmur, trying and failing to sound irritated.
She kisses my head again.
"We'll see," she says, "If you want to sleep by me, I want to see you something sexy."
We lie for a few more minutes, hours, who knows, and I think I doze. I rouse when I hear her
speak up.
"I have to go," she says, and leaning down, she kisses my forehead gently. "Are you okay?" Her
voice is soft.
I think about her question. My backside is sore. Well, glowing now, and amazingly I feel, apart
from exhausted, radiant. The realization is humbling, unexpected. I don't understand.
"I'm okay," I whisper. I don't want to say more than that.
I rise stiffly and put my sweatpants back on. They chafe a little against my still-smarting
behind. I'm so confused by my reaction. I remember her saying - I can't remember when - that I
would feel so much better after a good hiding. How can this be so? I really don't get it. But
strangely, I do. I can't say that I enjoyed the experience, in fact, I would still go a long way to
avoid it, but now... I have this safe, weird, floaty-sated feeling. I put my head in my hands. I just
don't understand.
"I found some baby oil. Let me rub it onto your behind."
What?
"No. I'll be fine."
"Laura," she warns, and I want to roll my eyes but quickly stop myself. I stand facing the bed.
Sitting beside me, she gently pulls my sweatpants down again. If I'm to be hers, I guess I should
expect this.
Carmilla squirts baby oil into her hand and then rubs my behind with careful tenderness - from
makeup remover to smoothing balm for a spanked ass, who would have thought it was such a
versatile liquid.
"Aftercare is important. Besides, I like my hands on you," she murmurs, and I have to agree, me
too.
"There," she says when she's finished, and she pulls my pants up again and gives me a light swat
on my bum. I smile at the that, then frown as I catch myself. I glance over at my clock. It's only
ten-thirty.
I struggle to meet her eyes, but when I do, she's gazing down at me with wonder.
"You didn't cry," she murmurs, then grabs me suddenly and kisses me fervently. "Sunday," she
"You didn't cry," she murmurs, then grabs me suddenly and kisses me fervently. "Sunday," she
whispers against my lips, and it's both a promise and a threat.
I watch her walk down the path and climb into the big black Jeep. She doesn't look back. I got
some amazing sex, a spanking that I'm still trying to process, and I will soon get an updated
contract that will essentially sign my body over to her this Sunday. Have I strayed so far from who
I once thought I was? I know that lurking, not very far under my rather numb exterior, is a well of
tears. What am I doing? The irony is I can't even sit down and enjoy a good cry. I'll have to stand.
The door opens and Betty appears, grinning at me. Her face falls when she sees I've been crying.
"Has that bitch upset you again?"
"No... sort of... err... yes."
"Just tell her to take a hike, Laura. You've been so up and down since you met her. I've never
seen you like this." You've never seen me in a relationship, either. The world of Betty Spielsdorf
is very clear; very black and white. Not the intangible, mysterious, vague flavors of sweet and
bitter that exist in my world.
"Sit, let's talk. Let's have some wine. Oh, you've had champagne." She spies the bottle. "Some
crazy expensive champagne."
I smile ineffectually, looking apprehensively at the couch. I approach it with caution. Sitting is
going to hurt, isn't it?
"Are you okay?"
I nodded as Betty pulled out a bottle of red wine and rinsed the teacups.
"Here we go." She hands me a cup of wine. It won't taste as good as the rose champagne did.
"Laura, if she's got commitment issues, dump her. Though I don't really understand it; she couldn't
take her eyes off you after the graduation ceremony, she watched you like a hawk. I'd say she was
completely smitten, but maybe she has a funny way of showing it."
Smitten? Funny way of showing it indeed.
"Betty, it's complicated. How was your evening?" I ask.
I can't talk this through with Betty without revealing too much, but once she starts talking about
Jamie the conversation has shifted completely away from me and I can just smile and nod as she
talks about how she's never really liked a guy this much before and has finally gotten over
questioning her sexuality because he's transgender. Is that why Carmilla never takes her top off?
Does she want to live life as a guy? I frown, uncertain about that as we finish our wine and she's
off packing more of her boxes.
I check my phone and see there's a new email from Carmilla.
You are quite simply exquisite. The most beautiful, intelligent, witty and brave woman I have ever
met. Take some Advil - this is not a request.
Carmilla Karnstein
Flattery will get you nowhere, but since you've been everywhere the point is moot.
Red wine is always more preferable to Advil.
Laura
PS: Caning is a HARD limit for me.
I accept your addition to the hard limits. And I haven't been everywhere yet. ;)
Don't drink too much.
Carmilla Karnstein
I'm not sure I want you everywhere, especially at the moment. Right now I am not so certain I like
you.
Laura
Why don't you like me?
Carmilla Karnstein
Because you never stay with me.
I put down my phone after I send the last reply. There, that's given her something to think
about. It's been an amazing 24 hours; dad approving of Carmilla, Betty and her big mouth, and
hearing Carmilla speak about being hungry. What the hell is that all about? And the smart car. I
haven't even told Betty about the new car. What was Carmilla thinking?
And then this morning, she actually hit me. I've never been hit in my life, outside of my Krav
Maga classes. What have I gotten myself into? Very slowly, my tears, halted by Betty's arrival,
begin to slide down the side of my face and into my ears. I lay on my bed, facing the wall, to hide
that I'm crying. I have fallen for someone who's so emotionally shut down, I will only get hurt -
deep down I know this - someone who by her own admission is completely fucked up. Why is she
so fucked up? It must be awful to be as affected as she is, and the thought that as a toddler she
suffered some unbearable cruelty makes me cry harder. Perhaps if she was more normal she
wouldn't want me, and worry that I'm right. I turn my face into my pillow and the emotional gates
open... and for the first time in years, I am sobbing uncontrollably into my pillow.
I am momentarily distracted from my dark thoughts by Betty shouting.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing here?"
"Well you can't!"
"What the fuck have you done to her now?"
"Since she's met you she cries all the time."
"You can't come in here!"
Carmilla bursts into the dorm and I turn red, puffy eyes towards her.
"Jesus, Laura," she mutters.
"What are you doing here?" I gasp between sobs. Crap. I can't stop crying.
Betty comes and stands in the doorway.
"Do you want me to call campus security?" she asks, radiating a previously unseen hostility.
Carmilla raises her eyebrows at her, no doubt surprised by her feral antagonism. I shake my head
and ask for some privacy with Carmilla as she rolls her eyes at me.
"Just holler if you need me," she says more gently. "Karnstein - your cards are marked," she
hisses at her. She nods at her, and she turns and pulls the door to but doesn't close it.
Carmilla gazes down at me, her expression grave, her face ashen. She's wearing her pinstriped
jacket, and from her inside pocket, she pulls out a monogrammed handkerchief with CK on it and
hands it to me. I think I still have her other one somewhere.
"What's going on?" she asks quietly.
"Why are you here?" I ask, ignoring her question. My tears have miraculously ceased, but I'm left
with dry heaves racking my body.
"Part of my role is to look after your needs. You said you wanted me to stay, so here I am. And
now I find you like this." She blinks at me, truly bewildered. "I'm sure I'm responsible, and I think
I know why. Sit up, please."
I pull myself up, wincing from my sore behind. I sit and face her.
"Did you take some pain medicine?"
I shake my head. She narrows her eyes, sighs, and goes to my sink. She's back a few moments
later with pills and a teacup of water.
"Take these," she orders gently as she sits on my bed beside me.
I do as I'm told.
"Talk to me," she whispers. "You told me you were okay. I'd never have left you if I thought you
were like this."
I stare down at my hands. What can I say that I haven't said already? I want more. I want her to
stay because she wants to stay with me, not because I'm a blubbering mess, and I don't want her to
beat me, is that so unreasonable?
"I take it that when you said you were okay, you weren't."
I flush.
"I thought I was fine."
"Laura, you can't tell me what you think I want to hear. That's not very honest," she admonishes
me with my name. "How can I trust anything you've said to me?"
I peek up at her, and she's frowning, a bleak look in her eye. She runs both hands through her
hair. She frustrated.
"Let me walk you through this. How did you feel while I was hitting you and after?"
"I didn't like it. Then I really liked it. It's confusing."
"Your endorphins crashed too quickly and you didn't take any medicine. Proper aftercare would
ensure that this type of 'subdrop' doesn't happen."
"Why do you like doing this?" I stare up at her. My question surprises her.
"You really want to know?"
"Oh, trust me, I'm fascinated." And I can't quite keep the bitter sarcasm out of my voice.
She narrows her eyes again.
"Tone, Miss Hollis." she warns.
I blanch.
"Are you going to hit me again?" I challenge.
"No, not today."
Phew... my subconscious and I both breathe a silent sigh of relief.
"So," I prompt.
"I like the control it brings me, Laura. I want you to behave in a particular way, and if you don't, I
shall punish you, and you will learn to behave the way I desire. I enjoy punishing you. I've
wanted to spank you since you asked me if I was gay."
I flush at the memory. Jeez, I wanted to spank myself after that question. So Betty Spielsdorf is
responsible for all this, and if she'd gone to that interview and asked her gay question, she'd be
sitting here with the sore ass. I don't like that thought. How confusing is this?
"So you don't like me the way I am."
She stares at me, bewildered again.
"I think you're lovely the way you are."
"So why are you trying to change me?"
"I don't want to change you. I'd like you to be courteous and to follow the set of rules I've given
you and not defy me. Simple," she says.
"But you want to punish me?"
"Yes I do."
"That's what I don't understand."
She sighs and runs her hands through her hair again.
"It's the way I'm made, Laura. I need to control you. I need you to behave in a certain way, and if
you don't - I love to watch your beautiful alabaster skin pink and warm up under my hands. It
turns me on."
Holy shit. Now we're getting somewhere.
"So it's not the pain you're putting me through?"
She swallows.
"A bit, to see if you can take it, but that's not the whole reason. It's the fact that you are mine to do
with as I see fit - ultimate control over someone else. And that turns me on. Look, I'm not
explaining myself very well... I've never had to before. I've not really thought about this in any
great depth. I've always been with like-minded people," she shrugs apologetically. "And you still
haven't answered my question - how did you feel afterwards?"
"Confused."
"You were sexually aroused by it, Laura," she closes her eyes briefly, and when she re-opens
them and gazes at me, they are smoldering smoky embers.
Her expression pulls at that dark part of me, buried in the depths of my belly - my libido, woken
and tamed by her, but even now, insatiable.
"Don't look at me like that," she murmurs, "I'm fairly certain we need to sort this out before we
start rutting about in your bed again."
I frown. Jeez what have I done now?
"Question for you: don't you think that asking me for 'more', to share a bed with you, to not be the
kinky sadist, and to try touching me under my top is you trying to change me?"
I squirm under her intense gaze.
"I would like an answer."
I pick at an imaginary spot on my blue and cream quilt.
"You beguile me, Carmilla. Completely overwhelm me. I feel like Icarus flying too close to the
Sun," I whisper.
She gasps.
"Well, I think you've got that the wrong way around," she whispers.
"What?"
"Cupcake, you've bewitched me. Isn't it obvious?"
No, not to me.
"You've still not answered my question. Should I stay?"
"Do you want to stay?" I can't hide the hope in my voice.
"You wanted me here."
"You haven't answered my question."
"Oh, bother," she mutters petulantly. Standing, she puts down her phone and keys. She strips off
her ankle-boots and places her jacket over my chair. She climbs onto the bed and slides in.
"Lie down," she orders.
I slip slowly under the covers, wincing slightly, staring at her. Jeez... she's staying. I think I'm
numb with elated shock. She leans up on one elbow staring down at me.
"If you are going to cry. Cry in front of me. I need to know."
"Do you want me to cry?"
"This isn't about what I want now, but what you need to do to decompress. I want to know how
you're feeling. I don't want you slipping through my fingers. I'll stay here for an hour or so, but
then I need to get back to work. I can't just leave Sue and LaFontaine to meet with the investors."
So she's here... and still so bossy, but I can't complain, she's in my bed. I don't quite understand
why, though. "Lie on your side, facing away from me," she murmurs into my ear. I roll my eyes
in the full knowledge that she cannot see me, but I do as I'm told. Gingerly, she moves over and
puts her arms around me and pulls me to her chest.
"There, there, cupcake." she whispers, and I feel her nose in my hair as she inhales deeply. I feel
safe and protected here, and I realize why. Carmilla Karnstein is sleeping with me, and in the
comfort and solace of her arms, I drift into a peaceful sleep.
The Riding Crop
Chapter Notes
A/N: The further I get into the story, the more I realize that I want to change. Issue
with 50SoG: Christian knew her address which is kinda creepy. Also, Carmilla
Karnstein's backstory has to change somewhat in order to fit better into this story.
Pretty much only her mortal life changes.
See the end of the chapter for more
Danny is there with Chinese take-out as we're packing up the last of Betty's things for her summer
holiday and my move down the hall to the Don's room. She brings several bottles of beer, and
Betty and I sit on the couch while she's cross-legged on the floor between us. We watch crap TV,
drink beer, and as the evening wears on, we fondly and loudly reminisce as the beer takes effect.
It's been a good three years.
The atmosphere between Danny and I has returned to normal, the attempted kiss forgotten. I think
she finally gets that while I may have had a crush on her in my freshmen year, I'm in a relationship
with Carmilla.
I check my email on my phone and find a message waiting.
Shall I see you at 1 p.m. Sunday?
The doctor will be here to see you at 1:30.
Carmilla Karnstein
I reply a quick yes, then think about it, and begin to write out a lengthier email.
You wanted to know why I felt confused after you spanked/punished/assaulted me. Well during the
whole alarming process I felt demeaned, debased, and abused. And much to my mortification,
you're right, I was aroused, and that was unexpected. As you are well aware, all things sexual are
new to me - I only wish I was more experienced and therefore more prepared. I was shocked to
feel aroused.
What really worried me was how I felt afterwards. And that's more difficult to articulate.
I was happy that you were happy. I felt relieved that it wasn't as painful as I thought it would be.
And when I was lying in your arms, I felt - sated. But I feel very uncomfortable, guilty even,
feeling that way. It doesn't sit well with me, and I'm confused as a result. Does that answer your
question?
Thank you for staying with me.
Laura
To answer your points:
I'll go with spanking - as that's what it was.
So you felt demeaned, debased, abused & assaulted? Do you really feel like this or do you think
you ought to feel like this? I still marvel at the amount of Puritanical slut-shaming we impose on
ourselves even today.
Feeling a certain way versus thinking you should feel a certain way are two
very different things.
If that is how you actually feel, then perhaps this isn't for you. I happen to know of people who
actually get off on being debased. However, if you're only feeling guilty over enjoying a bit of pain
with your sex, then may I suggest you let go of whatever preconceived notions you have had
concerning sexual behavior? Don't waste your energy on guilt, feelings of wrongdoing etc. We
are consenting adults and what we do behind closed doors is between ourselves. You need to free
your mind and listen to your body.
I want you to know that I am grateful for your inexperience. Rather than detest it, I value it, and
I'm only beginning to understand what it means. Simply put... it means that you are mine in every
way.
Yes, you were aroused, which in turn was very arousing, there's nothing wrong with that.
Happy does not even begin to cover how I felt. Ecstatic joy comes close.
A punishment spanking hurts far more than sensual spanking - so that's about as hard as it gets,
unless of course you commit some major transgression, in which case I'd instead our relationship
entirely.
I want you to know that I felt sated too - more so than you could ever know. My hand is slightly
sore today, which is a lovely reminder of what we did last night. Thank you for that.
Carmilla Karnstein
Aren't you in a meeting?
I'm very glad your hand was sore.
I will think about embracing these feelings.
Laura
Betty is eyeing a new keyring when she gets another beer from our mini-fridge.
"What's that?" she says accusingly, pointing at the key. I can't resist.
"It's a car," I quip. She narrows her eyes, and for a brief moment, I wonder if she's going to put
me across her knee too. "She traded this for that old expensive book." I try and act nonchalant.
Yes, I get expensive cars given to me everyday. Her mouth and Danny's drops open.
"A bit over the top, don't you think?" Danny said, affronted.
I shrug.
"I did try to refuse it, but frankly, it's just not worth the fight. And it's actually functional rather
than just ostentatious."
Betty purses her lips.
"No wonder you're so overwhelmed. I did note that she stayed over."
"Yeah." I smile wistfully. Danny just looked away, attempting to ignore this part of the
conversation.
""You're still coming to the Adonis Festival and Hunt, won't you?"
"Of course, Danny, when is it?"
"June 19."
"Oh, I can make that." and with that, we're back to the way that we had always been; the three
amigas.
It was near midnight when Carmilla called me and, once again, Betty was spending the night with
Jamie. I knew it was because she was about to spend her entire summer away from him and with
her family, so it didn't really bother me.
"Hi," she says softly.
"Hi."
"Did you have a pleasant evening?" She is crisp and polite.
"Yes. We finished packing and Betty and I shared a Chinese take-out." I close my eyes tightly as I
omit Danny's name. "How about you?"
"I went to a fundraising dinner. It was deathly dull. I left as soon as I could."
She sounds so sad and resigned. My heart clenches. I picture her with her violin, and remember
the bittersweet melody of the music she was playing.
"I wish you were here," I whisper, because I have an urge to hold and soothe her.
Even though she won't let me. I just want proximity.
"Do you?" She murmurs blandly. Holy mackerel. This doesn't sound like her, and my scalp
prickles with dawning apprehension.
"Yes," I breathe. After an eternity, she sighs.
"I'll see you Sunday?"
"Yes, Sunday," I murmur, and a thrill courses through my body.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Mistress."
My address catches both of us by surprise, I can tell by her sharp intake of breath.
"Been enjoying a certain fanfic?" Her voice is soft.
"Maybe." My mind went to the scene where she had hot wax dripped on her, and I couldn't help it
- it was sexy.
"Well its late for you, you need your sleep." I realize we're stalling on the phone like teenagers,
neither wanting to hang up.
"You hang up," I whisper. Finally, I sense her smiling.
"Cupcake, you hang up." And now I know she's grinning.
"Well I don't want to."
"Neither do I."
"I have a question. When you were upset with me before, why didn't you punish me then?"
"Because I won't punish you while I'm angry or upset. As I've told you, this isn't abuse."
"oh."
"You can hang up now, Miss Hollis."
"Do you really want me to, Ma'am?"
"Go to bed."
"Yes, Ma'am."
We both stay on the line.
"Do you ever think you'll be able to do as you're told?" She's amused and exasperated at once.
"Maybe. We'll see after Sunday." And I press 'end' on the phone.
Jamie stands and admires his handiwork. He has tetris'ed all of Betty's things for her summer in
her car with plenty of space left over. Betty and I are impressed by his prowess and I joke that her
car must have time lord technology in it.
"See, baby, easy." He grins a wide white-toothed smile at Betty, and she seems to melt under his
gaze. "Told you I could fit it all in just fine."
I roll my eyes at the pair of them.
"I'd love to stay, baby, but my sister is arriving tonight."
"Can you come visit me this summer?" Betty asks tentatively, all soft and totally not like herself.
I turn away and pretend I see a crumpled-horn snorkak. They are going to get icky.
"I'll see if I can escape my family," he promises.
"I'll make it worthwhile." Betty smiles.
"Laters, Laura." Jamie grins.
"Bye, Jamie."
He winks at me, and I go crimson as he waves goodbye to Betty as she drives off. Other than
gender, I can see that he's the polar opposite of Carmilla. He's warm, open, physical, very
physical, with Betty. They can barely keep their hands off each other - to be honest it's kind of
embarrassing - and I am pea-green with envy.
I return to my dorm room and get everything transferred to the Don's room by the stairs.
Around eight there's a knock - and my heart leaps into my mouth.
"Delivery, Miss Hollis?" Disappointment flows freely and unexpectedly through my veins. It's not
Carmilla.
He holds a bottle of wine with a plush ocelot. I give him a dazzling smile and send him on his way
and proceed to read the card attached.
Never underestimate the tiny cute ones. -Carmilla Karnstein.
I wake early to a gray Sunday morning after a surprisingly refreshing night's sleep and lie awake
staring at my packed boxes. I should really be unpacking these...
No... today's the day. Anticipation hangs heavy and portentous over my head like a dark tropical
storm cloud. Butterflies flood my belly - as well as a darker, carnal, captivating ache as I try to
imagine what she will do to me... and of course, I have to sign that damned contract - or do I? I
pull out my phone and check my email, glad to see a message from her already.
If you drive you'll need this access code for the underground garage: 2015 [1]
Park in bay 5 - it's one of mine.
Code for the elevator: 1698
Carmilla Karnstein
Yes Ma'am.
Thank you for the wine and the stuffed ocelot, which is now tucked snugly in my bed.
Laura
You're welcome.
Don't be late.
Lucky ocelot.
Carmilla Karnstein
I roll my eyes at her bossiness, but her last line makes me smile. I head for the bathroom to begin
my morning ablutions. I wonder if she'll want to have sex. It's Carmilla, of course she's going to
want to have sex.
At 12:55, I pull my smart car into the garage and park in bay five. How many bays does she
own? The Jeep is there, the R8, and a Cadillac... hmm. I check my seldom-worn mascara in the
rear view mirror. I look okay, quit getting flustered.
In the infinity mirrors of the elevator, I check out my cream colored dress, and remember that the
last time I wore a dress like this this, she wanted to peel it off me. My body clenches at the
thought.
Oh my, the feeling is just exquisite, and I catch my breath. The doors open, and I'm facing the
foyer of apartment number one. Kirsch stands at the double doors as I step out of the elevator.
"Good afternoon, Miss Hollis," he says. I roll my eyes at that.
"Oh, please call me Laura."
"Laura," he smirks.
"Ms. Karnstein is expecting you."
I bet she is.
Carmilla is sprawled on her couch reading an old hardcover book. She glances up as Kirsch
directs me into the living area. The room is exactly as I remember it - it's been a whole week since
I've been here - but it feels so much longer. Carmilla looks cool and calm - actually, she looks
angelic. She's in a black Smiths band tee and trademark leather pants, no shoes or socks. Her hair
is tousled and unkempt, and her dark eyes twinkle wickedly at me. She is jaw-droppingly
beautiful as rises and strolls towards me, an amused appraising smile on her beautiful sculptured
lips.
I stand immobilized at the entrance of the room, paralyzed by her beauty and the sweet
anticipation of what's to come. The familiar charge between us is there, sparking slowly in my
belly, drawing me to her.
"Hmm... that dress," she murmurs approvingly as she gazes down at me. "Welcome back, Miss
Hollis," she whispers, and clasping my chin, she leans down and proffers a gentle light kiss on my
lips. The touch of her lips to mine reverberates throughout my body. My breath hitches.
"Hi," I whisper as I flush.
"You're on time. I like punctual. Come." She takes my hand and leads me to the couch. "I wanted
to show you something," she says as we sit. She hands me the local paper. On page eight, there's a
photograph of the two of us together at the graduation ceremony. Holy crap. I'm in the paper. I
check the caption.
Carmilla Karnstein and friend at the graduation ceremony at WSU Vancouver.
I laugh.
"So I'm your 'friend' now."
"So it would appear. And if it's in print, it must be true." She smirks.
Sitting beside me, her whole body is turned toward me, one of her legs tucked under the other.
Reaching over, she tucks my hair behind my ear with her long index finger. My body comes alive
at her touch, waiting and needful. There's a desire in her eyes as she gives me a small smile.
"'The time has come,' the Walrus said, 'To talk of many things...'"
I smile at the Lewis Carroll reference, and supply the next line.
"'Of shoes-and ships-and sealing-wax-Of cabbages-and kings-'"
Carmilla gave that small smile that I knew was genuine and it made my heart leap in my chest.
"You catch on quick."
"Don't the Walrus and the Carpenter wind up eating all of the oysters?"
"You enjoyed eating oytsters," Her voice dropped, suggestively, "among other things."
I blushed at the memory and felt muscles start to clench inside me again.
"So, sweetness, you have a much better idea of what I'm about since you were last here."
"Yes." Where's she going with this?
"And yet you've returned."
I nod shyly, and I see silver glints in her eyes. She shakes her head slightly as if she's struggling
with the idea.
"Have you eaten?" she asks out of the blue.
Shit.
"No."
"Are you hungry?" She's really trying not to look annoyed.
"Not for food," I whisper, and her nostrils flare slightly in reaction. She leans forward and
whispers in my ear.
"You are as eager as ever, Miss Hollis, and just to let you into a little secret, so am I. But the
doctor is due here shortly." She sits up. "I wish you'd eat," she scolds me mildly. My heated blood
cools. Holy cow - the doctor. I'd forgotten.
"What can you tell me about this doctor?" I ask to distract us both.
"She's the best Ob/Gyn around here. What more can I say?" She shrugs.
"I thought I was seeing your doctor."
She gives me a don't-be-ridiculous look.
"I think it's more appropriate that you see a specialist. Don't you?" she says mildly.
I nod. Holy Moses, if she's the best Ob/Gyn, she's scheduled her to see me on a Sunday - at
lunchtime! I cannot begin to imagine how much that costs. Carmilla frowns suddenly as if
recalling something unpleasant.
"Oh, my brother would like you to come to dinner this evening. I don't know how you feel about
that. It will be odd for me to introduce you to him."
Odd? Why?
"Are you ashamed of me?" I can't keep the wounded hurt out of my voice.
"Of course not." She rolls her eyes at me.
"Why is it odd?"
"Because I've never done it before."
"Wait, why are you allowed to roll your eyes, and I'm not?"
She blinks at me.
"I wasn't aware that I was."
"Neither am I usually," I snap at her.
Carmilla glares at me, speechless. Kirsch appears at the doorway.
"The doctor is here, ."
"Show her up to Miss Hollis's room."
My room?!
"Ready for an exam and some bloodwork?" Carmilla asks as she stands and holds out her hand to
me.
"You're not going to come as well are you?" I gasp, shocked. She laughs.
"I'd pay very good money to watch, cupcake, but I don't think the good doctor would approve."
I take her hand, and she pulls me up into her arms and kisses me deeply. I clutch on to her arms,
taken by surprise. Her hand is in my hair holding my head, and she pulls me against her, her
forehead against mine.
"I'm so glad you're here," she whispers. "I can't wait to get you naked." She pulls away as we
hear someone clear their throat.
Dr. Smith is tall, blond, and immaculate, dressed in a royal blue suit. I'm reminded of the women
who work in Carmilla's office. She's another Stepford blonde. Her long hair is swept up in an
elegant bun. She must be in her early forties.
"Ms. Karnstein." She shakes Carmilla's outstretched hand.
"Thank you for coming at such short notice," Carmilla says.
"Thank you for making it worth my while, Ms. Karnstein. Miss Hollis." She smiles, her eyes cool
and assessing.
We shake hands, and I know she's one of those women who doesn't tolerate fools gladly. I like
her immediately. She gives Carmilla a pointed stare, and after an awkward beat, she takes her cue.
"I'll be here," she mutters, and I follow Kirsch and the doctor to 'my' bedroom.
"Well Miss Hollis. Ms. Karnstein is paying me a small fortune to attend to you. What can I do for
you?"
After a thorough examination and lengthy discussion, she ties my arm up and prepares two
vacuum tubes. The doctor tells me that she can get the results within a week if not sooner. I love
her no-nonsense attitude - and I can tell she's burning with curiosity about my so-called
relationship with Ms. Karnstein. I don't give her any details. Somehow I don't think she'd look so
calm and collected if she'd seen her Red Room of Pain. I flush as we pass its closed door and head
back downstairs to the art gallery that is Carmilla's living room.
Carmilla is reading, seated on her couch. "Dead is the New Alive" by Emilie Autumn is playing
on the music system, and the song seems to lift my spirits as I listen to the words.
So take me now or take me never
I won't wait
You're already late
So say goodbye or say forever
Choose your fate
How else can we survive?
Dead is the new alive
For a moment, she looks serene. She turns and glances at us when we enter and smiles warmly at
me.
"Are you done?" she asks as if she's genuinely interested. She points the remote towards the
speakers as the violin solo fades but continues in the background. Standing, she strolls towards us.
"Yes, Ms. Karnstein. Look after her; she's a beautiful, bright young woman."
Carmilla is taken aback - as am I. What an inappropriate thing for a doctor to say. Is she giving her
some kind of not so subtle warning? At least my butt wasn't bruised from the spanking.
Carmilla recovers gracefully.
"I fully intend to," she mutters, bemused.
Gazing at her, I shrug, embarrassed.
"I'll send you my bill," she says crisply as she shakes her hand.
"Good day, and good luck to you, Laura." She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she does when we
shake hands.
Kirsch appears from nowhere to escort her through the double doors and out to the elevator. How
does he do that? Does he lurk?
"How was that?" Carmilla asks.
"Fine, thank you. She said that I had to abstain from all sexual activity for the next four weeks."
Carmilla's mouth drops open in shock, and I cannot keep a straight face any longer and grin at her
like an idiot.
"Gotcha!"
She narrows her eyes, and I immediately stop laughing. In fact, she looks rather forbidding. Oh
shit. My eyes widen as all the blood drains from my face, and I imagine her spanking me again.
"Gotcha!" she says and smirks. She grabs me around my waist and pulls me up against her. "You
are incorrigible, Miss Hollis," she murmurs, staring down into my eyes as she weaves her fingers
into my hair, holding me firmly in place. She kisses me, hard, and I cling onto her for support.
"As much as I'd like to take you here, now, you need to eat and so do I. I don't want you passing
out on me later," she murmurs against my lips.
"Is that all you want me for - my body?" I whisper, voicing a concern that was at the back of my
mind.
"That and your smart mouth," she breathes.
She kisses me again passionately, and then abruptly releases me, taking my hand and leading me
to the kitchen. I am reeling. One minute we're joking and the next... I fan my heated face. She's
just sex on legs, and now I have to recover my equilibrium and eat something. Another song came
on, and I couldn't place the name but I was almost certain it was from the Queen of the Damned
soundtrack, but it sounded much more eastern.
"What's the music?"
"Jonathan Davis - Slept So Long. He wrote the music originally, but Hollywood made it
more American. His original version is great, isn't it?"
"Yes," I murmur in total agreement, trying to place the sound.
"It's the double violin; the sympathetic strings are vibrating and making that sound you're trying to
place."
I see hell in your eyes
Taken in by surprise
Touching you makes me feel alive
Touching you makes me die inside
The breakfast bar is laid for two; Carmilla takes a salad bowl from the fridge.
"Chicken caesar salad okay with you?"
Oh thank heavens, nothing too heavy.
"Yes, fine, thank you."
I watch as she moves gracefully through her kitchen. She's so at ease with her body on one level,
and yet she doesn't like to be touched... so maybe deep down she isn't.
"What are you thinking?" she asks, pulling me from my reverie. I flush.
"I was just watching the way you move."
She raises an eyebrow, amused.
"And?" she says dryly.
I flush some more.
"You're graceful like a cat."
"Why thank you, Miss Hollis," she murmurs. She sits down beside me, holding a bottle of wine.
"Help yourself to salad," she says, her voice soft.
The chicken caesar is delicious. To my surprise, I'm famished, and for the first time since I've been
with her, I finish my meal before she does. The wine is crisp, clean, and fruity.
"Eager as ever, Miss Hollis?" she smiles down at my empty plate.
I look at her from beneath my lashes.
"Yes," I whisper.
Her breath hitches. And as she stares down at me, I feel the atmosphere between us slowly shift,
evolve... charge. Her look goes from dark to smoldering, taking me with her.
She stands, closing the distance between us, and tugs me off my bar stool into her arms.
"Do you want to do this?" she breathes, looking down at me intently.
"I haven't signed anything."
"I know - but I'm breaking all the rules these days."
"Are you going to hit me?" She frowns at my question.
"Yes, but it won't be to hurt you. I don't want to punish you right now."
Holy cow. She wants to hurt me... how do I deal with this? I can't hide the horror on my face.
"Don't let anyone try and convince you otherwise. One of the reasons people like me do this is
because we either like to give or receive pain. It's very simple. You don't, so I spent a great deal of
time yesterday thinking about that."
She pulls me against her, and desire floods through me. I should run, but I can't. I'm drawn to her
on some deep, elemental level, that I can't begin to understand.
"Did you reach any conclusions?" I whisper.
"No, and right now, I just want to tie you up and fuck you senseless. Are you ready for that?"
"Yes," I breathe as everything in my body tightens at once... wow.
"Good. Come." She takes my hand and, leaving all the dirty dishes on the breakfast bar, and we
head upstairs.
My heart starts pounding. This is it. I'm really going to do this. She opens the door to her
playroom, standing back for me to walk through, and I am once more in the Red Room of Pain.
It's the same, the smell of leather, citrus, polish and dark wood, all very sensual. My blood is
running heated and scared through my system - adrenaline mixed with lust and longing. It's a
heady, potent cocktail. Carmilla's stance has changed completely, subtly altered, harder and
meaner. She gazes down at me and her eyes are heated, lustful... hypnotic.
"When you're in here, you are completely mine," she breathes, each word slow and measured.
"To do with as I see fit. Do you understand?"
Her gaze is so intense. I nod, my mouth dry, my heart thumping for a way out of my chest.
"Take your shoes off," she orders softly.
I swallow, and rather clumsily, I take them off. She bends and picks them up and deposits them
beside the door.
"Good. Don't hesitate when I ask you to do something. Now I'm going to peel you out of this
dress. Something I've wanted to do for days. I want you to be comfortable with your body,
sweetness. You have a beautiful body, and I like to look at it." I shrug as I don't really believe her.
Two fingers press under my jaw and lift my eyes to hers.
"It is a joy to behold. In fact, I could gaze at you all day, and I want you unembarrassed and
unashamed of your nakedness. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?" She leans over me, glaring.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Do you mean that?" she snaps.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Good. Lift your arms up over your head."
I do as instructed, and she reaches down and grabs the hem. Slowly, she pulls my dress up over
my thighs, my hips, my belly, my breasts, my shoulders, and over my head. She stands back to
examine me and absentmindedly folds my dress, not taking her eyes off me.
She places it on the large chest beside the door. Leaning in, her lips gaze the edge of my ear, the
touch searing through me.
"You're biting your lip," she breathes. "You know what that does to me," she adds darkly. "Turn
around."
I turn immediately, no hesitation. She unclasps my bra and then taking both straps, she slowly
pulls them down my arms, brushing my skin with her fingers as she slides my bra off. Her touch
sends shivers down my spine, waking every nerve ending in my body. She's standing behind me,
so close that I feel the heat radiating from her, warming me, warming me all over. She pulls my
hair so it's all hanging down my back, grasps a handful at my nape, and angles my head to one
side. She runs her nose down my exposed neck, inhaling all the way, then back up to my ear. The
muscles in my belly clench, carnal and wanting. Jeez, she's hardly touched me, and I want her.
"You smell as divine as ever, Cupcake," she whispers as she places a soft kiss beneath my ear.
I moan.
"Quiet," she breathes. "Don't make a sound."
Pulling my hair behind me, to my surprise, she starts braiding it in one large braid, her fingers fast
and deft. She ties it with an unseen hair tie when she's finished and gives it a quick tug so I'm
forced back against her.
"I like your hair braided in here," she whispers.
Hmm... why?
She releases my hair.
She releases my hair.
"Turn around," she orders.
I do as I'm told as my breathing shallows, fear and longing mixed together. It's an intoxicating
mix.
"When I tell you to come in here, this is how you will dress. Just in your panties. Do you
understand?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?" She glowers at me.
"Yes, Ma'am."
A trace of a smile lifts the corner of her mouth.
"Good girl." Her eyes burn into mine. "When I tell you to come in here, I expect you to kneel
over there." She points to a spot beside the door. "Do it now."
I blink processing her words, turn, and rather clumsily kneel as directed.
"You can sit back on your heels."
I sit back.
"Place your hands and forearms flat on your thighs. Good. Now part your knees." I do so,
realizing how vulnerable it leaves me to her and how I am essentially giving my body over to her
for her pleasure.
"Spread your knees wider. Perfect. Look down at the floor."
She walks over to me, and I can see her feet and shins in my field of vision.
I should be taking notes if she wants me to remember. She reaches down and grasps my braid
again, then pulls my head back so I am looking up at her. It's only just not painful.
"Will you remember this position, Laura?"
"Yes, Ma'am." She kisses me quickly.
"Good girl. Stay here, don't move." Merlin's Beard! My insides clench as I realize I enjoy being
called a 'good girl' as she leaves the room.
I'm on my knees, waiting. Where's she gone? What is she going to do to me? Time shifts. I have
no idea how long she leaves me like this... a few minutes, five, ten? My breathing becomes
shallower, the anticipation is devouring me from the inside out.
And suddenly she's back - and all at once I'm calmer and more excited in the same breath. Could I
be more excited? I can see her feet and the leather pants.
"Good girl, Laura. You look lovely like that. Well done. Stand up."
I stand, but I keep my face down.
"You may look at me."
I peek up at her, and she's staring at me intently, assessing, but her eyes soften.
"Give me your left hand."
I give her my hand. "The contract spoke of me getting you a symbolic token of ownership."
"Like a collar?" I'm not sure I want to wear some sort of dog-collar 24/7 that says "Property of
Carmilla". I feel a cold bit of metal wrap around my wrist and see it's a silver charm bracelet.
There are two charms hanging from it: a little bat and a cat.
"Not all collars are made of leather, and honestly you won't see and remember me as much if you
just put it around your neck." My eyes linger on the bracelet, seeing the small charms jingle.
"Thank you." I say, finding it cute rather than possessive.
"Mine." She says, kissing me. As I open my eyes, I feel a sharp sting in my left hand. What the?! I
realize she just slapped my palm with a riding crop. The pain was so sudden that the pain barely
registered. Even more astonishing - it doesn't hurt. Well, not much, just a slight ringing sting.
"How does that feel?" she asks.
I blink at her, confused. Was she wearing a glove?
"Answer me."
"Okay." I frown.
"Don't frown."
I blink and try for impassive. I succeed.
"Did that hurt?"
"No."
"This is not going to hurt. Do you understand me?"
"Yes." My voice is uncertain. Is it really not going to hurt?
"I mean it," she says.
Jeez, my breathing is so shallow. Does she know what I'm thinking? She shows me the crop. It's
brown plaited leather. My eyes jerk up to meet her, and they're alight with fire and a trace of
amusement.
"We aim to please, Miss Hollis," she murmurs. "Come." She puts metal handcuffs on me and the
ratcheting sound startles me until she gives my butt a playful swat. I can't help but giggle at this.
"Snap your fingers." She states gently. I snap my fingers, confused.
"Besides your safe words of Yellow and Red, you can snap your fingers, okay?"
I nodded, confused as she walks around me. She's behind me as I hear her give another command.
"Open your mouth."
I do so and find a bit put in place as she buckles the gag behind my head. I can't close my mouth
entirely but I also can't talk.
She walks slowly round me.
"You look mighty fine trussed up like this, Miss Hollis. And your smart mouth? Quiet for now. I
like that."
Standing in front of me again, she hooks her fingers into my panties, and at a most unhurried pace,
peels them down my legs, stripping me agonizingly slowly, so that she ends up kneeling in front
of me. Not taking her eyes off mine, she scrunches my panties in her hand and tucks them into the
pocket of her leather pants.
"We're going to start here, but I want to fuck you on all fours. Put your hands above your head."
I oblige immediately, feeling like I'm exiting my body - a casual observer of events as they unfold
around me. This is beyond fascinating, beyond erotic. It's singularly the most exciting and scary
thing I've ever done. I'm entrusting myself to a beautiful woman who, by her own admission, is
fifty flavors of fucked-up. I suppress the brief thrill of fear.
She stands very close as she fastens the handcuffs to something overhead. Her proximity is
heavenly. She smells of incense and Carmilla, an intoxicating mix, and that drags me back into the
now. I want to run my nose and tongue all over her covered body.
I could just lean forward...
She steps back and gazes at me, her expression dark, salacious, carnal, and I am helpless with my
hands tied, but just looking at her lovely face, reading her need and longing for me, I can feel the
dampness between my legs.
At the touch of the leather to my quim, I quiver and gasp. She walks round me again, trailing the
crop around the middle of my body. On her second circuit, she suddenly flicks the crop, and it hits
the fleshiest part of my ass. I cry out in surprise as all my nerve endings stand to attention. I pull
against the restraints. The shock runs through me, and it's the sweetest strangest, hedonistic
feeling.
"Quiet," she whispers as she walks around me again, the crop slightly higher around the middle of
my body. This time when she flicks it against me in the same place, I'm anticipating the
impact... oh my. My body convulses at the sweet, stinging bite.
As she makes her way around me, she flicks again, this time hitting my nipple, and I throw my
head back as my nerve endings sing. She hits the other... a brief, swift, sweet chastisement. My
nipples harden and elongate from the assault, and I moan loudly, pulling on my leather cuffs.
"Does that feel good?" she breathes.
I nod.
She hits me again across the buttocks. The crop stings this time.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I mumble through the gag.
She comes to a stop... but I can no longer see her. My eyes are closed as I try to absorb the myriad
of sensations coursing through my body. Very slowly, she rains small, biting licks of the crop up
the inside of my thighs, heading north. I know where this is leading, and I try and psyche myself
up for it - but when she hits my clitoris, I cry out loudly.
"Oh... please!" I groan.
"Quiet," she orders, and she hits me again with a satisfying smack on my behind.
I did not expect this to be like this... I am lost. Lost in a sea of sensation. And suddenly, she's
dragging the crop against my sex, through my pubic hair, down to the entrance of my vagina.
"See how wet you are for this, Laura. Open your eyes and look at me."
I do as I'm told, completely seduced. She pulls the gag out of my mouth and as I work my jaw,
she pushes the tip of the crop into my mouth, just like my dream. Holy shit.
"See how you taste. Suck. Suck hard, baby."
My mouth closes around the crop as my eyes lock on her. I can taste the rich leather and the
saltiness of my arousal. Her eyes are blazing. She's in her element.
She pulls the tip from my mouth, and she stands forward and grabs me and kisses me hard, her
tongue invading my mouth. Wrapping her arms around me, she pulls me against her. Her chest
crushes mine, and I itch to touch, but I can't, my hands, useless above me.
"Oh, Laura, you taste mighty fine," she breathes. "Shall I make you come?"
"Please," I beg.
The crop bites my buttock. Ow!
"Please, what?"
"Please, Ma'am," I whimper.
She smiles at me, triumphant. "That's better... Now, with this?" She holds the crop up so I can see
it.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Are you certain?" She looks sternly at me.
"Yes, please, Ma'am."
"Close your eyes."
I shut the room out, her out... the crop out. She starts small, biting licks of the crop against my ass
once more. It hurts without really hurting, and I can tell she is deliberately increasing the intensity
over time like you'd slowly boil a lobster. There was a pattern emerging; soft small licks against
the back of my thighs, around my legs, and back up to my clitoris, she did the circuit once, twice,
three times, again and again, until finally I lose count and I'm floating on endorphins and that's it -
I can take no more - she hits my quim and I come, gloriously, loudly, sagging weakly. Her arms
curl around me as my legs turn to jelly. I dissolve in her embrace, my head against her chest, and
I'm mewling and whimpering as the aftershocks of my orgasm consume me. She lifts me, and
suddenly we're moving, my wrists still tethered together, and I can feel the cool wood of the
polished cross at my back, and she's popping the buttons on her jeans. She puts me down against
the cross briefly while she removed her leather pants and adjust some straps on herself before her
hands wrap around my thighs as she lifts me again.
"Lift your legs, baby, wrap them round me."
I feel so weak, but I do as she asks as she wraps my legs around her hips and positions herself
beneath me. I'm blissed out as I vaguely realize she's wearing a feeldoe and has made it start to
hum with vibration. With one thrust, she's inside me, and I cry out again, listening to her muffled
moan at my ear. My cuffed wrists are resting on her shoulders and behind her head as she thrusts
into me. Jeez, it's deep this way. She thrusts again and again, her face at my neck, her harsh
breathing at my throat, and she is inside me and vibrating. She's got to be real strong to hold me
up for this... I feel the build up again. Not again... I don't think my body will withstand another
earth-shattering moment. But I have no choice... and with an inevitability that's becoming familiar,
I let go and come again, and it's sweet and agonizing and intense as I don't feel attached to my
own body anymore.
I lose all sense of self. Carmilla follows, shouting her own orgasm through clenched teeth and
holding me tight and close as she does.
She pulls out of me swiftly and sets me down against the cross, her body supporting mine. Lifting
my arms, she frees herself from my embrace and we both sink to the floor. She pulls me into her
lap, cradling me, and I lean my head against her chest. If I had the strength, I'd touch her, but I
don't. Belatedly, I realize she's still wearing her top.
"Well done, baby," she murmurs. "Did that hurt?"
"No," I breathe. I can barely keep my eyes open. Why am I so tired?
"Did you expect it to?" she whispers as she holds me close, her fingers pushing some escaped
tendrils of hair off my face.
"Yes."
"You see most of your fear is in your head," she pauses. "Would you do it again?"
I think for a moment as fatigue clouds my brain ... Again?
A giggle escapes me. "Yes." My voice is so soft.
She hugs me tightly.
"Good. So would I," she murmurs, then leans down and softly kisses the top of my head. "I think
you're passing out, cupcake."
I nod. There's no way I can do any more. I am utterly spent and fighting an overwhelming desire
to sleep. I'm leaning against her chest, my eyes are closed, and she's wrapped around me - arms
and legs - and I feel... safe, and oh so comfortable. Will she let me sleep, perchance to dream? My
mouth quirks up at the silly thought, and turning my face into Carmilla's chest, I inhale her unique
scent and nuzzle her, but immediately she tenses... oh crap. I open my eyes and glance up at her.
She's staring down at me.
"Don't," she breathes in warning.
I flush and look back at her chest in longing. I want to run my hands and tongue over her breasts,
and kiss her nipples, and for the first time, I feel through the top a few random and faint scars on
her torso and chest. Who or what could have marred her?
"Let's put you in bed," she orders as she sits back, putting her hands on her knees, effectively
releasing me. No longer warm, the temperature of her voice has dropped several degrees.
I stumble clumsily up into a standing position and shuffle over to the bed and fall in as instructed.
I'm shaky and very, very tired, monumentally confused. This isn't Carmilla's bed. I recall that I'm
in the Red Room of Pain.
Who would have thought I could have found such gratification in this room? Who could have
thought it would be so exhausting? My limbs are deliciously heavy, sated.
Carmilla is moving about in the periphery of my vision. My eyes start to droop.
"You're shattered, aren't you?"
I nod shyly, flushing.
"Stamina, Miss Hollis." She narrows her eyes at me. "We're going to have to work on that."
"I want more - much, much more," she leans down and whispers in my ear.
And my heartbeat starts pounding again. Oh boy.
"But I'll make this quick. You're tired. Get on your hands and knees." she says. I frown.
She wants more sex?
She stands behind me and grasps my hips, and then quickly lifts me backward so I'm at the edge
of the bed.
"I'm going to fuck you hard from behind. Try to keep your balance here. Understand?"
"Yes."
She smacks me across my behind with her hand. Ow... It stings.
"Yes, Ma'am," I mutter quickly. Remember: when in the Red Room of Pain, call her "Ma'am" or
"Mistress".
"That's better. Now part your legs." She puts her legs between my ankles as she pushes my right
leg to the side. "That's better. After this, I'll let you sleep."
Sleep? I'm panting. I'm not thinking of sleep now. She reaches up and gently strokes my back.
"You have such beautiful skin, sweetness," she breathes as she bends down and kisses me along
my spine, gentle feather-light kisses. At the same time, her hands move round to my sex and she
circles my clit, working her fingers in and out of me as a massive tease.
I stifle my moan as I feel my whole body respond, coming alive once more for her. How am I still
turned on after all this?
She gently bites and sucks at my neck, tugging my nipples, and my fists pull on the bedsheet. Her
hands drop away, and I hear the sound of a small bottle snapping open and closed.
"You have such a captivating, sexy ass, Miss Hollis. What I'd like to do to it."
Her hands smooth and shape each of my buttocks, then her fingers glide down, and she slips two
fingers inside me. I gasp as I realize she's curling her fingers on my g-spot.
"So wet. You never disappoint, sweetness," she whispers, and I hear the wonder in her voice.
"Hold tight... this is going to be quick, baby."
She grabs my hips and positions herself, and I brace myself for her assault. But she reaches over
me and grabs my braid near the end and winds it round her wrist to my nape holding my head in
place. Very slowly she eases back into me, pulling my hair at the same time... oh the fullness. She
eases out of me slowly, and her other hand grabs my hip, holding tight, and then she slams into
me, jolting me forward.
"Hold still!" she shouts through clenched teeth.
I clench the bed sheets tighter and push back against her as she continues her merciless onslaught,
again and again, her fingers digging into my hip. My arms are aching, my legs feel uncertain, my
scalp becomes sore from her tugging my hair... and I can feel something massive gathering deep
inside me. Oh no... and for the first time, I fear my orgasm... if I come, I'll collapse...
Carmilla continues to move roughly against me, in me, her breathing harsh, moaning, groaning.
My body is responding... quickening. But suddenly, Carmilla stills, slamming really deep as her
teeth bite into the soft meaty area where my neck meets my shoulder.
"Come on, Laura, come for me," she groans, and my name on her lips sends me over the edge as I
become all body and spiraling sensation and sweet, sweet release, and then completely and utterly
mindless.
When sense returns, I'm lying face-down on the bed. She's on lying on top of me, my back to her
front, and I'm staring at the wall where the saint andrew's cross is, all post-coital, glowing,
shattered. Oh...
Carmilla nuzzles my ear.
"I'd say you're thoroughly fucked and in need of sleep."
"Thank you Mistress," I mumble, half-aware. I think she pulls out of me as I can't remember how
many times I came.
She grins and gently rolls off of me, gloriously naked. My eyes are bleary and heavy and I can't
really appreciate her. Unbuckling the strap-on, she removes the blue feeldoe from herself. I tried to
reach out to her to beckon her back to bed.
"Have to use the restroom, sweetness."
I am exhausted. I don't remember ever being this tired. "Rest now, gorgeous girl," she whispers,
and she kisses my hair. And before I can make a facetious comment, I succumb to sleep.
Chapter End Notes
[1] 2015 is the current number of Creampuffs on the FB group.
Meeting Will
Chapter Notes
A/N: Since Fool's Gold isn't updating today after all, I'm posting a bit early so all of
the Creampuffs can get their fanfic fix. (If you're not reading Fool's Gold, go read
that, I HIGHLY recommend it for anyone who like HSAU (High School Alt
Universe).
A/N #2: The further I get into the story, the more I realize that I want to change. Issue
with 50SoG: He knew her address which is kinda creepy. This chapter is pretty much
all original.
A/N #3: This is my one year anniversary of being legally married to my wife and
partner of almost 10 years. Thanks for everything, Bleu Jay.
I wake up, drowsy and exceedingly thirsty. Carmilla is nowhere to be seen. She must have made
her way back to her bedroom. I try to sit up, only to realize that my wrists are still handcuffed
together. Oh, crap. There has to be a key, right? I look around the room and don't see keys at all.
Just more paddles, floggers, vibrators, canes... but no keys.
I realize with the small amount of chain between the cuffs, I have some motion and can do things,
since the handcuffs are in front of me. I look around in the darkness and can't find my clothes,
however. Whatever, I'll just make a quick run to the kitchen.
I roll onto my back and sit up before I stand, making my way to the door and I peek my head out
to realize that it's like 3 pm, but nobody is out and about. I grimace and make my way over there,
feeling something bounce on my chest and realize that Carmilla never took the bit gag off of me,
just loosened it off of my mouth to hang like a heavy necklace. My eyes catch a glimpse of the
silver bracelet she gave me and my heart swelled with pride.
This is a gift that isn't too extravagant; and I find it downright cute. I looked at the two charms and
wondered why a cat and a bat. Maybe she also volunteers at a bat sanctuary? I shrug the idea
away as I make it to the kitchen cabinets and my jaw drops in surprise. There are no handles to
pull on.
Does Carmilla have some sort of crazy electronic lock on her cabinets? Maybe she's more of a
control freak than I thought. I banged my head against one of the cabinets in frustration, only to
hear a clicking sound. Hollis, you made her pancakes before. Just push on the cabinets to open.
After a few minutes of searching, I finally find cabinet door open that holds the cups so I can get
some water from the fridge.
Of course it's on the shelf above the plates.
I have to get on my tippy-toes and reach with my hands to get a glass from there, and hold it
carefully as I put it down on the counter and close the cabinet. With my hands cuffed together, my
thumbs are essentially useless as I have to use both hands to hold anything. I shrug the thought
away as I pick up the glass again and put it into the ice dispenser and try really hard to push the
'crushed' setting with my nose before I push against the lever with the glass to get the ice. A bit of
grinding and a few seconds later...
Success!
I can't believe how happy I am to get a good inch and a half of crushed ice into my glass before I
move over to the other spot in the refrigerator and get cool water to pour into the glass. When it's
finally full, I am gulping down the cool, refreshing water... I never realized how much of a
workout sex could be...
A polite clearing of a throat startled me and I almost dropped my glass. "Laura? Do you need
anything?"
Oh shit!
I turn to look and see who is there, then try to position my arms to cover myself as best as
possible. Damn these handcuffs! I wind up with my arms covering my breasts and the glass of
water and my hands doing their best to hide the rest of me.
"Um, hi Perry..."
A shocked Perry has both hands covering her eyes and face at the embarrassing situation.
"I, um, heard someone in the kitchen and I... uh, just wanted to make sure if needed anything to
eat."
"Oh, no, I'm just thirsty." And naked. I wondered idly if she also had to sign an NDA.
"Oh okay, I guess I'll let you and Ms. Karnstein get back to um... whatever it is you two are
doing."
I know I'm beet red now.
"Um, you clean this place, right? All of the rooms?" I ask nervously. "So you'd have some sort
of... master set of keys?"
She looks at me, grimacing. "I do, but..." She points at my wrists. "There's a little button on those
cuffs for a quick release."
Oh.
I wanted to ask her how she knows that. Carmilla plays with Perry too?!
"I noticed those when I cleaned the room and might might have shown them off to LaFontaine.
Don't let Ms. Karnstein know, please. I just thought it looked a bit... interesting."
I moved behind the counter and put the glass down, taking the time to examine the cuffs. Sure
enough, they were the trick handcuffs used by magicians and I was able to take them off myself.
"Thanks, and your secret is safe with me." I take another sip of the water, using my left arm to
cover my breasts.
"...and the bite gag unbuckles from the right behind your head." Perry mutters, walking away
sheepishly. I take the glass of water back to my bedroom and pass back out.
Soft lips brush across my temple, leaving sweet tender kisses in their wake, and part of me wants
to turn and respond, but mostly I want to stay asleep. I moan and burrow into my pillow.
"Laura, wake up." Carmilla's voice is soft, cajoling.
"No," I moan. I open my eyes reluctantly. It's dusk outside. Carmilla is leaning over, gazing at me
intently.
"Come on sleepy-head, you've napped long enough. Will wants to meet you. Get up." She stoops
down and kisses me again.
"I've brought you a drink. I'll be downstairs. Don't go back to sleep, or you'll be in trouble," she
threatens, but her tone is mild. She kisses me briefly and exits, leaving me blinking sleep from my
eyes in the cool, stark room.
I'm awake but suddenly nervous. Holy cow, I am meeting her brother! She worked me over with
a riding crop and had me in handcuffs, for heaven's sake - and now I'm going to actually meet
Will. He seemed nice enough on the phone, though a bit nozy.
I climb slowly out of bed and note that a dress is laid out for me and my bra is on the chair. Okay,
having my own bedroom here might be helpful, particularly if there's a change of clean clothes I
can wear.
I make my way into the adjoining bathroom without a stitch on, glad that my bedroom had one.
While drying myself after my enjoyable but far too brief shower, I throw on the robe and make my
way to what Carmilla said was 'my' room. I ransack the dresser and find an assortment of bras
with their tags still on, new socks, satin sleep clothes... but no panties.
I can see the empty space in the drawer where they would be, and I realize she's done this on
purpose. She thinks I'll be embarrassed and have to ask for panties, possibly this is her way of
getting back for borrowing a pair of hers. Hell... two can play at this game. I will not give her the
satisfaction! I put on my bra, the light-colored sundress, and applied a small amount of foundation
and lip gloss, smirking the entire time that Carmilla wasn't going to win this. I almost dance in
glee because I know this will drive her crazy.
I glance into the closet and find it mostly full with an assortment of shoes. Holy hell, I realized, this
was the standard thing she did for the previous submissives. I flip through the dresses in the closet
and realize that most of them will fit me, along with the shoe collection lining the floor.
Submissives one through fifteen must have stood where I did at one point, got to choose from all
of these clothes left here, and I'm the latest one that fits Carmilla's mold. I picked out the shoes
that went best with the dress and sighed as I wondered what number seventeen would look like;
what she would think when she saw a closet full of dresses and shoes for her to wear. Would
Carmilla buy her a car as well?
And to think, Betty could have been here instead if she did the interview instead of being
hungover. I didn't like the idea of Carmilla and Betty together; I wasn't sure if it was jealousy or
because I think Betty would enjoy Carmilla's gift-lavishing.
I frown slightly as I make my way past the Red Room, grabbing the drink she's left for me. I taste
it and realize it's carbonated cranberry juice. It's crisp yet delicious.
As I leave the hallway with the bedrooms and come into the massive living area, I see Carmilla is
having her blood drawn by LaFontaine as they are having a hushed conversation about
something. They aren't a doctor though, what is LaF up to? Carmilla gives a shy smile as the
vacuum tube is taken out of her arm and she flexes her elbow.
"Random drug testing for my company. Nobody is exempt." Carmilla says in explanation.
"Hey LaFontaine. I heard you worked here, now. How did you get hired on here?"
LaFontaine glanced to Carmilla who gave a shrug that could have meant anything.
"She saw my paper on hemophagy and wanted to talk to me about..." They trailed off, and I
realized that Carmilla probably had an NDA in effect here, too.
"I had a need for a biologist in my company. That was the other reason why I was on campus the
day we had coffee."
"You were the girl she was talking about who almost got hit by the dimwit on a crosswalk?"
"Um, yeah. Anyways, do you like it here?" I asked politely.
LaFontaine gives me a gleeful smile. "Hell yes! I get to run the drug testing, help design and test
the water purification system for eco-friendly farming in third world counties, and she gave me my
own discretionary research budget. I pretty much get to science all day long."
Perry walked it and tapped LaFontaine on the shoulder. "Ms. Karnstein has a dinner appointment
and Kirsch is downstairs already with the Jeep, let's not make them late. And you better not forget
to eat the food I made you."
I exchanged a knowing glance with Carmilla. Those two were already like a married couple. I
looked her up and down; she was in her corporate clothes now, stone-gray chino slacks, black
slingback heels, and a white linen blouse. Big band music is playing softly over the speakers. Her
hair was swept up in a no-nonsense bun, her bangs effortlessly sweeping the side of her face like a
gentle caress.
"Hi," I say softly, and her sphinx-like smile warms me.
"Hi," she says. "How are you feeling?" Her eyes are alight with amusement.
"Good, thanks. You?"
"I feel mighty fine, Miss Hollis."
She is so waiting for me to say something. I recognize the man crooning on the speakers.
"I never thought you'd be a Sinatra fan."
She raises her eyebrows at me, her look speculative.
"Frank and I go way back, Miss Hollis," she murmurs, and she paces toward me like a panther
until she's standing in front of me, her gaze so intense it takes my breath away.
Frank starts crooning... an old song, one of my dad's favorites. Fly me to the moon. Carmilla
leisurely traces her fingertips down my cheek, and I feel it all the way down there.
"Dance with me," she murmurs, her voice husky.
Taking the remote out of her pocket, she turns up the volume and holds her hand out to me, her
gray gaze full of promise and longing and humor. She is totally beguiling, and I'm bewitched. I
place my hand in her. She grins lazily down at me and pulls me into her embrace, her arm curling
around my waist, and she starts to sway.
I put my free hand on her shoulder and grin up at her, caught in her infectious, playful mood. And
we start to move as her eyes trail over the bracelet she gave me. We cover the floor, from the
window to the kitchen and back again, whirling and turning in time to the music. And she makes
it so effortless for me to follow.
We glide around the dining table, over to the piano, and backwards and forwards in front of the
glass wall, the city twinkling outside, a dark and magical mural to our dance, and I can't help give
a carefree laugh. She grins at me as the song comes to a close.
"In other words, please be true..." she murmurs, then kisses me sweetly. "Well, that's bought some
color to your cheeks, cupcake. Thank you for the dance. Shall we go and meet Will?"
"You're welcome, and yes. I can't wait to meet him." I answer breathlessly.
"Do you have everything you need?"
"Oh, yes," I respond sweetly.
"Are you sure?" She knows I don't have anything on under this dress.
I nod as nonchalantly as I can manage under her intense, amused scrutiny. Her face splits into a
huge grin, and she shakes her head.
"Okay. If that's the way you want to play it, buttercup."
She grabs my hand, collects her jacket which is hanging on one of the bar stools, and leads me
through the foyer to the elevator.
I steal a glance at her in the elevator. She's enjoying a private joke, a trace of a smile flirting with
her beautiful mouth. I fear that it may be at my expense. What was I thinking? I'm going to see her
brother, and I'm not wearing any underwear! In the relative safety of her apartment, it seemed like
a fun, teasing idea. Now, I'm almost outside with no panties! She glances back at me, and it's
there, the charge building between us. The amused look disappears from her face and her
expression clouds, her eyes darken... oh my.
The elevator doors open on the ground floor. Carmilla shakes her head slightly as if to clear her
thoughts and motions for me to exit first in a polite manner.
Who's she kidding?! She's not polite at all, she took my panties last night!
Kirsch pulls up in the Jeep. Carmilla opens the rear door for me, and I climb inside as elegantly as
I can, my mind completely focused on the fact that I and going commando. I can feel an
occasional draft, too. I'm grateful this dress is so snug and goes to the top of my knees.
We're pretty quiet in the backseat, mostly due to Kirsch driving up front. Carmilla seems to be
distant in thought, and from the look on her face, it isn't anything too happy. What ever happened
to her parents? I didn't want to pry, but I could tell she was brooding about something. What is
she thinking? What can I say in front of Kirsch?
"So, uh, where did you learn to dance?" I ask tentatively. She turns to gaze at me, her dark eyes
unreadable.
"Do you really want to know?" she replies softly.
My heart sinks, as I can guess who taught her.
"Yes," I murmur, reluctantly.
"Well, 'Mrs. Robinson' was fond of dancing."
She taught/trained her well, and the thought depresses me - there's so much about her past that I
don't know about. She doesn't seem to want to open up about much, either.
"She must have been a good teacher." I say politely.
"She was," she says, and I can't place the tone she had. Did she miss her?
My scalp prickles. Did she have the best of her? Before she became so closed-off, or did she bring
her out of some shell? She has such a fun, playful side. I smile involuntarily as I recall being in her
arms as she spun me around her living room; when she threatened to fuck me on the hood of my
car, and when she pocketed my panties last night.
And then there's her Red Room of Pain. I rub my wrists reflexively - I didn't realize the handcuffs
weren't real before. She taught her all that too - or ruined her, depending on one's point of view -
or perhaps she would have still been kinky despite Mrs. R.
I realize, in that moment, that I hate her. I hope that I never meet this woman because I don't even
know how I would respond to her. She was a predator, and exploited a vulnerable, young
Carmilla. Gazing unseeing out of the window, I nurse my irrational anger and jealousy.
My mind drifts back to last night. Given what I understand of her preferences, I think Carmilla's
been easy on me. Would I do it again? Of course I would, as long as she didn't hurt me and if it's
the only way I can be with her.
That's the bottom line. I want to be with her.
"Don't," she murmurs.
I frown and turn to look at her.
"Don't what?" I haven't touched her.
"Don't over-think things, sweetness." Reaching out, she grasps my hand, draws it up to her lips,
and kisses my knuckles gently. "I had a wonderful evening. Thank you."
And she's back with me again. I blink up at her and smile shyly. She's so confusing. I ask a
question that's been bugging me.
"Why didn't you sleep in bed with me?"
She frowns at me.
"I don't sleep very well, and I didn't want to wake you." She smiles at me mildly. She has frequent
nightmares.
"You spent the night well enough at my place."
"I passed out after some amazing sex and an intense orgasm, cupcake. Totally different."
I flush and glance nervously at Kirsch, who remains impassive, eyes on road. What am I supposed
to say to that? Carmilla shrugs innocently.
"You're the only one out of the sixteen who I've shared a bed with like that." She squeezes my
hand and lets go, staring out of the window again.
My heart jumps at that tidbit of knowledge, but trips at what she didn't include there. Mrs.
Robinson. She also hasn't mentioned that damned contract. My inner musings do nothing to cheer
me up.
I glance briefly at Carmilla, and she's staring at me.
"Penny for your thoughts?" she asks.
I sigh and frown.
"That bad, huh?" She adds, stroking my thigh.
"I wish I knew what you were thinking." I said, putting my hand in hers.
She smirks at me.
"Same here." she says softly as Kirsch pulls into a parking lot.
"Are you ready for this?" Carmilla asks as Kirsch kills the engine.
I nod, and she gives my hand another reassuring squeeze. "First time I meet someone's family."
"First for me too," she whispers, then smiles wickedly. "Bet you wish you were wearing your
underwear right now," she teases.
I flush. I'd forgotten my missing panties. Fortunately, Kirsch has climbed out of the car and is
opening my door so he can't hear our exchange. I scowl at Carmilla who grins broadly as I turn
and climb out of the car.
William Karnstein is tall-and-dark kind of man, handsome in every way that I find Carmilla
beautiful. His hair is short enough so I can't tell if it's wavy or not, and he's got that same winning
smile as the woman beside me.
"Laura, this is my brother William."
"Pleasure to meet you." I smile and shake his outstretched hand. He seems polished and affable
enough as Kirsch shakes his hand, probably glad to be around some more testosterone, but he
seems to have a bit of distance with me.
"The pleasure is all mine, Laura."
His eyes are brown yet cold as he regards his sister. Something seems unspoken between them.
Must be sibling telepathy or something.
"Shall we go in?" He offers and the four of us enter the Italian restaurant.
"She's never introduced me to a girlfriend before," says Will, "I was beginning to think she was
embarrassed of me." I can tell that he's joking and smile at him.
I glimpse Carmilla rolling her eyes. "I don't know, do you still prattle on about mindless things that
drive people to ennui?" Her snide remark had no weight to it and I realized that this was how they
acted around each other.
The hostess directs us to a table and as she walks away, Kirsch and Will both turn their heads to
check her out. Carmilla and I share a knowing glance and blush. Kirsch has enough shame to look
embarrassed.
"Drinks?" Will seems to recover lightly. "Chardonnay?"
"Please," Carmilla and I speak in unison. Kirsch declines and takes a soda instead.
"You're even saying the same things. You got it bad for her, kitty." Will says to Carmilla.
I flush scarlet at that. The waiter comes around and we all place our orders. Will gets the veal
piccata while Kirsch asks for plain old spaghetti and meatballs. I get the chicken primavera while
Carmilla orders farfalle with salmon and capers.
"So what's the occasion? You could have just called for an investment." Carmilla asked politely.
Will looked at us nervously. "Um, have you heard from our sister?"
Carmilla paled slightly, sitting more erect than before. "No. You know I don't have my siblings on
speed dial." Will nodded in understanding at that.
"She claims to have found mom." Her mother?
"What happened to your mother?" I asked. Carmilla and Will exchanged a glance, her brother
shaking his head as if he didn't want to deliver the bad news. It had to be bad news.
"Um, she's in, you know, rehab." Carmilla shrugged, looking a bit ashamed. "Checks herself into
clinics under aliases and... well, eventually the bill finds me."
"And you just pay for her to keep going? If she keeps going, then she's not really learning from
it." I mentioned, feeling like I was missing a vital piece of the puzzle.
"Kids these days don't understand obligation." Carmilla said plainly.
I glanced at Will, and he had a similar look on his face. "Yeah. Every twenty-well, every so often,
she just appears in our life."
"What about your dad?" I asked. Will chuckled darkly at that.
Carmilla spoke up with a sneer. "He's the reason mom's so screwed up now. Good riddance." She
looked away, as if ashamed at all of this.
"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching over to her.
The waiter returned with some help and we all had our food served to us. I didn't realize how
famished I was as I tore into my lunch, savoring the slight burn from the cayenne pepper.
Will was cutting into his veal as he looked to Carmilla. "Thought this was important enough news
to deliver in person."
Carmilla nodded into her capers as she sighed and visibly changed her attitude on a dime. "So,
cupcake, what are you planning on doing this summer?"
"Oh, interview for some internships with the local papers."
"Newspapers?" Ms. Karnstein asks.
"Yes, well, one is. The other is the the local news channel."
Will nodded a smile at me.
"I wish you the best of luck." He said, sipping his wine.
"What about our arrangement?" Carmilla asked me quietly.
"Well we don't actually have an arrangement yet."
She narrows her eyes, and then seems to remember herself.
"I don't want my personal life to wind up getting aired out for all to see."
"You really think I'd sell you out for a measly job?" I asked, slightly hurt by the implication.
"This conversation is not over," she whispers as we continue with our dinner.
"So Carm, where did you meet Laura?" Will asks.
"She interviewed me for Silas' student paper. I still can't believe I agreed to do that."
I peek up at Carmilla and she turns to look at me, her head cocked to one side curiously.
"What?" she asks.
"Please don't be mad at me," I whisper.
She takes a slow blink as she breathes in. "I'm not mad at you."
I stare at her. She sighs.
"I am... perturbed... by you." She presses her lips closed in consternation.
"What are you two whispering about?" Will interjects.
I flush, and Carmilla glares at him in a butt-out-of-this kind of way - even Will wilts under her
stare.
"Sorry, sis."
Kirsch tries to change the subject. "Hey Laura, how has Danny been? I haven't heard from
Psycho Society since Graduation. Betty told me you two hung out at your place Friday."
Fuck. Me. I wave my fingertips across my neck in a 'cut-it-out' fashion as I realized she set Brody
up to try and make Carmilla jealous. She's not even here and she is still trying to get Carmilla over
a supposed fear of commitment.
Carmilla spoke up, a slight growl in her voice. "How was Danny?"
"She was fine," I murmured. "No need to get jealous."
"Oh, this isn't jealousy, Lois Lane," Carmilla said snidely, "this is about you hiding the fact a girl
who tried to take advantage of you was apparently in your dorm room all night."
I shrugged, feeling a bit like they were all judging my bad decision making. "She and I are just
friends, I talked to her and she respects that now."
Kirsch frowned at that. "Sorry, Laura, if some bro did that to my little sister and she came back
saying she straightened things out, I'd have a hard time believing her, too."
I rolled my eyes at him. "But it's Danny."
Even Will shook his head. "Don't make it a double standard just because she's a girl."
Okay, now I'm outnumbered three to one. I squirm.
"She's also been a long time friend of mine. So I think she's deserving of some slack."
Carmilla took a long look at me and nodded, relenting. "All right as long as she respects your
boundaries."
I decided to change the subject "So Will, were you adopted too?"
He looked to Carmilla before answering. "Yeah. Me, Carm, and Ell were all adopted."
"Ell? That's an odd name."
"It's a nickname." Carmilla said abruptly.
"Oh, what-" I saw the drop it look from her, and I did. LaFontaine wished I didn't know their
birth name is Susan. Is she genderqueer too? "Sorry. So how did you three get along?"
"We are like siblings, I guess. We got along, we fought, you know."
"I'm an only child, actually." I replied.
"Must have been nice to not have to fight for attention." Carmilla replied, her voice distant, "Or be
saddled with helping feed your siblings because you're the oldest."
"That was a lifetime ago, Mircal- Carm." Carmilla flashed Will an annoyed look. "You know you
could message Ell." He said consolingly.
"No, it's been too long."
Apparently they don't get along.
Suddenly Carmilla's phone starts ringing.
"Excuse me," Carmilla apologizes and exits.
Will takes the moment to look me over. "My sister hasn't ever let me meet anyone she's been
involved with before. It's been forever since she's been happy. Thank you."
"I had no idea I was making her happy."
"Maybe it's because I've known her for so long, but yeah, you are. She usually keeps herself cold
and distant to everyone. The last time I saw her this engaged was with Ell."
What happened between them?
Carmilla returns.
"Sorry about that. Work is never done." She says to the table.
"Everything okay?"
"Human nature." Carmilla sighs. "War lord refuses to see reason. Nothing new."
Will rambles on about his latest building project, a new eco-friendly community to the north of
Seattle. I'm not paying attention, trying to piece together the small bits of information that I have of
her. She is reclusive, mysterious, and trying to cure world hunger. Because she used to go hungry
when she was young. It must have been before she got adopted, though apparently their Mother is
now bouncing around to various rehab centers. So she got adopted, had a good childhood for
awhile, then things went to shit after her father passed away? My mind told me that there was
more to this than meets the eye.
I sigh at that and peek up at Fifty Flavors of Fucked Up. She's so beautiful, I could stare at her
forever. But I don't think she sees what I see in her. And I realize that it bothers me. She looks
back at me and her pupils dilate ever so slightly, and I see silver flecks in her dark pupils.
The waitress returns with our check as Kirsch and Will discuss the merits of solar panels being
made readily available for consumers. Carmilla, feigning interest in the conversation, puts her
hand once more on my knee, fingers traveling up my thigh. I stifle a gasp as I press my thighs
together in a bid to halt her progress. She's smirking. Carmilla hands her card to the waitress and
gives her a dazzling smile, making her stumble over her words and blush as she turns away.
"Carmilla, did you know she was bi?" I asked as her eyes lingered on her as she walked away.
"Not at all, but if she's going to get gawked at by Team Testosterone over here, I might as well do
my part to represent the Sapphic Squad."
"Oh, are we really going to do this, Carm?" Will asked, his voice full of playful history.
"No, you can just admit I'm better than you." Carmilla replied with a smirk. Will shook his head,
refusing to play the game before him.
Kirsch watched the exchange with amazement. "With all do respect Ms. Karnstein, you're kinda
like a bro at times."
"It's just confidence, with a pinch of predatory appeal." She looks at me as the waitress returns,
blushing. "Would you like to see the roof of my building?"
I know I'm meant to say yes, but before I can answer, the waitress is returning her card with the
two copies of the receipt. Though she tries to hide it, I see a phone number is written on it with
impeccable handwriting.
"Thank you." Carmilla says, adding the tip and sending her off, showing off the receipt before
folding it away in a pocket. "Let's get back home. Will, can you find your way..?"
He nods his head as I wonder what she's going to do with the number. She must be able to read
my mind as we get into the back of the Jeep. "I'm not going to call her, cupcake. It's just nice to
know I could. Besides, she's not my type."
The door closes as Kirsch walks around the Jeep. "You mean, she's not a submissive? Neither am
I."
We're buckled in as Brody gets in and starts the car. My left hand is in Carmilla's as her lips softly
brush against my knuckles, her seduction eyes at full strength. "I beg to differ; when I first met
you, you seemed like the ideal submissive." I look at my wrist and see the bracelet she got me, the
subtle token that says I am hers.
"I was nervous and shy. And I wanted to impress you."
"Need I say more?"
"By that metric, so was the waitress."
Carmilla smiled at that. "But she was blond. I don't like blonds." That's when it hit me. All of the
Stepford Wives at her company were blond.
We get back to her place and take the elevator to the top floor.
"Where are we going?" I breathe.
"Rooftop" she snaps.
"Why?" I ask as we take the stairs to the roof.
"I need to be alone with you." This is the tallest building in the area, so I know that nobody will
be able to see us from the street or other windows, but it also means that all of the wind will be up
there as well.
"What for?"
"Because I'm going to spank and then fuck you."
"Why?" I whimper softly.
"You know why," she purrs.
"I thought you were an in-the-moment kind of woman?" I plead breathlessly.
"Cupcake, I'm in the moment, trust me."
Holy fuck.
I don't have time to examine my surroundings - my eyes can't leave her. I am mesmerized...
watching her like one would watch a rare and dangerous predator, waiting for the strike. Her
breathing is harsh as her dark eyes blaze with need and pure unadulterated lust.
Holy shit. I could spontaneously combust from her look alone.
"Please don't hit me," I whisper, pleading.
Her brow furrows, eyes widening. She blinks twice. She's left speechless.
"I don't want you to spank me, not here, not now. Please don't."
Her mouth drops open slightly in surprise. Gathering my resolve, I tentatively reach up and run
my fingers along her chin and graze her lip. She closes her eyes and turns her face into the touch,
parting her lips slightly at the touch of my fingers. Her breath hitches in her throat. I reach up with
my other hand and stroke her hair. Her soft moan is barely audible, and when she opens her eyes,
her look is - wary, like she doesn't understand what I'm doing. She doesn't understand gentle.
I step forward so that I'm against her, tipping my mouth up against hers, and I kiss gently, parting
my lips and my tongue asking for entrance into her mouth. She groans as her arms embrace me,
closing the distance.
She pulls back suddenly, our collective breathing ragged and mingling. My hands drop to her
arms and our fingers find each other and interlock.
"What are you doing?" she whispers confused.
"Kissing you."
"But you're worried I was going to hit you." I can tell by her body language that she's... skittish,
like a cat ready to run. I take a step back only to realize I'm standing between her and the door to
the roof access.
"Well-" I really didn't have an answer for that.
"If that's what you really think of me, then maybe-"
"I was just worried was all. You had this look on your face."
"I wanted to kiss you was all. I'm not all about inflicting pain. And then you also said no to me at
the dinner table, with your legs."
Oh... that's what this is all about.
"We were at dinner, with your brother." I stare up at her, completely bewildered.
"I know, but nobody has ever refused me before. Not like that."
"Another first for Ms. Karnstein. Dating a girl who actually has a spine and makes you get
consent first." I said it playfully, and she smiled.
"So we're dating?" She asks nervously.
"Um... yeah. Despite the grandiose gifts, showing up unexpectedly, and trying to make me sign a
contract... yes, we're dating."
Her eyes widen slightly, filled with wonder and lust. It's a heady mix. I swallow instinctively. Her
hand moves down to my behind, pulling me sharply against her, and I'm melting in her embrace.
Oh my...
"You're mad and turned on because I said no?" I breathe, astonished.
"I'm mad because you never mentioned where you were going to work to me. I'm mad because
you went drinking with that girl who tried to take advantage of you when you were drunk and
who left you with an almost complete stranger. I mean, I'm glad Kirsch was there and he's got a
heart of gold, but really what kind of friend does that? And I'm mad and aroused because you
closed your legs on me." Her eyes glitter dangerously, and she's slowly inching up the hem of my
dress.
"I might be mad, but I'm not angry-mad. I mad with passion, and I want you now. And if you're
not going to let me spank you - which I believe you deserve - I'm going to fuck you right here, this
minute, quickly, for my pleasure, not yours." The air seemed thin around me as I gulped my heart
back down my throat.
"Okay." I gasp, backing up against the door and leaning against it as my dress is now barely
covering my naked behind. She moves suddenly so that her hand is cupping my sex, one of her
fingers sinks slowly into me. Her other hand covers my mouth and my eyes widen in surprise.
"This is mine," she whispers aggressively. "All mine. Do you understand?" She eases her finger in
and out with deliberate slowness as she gazes down at me, gauging my reaction, eyes burning.
"Yes, yours," I say into her hand, muffled as my desire, hot and heavy, surges through my
bloodstream, affecting... everything. My nerve endings, my breathing, my heart is pounding,
trying to leave my chest, the blood thrumming in my ears. My eyes begin to tear up as I feel my
own wetness begin to run down my thigh.
Abruptly, she moves, doing several things at once. Withdrawing her fingers, leaving me wanting,
she moves the hand off of my mouth and puts her wet fingers with my juices into my mouth. She
raises an eyebrow in challenge.
"Moisturize me." Holy fuck did she just make a Whovian reference?!
I obey instantly, using my tongue and lips to work up saliva around her knuckles while savoring
my own taste.
"Hands behind your head, fingers interlaced" she commands through gritted teeth as she forcing
my legs further apart, her expression dark, eyes glinting silver and I can't help but fall into them.
I place my hands on my head, and I know it's so I won't touch her, but I'm so turned on.
I feel my hips moving already up for her, wanting her inside me, like this - rough and hard.
"We don't have long. This will be quick, and it's for me, not you. Do you understand?" she says
through clenched teeth.
I nod, glad to be of use to her.
With one swift push, she's got three fingers fully inside me. I groan loudly, gutturally, and revel in
the fullness of her possession of me. She puts her hand on my neck, squeezing just enough to be
firm but not to actually choke me. My eyes flare open at this raw need between us. She rocks her
fingers in and out, quick and rough, and my eyes meet hers aggressively as words pour out of me.
"Choke me, Mistress."
Her hand closes on my windpipe, and I gasp as it becomes harder to breathe as she works me like
a fine instrument. I'm trapped and reveling in it. She's everywhere, overwhelming me, suffocating
me. But it's heavenly as I realize this is also my power, as I consent and trust her, that I can snap
my fingers or call 'red' and she'll stop instantly. As I realize that this is what I do to her, I'm filled
with a hedonistic, triumphant feeling. She moves quickly and furiously inside me as my body
responds and clamps around her as she grins a wicked smile at me.
"Come for me now, Laura."
I explode as her hand comes off from my neck and I gasp, hips rocking in the empty space where
her hand once was, shivering as the orgasm rocks me violently and I swear my eyes roll up to the
back of my head as I start to sag into her embrace.
Insertables
Chapter Notes
A/N: As I'm working on this chapter, the preview to the hardware store scene was
released. Wow. LaFontaine has more chemistry with a syringe than they do. (Also,
sorry for this being shorter, but the last chapter I think more than makes up for it.)
We get back into Carmilla's apartment and I excuse myself to 'my' bedroom for a bit of privacy to
check my phone for the time. I should probably get home so I can get a full night's rest before my
interviews.
I also notice that I've missed a call from Betty. Kirsch's comments come to mind as I call her back.
She picks up after a few rings.
"I need to speak to you about antagonizing Carmilla," I hiss as she starts to say hello.
Betty just laughs it off. "She needs antagonizing; then you can see what she's really like. Be
careful, Laura - she's controlling."
"I KNOW WHAT SHE'S REALLY LIKE - YOU - DON'T!" I yell into the phone. I wish I
could wring her neck right now!
"Wow, well, excu-u-se me for trying to help!" Betty snapped back.
"That's just it Betty, you're not helping! You may think that your actions come from a good place,
but right now I am tired of your attempts to manipulate my relationship!"
"Oh, but Laura-"
"-don't 'but Laura' me. You weren't there when Danny tried to take advantage of me when I was
drunk, and then later on? You played it off as no big deal!"
"I thought you two were headed into spoons-ville and thought that maybe a little bit of alcohol
would socially lubricate you two to get there faster! God knows you've needed to get your cherry
popped!" I have basic standards, Betty!
I fume as I want to crush my flip-phone. She just doesn't get it.
"I... have to go. Unlike you, I have interviews tomorrow, so goodnight."
I walk back out to the living room, huffing in annoyance. Carmilla turns to face me and I reach out
to put my arms around her, and I see her back away nervously. Right, I can't touch her and she
always keeps her shirt on. Is she ashamed of her breasts?
"Is your neck okay?"
"Yeah, and don't worry. I don't bruise easily." She looks at my neck where her hand was and
nods in agreement.
"I wasn't expecting you to just ask for that then. Usually when I script out a scene, I won't add in
something that wasn't pre-negotiated. But I'm still trying to expose you to the different types of
play I might want to do with you."
"I was turned on and thought it was hot in the moment. I don't regret it." But I could see someone
else regretting it after the fact, and how that could leave Carmilla in a lot of trouble.
"Anyways, l it seems my brother likes you." she murmurs.
I nod and shrug. Yeah, Will. Okay.
"What?" she asks, her voice quiet.
I flounder momentarily, wondering if I should even mention it. No - I'll tell her.
"I was just talking with Betty." My voice conveyed more annoyance than I meant to. "I'm sorry I
didn't mention that I hung out with Danny-"
"-it's okay. I'm not about to tell you whom you can and can't hang out with."
Oh. "You just seemed really upset for a moment there."
"Well, I don't like having things hidden from me, particularly if I don't trust the individual. I do,
however, trust you and hope that you'll be more vigilant when you go out to drink with friends.
You did explain to her that you don't want her like that, right?" I nodded.
She smiled, looking relieved. "That's good. As long as we're honest with each other, I don't care
who you have as a friend."
"And you also trust me that I'm not going to use our relationship to get myself promoted in
whichever news company I intern for?" I asked.
"Well, it feels like your friend Betty did just that." Carmilla said, annoyed.
"Yeah, well I'm not her."
"And you won't tell me which station, will you?"
I shook my head. "No, because I don't want you to exert any influence there. I want to earn this
on my own." Carmilla winced at that, but said nothing.
Perry clears her throat, grabbing our attention. "Ms. Karnstein, the weather in New York calls for
rain so I've included your raincoat and leather trench into your suitcases, just in case."
She nods in thanks.
"New York?" I ask.
"I leave tomorrow for a weekend of meeting and schmoozing a few jewelry executives." Jewelry?
"Okay, that's probably a good thing for me. I need some time alone to think."
Carmilla seemed to go still, unnaturally still. Her eyes narrowed in concern.
"What do you need to think about?"
"Us," I whisper.
She stares at me, impassive.
"You said you'd try," she murmurs, looking away from me.
"I know."
"Are you having second thoughts?"
"Possibly."
She shifts as if uncomfortable.
"Why?"
I stare momentarily out of the window. I have two interviews in the morning for internships. Why
did this have to get brought up now? What can I say? I think I love you, but I'm just number
sixteen in your line of submissive toys to enjoy. I can't even touch you because I worry you'll give
me another spanking or worse...
"Why, Laura?" Carmilla presses me for an answer.
I shrug. I don't want to lose her. In spite of all the demands, her need to control me in that room,
and my surprising willingness to give her that control... it scares me. And on top of that, there's
her needs and her fetishes... I have never felt as alive as I do now. She's so unpredictable, sexy,
smart, and funny. But she wants to hurt me. She says she'll not break my hard limits, but it still
scares me. I close my eyes. What can I say? Deep down I would just like more - more affection, a
more playful Carmilla, more normal relationship... I want her love.
She squeezes my hand.
"Talk to me, Laura. I don't want to lose you. This last week... " She trails off.
This woman, whom I once thought of as a romantic hero - a brave shining white knight, is more
like the dark knight as she said. She's not a hero, she's got serious, deep emotional scars, and
she's dragging me into the dark. Can I not guide her into the light?
"I still want more," I whisper.
"More?" She responds, nerves on edge.
"Yes. More. Not more kink, not more pain... more... normal. Getting to know each other, find out
your favorite foods, what motivates you. And the same for me. Do you even want children
someday? That's what I want."
"I know," she says. "I'll try."
I blink up at her, and she takes my hand in hers.
"For you, Laura, I will try." She's radiating sincerity.
And that's my cue. I step closer and cup her cheeks in my hands, taking her completely by
surprise. Tilting my chin up, I kiss her, long and soft, conveying all the emotion I have for her, and
immediately she's responding. Her breath shudders as she blinks her eyes a few times as she opens
them again.
"Stay with me, tonight," she breathes. "Because I won't see you at all this weekend."
I smile slightly at her request.
"Please."
"Yes," I acquiesce. "And I'll try too. I'll sign your contract." And it's a spur of the moment
decision.
She gazes stunned eyes at me.
"Sign after this weekend. Don't rush into this. Think it over, Laura."
"I will."
I nuzzle up against her, eyes closed, my nose buried in her throat, drinking in her sexy Carmilla-
incense fragrance, my head on her shoulder. I let my mind drift, and I allow myself to fantasize
that she is in love with me. It hurts to think this way as I snuggle into her embrace as she holds me
tightly.
I yawn, and exhaustion seems to creep up on me.
"Tired, Miss Hollis?"
"Yes, Ms. Karnstein." I reply automatically, getting a kiss on my forehead for that.
"Let's get you to bed."
I raise my eyebrows at her.
"Can I sleep in bed with you?"
She gasps quietly, but just enough for me to know she's not comfortable with the idea.
"Sweetness... I don't... I toss and turn all night, don't ever really sleep well." Her body posture
changes; she goes from skittish to seductress. "Let's go to your bed and we'll see how things go
from there."
She's using sex as a defensive mechanism.
"Maybe I should just go home instead."
"Oh." She frowns. Her expression changes; confusion, disappointment, worry. "Don't you want
to fuck?" she asks.
"No," I breathe.
Okay, here goes... deep breath.
"I don't want us to just fuck. I want you to make love to me."
She stills and stares at me blankly. She's pulling away mentally. This doesn't look good.
"Laura, I... " She runs her hands through her hair.
"I want to touch you."
She takes an involuntary step back from me, her expression for a moment horrified, until she
carefully reins it in.
"Please," I whisper.
"Oh, no Miss Hollis, you've had enough concessions from me lately. And I'm saying no. Please
respect my boundaries."
"No?" No? Damn it, Hollis, don't screw this up!
"No. Look, you're tired, I'm tired. Let's just go to bed," she says, watching me carefully. She still
keeps the distance between us.
"So touching you is a hard limit?"
"Yes. This is old news."
"Please tell me why."
"Please. Just drop it for now," she mutters exasperated.
"It's important to me."
Again she runs both hands through her hair, and she utters something beneath her breath. Did she
just say 'Hellfire and Damnation'?
Turning on her heel, she goes into her room and comes back out with a handful of new panties
with the tags on and hands them to me. These were the ones missing from the dresser in my room.
"These belong in the dresser in your room. And you're just asking to hear the nightmares that keep
me up at night. Please understand I'm not ready to be that vulnerable with you."
I frown, uncertain how to react to that. "I need the bathroom." My voice is a whisper.
She chuckles, exasperated.
"Now you're asking permission?"
"Err... no."
"Well, you know where the bathroom is. And you don't need my permission to use it." She cannot
hide her amusement.
Carmilla walks off to her own bedroom to change as I sigh and get ready for bed.
I stare at myself in the mirror, somehow surprised that I still look the same. After all that has
happened in the past week, I'm still the same ordinary girl looking back at me. What the hell are
you doing? Touching her is her hard limit. Too soon, you idiot, and I know that she needs to walk
before she can run.
We are trying to find balance in this strange arrangement - she needs kinky fucking and I need an
emotionally satisfying relationship. We both need to compromise but I'm not certain I can delve
deep enough into her strange world of pain and sex to satisfy her. And yet I told her I'd sign her
contract; sign my body over to her for her pleasure. Maybe having this weekend away from her
will do us some good. I change into come comfy PJ pants and a top and am brushing my teeth
when she knocks.
"Come in," I splutter through a mouthful of toothpaste.
Carmilla stands in the doorway, her black lace and silk chemise nearly hanging off of her shoulder
- in a way that makes every little cell in my body want to push it over by half an inch and let it slip
down her arm - and I realize I can see more of her now than ever before. There seems to be small
circular scars, tiny dots like a burn, just over her left breast. I try to not stare as I spit the toothpaste
out and rinse. My honey brown eyes get caught in her dark brown eyes as she smirks and the rest
of the world falls away from me.
"You know this is not how I saw tonight panning out," she mutters petulantly.
"Well, imagine if I said that you couldn't touch me."
She clambers onto the bed and sits cross-legged.
"That's not fair." She points to herself. "Fifty flavors of fucked-up. I had a real rough start in life -
stuff I don't ever want in your head. Okay?"
"But I want to know you better."
"You know me well enough." She leans back just enough to make the hemline rise and catch my
eye. "You know me... intimately."
"That's not the same and you know it."
"When's your first interview tomorrow?" she asks softly. She's changing the subject, but she's
staying here.
"Noon."
A slow wicked grin spreads across her face.
"Good." And before my eyes, she subtly changes. She's harder, predatory... hot. This
is Dominant Carmilla.
"Get off the bed. Stand over here." She points to beside the bed, and I scramble up and off in
double-quick time. She stares intently down at me, her eyes glittering with promise.
"Trust me?" she asks softly.
I nod. She holds out her hand, and in her palm are two round, shiny, silver balls, linked with a
thick black thread.
"Don't worry, these are new," she says emphatically. "I replace all insertables when I get a new
partner."
I look questioningly up at her. Insertables?
"I am going to put these inside you, and then I'm going to spank you, not for punishment, but for
your pleasure and mine." She pauses, gauging my wide-eyed reaction.
Inside me? I gasp, and all the muscles deep in my belly clench.
"Then we'll fuck, and if you're still awake, I'll impart some information about my formative years.
Agreed?"
She's asking my permission. Breathlessly, I nod. I'm incapable of speech. She's going to tell me
about her past.
"Good girl. Open your mouth."
Mouth?
"Wider." I comply as she very gently puts the two metallic balls into my mouth.
"They need lubrication. Roll them around in your mouth." she orders, her voice soft.
The balls are cold, smooth, surprisingly heavy, and metallic tasting. My dry mouth pools with
saliva as my tongue explores the unfamiliar objects. Carmilla's gray gaze does not leave
mine. Holy hell, this is turning me on. I squirm slightly.
"Keep still, Laura," she warns.
"Stop." She removes them from my mouth. Moving toward the bed, she throws the duvet aside
and sits down on the edge.
"Come here."
I stand in front of her.
"Now turn round, bend down, and grasp your ankles."
I blink at Carmilla. Just grab my ankles? Her expression darkens.
"Don't hesitate," she admonishes me softly with an undercurrent in her voice, as she lowers my
pajama pants to my knees.
I follow her orders immediately. She places her hand reverently on my backside and very gently
moves my panties to the side to slowly run a finger up and down my sex. My body braces itself in
a heady mix of wild anticipation and arousal. She slides one finger inside me, and she circles it
deliciously slowly. Oh, it feels good. I moan.
Her breathing halts, and I hear her gasp as she repeats the motion.
"Tell me you want these in your cunt." I feel myself clench at the word cunt.
"I um... I want them in my cunt."
"I don't believe you." She withdraws her finger and very slowly inserts it again, curling it to tease
me even more.
"Mistress please put them in my cunt!"
She chuckles as she pushes the one warm, round, heavy ball in at a time. They're body
temperature, and I find it a curious feeling. Once they're inside me, I can't really feel them - but I
know they're there.
She straightens my panties and leans forward, her hands patting my behind gently.
"Up-up," she orders, and shakily I get to my feet.
Now I can feel them... sort of. She grasps my hips to steady me while I stand up straight.
"You okay?" she asks, her voice stern.
"Yes."
"Turn round." I turn and face her. The balls pull downward and involuntarily I clench around
them. The feeling startles me but not in a bad way.
"How does that feel?" she asks.
"Strange."
"Strange good or strange bad?"
"Strange good," I confess, blushing.
"Good." There's a trace of humor lurking in her eyes.
"Cupcake, I want a glass of water. Go and fetch one for me please."
Oh. Why didn't she get that earlier?
"And when you come back, I'll put you over my knee."
Over her knee? Right, a 'fun' spanking.
As I leave the bedroom, it becomes crystal clear why she wants me to walk around - with each
step, the balls make themselves noticeable inside me, massaging me internally as gravity pulls
them slightly down. It's such a weird feeling, but not entirely unpleasant. In fact, my breathing
accelerates as I stretch up for a glass from the kitchen cabinet, and I gasp. Goodness, I may have
to keep these. They make me needy, needy for sex.
She's watching me carefully when I return.
"I wanted ice in the glass."
That damned woman. I go back to put ice in her glass, feeling the two heavy balls pressing on the
inside of me as I make my slow way back to Carmilla.
"Thank you," she says as she takes the glass from me.
Slowly, she takes a sip then places the glass on her bedside table. I realize she's doing this to build
the anticipation as my heartbeat has picked up a bit. She turns her dark gaze to mine.
"Come. Stand beside me. Like last time."
I obey her, my blood thrumming through my body, and this time... I'm excited.
Aroused.
"Ask me," she says softly.
I frown. Ask her what?
"Ask me," her voice is slightly harder.
What? What does she want?
"Ask me, Laura. I won't say it again." And there's a bit of a vague threat implied in her words, and
it dawns on me. She wants me to ask her to spank me.
She's looking at me expectantly, and I see a mischievous glint in her eyes and remember that this
is how she is being playful. The 'threat' of a spanking, making me ask for it, saying she'll put me
over her knee... it's all an act of anticipation and delayed gratification.
"Spank me, please... Ma'am," I whisper.
She closes her eyes momentarily, savoring my words. Reaching up, she grasps my left hand and
she tugs me over her knees. I fall instantly, and she steadies me as I land in her lap.
My heart is in my mouth as her hand gently strokes my behind. I'm angled across her lap so that
my torso rests on the bed beside her. She takes a moment to smooth my hair out of my face and
tucks it behind my ear. Her gentle touch seems so odd as I'm ready for her to spank me. Once
she's done smoothing my hair, she grabs my hair at the roots and tugs gently to get my attention.
"I want to see your face while I spank you, Laura," she murmurs, all the while softly rubbing my
backside.
Her hand moves down between the cheeks of my behind, and she pushes against my sex, and the
full feeling is exquisite.
"This is for pleasure, Laura, mine and yours," she whispers softly.
She lifts her hand and brings it down in a resounding slap against the junction of my thighs, my
behind, and my sex. The balls exert their presence inside me, and I'm lost in all of the sensation.
The stinging across my behind, the fullness of the balls inside me, and the fact that she's holding
me down. I can't even recognize the emotions going across my face as I attempt to absorb and
process all these different feelings at once. I note somewhere in my brain that she's not smacked
me as hard as last time. She caresses my backside again, trailing her palm across my skin and over
my underwear.
Why has she not removed my panties? Her palm disappears, and she strikes my backside again. I
groan as the sensation spreads. She starts a pattern: left to right and then down.
The down ones are the best. Everything clenching tighter, inside me... and in between each smack
she caresses me, kneads me - so I am massaged inside and out. It's such a stimulating, erotic
feeling, and for some reason, because this is on my terms, I don't mind the pain. I seem to be
enjoying getting hit.
It's not painful as such - well it is, but not unbearable. It's somehow manageable, and even
pleasurable. I groan as I feel her slowly peel my panties down my legs with deliberate slowness.
I writhe on her lap, not because I want to escape the blows, but I want... need... release, orgasm,
something. Her touch against my sensitive skin is almost too much; it's overwhelming, and she
starts again. A few soft slaps then building up, left to right and down. As she goes down, I realize
she is spanking my labia and clit as my own wetness is pooling on her hands with each blow.
"Good girl, Laura," she groans, and her breathing is ragged.
She spanks me twice more, and I almost climax - the feeling is out of this world. Moving swiftly,
she gently turns me over. "While you were getting water, I was getting something else, cupcake."
Her voice was mischievous as I saw a large white oblong device in her hand. It looked like a large
handle with a small round head on - oh god, that's a vibrator.
"Is that what I think it is?" I ask, panicked, as I realize that this wasn't just any vibrator.
"It's a Hitachi. It only has two settings: make you come violently hard, and death by orgasm. We'll
start with the lower setting."
I groan loudly, having heard about these from a friend of a friend online.
"Don't freak out, sweetness, you can always call 'yellow' or 'red'..." she whispers as she places it
on my mound and switches it on.
"HOLYFREAKINGCHRISTONACRACKER!" I shout, squirming and trying to crab-walk
away from it. Carmilla turned it off and feigned innocent surprise.
"Oh, goodness me, I think that was the high setting." Her eyes were wide as she shook her head
minutely. "Let's try the lower setting first."
My clit was sensitive and throbbing from that. "Yeah, you think?" Her lips touched mine
momentarily and I narrowed my eyes in annoyance.
"You did that on purpose."
Carmilla raised an eyebrow in doubt.
"Do I look like the kind of person who would do such a thing?" She asked, the corner of her
mouth fighting a smile.
"Yes!" I exclaim, laughing at how Carmilla can be sadistic with something specifically designed
to give pleasure.
She turns it back on, and this time I can tell it's the low setting as she moves it back and forward
over my labia and clit. It is the most gentle thing she has ever done to me, but with the powerful
vibrations from the Hitachi, it takes no time at all for me to fall over the edge, spiraling into a
delicious, violent, exhausting, orgasm.
Oh my goodness. That was hard and intense. I realize that my vagina feels numb now, kind of
like your lips after the dentist injects you with that needle.
"Looks like you enjoyed that," she whispers, and then kisses me sweetly. "You need to push the
balls out, sweetness."
I nod, feeling drunk on endorphins.
"Can you do that for me?"
I nod again, and I realize that I'm unable to talk right now. It makes me chuckle as I slide two
fingers in and remove one of the two balls, dropping it onto the bed.
"I think I fucked you stupid." I nodded, and tried to get the second ball out but my hands were too
sluggish to respond. Carmilla took pity on me and fished it out with a simple crook of her index
finger. I lift my head to try and kiss her, but my head lolls and falls on a pillow instead.
Carmilla rises, covers me with the duvet, and disappears into the bathroom. On her return she's
carrying a bottle of white lotion. She sits beside me on the bed.
"I left the ben wa balls for you to clean in the morning. The cleansing solution is under the sink.
Now roll over," she orders, and begrudgingly I move on to my front.
Honestly, all this fuss. I feel very sleepy.
"Your ass is a glorious color," she says affectionately as she tenderly massages the cooling lotion
into my pink behind.
"Spill the beans, Karnstein," I yawn as I realize how warm my butt must be since her hands feel
this cold.
"Miss Hollis, you know how to ruin a moment."
"We had a deal."
"How do you feel?"
"Short changed."
She sighs, slides in beside me, and pulls me into her arms. She kisses me very softly beside my
ear.
"The woman who brought me into this world was a whore, Laura. Go to sleep."
Holy fuck... what does that mean?
"Was?"
"She's dead."
"How long?"
She sighs.
"Morbid much? I don't want to remember her. I only remember the really bad things, anyways.
Please go to sleep."
"Goodnight, Carmilla."
"Goodnight, Laura."
My eyes are wide awake at this revelation and only exhaustion makes me finally fall asleep.
Internship
Chapter Notes
A/N: Another story I will definitely recommend is "absolution." by lordvoldyfarts.
A/N #2: Issue with 50SoG: Once Ana decided that she's visiting her mother,
Christian is telling her how she "beguiles" him, then asks if she really has to go to see
her mom. After she says yes, so she could have some space to think, Christian pulls
out of her fast enough to make her wince. He tries to guilt her and make her hurt by
withholding affection as a way to manipulate her into staying instead. Ana still goes,
but thinks she did something wrong to make Christian's mood change. (That's the
victim blaming themselves.)
Then Ana finally gets the courage to tell him that his threatening to follow her out
there is actually creepy and that she's leaving so she can have some time away from
him...and not only does he figure out her flight info and upgrades her to First Class,
but follows her and rents out the penthouse in the same hotel she's at. (This is why I
removed the entire trip out of the plot, it's unforgivably stalker behavior.)
There is light everywhere. Bright, warm, piercing light, and I endeavor to keep it at bay for a few
more precious minutes. I want to hide, just a few more minutes. But the glare is too strong, and I
finally succumb to being awake. A glorious, bright morning greets me - sunshine pouring through
the full-height windows and flooding the room with too-bright light. Why didn't we close the
blinds last night? I am in Carmilla Karnstein's vast bed minus one Carmilla Karnstein.
I lie back for a moment staring through the windows at the brilliant skyline. I know this isn't some
skyscraper, but it sure feels unreal. This has to be a fantasy - I'm dating a gorgeous millionaire, and
we're safe from the realities of life - far away from any neglect, hunger... and whore mothers. I
shudder to think what she went through as a small child, and I begin to understand why she lives
here, isolated, surrounded by protected from both harm and hunger. I frown because it still doesn't
explain why I can't touch her, nor how the scar I'm not supposed to know about got on her chest.
The unreal feeling permeates this lofty tower. It's like I'm in this fantasy world, having fantasy sex
with my fantasy girlfriend. The grim reality is that she wants a special arrangement; we're dating
so I'm not necessarily submissive number sixteen, but only because she said she'll try for more.
What does that actually mean to her? Are we are still at opposite ends of this relationship is
supposed to be or are we inching closer together to find common ground? I clamber out of bed
feeling stiff, and for want of a better expression, well-used. Yes, that would be from all the sex.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, I go in search of Carmilla.
She's not in the living room, but Perry is cleaning in the kitchen area. The sight of her stops me in
my tracks. She has curly red hair and clear blue eyes; she wears a plain white tailored shirt and a
navy blue a-line skirt. She smiles broadly when she sees me.
"Good morning, Miss Hollis. Would you like some breakfast?" Her tone is warm but business
like, and I am stunned.
"Perry, it's me, Laura."
"Good morning, Laura. Would you still like some breakfast?" I blush, embarrassed. It's part of her
job here and she likes it... Perry would make a great submissive.
"Just some tea would be lovely, thank you. Do you know where Carmilla is?"
"Ms. Karnstein is in her study."
"Thank you."
I scuttle off toward the study, mortified at remembering she saw me naked before. I poke my head
shyly round the door. She's on the phone, facing the window, in a black pencil skirt and a silver
blouse. Her hair is still wet from the shower, and I'm completely distracted from my train of
negative thoughts.
"Unless that company's policy changes, I'm not interested, Sue. That's going to be a liability for
them and we're not in the business of carrying dead weight... No, I don't need any more lame
excuses from... Have Marco call me, then... Yes, tell Nick that the prototype looks good, though
I'm not sure about the inter-face... No, it's just missing something... I want to meet him this
afternoon to discuss...
"In fact, LaFontaine and their team can brainstorm... Okay. Transfer me back to Natalie... " She
waits, staring out of the window, staring down at the little people below from her window. "Nat...
"
Glancing up, she notices me at the door. A slow, sexy smile spreads across her beautiful face, and
I'm rendered speechless as my insides melt. She is without a doubt the most beautiful woman on
the planet, too beautiful for words to describe, too beautiful for me.
She is sort of mine, for now.
The thought sends ice through my blood as my self-doubt reminds me that she'll eventually find a
girl more pliant. I smile sadly at that.
She continues her conversation, her eyes never leaving mine.
"Get Charles to call me, I'll land by three. I need to talk to Marcus this afternoon, and that will
need at least half an hour... Schedule Stinson and her team in after Marcus or maybe Monday...
Well, tell her to wait... Oh... No, I don't want publicity for Darfur... Tell Sam to deal with it, that's
why I hired her... No... Which event?... That's next Saturday?... Hold on."
"You free on Saturday?" she asks.
"Uhm, so far, yes."
She resumes her phone conversation.
"I'll need an extra ticket because I have a date... Yes Natalie, that's what I said, a date, Miss Laura
Hollis will accompany me... That's all." She hangs up. "Good morning, Miss Hollis."
"Ms. Karnstein," I smile shyly. "What am I accompanying you to?"
"Um, boring fundraiser. Fancy-dress. I'm expected to show up and throw an obscene amount of
money at them. There's usually good food."
"Oh, okay." That sounds like it could be fun with her there.
She walks around her desk with her usual grace and stands in front of me. She smells so good;
like church incense mixed with darker aromas. She gently strokes my cheek with the back of her
fingers.
"I didn't want to wake you, you looked so peaceful. Did you sleep well?"
"I am very well-rested, thank you. I just came to say hi before I had a shower." Did she sleep at
all?
I gaze up at her, drinking her in. She leans down and gently kisses me, and I can't help myself. I
throw my arms around her neck and my fingers twist in her still damp hair.
Pushing my body flush against her, I kiss her back. I want her. My attack takes her by surprise,
but after a beat, she responds, a low groan in her throat. Her hands slip into my hair and down my
back to cup my behind, her tongue exploring my mouth. She pulls back, her eyes hooded.
"Well, sleep seems to agree with you," she murmurs. "I suggest you go and have your shower, or
I shall lay you across my desk for congress most prurient."
"I choose the desk," I whisper recklessly as desire sweeps like adrenaline through my system,
waking everything in its path.
She stares bewildered down at me for a millisecond.
"You've really got a taste for this, haven't you, Miss Hollis. You're becoming an insatiable...
nookie monster," she murmurs.
"I've only got a taste for you," I whisper, biting my lip suggestively.
Her eyes widen and darken at that.
"Maybe I ought to be the one on the desk, then," she growls, and suddenly with one fluid
movement, she shoves all of the plans and papers on her desk so that some of them scatter on the
floor, and seats herself at the edge of her desk while her seductive eyes bore into me.
As she spreads her legs wantonly in front of me, I step forward and keep eye contact as my fingers
trail up her thighs and hike her skirt up as she arches her eyebrow suggestively. "It would be my
pleasure, Ms. Karnstein."
"You want it, you got it, cupcake." she mutters, kissing me. "On your knees, then," she breathes
as I pull racy lace panties down her legs and drop them to the floor. And in a moment, her fingers
are buried in my hair as I'm buried in her quim, my hands clenching her thighs as I lick and
pleasure Carmilla's clit with complete abandon. I revel at the sounds she makes as well as the
warmth and texture of her folds on my tongue as I savor her.
She groans... oh yes... and I know I'm doing a great job. I pull away, gasping for breath as I lick
my middle finger and slide it into her, marveling in how warm she is and I can feel her clenching
around me as I curl my finger and resume sucking on her most sensitive spot.
"Christ, Laura. You're so greedy," she whispers in veneration as she wraps her legs around me,
crossing her ankles behind my back. I embrace her the only way I can with my left hand as the
rest of me is engaged fully to getting her off. I can feel her clitoris firming as I graze my teeth over
it and suck firmly, making a rhythm as I pump my fingers in and out of her.
It's only when I hear her sounds - her whimpering - that I realize that she's got me under a kind of
spell. I look up at her and see silver eyes staring back at me, passionate in her pleading. I am not
making love to Carmilla. I am fucking her, and I love it. I groan at this, loving what I'm doing to
this beautiful woman above me. It's so raw and carnal, I revel in how I'm possessing her, our
mutual lusts burning bright as I seek to quench it as I try to use my tongue on her.
She rolls her hips from side to side, and I can feel build up within her - that delicious, slow, fervent
build-up ready to explode. I increase my stroking fractionally as she moans loudly. I am in sensory
overload as I'm focused entirely upon her; enjoying every thrust, every flick of my tongue, and the
oscillating suction I have on her as I pick up the pace and feel her react to me.
Her legs start to quiver and stiffen as I feel her tighten and pulsate against my fingers, and I can tell
she's on the precipice.
"Come on, Carmilla, come for me," I whisper as an irreverent prayer, and I can hear the need in
her voice as she throws her head back and shatters from my ministration, her fingers quaking as
she lets go of my head. Carmilla pants as she lays backwards, hair sprawled out over her
paperwork as she lays flat upon the desk to recover. I kiss her labia tenderly as I slowly extract my
fingers from her and admire the blissful form of Carmilla Karnstein.
"Fifty points to Gryffindor, creampuff..." she breathes as she turns her head to look at me. "I
swan, you weave some powerful magic."
I move towards her and bend down to kiss her. She savors herself on my lips and hums
pleasurably.
"I'm bewitched by you." I whisper.
She looks up, gazing at me, her expression slightly confused. She seems uncertain as I'm standing
over her.
"You. Are. Mine," she says, each word a staccato. "Do you understand?"
She's so earnest, almost - a zealot. The force of her plea is so unexpected and disarming. I wonder
why she's feeling like this.
"Yes, yours," I whisper, derailed by her fervor. "Just like you're mine. But I thought you didn't
like jealousy."
"I don't. I'm not polyamorous, though." Poly-what-are-us? I'd have to look that word up later.
She sits up and gets off of her desk, somehow making the act of bending over and putting her
panties back on look elegant.
She pulls me in for an embrace and kisses me again, licking her lips after. She loves the taste of
herself on my lips.
"So, on your desk, that's another first for you?" I ask dryly, trying humor to lighten the atmosphere
between us.
She gives an enigmatic smile that doesn't reach her eyes, and I realize that this is not the first time
she's had sex on her desk. The thought is strangely unwelcome. I squirm uncomfortably as my
post coital glow evaporates.
"I'd better go and have a shower." I stand and make to move past her. She understands that
something is bothering me, but not exactly what.
"I'll join you for breakfast once you're out of the shower. I think Perry has laundered your clothes
from yesterday. They're in your closet."
What? When the hell did she do that? Jeez, could she hear us? I flush.
"Thank you," I mutter, embarrassment in my voice.
"You're most welcome," she replies playfully, conveying that she should be the one thanking me.
I'm not saying thank you for letting me eat you out. Although, it was very nice...
"What?" she asks, and I realize I'm frowning.
"What's wrong?" I ask softly.
"What do you mean?"
"Well... you're being more weird than usual."
"You find me weird?" She tries to stifle a smile.
I blush.
"Sometimes."
She regards me for a moment, her eyes speculative.
"As ever, I'm surprised by you, Miss Hollis."
"Surprised how?"
"Let's just say that was an unexpected treat." I can't help but smile at that.
"We aim to please, Ms. Karnstein." I make a slight bow of my head to her.
"And please me you do," she says, but she looks uneasy as she looks at the spilled paper on the
ground. "I thought you were going to have a shower."
She's dismissing me.
"Yes... um, I'll see you in a moment." I scurry out of her office completely dumbfounded.
While I have to say as physical experiences go, that was very satisfying. But emotionally - well,
I'm rattled by her abrupt change back to business as usual, and it made what we did as emotionally
enriching as a rice cake is filling.
Perry is still in the kitchen.
"Would you like your tea now, Laura?" I never even closed the door to her study. Perry heard it
all.
"I'll have a shower first, thank you," I mutter and take my blazing face quickly out of the room.
In the shower, I try to figure out what's up with Carmilla. Maybe she's got her business trip on her
mind? She seems to enjoy having me around, but I've spent too much time here and have to get
back home and change in time for my job interviews.
I towel-dry my hair, comb it through with Carmilla's wide-toothed comb, and put my hair up in
bun. Of course she doesn't have a hair brush. Seeing the balls by the sink, I find the cleaner
solution and follow the directions on the bottle. I'm glad to know that these are new, and I guess
I'm okay with having to clean them since they were in me. Wasn't that part of the contract?
Division of labor, I guess. My dress hangs laundered and ironed in the closet along with a plethora
of various outfits and I frown as I find something better to wear for the interviews today.
At least I can wear my own clean bra and panties. Though Perry was really nice to have done my
laundry, I wind up picking out a blouse and slacks that are better than what I have at home and
match them with a decent pair of heels so I can look adult-height. I make my way out to the great
room but Carmilla is nowhere to be seen.
Perry is there, however, taking stock of the pantry.
"Tea now, Laura?" she asks.
"Thank you." I smile at her. I feel slightly more confident now that I'm dressed, though it's
obvious that it's not my own clothing. Well, it belongs to submissive number sixteen, which is me
once I sign that contract.
"Would you like something to eat?"
"No, thank you."
"Of course you'll have something to eat," Carmilla says as she walks into the kitchen, pulling out
her carton of soy milk. "She likes pancakes, bacon, and eggs, Ms. Perry." She takes a healthy
swig right out of the carton before putting it back. Perry looks at her, annoyed for not using a
glass.
"It's just 'Perry', Ms. Karnstein. Would you like that as well, ma'am?"
"No, I'll have an omelet, please, and some fruit." Carmilla doesn't take her eyes off me, her
expression unfathomable. "Sit," she orders, pointing to one of the bar stools.
I oblige, and she sits beside me while Perry busies herself with breakfast.
"Do you have much preparation to do for your interview?"
"No."
"Good. You're still not going to tell me which local channel?"
"No."
Her lips curl up in a reluctant smile. Perry puts the tea in front of me and I obediently take a sip.
This feels oddly like they are preparing me for my first day of school.
Carmilla can see my discomfort. "What is it, sweetness?"
"You know, you never did tell me why you don't like to be touched."
She blanches, eyes darting to Perry before coming back to me. Her reaction makes me feel guilty
for even asking.
"I've told you more than I've ever told any other living person." Her voice is quiet as she gazes at
me impassively.
And it's clear to me right then that she's never confided in anyone. Doesn't she have any close
And it's clear to me right then that she's never confided in anyone. Doesn't she have any close
friends? I bet Mrs. Robinson knows. I want to ask her, but I can't - I can't be that invasive.
"Will you think about our arrangement while I'm away?" she asks.
"Yes." I respond automatically, without even really thinking about it.
"Will you miss me?"
I gaze at her, surprised by her question. Of course I'll miss you.
"Yes," I answer honestly. She smiles at that.
"I'll miss you too. More than you know," she breathes.
My heart warms at her words as Perry puts the food down before us. We both thank her as we dig
in.
It's the late afternoon as I sit nervous and fidget in the lobby waiting for Mr. James Stevenson of
Channel 3 news. This is my second interview today, and the one I'm more anxious about. The first
interview went well, but it was for the independent newspaper and it looked like they could barely
make ends meet, let alone offer a paid internship. I can imagine the paper going out of business in
today's economy, which is really sad but true.
Channel 3 is where I want to be. It's small and unconventional, covering local news, and has an
interesting and quirky roster of on-air talent.
My surroundings are sparse, but I think it's a design statement rather than frugality. I am seated on
one of two dark blue chesterfield couches made of leather - which oddly reminds me of Carmilla's
'playroom'. I stroke the leather appreciatively and imagine a naked Carmilla sprawled out on that
couch. My mind wanders as I think of the possibilities... no - I must not go there now. I flush at
my wayward and inappropriate thoughts.
The receptionist is a young African-American woman with large silver earrings and long
straightened hair. She has a bohemian look about her, the sort of woman I could be friendly with.
The thought is actually comforting. If I work here, I think she'd be an interesting person to get to
know. Every few moments, she glances at up me, checks to see if anyone else came in, and smiles
reassuringly. I tentatively return her smile.
By this time Carmilla is flying off to New York, and I can't help but wonder how fun it must be to
just fly off to New York for the weekend. Except she's there to schmooze Corporate Executives. I
never really did get why she was doing this, I think she changed the subject.
I roll my eyes at the memory of her overbearing bossiness, but I realize now that's just the way she
is. Carmilla likes having control over things, which includes me. Yet she's also disarmingly
agreeable too. I don't like her trying to force me to eat, but I get where she's coming from. I just
have to remain firm and stand up to her. She is also tender, good-natured, and even sweet... well,
in her own way.
"Laura Hollis?" A woman with long, brown, Lorde-level curly hair standing by the reception desk
distracts me from my introspection. She has the same bohemian, floaty look as the receptionist.
She could be in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. It's so difficult to tell on her.
"Yes," I reply, standing awkwardly.
She gives me a polite smile, her cool hazel eyes assessing me. I am wearing one of the submissive
special outfits, charcoal grey slacks with a white blouse, and my black pumps. Very interview, I
think. My hair is restrained in a ponytail, and for once the tendrils are behaving them-selves... she
holds her hand out to me.
"Hello, Laura, my name's Elsie Morgan. I'm with Human Resources here at Channel Three."
"Oh, how do you do?" I shake her hand. She seems to be sizing me up with her honey-brown
eyes, and I can't tell if she recognizes me or something. Well I was in the paper, so maybe it's that.
"Please follow me."
We go through the double glass doors behind the reception area, into a large brightly decorated
open-style office, and head into a small meeting room. The walls are pale blue, decorated with
photos of different major news events. At the head of the Maple wood conference table sits a
young man with dark, wavy hair cut in an almost hipster-like fashion. He wears a pale blue shirt,
no tie, and grey flannel trousers. It strikes me as trying too hard to look like he's an English
professor. As I approach him, he stands and gazes at me with fathomless dark blue eyes.
"Laura Hollis, I'm James Stevenson, the news editor here at channel three, pleased to meet you."
We shake hands, and his dark expression is unreadable, though friendly enough.
"Have you traveled far?" he asks pleasantly.
"No, I'm pretty local."
"Good, no worry about a horrible commute. Please, take a seat."
I sit, and Elsie takes a seat beside him.
"So why would you like to intern for us at channel three, Laura?" he asks.
He says my name softly and cocks his head to one side, like a certain someone I know - it's
unnerving. Doing my best to ignore the irrational wariness he inspires, I launch into my carefully
prepared speech, conscious that a rosy flush is spreading across my cheeks. I look at both of them,
remembering The Patented Betty Spielsdorf Successful Interviewing Technique lecture - maintain
eye contact, come across as confident and assured, and act like you don't really need this job but
really wouldn't mind it. James and Elsie both listen attentively.
"You have a very impressive GPA. What extra-curricular activities do you indulge in at Silas?"
Indulge? I blink at him. What an odd choice of word. I launch into details of my work at the
campus bookstore, and my one experience of interviewing an obscenely rich despot for the
student magazine. I gloss over the part that I didn't actually write the article.
They both laugh, which is the response I'd hoped for. Nope, don't mention Carmilla by name.
Slowly, I relax and begin to enjoy myself.
James Stevenson asks sharp, intelligent questions, but I'm not thrown - I keep up, and when we
discuss my reading preferences and my favorite books, I think I hold my own. James, on the other
hand, appears to only favor American literature written after 1950. Nothing else.
No classics - not even Henry James or Upton Sinclair or F Scott Fitzgerald. Elsie says nothing,
just nods occasionally and takes notes. James, though slightly argumentative, is charming in his
way, and my initial wariness dissipates the longer we talk.
"And where do you see yourself in five years' time?" he asks.
With Carmilla Karnstein, the thought comes involuntarily into my head. I frown at that.
"Reporting, perhaps? Maybe do documentaries, I'm not sure. I am open to opportunities."
He grins.
"Very good, Laura. I don't have any further questions. Do you?" he directs his question at me.
"When would you like someone to start?" I ask.
"As soon as possible," Elsie pipes up. "When could you start?"
"I'm available starting next week."
"That's good to know," James says.
"If that's all anyone has to say," Elsie glances at the two of us, "I think that concludes the
interview." She smiles kindly.
"It's been a pleasure to meet you, Laura," James says softly as he takes my hand. He squeezes it
gently, so that I blink up at him as I say goodbye. His eyes look like a slightly lighter shade of blue
now.
I feel odd as I make my way to my car, though I'm not sure why. I think the interview went well,
but it's so hard to say. Interviews seem such artificial situations, everyone on their best behavior
trying desperately to hide behind a professional facade. Did I get it? I'll have to wait and see.
I get into my smart car and head back to my dorm room, though I take my time. Betty calls, and I
use my bluetooth to answer.
"Hey, I wanted to apologize about... you know."
"About interfering in my personal relationship?"
"Yeah, that. I just... this is your first relationship, so I want to protect you." I don't think she'd ever
understand the contract and the Red Room of Pain, though.
"That's sweet of you, but I'm fully-grown adult and capable of making my own decisions."
"Really? Fully grown, Hollis?" I can hear laughing quietly on the phone and it makes me smile.
"Yeah, I know." She's like barely two inches taller than me.
"So how did your interview go?" she asks, excited.
"Really good, actually. Not sure this outfit was cool enough for the second interview."
"Oh?"
"Something more Boho chic might have done it."
"You and boho chic..." I can hear her tsk, tsk as I can visualize her shaking her head at me.
"Actually, Laura, you're one of the few people who could really pull that look off."
I grin, thanking her for the compliment.
"I really liked channel three. I think I could fit in there. The guy who interviewed me though...
was slightly unnerving," I trail off, forgetting who I'm talking to.
"Oh?" And that, ladies and gentlemen, is Betty Speilsdorf's radar searching for any interesting
tidbit of information - which will obviously resurface at some inopportune and embarrassing
moment to make Carmilla upset at me. Though she did have a point.
"Unnerving how?"
"He just... something that made him really confident, almost domineering... and he said my name
with a head tilt that reminded me of Carmilla."
"So a control freak."
"Carmilla isn't a control freak." I said, lying my pants off.
"I don't know how you stand her, Laura. I mean, yeah, I was trying to make her jealous - give her
a little nudge with her commitment issues... but if you don't want me to interfere, I won't," she
says in a rush.
"Good. Life with Carmilla is complicated enough, trust me."
Jeez, I sound like him.
"Laura," she pauses for a beat. "You're okay, aren't you? You've been seeing her for how long
and you're still not calling her your girlfriend?"
I roll my eyes.
"I'm fine, Betty. She and I aren't um... big on using that term." My throat feels hoarse as I pull into
the parking lot for my dorm and kill the engine. I feel tears threaten as I blink my eyes.
"You're just, I don't know... different. I hope you're okay, and whatever issues you're having with
her, you can talk to me. And I will try to not wind her up. Look, Laura, if something's wrong, you
can tell me, I won't judge. I'll try to understand."
I blink back tears. No, you won't understand, and I signed a non-disclosure agreement so I can't.
"I... I think I've really fallen for her." I first thought I was having the worst kind of crush ever, but
I can see myself with her in five years. That's not 'crush'.
"Well duh, anyone can see that. And she's fallen for you. Kirsch told me all about how she
couldn't keep her eyes off of you."
I laugh uncertainly.
"You really think so?"
"Hasn't she told you?"
"Not in so many words."
"Have you told her?"
"Not in so many words." I repeat uselessly.
"Laura! Someone has to make the first move, otherwise you'll never get anywhere."
What... tell her how I feel?
"I'm afraid I'll frighten her off. She said she's not the hearts and flowers kind of girl, anyway."
"But how do you know she's not feeling the same?"
"Carmilla, afraid? I can't imagine her being frightened of anything." But as I say the words, I
imagine her as a small, hungry child of a whore. Maybe fear was all she knew then. Sorrow grips
and squeezes my heart at the thought.
Betty then did the last thing I really expected from her: she gave decent advice.
"You two need to sit down and talk to each other." I harrumphed at that.
"We haven't been doing much talking lately." We've done ... other stuff.
"That'll be all the sexing! If that's going well, then that's half the battle!" There's the Betty that I
know.
"Well, I'm back at the dorm, hope you are enjoying your summer break." I say as we hang up.
Is Carmilla afraid of her feelings for me? Does she even have feelings for me? She says I'm hers -
but that's just part of her control-freak Domme self, surely. I realize that while she's away, I will
have to run through all our conversations again and see if I can pick out telltale signs. This is as
bad as that time I tried convincing myself about the Doctor and Rory having a thing.
I shake my head. I don't want to think about her now. I check my email on my phone, and there's
nothing new. Okay. I'll just write her an email.
My interviews went well today.
Thought you might be interested.
How was your day?
Laura
I sit and glare at the screen. Carmilla's responses are almost instantaneous. I wait... and wait... and
finally I hear the happy sound from my inbox.
Everything you do interests me; you are the most fascinating woman I know.
I'm glad your interviews went well.
My morning was beyond all expectations.
My afternoon was very dull in comparison.
Carmilla Karnstein
The morning was exemplary for me too, in spite of you weirding out on me after the impeccable
desk sex. Don't think I didn't notice.
Thank you for breakfast. Or thank Perry.
Laura
My finger hovers over the send button, and I am reassured that she's on the other side of the
continent still. She did get awkward this morning, and I wish I knew why.
'Weirding' is not a verb and should not be used by anyone who wants to go into journalism. As for
impeccable... compared to what?
Carmilla Karnstein
Language evolves and moves on. It is an organic thing. It is not stuck in an ivory tower, bedecked
with expensive works of art with a live-in waitstaff.
Impeccable - compared to the other times we have... what's your word... oh yes... fucked. Actually
the fucking has been pretty impeccable, period, in my humble opinion - but then as you know I
have very limited experience.
Do you play with anyone else? I get the feeling that Perry is better-suited to be your submissive
than I am at times.
Laura
My finger hovers once more over the send button, and I wince as I press it.
Laura-
Perry is a valued employee; I have never had any relationship with her beyond our professional
one. I would not employ anyone I've had any sexual relations with. As for her being a better
submissive, I am shocked that you would think so. I would, however, make an exception for you.
As I have said before, I am glad you have limited experience. And I shall take 'impeccable' as a
compliment - though with you, I'm never sure if that's what you mean, or if you are trying to pull
my beard - you do vex me at times. And I don't live in an ivory tower; may I never be that gauche.
Carmilla Karnstein
I vex her? That word hasn't really been used since the mid 1800's. I have no idea about 'pulling her
beard' either.
I think I have already expressed my reservations about working for your company. My views on
this have not changed, are not changing, and will not change, ever. My sense of vexing you and I
must now bid you goodnight.
Laura
Goodnight sweetness.
Carmilla Karnstein
I close my email and curl up to go to sleep in my dorm room bed, and for the first time, it feels too
large by myself.
Scars
Chapter Notes
A/N: I AM NOT DOING THE TAMPON SEX SCENE. Also, how on earth did
Christian have sex with Ana in the tub and keep his shirt on?
I'm lounging around my dorm room, debating if I could borrow some of the clothing from 'my
closet' at Carmilla's place for work. I want to look professional, and outside of a few nice dresses,
I'm a tee shirt and jeans kind of girl.
I hear a beeping from my computer and I see it's my dad. On Skype. I accept his call and sit in
front of the webcam.
"Laura - are you feeling ok? You look at bit flushed."
"Dad, I'm fine."
"Well your dress is lovely, dear."
"Oh, thanks. This is Betty's dress. You like it?"
His frown deepens.
"Why are you wearing Betty's dress?"
"Well I like this one and she doesn't," I improvise quickly. "So she gave it to me."
He regards me shrewdly.
"Do you need money for shopping?" he asks.
"Oh, Dad, you don't need to do that. I have plenty of clothes."
"If you say so. You're not wearing more dresses to impress your lady-friend, are you?" Have I? I
try to not blush as I realize that actually, wearing dresses and skirts have made it easier for us to
have sex.
"No?" I say, my voice raising up an octave.
"Don't put on some facade just to make your partner happy. You both will be miserable if you
do."
"I know, Dad. Oh, I had two interviews for my Journalism internship." I said, and we talked about
the magazine and the local channel news. He seemed proud of me and I beamed at that. Before
too long, he had to go and we said our goodbyes.
"You just take care of yourself, okay?"
"I am, dad. I just... so uncertain with Carmilla."
"Laura, you sound kind of lost. I mean, I've always believed you were so sure of yourself; you
were adamant when came out to me back in middle school, and you've never brought a guy or girl
home. I even thought something might develop with that girl you met in college, Danny."
"Dad, Danny's just a friend."
"I know, sweetheart. But something's up, and I don't think you're telling me everything." He gazes
at me through the webcam, and I can feel his concern in that one look.
"I just needed some distance from Carmilla to get my thoughts straight... that's all. So I'm kind of
glad she's gone this weekend, because she tends to overwhelm me."
"Overwhelm?"
"Yeah. I mean, I do miss her though." I frown.
I have not heard from Carmilla yet. No emails, nothing. I am tempted to call her to see if she's
okay. My worst fear is that she's been in some car accident, my second worst fear is that Mrs.
Robinson is back and has sunk her evil, child-molesting, Dominatrix claws into her again. I know
it's irrational, but where she's concerned, I seem to have lost all sense of perspective.
"It's perfectly understandable to miss someone you're dating, Laura." He looks down the screen.
"Oh, is that the time? We'll have to continue this later, sweetheart."
"Bye dad."
Later when I'm in the shower, cooling under the lukewarm water, I reflect on how much my father
has changed. He seems happier, and oddly he's got good advice for me about women. When did
that start happening?
Since I met Carmilla. Why is that?
When I'm done, I dry myself quickly, keen to talk to Carmilla. There's an email waiting for me,
which makes me happier than I should be.
Trying to impress and convince jewelry executives to take a risk and invest in lab-created stones is
dreadfully dull. At least I could employ my feminine wiles as I was wearing a few thousand
dollars' worth of shiny stones to impress them. Men are so easy to distract with shiny things, you'd
confuse them for nifflers. How was your day, sweetness?
Carmilla Karnstein
I gorged on some amazing Thai food last night. Oh, and I think I nailed the interviews yesterday
and now I'm wondering if I ought to raid the closet in my room at your place for work clothes so I
can look the part.
Your Laura
My Laura? I think I like the sound of that. I haven't had decent Thai in ages.
And, of course, feel free to plunder through your closet. Just avoid any skeletons in there.
Carmilla Karnstein
Dinner was spicy and filling - I'm sure you'll be very pleased to hear, I ate far too much; this dress
is ready to burst I think.
What sort of skeletons do you have in there, Ms. Karnstein?
Laura
Are you being deliberately obtuse, or are you skilled in the double entendre? I'd think you just
asked me to unzip your dress.
I am glad to hear you are eating. And any skeletons I have in there are my own. Besides, I've had
their jaws wired shut so that they can't tell any tales.
Carmilla Karnstein
I would never be unwittingly obtuse, Ms. Karnstein. But there's no zipper on the dress I'm
wearing right now.
Surely you can figure out how to strip me naked without aid of a zipper ;-)
Laura
It seems that I have a concupiscent effect on you.
I very much look forward to the next time I strip you naked.
Carmilla Karnstein
Have you been playing with the thesaurus again?
Laura
You know me so well Miss Hollis. I've been fingering my way through one until it called 'red'.
I am having a late lunch with an old friend now so I will be driving.
Until later, sweetness.
Carmilla Karnstein
Which old friend? I didn't think Carmilla had any old friends, except... her. I frown at the screen.
Why does she have to still see her?! Searing, green, bilious jealousy courses through me
unexpectedly. I want to hit something, preferably whoever this Mrs. Robinson is.
I feel like I should respond to her email, but I'm suddenly too angry. Why can't she see her for
what she is - a child molester! I close my email, seething, staring into the darkness. How dare
she? How dare she pick on a vulnerable adolescent? Is she still doing it? Why did they stop?
Various scenarios filter through my mind: had she had enough? Then why is she still friends with
her? Is she married? Divorced? Jeez - does she have children of her own? I'm shocked and
nauseous at the thought.
I struggle out of bed and open the web browser on my laptop. I am on a mission. I drum my
fingers impatiently waiting for the blue screen to appear. I hit Google images and enter 'Carmilla
Karnstein' into the search engine. The screen is suddenly littered with images of Carmilla: in fancy
ball gowns, femme suits, even one with her in a white tank top, leather pants, and a flannel shirt
tied around her waist. Boy she looks good.
I quickly move on: some with business associates, then a series of expert portraits of the most
photogenic woman I know, intimately. Do I know Carmilla intimately? I know her sexually, and I
figure there's a lot more to discover there. I know she can be moody, flirty, funny, cold, warm...
just like any other woman. I click to the next page of photos, idly wondering if this makes me a
stalker. She's still on her own in all these photographs, and I remember Betty mentioning that she
couldn't find any photographs of her with a guy, prompting her gay question. Then, on the third
page, there's a picture of me with her at Silas.
Dad's going to kill me, I'm on Google! I stare at us together. I look surprised by the camera,
nervous, off balance. This was just before I agreed to try submitting to her. For her part, Carmilla
looks impossibly gorgeous; calm, collected, and her eyes seem to sparkle. I gaze at her, and that
beautiful face could be staring at Mrs. Fucking Robinson right now. I save the picture in my
favorites and click through all eighteen screens... nothing. I won't find Mrs. Robinson on Google.
But I have to know if she's with her. I type a quick email to Carmilla.
I hope you and your friend had a very pleasant lunch.
Laura
P.S.: Was it Mrs. Robinson?
I press send and pace around my dorm room, resolved to ask Carmilla about her relationship with
that woman. Part of me is desperate to know more, and another part wants to forget she ever told
me. And my period has started, so I take some medicine for the cramping. I check my phone yet
again before setting it aside on the bedside table, I lie down and pull up a Johnlock fic I had
bookmarked earlier, wishing that we were in the same city, not over a thousand miles apart.
I have been trying surreptitiously to check emails all day. Finally - a response from Carmilla!
No, I did not meet with Mrs. Robinson. I hung out with a guy I knew back in college. Besides,
she is just an old friend, Laura.
Looking forward to seeing you again. I miss you.
Carmilla Karnstein
She wasn't having dinner with her, but still defends her? My scalp prickles as adrenaline and fury
lance through my body, because I cannot understand that evil bitch.
She's not just an old friend.
Has she found another adolescent girl to sink her teeth into?
Did you get too old for her, once you had your drivers license and weren't dependent on her for
transportation?
Is that the reason your relationship finished?
Laura
I press send as Danny comes in.
"Hey Laura, you're... pale. What's happened?"
I shake my head.
"Nothing. What's up?"
"Lou's has life sized Jenga and Connect Four now."
I perk up slightly at that.
"Let's go have a drink," I suggest as we leave.
Her brow furrows, glancing between me and my phone. I shrug and she lets it go.
I'm reserving the Jenga tower as Danny gets us margaritas. I feel my phone vibrate so I answer it,
expecting it to be one of the jobs I interviewed for.
Shit it's Carmilla.
"Our sexual relationship was over long ago, Laura," she says. "I don't want anyone but you.
Haven't you worked that out yet?"
I blink at that revelation. I actually hadn't.
"Well I think of her as a child molester, Carmilla." I hold my breath waiting for her reaction.
Carmilla's silence tells volumes.
"That's very judgmental. It... wasn't like that," she whispers. Was she ashamed?
"Oh, how was it then?" I ask, noticing an edge to my voice. "Explain how statutory rape is
okay."
"It was different back then-" I cut her off.
"-she took advantage of a vulnerable seventeen-year-old girl. If Mrs. Robinson was a Mr.
Robinson, tempting you into a kinky, BDSM lifestyle, that would have been okay? If it was me?"
I can hear her gasp in shock.
"Laura, it wasn't like that!"
"Then what was it like?"
"Well, it didn't feel like that to me," she continues quietly. "She was good; she saved me. She
gave me what I needed."
"I don't understand." I'm bewildered.
"Laura, I'm not comfortable talking about this now. Maybe later."
"I'm just trying to understand. I was worried that you had dinner with her. Think about how you
were when I hung out with Danny. She's a good friend, but I have never had a sexual relationship
with her. Which, full disclosure, I'm hanging out with her now playing life-size Jenga. But you
and your Mrs. Robinson," I trail off, unwilling to finish the statement.
"Well, Danny tried to take advantage of you when you were drunk and couldn't consent, so that's
different. Are you jealous of her?" She asked unexpectedly.
I huffed, exasperated. I don't care that she doesn't like jealousy, this is wrong. "Yes I am jealous,
and I'm angry about what she did to you."
"Laura, she helped me, that's all I'll say about that. And as for your jealousy, I am trying hard to
figure out exactly what insecurity you are having about us that is making you lash out at someone
in my distant past. I won't apologize for you not being my first, if that's what this is about. And
besides, I didn't go and see Mrs. Robinson, and even if I did, it's not to purposely insult or offend
you. She was also a friend and business partner."
Business partner? Well, this is news.
"Business partner?" I ask, hoping I heard her wrong.
"Yes, we're business partners. The sex is over between us. It has been for ages." Maybe I am
being insecure over this.
"Why did your relationship finish?"
The phone went silent, and I couldn't even hear her breathe. "I got scarred up; I wasn't perfect in
her eyes anymore."
I don't know what to say to that. I think you're absolutely stunning. I recall how she never took her
top off and didn't want to be touched there.
Carmilla speaks up again, and she sounds... vulnerable. "Can we talk about this some other time -
in person?"
"Um, yeah, but I don't think you'll ever convince me that she's not some kind of pedophile."
She huffs in frustration, and I can tell she's getting annoyed. "Well I don't think of her that way.
That alone should be enough." she snaps.
I realized I was losing this discussion like it were an argument, so I asked the one thing that I
needed to know the answer of. "Did you love her?"
Danny returns, two margaritas on the rocks, both with salt on the rims. "You would not believe
the wait line in there."
I plaster a fake smile on my face as Danny sees that I'm on the phone. She mumbles an apology.
I wait for Carmilla's response. What is she thinking? Did she love her? I think if she did, I will lose
it, big time.
"Laura, I think I should leave you to enjoy your evening. We'll talk later." The call ended.
Danny gave a small smile as she saw that I was upset.
"Was that Ms. Money-bags?"
I scoff at that. "Yeah, it was. She's in New York on business this weekend."
"You really like her, don't you?" I really don't want to admit the whole Mrs. Robinson thing to
her, though.
I nod. "And I was hung up on the idea she was having lunch with an old ex of hers." She never
did tell me who it was, though.
"Wow," she mutters. "Laura, you seem really hung up on this girl. Jealousy is a normal reaction, if
that's what this is, then the best way to sort through this is to talk with her."
"Yeah I know but I don't want to come across as some sort of harpy or insecure girl who wants to
put a homing chip or giant sign that says 'Do Not Touch'."
"Laura, you've always over-analyzed things to death. Just talking to her isn't the same as putting a
homing chip in her like... scientists tag dolphins to see their migration pattern."
I stare at my fingers.
"I think I'm in love with her," I mutter. I can't even look up at her as I say this.
Danny takes a long sip of her drink, probably because of her feelings for me. "Well, it is a
stereotype that in lesbian relationships, you bring a U-Haul on the third date. If you can avoid
moving in, I think you'll be okay."
I chuckle at that, and the insecurity that Carmilla mentioned reared its ugly head. We both didn't
want me moving in, just I'd have my own space there when I was over.
"I don't think she loves me."
"Laura, it's a little too soon for that, don't you think? I mean, I want you happy - but you're an
adult now and something tells me that you don't want to ruin this by doing any of the common
pitfalls when you date in High School. Just... be safe with her."
I want to roll my eyes at her. Jeez, thanks for the advice, Dad.
"Let's play some Jenga." I say.
"Thatta girl, Laura." She grins. Before too long, the Jenga stack gets so high I need to grab a chair
to stand on in order to put my block in place. It looks ridiculous as my friend is head and shoulders
above me and has to bend over low in order to check the base of the stack.
I get back to my dorm and look at my cell. Danny is right, I do need to talk with her. What time is
it in New York? It has to be late in the evening, so she should be ready for bed, right?
I see her on skype and try to call her. She immediately picks up and waves, then points to her
phone.
"I can call later."
She waves me off, pulling the phone away from her face for a moment. "No, it's cool, sweetness,
let me finish up this conference call first."
I guess she must have taken a laptop or some sort of tablet with her as I see her still in her classy
I guess she must have taken a laptop or some sort of tablet with her as I see her still in her classy
business suit chic, a black skirt suit with oxblood red pinstripes. I can't even see any collar from a
blouse until she turns to face me completely and I notice the silky black camisole that made it look
like she wasn't wearing anything under the jacket. She was definitely displaying her feminine wiles
today.
She blinks at me as she grins, looking pleased to see me.
"All the redundancy plans failed?... And the cost?... " Carmilla chuffed in frustration. "Fuck... that
was one expensive mistake... And George's team?"
I try to see the room around her. She's in some sort of suite, the furnishings here are ultra modern.
Carmilla walks over to a dark wood unit and pulls open a door to reveal a mini-bar, helping
herself to the vodka and pours it into a shaker with some cranberry juice.
I try to not listen into her conversation. She shakes her drink up well before pouring it into a small
clear plastic cup. I can hear water running... is she filling a bath? I wonder as she ambles back into
the room.
"Have Natalie send me the schematics. Stinson said she'd cracked the problem... "
Carmilla doesn't take her eyes off me as she unbuttons her jacket and I see the silky black camisole
that seems to caress every curve of her torso, and I wind up biting my lip in desire.
"Well if their incentives are attractive enough... I think we should consider it. Get Sue to call.
Tomorrow... Not too early, I might have a late night." She ends her call and stares at me, her face
unreadable, and the silence stretches between us. Okay... my turn to talk.
"You didn't answer my question," I murmur.
"No. I didn't," she says quietly, her dark eyes wide and cautious.
"No, you didn't answer my question, or no you didn't love her?"
She turns her head and holds up a finger, and walks off the screen and I hear the water turn off.
She returns with a knowing smirk on her face.
"Why are you asking this, cupcake?"
"I need to know."
She takes a deep breath.
"No. I didn't love her." She frowns at me, "I thought I did. I thought I knew what love was back
then." She starts to take off her shoes and undoes her skirt.
I can't believe she's getting naked on the camera. I'm holding my breath. I try to focus on what she
just said. How would I feel if she actually loved the witch?
"You're quite the green-eyed monster, sweetness. Who would have thought?"
"Are you making fun of me, Ms. Karnstein?" I reply playfully.
"I wouldn't dare." She shakes her head solemnly, but she has a wicked gleam in her eye as she
lowers her skirt to the floor.
"Oh, I think you would, and I think you do - often."
Her phone buzzes, distracting us both, and she switches it off without glancing to see who it is.
My breath hitches as she takes a step towards the camera wearing her sexy predatory look.
"I want to go take a bath, and I don't mind taking my tablet with me." She fills the screen so I can't
see it, but I can tell by the way she's bending that she's removed her panties as well.
"Um, okay. I wouldn't mind you taking your tablet with you." I stammer, leaning towards my
own camera in anticipation.
"But I don't want to be naked alone." She says coyly, feigning innocence. "So I'm glad you
called."
She'll have to get naked for this, won't she? I'll have to get naked too?
"Um, I'm in a dorm room, so I don't have a tub that I can join you in. Also, it's that time of the
month for me."
"Oh, okay. Then just get topless for me, since it means your breasts are going to be larger than
normal."
I balk at that. "Oh my god, you're serious about this."
Carmilla's carefree facade dropped entirely. "Yeah, I'm really sensitive about what I'm about to
show you and um, just the fact that I even told you about and the scars is me opening up in a way
I haven't for a long time. You wanted to know why I don't want to be touched? I'm willing to at
least show you."
Oh god, it's going to be bad.
"We can stop this if you want, you don't need this image in your-"
"-I really do want to know," I whisper as a defense.
"Well, if you do, then let's - please don't, um... don't react poorly."
I flush as I realize that it's going to be really, really bad.
"Let's go have a bath." She says flirtatiously. I realize she's trying to use sex here as a distraction,
but I'm more okay with it now.
Biting my lip, I pull off my top and unbuckle my bra. She's already seen this before, but over
Skype? This feels... well, naughty. I'm a bit turned on at this.
Tablet in hand, she lead me back into the first part of the bathroom, and I see behind her a wall-
sized mirror above two glass sinks. Candles flicker to the side. Wow... she's done all this while on
the phone. She dims the lights in the bathroom and I switch the lighting in my room to be
somewhat similar.
"Do you have a hair tie?"
I blink at her, fish into my jeans pocket, and pull out a hair elastic.
"Put your hair up," she orders softly. I do as she asks.
"Look at you. You are so beautiful," she murmurs. "See how you feel, touch yourself as if I were
there." I clasp my hands on myself, my palms against my belly. "Feel how soft your skin is."
Her voice is soft and low. I move my hands in a slow circle then up towards my breasts. "Feel
how full your breasts are." I gasp as I cup my own breasts and squeeze then at her urging. I gently
stroke my nipples with my thumbs over and over, remembering the first time she pinched them.
I moan between parted lips and arch my back at the memory. I watch in fascination at the wanton
creature looking at me. Oh this feels good. I groan and close my eyes, no longer wanting to see
that libidinous woman on my laptop falling apart under her own hands... my hands... feeling my
skin as she would, experiencing how arousing it is - just her touch, and her calm, soft, commands.
"That's right, sweetness," she murmurs.
I guide my own hands down the sides of my body, past my waist to my hips, and graze over my
pubic hair.
"Look at you shine," she whispers as I groan.
"Don't stop," she orders, her dark eyes watching me.
I rub myself. No. I want her, her to do it. It doesn't feel the same. I'm lost without her.
"Sweetness, you're off-camera now." I look at the screen and frown, wondering how to place the
laptop to capture all of me.
"Sorry, let me um..." I chuckle, "I can't believe I'm doing this."
"I've already seen your goodies, you know." She said playfully.
"Hey, I'm not letting you off the hook either, Ms. Karnstein. I wanna see some boobies too you
know."
She chuckles at that. "Okay, you can call me Carmilla at this point. Though I do enjoy hearing
you call me Ms. Karnstein as a vanilla alternative to calling me Mistress privately in the play
room."
I grin at that. "Deal... Mistress. Now less talking, more skin!"
She smiles sadly as she removes her top and unhooks her bra, and my mind can't completely piece
together what I'm seeing at first. There is a trail of pock-marks, as if it were acne scars, spiraling
around her torso just under her breasts. It could almost be seen as beautiful, I thought as I wished I
could trail my fingers over the line of scars. Just above her left areola was the white mark I had
seen before; the flesh looked like it had nearly melted in the shape of a cross.
She was burned.
Some sick bastard burned this beautiful girl, to the point where Mrs. Robinson no longer wanted
her. Carmilla turned away from the camera and I saw striped scars across her back, reminding me
of when that cadet got lashed with a whip on Starship Troopers.
She was whipped until she bled.
I had so many questions. How long ago did this happen? Who did this? Was this Mrs. Robinson's
handiwork?
She turns back to face me, chin and face lowered in a very un-Carmilla way. I notice more small,
round, white scars across her stomach and chest. They are not simple chicken pox scars, I muse
absentmindedly. I was lost at what could pepper someone's flesh with so many tiny circular scars.
A shotgun blast? Holy shit... they all are tiny burns.
Burns from what? I blanch at the realization, shock and revulsion coursing through me.
Either cigarettes, or some sort of shower of sparks from welding... This wasn't just kinky play
gone bad, this was torture. Mrs. Robinson, her birth mother, who? Who did this to her? Maybe
there's a reasonable explanation, and I'm over-reacting - nobody would ever do this to her on
purpose...
And I realize Carmilla can see the look on my face.
"What?" Her face is wide-eyed with apprehension.
"Your scars," I whisper, uncertain what I can say at this point. "They're not from chicken pox."
I watch as in a split second she closes down, her stance changing from relaxed, calm, and at ease,
to defensive - angry, even. She frowns, her face darkening, and her mouth presses into a thin, hard
line. She climbs into the tub and covers her chest up with the bubbles.
"No, they're not," she snaps, but she does not elaborate further.
"Carmilla, I..." I am so sorry that someone did this to you.
"Don't look at me like that!" Her voice is colder and scolding, and I can tell she wants to scream at
me that she doesn't want my pity.
I flush, chastened, and stare down at my fingers, and I know, I know that someone purposefully
did this Carmilla. I feel sick.
"Did she do that?" I whisper before I can stop myself.
She says nothing, so I'm forced to look at her. She's glaring at me.
"She - Mrs. Robinson?! She's not an animal, Laura. Of course she didn't. I don't understand why
you feel you have to demonize her."
She's laying in the bathtub, gloriously naked, covered in cute bubbles... and we're finally having
this conversation. And I'm half-naked too - neither of us can really cover ourselves up now as
we're baring everything to each other it seems.
"I guess I just wonder what you would be like if you hadn't met her. If she hadn't introduced you
to your... um, lifestyle."
She sighs and looks to the ceiling, her jaw clenched with tension. As she gracefully submerges her
head beneath the water, I wonder if I have made her upset.
Her head rises back out of the water and she stares impassively at me, her face unreadable, saying
nothing. Again the silence stretches between us, but I hold my tongue. It's your turn Karnstein - I
am not caving this time.
Carmilla and I stare at each other in the awkward silence, but I am not backing down. Eventually,
after what seems like a minute, she shakes her head, and she smirks.
"I would probably have gone the way of my birth mother, had it not been for Mrs. Robinson."
Oh! I blink at her. Carmilla, a whore?
"She, um, loved me in a way I found... acceptable," her voice was distant.
What the hell does that mean?
"Acceptable?" I whisper.
"Yes." She stares intently at me. Her dark eyes hold an edge that makes me want to back down.
"She saved me from a very different path in life that I was beginning to head down." She looked
away, eyes unfocused as she relived a memory in her mind. "Saved me again when I got scarred
up."
Oh no. My mouth dries as I digest her words. She gazes as me, her expression unfathomable.
She's not going to tell me any more. Inside, I'm reeling - she sounds so full of self-loathing. And
Mrs. Robinson loved her. Holy shit... does she still?
I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach.
"Does she still love you?" She shook her head ever so slowly.
"I don't think so, not with me looking like this now." She frowns as if she doesn't like the idea. "I
keep telling you it was a long time ago. It's in the past. I couldn't change it even if I wanted to,
which I don't. She saved me from
myself." She's exasperated and pulls her wet hair behind her.
"I've... never discussed this with anyone." She pauses, "And the only reason I'm talking about this
now, to you, is because I want you to trust me."
"I do trust you, but I also want to know you better, and whenever I try to talk to you, you distract
me. Usually with sex. There's so much I want to know."
Her eyes go from hurt to frustrated.
"Oh for pity's sake, Laura. What do you want to know? What do I have to do?" Her eyes blaze,
and though she doesn't raise her voice, I know she's trying to use anger to hide her vulnerability. I
even notice the use of my name and realize that this is serious.
"I'm just trying to understand, you're such an enigma. Unlike anyone I've met before. People who
are dating should be willing to be open about themselves to each other."
"Gods below, is this the toll I must pay in order to date someone? No wonder people hire whores
for physical satisfaction."
"Please don't be angry with me," I whisper, worried that she actually is upset with me.
"I am not angry with you, Laura. I'm just not used to this kind of talking - this... probing. The only
person who did this was - " She stops and frowns.
"With her. Mrs. Robinson. You talked to her?" I prompt.
"Yes, I used to."
"What about?"
"Persistent aren't you?" she murmurs, a trace of irritation in her voice as the corner of her mouth
rises slightly. "Life, the universe - our jobs. Laura, Mrs. Robinson and I go way back. We can
discuss literally anything."
"Me?" I whisper.
"If we were still in contact, yeah." Dark eyes watch me carefully.
I bite my bottom lip, trying to curb the sudden rush of anger that surfaces.
"Why would you talk about me? You made me sign an NDA to promise I didn't out you as some
sort of Dominatrix." I endeavor not to sound whiny and petulant, but I don't succeed. I know I
should stop. I am pushing her too hard.
"Well, I've never met anyone like you, Laura."
"What does that mean? Just because I didn't automatically sign your paperwork, I didn't come
from some submissive warehouse where you can order a demure size 4 brunette with a money-
back guarantee?"
She shakes her head.
"That's not what I mean. But I need advice."
"And you would take advice from a Pedophile? Gee, I wonder how many gummi bears soaked in
vodka it would take in order to get a girl to open up." I snap. The hold on my temper is more
tentative than I thought.
"Laura -
enough," she snaps back sternly, her eyes narrowing. "I have absolutely no sexual or
romantic interest in her whatsoever. She's a friend and a business partner. That's all. We have a
past, a shared history, which saved my life - but that side of our relationship is over."
And I know that's it. I've pushed her as far as I can tonight.
"Are you done?" she snaps.
"For now." I can hear a growl in her voice as she rolls her eyes.
"Fine, that's about as much as I can expect, I guess."
She takes a deep breath and visibly relaxes in front of me, like a great weight is lifted from her
shoulders or something.
"Right - my turn," she mutters, and her glare turns steely, speculative. "What about the contract
worries you?"
I flush. Oh, I hate the spotlight on me. I shake my head. Perhaps that's how she feels about my
questions, she's not used to being challenged. The thought is revelatory, distracting, and
unnerving.
I sigh, resigned.
"Well, what do you expect from our would-be arrangement? I don't think I can do it for an
extended period of time. A whole weekend being someone I'm not." I flush and stare at my hands.
"Being someone you're not? You think that is what being submissive is?"
"You want me as your... slave, your floor mat."
"What on earth gave you that idea?"
"Well, I was doing my research on collar-me..."
Carmilla bit her lip as she tried to suppress her laughter. Part of me feels slightly offended at that.
"Are you laughing at me?"
"Yes, but in a good way," she says with a small smile. "That website is absolute shite."
"I don't think I could ever be a great slave or submissive from what I saw on there."
"You're not a great submissive," she says with a smile, her eyes dancing with humor. "But you're
the perfect submissive for me."
I stare at her shocked, then I burst out laughing - and she joins me.
"Maybe I don't have a good teacher." I add.
She snorts.
"Maybe. I could be stricter with you, get you clicker-trained to come on command." She throws
her head back in laughter and gives me an artful smile.
I swallow. Jeez, no. But at the same time, my muscles clench deliciously deep inside. Something
about her having control of my orgasms turns me on. She's staring at me, gauging my reaction.
"'Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely' - Lord Acton. You keep me in check
more than you know; I think your stubbornness makes me a better Dominant."
"I don't get it."
"Okay, was it that bad when I spanked you the first time?"
I gaze back at her, blinking. Was it that bad? I remember feeling confused by my reaction. It hurt,
but not that much in retrospect. She's said over and over again it's more in my head. And if I were
honest... it turned out to be hot.
"No, not really," I whisper.
"It's more the idea of it, right?" she prompts.
"I suppose. Feeling pleasure, when I'm not supposed to."
"I remember feeling the same. Takes a while to get your head around it. Then you realize that you
like what you like and forget about how people call it wrong or a sin or whatever."
Holy hell. This was when she was a kid.
"You can always use your safe-word, Laura. Don't forget that. And, as long as you follow the
rules when we're playing in the room, then it can work for us."
"Why do you need to control me?"
"Because it satisfies a need in me. Most submissives enjoy giving up their decision making for
short periods of time to someone that they trust."
This I can understand. But something doesn't add up.
"But, here's the thing - one moment you say 'don't defy me', the next you say you like to be
challenged. That's a very fine line to tread successfully."
She gazes at me for a moment, then frowns.
"I can kind of see that, but I think context is important in each situation. But you seem to be doing
fine so far."
"But at what personal cost? I'm tied up in knots here."
"I like knots," she smirks.
"That's not what I meant!" I say in exasperation. "How is my stubbornness a good thing?"
"You make me have to prove myself and earn it. You're making me work at being good enough
for you, Miss Hollis. I won't easily forget to be grateful for your submission and take you for
granted." She looks at me through the webcam, and I can feel her eyes seducing me. "I think
we've done enough talking for now."
She bites her lip and it ignites my own passion as I realize what she's doing to herself in the tub. "I
think I'm going to have you touch yourself now," she whispers ever so quietly.
I gulp. "I can keep my panties on?"
She smiles and gives a shrug that means everything and nothing. "Sure. I just want you playing
with your own clit on my direction as I frig myself in the tub."
"Okay." I gasp, unbuttoning my jeans and finding myself with my fingertip.
"Ready?" she breathes.
"Yes," I whisper, and she slowly lowers her chin as she looks at me, jaw dropping as I can tell
she's slid into herself and I'm pressing down in a tight clockwise circle. She licks her lips as she
knows I'm doing this for her, and I can hear the sloshing of water as she is pleasuring herself as
well.
I groan, closing my eyes, and I revel in the sensation, hearing Carmilla pant in need as she and I
were both seeking release together.
"Don't come until I allow you." she whispers.
"Oh..." I plead, turned on by the thought of being denied my orgasm.
Clasping the bedsheet, I throw my head back into my yellow pillow and clench my jaw as I know
she's gazing at me. I look back at the screen, and I'm turned on at the sight of myself: topless,
wanton, touching myself... and that I'm turning her on by doing this.
She's watching me. Her mouth open slightly, her breathing halted, stilted - her tongue between her
teeth. She looks so needy, so... hot. She's wet and I see her bicep flex in a pattern that makes me
think she's close to coming as well. She closes her eyes.
I close my eyes and let myself feel everything and hear her moaning as I let myself moan louder
for her... all sensation... all consuming again. I can tell that I am close... I recognize this delicious
tightening... quickening. And I can hear her own movements become more frantic... water
sloshing everywhere, mirroring the building orgasm inside me... and I just don't care.
I love this woman. I love her passion, the effect I have on her. The effect she has on me. She is
mine, and I am hers.
"Please, Mistress." I beg.
"That's right, sweetness," she breathes.
"May I come?"
"Not just yet."
I whimper and I hear her chuckle darkly at that, and it turns me on even more.
"Sadist." I say, changing the direction of my fingertips.
"Guilty as charged." Carmilla says, gasping as I hear her start to come and I see her close her eyes
and throw her head back.
"Now, Laura!"
And I come, my orgasm ripping through me, a turbulent, passionate, explosion that devours me
whole. And suddenly Carmilla's orgasm hits my ears and we're in that moment together, even
though we're thousands of miles apart.
"Laura, darling!" she cries, and it's a wild invocation, stirring and touching the depths of my soul.
Darling.
We lie staring at each other, dark eyes into brown, face to face, sated over skype. Naked. Open.
Just looking and admiring each other.
"Do you want to go to sleep?" Carmilla asks, her voice soft. She is beautiful; her eyes are
smoldering against the white tile and the flickering candlelight in the hotel bathtub.
"No. I'm not tired." I feel strangely energized. It's been so good to talk - I don't want to stop.
"What do you want to do?" she asks.
"Talk."
She smiles.
"About what?"
"Stuff."
"What stuff?"
"I don't know. You."
"What about me?"
"What's your favorite film?"
She grins.
"Today, it's 'Secretary'."
Her grin is infectious.
"I guess I'll have to go watch that sometime, Ms. Karnstein."
"I think you might enjoy it, Miss Hollis."
"So I am number seventeen."
She frowns at me not comprehending.
"Seventeen?"
"Number of women you've um... had sex with."
Her lips quirk up, her eyes shining with incredulity.
"Not exactly."
"You said fifteen," My confusion is obvious.
"I was referring to the number of women in my playroom. I thought that's what you meant. You
didn't ask me how many women I'd had sex with."
"Oh." Holy shit... there's more... How I gape at her. "Vanilla?"
"No. You are my one vanilla conquest," she shakes her head, still grinning at me.
Why does she find this funny? And why am I grinning back at her like an idiot?
"I can't give you a number. I didn't put notches in the bedpost or anything, that would be gauche."
"What are we talking - tens, hundreds... thousands?" My eyes grow wilder as the numbers get
larger.
"Tens. We're in the tens, for pity's sake. Definitely under a hundred." Under a hundred?
"All submissives?"
"Yeah, or bottoms, or slaves."
"Stop grinning at me," I scold her mildly, trying and failing to keep a straight face.
"I can't. You're funny."
"I'm funny. Okay." I say with mild sarcasm.
"This will shock you, cupcake. Ready?"
I nod, wide-eyed, still with the stupid grin on my face.
"All of them were submissives of some sort in training. There are places that one can go and...
practice. Learn to do what I do, for a price," she says.
What?
"Oh." I blink at her.
"Yep, I've paid for professional submissives. It wasn't always sex, but sometimes the activities got
as good as sex can be and it still wasn't considered 'intercourse'."
"I'm not certain how I feel about that," I mutter haughtily. "And you're right... I am shocked. And
a bit upset that I can't shock you."
"What? You wore my underwear."
"Did that shock you?"
"Yes, of course." And then you went 'commando' to meet my brother."
"It seems I can only shock you in the underwear department."
"Actually, you told me you were a virgin. That's the biggest shock I've ever had."
"Wish I had a picture of your face then." I giggle.
"You let me work you over with a riding crop."
"And that shocked you?"
"I thought you would get scared and leave, so yeah."
I grin.
"Well, I may let you do it again."
"Oh, I should certainly hope so, Miss Hollis. Next weekend?"
"Okay," I agree, shyly.
"Okay?"
"Yes. I'll go to the Red Room of Pain again." She smirks at the nickname for her play room.
"Another thing that shocks me: you say my given name."
"That shocks you?"
"Well, the fact that I like it shocks me, actually."
"Carmilla."
She grins.
I grin and stifle a yawn at the same time.
"Am I boring you, Miss Hollis?" Her tone is sardonic.
"Never."
She blows me a kiss.
"Go to sleep," she commands, then ends the call.
And in this peaceful, quiet moment, as I close my eyes, I am spent and sated. In spite of all she's
said, and what she hasn't said, I don't think I have ever been so happy.
Back Together
Chapter Notes
A/N: Issues with 50 Shades: Finding a glider at the last minute, irresponsibly burning
through money, never seeming to work, didn't i already mention stalking/following
her there?
Carmilla stands just outside of a steel-barred cage, wearing her leather pants and nothing else.
She's staring at me. Her breasts are pristine and she has a private-joke smile etched on that
stunning face and her eyes are molten silver. In her hands she holds a plate of gingerbread girls.
She saunters with predatory grace to the front of the cage, gazing intently at me. Holding up a
gingerbread cookie, she extends her hand through the bars.
"Eat," she says, her tongue caressing the front of her palate as she enunciates the 't'.
I try and move toward her, but I'm tethered, held back by some unseen force around my wrist,
restraining me. I look and see the bracelet she gave me has me leashed inside the cage.
"Come, eat," she says, smiling her delicious crooked smile.
I pull and pull... but the chains hold me tight as I struggle to get closer to her. I try to scream and
shout, but no sound emerges. I am mute. She stretches a little further, and the gingerbread girl is at
my lips. The girl-shaped cookie has a horrified look on her face, red icing spilling from her neck
and I realize that I don't want this. I don't want this at all.
"Eat, Laura." Her mouth forms my name, lingering sensually on each syllable. I shake my head in
fear, torn between backing away from the gingerbread and wanting to be closer to Carmilla.
"CARMILLA!"
We both turn in fear towards the voice. Carmilla was on her knees like a broken doll, as if a
marionette cut all of the strings at once.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't play with her! You don't know where she's been!"
It's Mrs Robinson. The room is dark, so I can't see her, but I know it's her from Carmilla's
reaction. I hear her coming closer and I can't help but notice how utterly scared my girlfriend is as
she seems to be cowering from her.
I hear the crack of a whip, and Carmilla is laying flat on the ground, gingerbread girls flying
through the air. There were so many of them. A few more cracks of the whip and all of the girls
were reduced to crumbs.
"So you think you can play at being me now, Carmilla?!" Another crack of the whip, and blood
flew through the air. Carmilla's blood.
"I'm nothing like you!"
"You think she can love a spoiled thing like you?"
"Laura does love me!"
Hands grab Carmilla by the hair, sharply pulling her to her feet.
"There will be nothing left of you to love when I'm done with you!"
"Stop! No!" I scream uselessly.
The woman throws Carmilla across the room, and she's strapped to one of those X-shaped
crosses, and Mrs. Robinson rips the leather pants off of her.
I scream and fight the chain at my wrist, unsure how I'd even get out of this cage to save her.
I hear the meaty thumps as Carmilla is getting hit, then smell the acrid scent of flesh burning as she
howls in pain. There is a pool of blood beneath her now as the sounds begin to change.
"Come on, baby. Come for mama."
I am confused as the sounds of pain sound more like pleasure to me now.
Carmilla isn't suffering anymore as I realize she's kissing her.
Mrs Robinson's hands are all over Carmilla's body, cupping one breast as the other works fingers
inside her slit. Between the gasps of pain and pleasure, I can hear the squelching sounds as Mrs.
Robinson's hands bring a twisted kind of pleasure to Carmilla.
No. I cringe away from the grotesque lovemaking they do as I try to look away but can't as I hear
Carmilla scream her release as I see her body covered in blood and bruises. There is a broken
gingerbread cookie on the ground, her face wide in shock as her mouth moves sluggishly, red
icing flowing from where her neck should be.
"Run, Sixteen. Run."
I bolt awake, panting as I realize that I was having a nightmare. No more gingerbread cookies for
me.
I glance down at my phone and frown. There's a missed call from a number I don't recognize. I
call them straight back.
"Hello?" I answer breathlessly as I hear them pick up?
"Laura Hollis?"
"Yes."
"It's Elsie Morgan from channel 3."
"Oh - hi."
"I'm calling to offer you the job of assistant to Mr. James Stevenson. We'd like you to start on
Monday."
"Wow. That's great. Thank you!"
"You know the salary details?"
"Yes. Yes... that's - I mean, I accept your offer. I'd love to come and work for you."
"Excellent. We'll see you Monday at 8:30 a.m.?"
"See you then. Goodbye. And thank you."
I look at my phone and realize that I probably won't - at least shouldn't - go back to sleep. I decide
to go to Carmilla's place and browse through my closet there for some work clothes for my first
week. I'll go shopping after my first paycheck and increase my wardrobe and return all this.
As I get there, I use the code to get in and see Perry and LaFontaine having breakfast together,
looking almost cozy together.
"Hey, it's just me." I call out as the pair of them move away from each other to a more platonic
distance.
"Oh, Laura, hey." LaFontaine replied, taking an extra-long gulp of orange juice. Perry fidgeted
before she got up, clearing away her own plate before looking for something else to do.
"I'm just here to raid the closet for some workplace-appropriate outfits before I get my first
paycheck. I'll be out of your hair shortly."
Perry shook her head, denial etched on her face. "Oh, you weren't interrupting anything, feel free
to hang out if you want."
LaF shook their head. "Don't worry about it, Perr. I've got to get back to my lab and look over
some blood samples..."
I felt bad for breaking the two of them up from having a tender moment together. It then hit me
that there should have been someone else here as well. "Perry, where's Kirsch?"
"Carmilla sent him to get his concealed handgun license this weekend. Apparently it was a
stipulation from his predecessor that the new security also be armed at all times."
I nodded and made my way to 'my' bedroom. It still seems odd to think that I have my own
bedroom here. I make my way into the closet and pull various things out, including shoes to
match, and I think I'm good for the first week as my phone rings. It's Carmilla.
"Hey Cutie." she says before I can say anything.
"Hi," I murmur shyly.
"I am returning ahead of schedule because of the expensive fuck-up that happened and I need
some quality de-stressing time. Would you do me a favor?" She sounds pretty businesslike. Wait,
does that mean she wants... me?
"Are you asking for a sexual favor?" I add 'I hope' mentally.
Carmilla laughs on the other end.
"That wasn't my intention, but I don't think I'll turn such an offer down, sweetness. Can you pick
me up at the airport?" She sounds really stressed. Maybe even angry. But I know it's not my fault,
whatever it is.
"Well, sure. When do you think you'll land?"
"I'm flying standby and sitting in coach, so within three hours. I don't know the flight number but
it's the only direct flight from New York, if that helps." she says.
"I can figure it out on my end. You have luggage?"
"Just my carry-on. Don't worry, cupcake, this isn't my first rodeo. So your car's trunk is more than
enough room. Okay, the flight attendant is giving me the stink-eye, so I had better hang up." and
with those words, my Carmilla is back briefly. Then she hangs up.
Three hours later and I have Carmilla all picked up from the Airport. I considered dressing up like
a chauffeur with a sign that says "Karnstein", but decide against it. She gives me a quick peck on
the lips as I start the vehicle.
"So, where to?" I ask, surprised at how comfortable she makes herself in her leather pants, ankle
boots, and plaid shirt.
"Go south on the main highway once we're out of here, hold on..." She hooks her phone up to the
aux line and types in an address before switching it over to her music player.
"Choose a playlist, I just want to not be a CEO for half an hour... ugh." Carmilla has that secret
smile again. "Thank you for picking me up, though."
Carmilla Karnstein's music, this should be interesting. I scroll through the touch screen, and find
Emilie Autumn. I press play. The first song that comes up seems interesting to say the least, and
Carmilla turns the volume down slighlty. Maybe it's too early for this, as I hear a music box
skipping and growing louder before it changes to synthesizers and vocalizations.
"Gothic Lolita, huh?" Carmilla grins.
"I don't know this song." I smile innocently.
How old are you?
I'm older than you'll ever be
I've been dead a thousand years
And lived only two or three
I don't mind telling you
My life was ended by your hand
The kind of murder where nobody dies
But I don't suppose you'd understand
(Call off the search, we've found her)
She turns the music down a little more, and mentally I am hugging myself because I know her
favorite violinist.
"I didn't put that song on my playlist," she says with concern, baring her teeth slightly.
"Well I want to hear it, you can pick the next song." I say as I pull out of the parking garage.
If I am Lolita
Then you are a criminal
And you should be killed
By an army of little girls
The law won't arrest you
The world won't detest you
You never did anything
Any man wouldn't do
I'm Gothic Lolita
And you are a criminal
I'm not even legal
I'm just a dead little girl
But ruffles and laces
And candy sweet faces
Directed your furtive hand
I perfectly understand
So it's my fault?
No, Gothic Lolita
Okay, this song is kind of creepy now. If she didn't put this song on here, then who did?
This song was added for a reason, and the lyrics seem really accusatory.
Thank you, kind sirs
You made me what I am today
A bundle of broken nerves
A mouthful of words
I'm still afraid to say
I don't mind telling you
Now that I'm old enough to love
I couldn't begin to
Even if my pretty life depended on it
And funny thing, it does
(Call off the search, we've found her)
"Carmilla, who put this on your playlist?" I ask, the lyrics really starting to creep me out.
She turns down the volume as the refrain repeats. "I thought you wanted to hear the song." She
said bitterly.
I shake my head. "No, this is kind of weird. Can you just skip it?"
I am your sugar
I am your cream
I am your anti American dream
Carmilla nods and moves onto the next song. I see it is called "Misery Loves Company", and she
frowns at that as well, pulling up a different playlist altogether. Blood on the Dance Floor. "Call
me Master". Who? I stare out of the window, my stomach churning. It was a message to
Carmilla.
"It was Sarah-Jane," she answers my unspoken thoughts. How does she do that?
"Sarah-Jane?"
"An ex, she must have put it on my playlist."
An ex... ex-submissive.
One of the fifteen?" I ask. She sighs in frustration.
"Yes."
"What happened to her?"
In my periphery, I see her shrug. "We... finished."
"Why?"
"She uh - she wanted more." Her voice is low, introspective even, and she leaves the sentence
hanging between us, ending it with that powerful little word again.
"And you didn't?" I ask before I can employ my brain to mouth filter. Shit, do I want to know?
She shakes her head.
"I've never wanted more, until I met you."
I gasp, reeling. Isn't this what I want? She wants more. It's not just me.
"What happened to the other fourteen?" I ask.
"You want a list? Divorced, beheaded, died?"
"You're not Henry VIII."
"No, I'm not. I never could pull off pantaloons. Well, in no particular order, I've only had long
term relationships with four women, apart from Lilita."
"Lilita?"
"Mrs. Robinson to you." She half smiles her secret private joke smile.
Lilita!? The evil one has a name and its all-foreign sounding. A vision of a glorious, pale-skinned
vampish woman with raven hair and ruby-red lips comes to mind, and I know that she's beautiful.
And my nightmare comes back to my mind.
"So, what happened to the four?" I ask to distract myself.
"So inquisitive, so eager for information, Miss Hollis," she scolds playfully.
"Oh, and you want to know when I cycle because?"
"Cupcake - you know we can sync up."
"So the other four, what happened?" I ask.
"One met someone else. The other three wanted - more. I wasn't in the market for more then."
"And the others?" I press.
She glances at me briefly and just shakes her head.
"Just didn't work out. Our styles conflicted; one was super Christian and expected me to join her
in weekly bible study, another wanted me to fire my housekeeper and bodyguard so she could be
my everything. It was suffocating. The third detested receiving or giving oral sex."
Whoa, a bucket-load of information to process. I glance in the side mirror of the car, and I notice
the soft swell of pink and aquamarine in the sky behind. Dawn is following us.
"Where are we headed?" I ask, perplexed, gazing out at the highway. We're heading south, that's
all I know.
"Someplace familiar."
"If I wind up in the middle of nowhere and hear banjos playing..." I joke.
She laughs.
"No, Laura, we're going to indulge in my second favorite pastime."
"Second?" I frown at her.
"You've experienced the first."
I glance at her glorious profile, frowning, racking my brain.
"Indulging in you, Miss Hollis, that's got to be top of my list. Any way I can get you."
"I know that, but what's number two?" I mutter, blushing.
"You'll figure it out soon enough."
As soon as I'm off the highway, I realize where we are going. The big cat sanctuary.
"Did you need to call and see if we could be let in, or have you donated enough money that you
have your own key to the place?" I ask, and Carmilla winces at that.
"Actually, Sharon doesn't know I'm a Millionaire. I've donated some money, but I wanted to be
seen as an equal. I've never shown up here in a suit for that reason, so she sees me like any other
twentysomething who works a basic 9 to 5." Millionaire. She's a Millionaire with an M.
"And she's going to just let you show up randomly on a Sunday?" I ask as we pull into the place.
Carmilla shrugs. "She knows this is where I come to escape from stress and doesn't ask questions,
unlike some people." She arches an eyebrow at me.
"Okay, your secret is safe with me." I reply as I cut the engine and we get out. "Think we can
play with Babut?"
"We'll see."
When we get inside, I see that Sharon has been playing with Babut using the laser pointer.
"Hey Sharon! Is it okay if my girlfriend and I come visit for a bit?" Carmilla calls out.
"Carmilla! Laura, is it?" I nod to her. "Babut tore up yet another soccer ball so I decided to wear
him out with this."
Carmilla nodded at that. "Want me to try and scrounge up a refrigerator box for them to play in?"
"That would be great, Carmilla! So what brings you two here?"
"Work." Carmilla shrugged, "I wanted to get away from it, asked if Laura wanted to join me."
Carmilla smiled as she sniffed the air. "Big Mama smells us, by the way. Let's go say hi.
Remember to look confident and like a bad-ass, okay Laura? Don't look like prey to the cats."
We make our way over to the lioness and she's chuffing at the chain-link fence.
"Yeah, I told you she's my friend." Is she really talking to her?
The lioness turned her head towards me and tried to sniff me, so I reached forward and put my left
hand out in front of the fence.
"Hi." I said, watching the cat and bat charm jingle against the bracelet. The lioness seemed to
notice it as she turned to rub her face against the fence.
"People don't have your sense of smell, they are visual." Carmilla said, sitting down on the
ground. The lioness turned and tried to lick Carmilla.
"I'm clean, big mama. That's just airplane... oh you won't understand."
"Carmilla, are you actually talking to the lion?" I ask.
"What? I speak cat." Carmilla said, paraphrasing The Doctor. I smiled and shook my head at that.
When we begin to leave, she reaches out to me and I put my hand in hers. "Thanks for picking me
up and bringing me out here. It means a lot to me." Carmilla pulls me in and holds me flush
against her body. Suddenly her hand is in my hair, tugging it so my head tips back, and her other
hand travels down to the base of my spine. She kisses me, long, hard, and passionately, her tongue
in my mouth.
My hands twist in her hair, anchoring her to me. Wow. She takes my breath away. She breaks
away and gazes down at me, her eyes now dark and luminous in the early morning light, full of
raw sensuality. My stomach decides to growl loudly and I frown as Carmilla looks like she's ready
to scowl at me.
"Sounds like we need lunch."
"I kind of skipped breakfast." I confessed, expecting to see her upset.
"I did too, let so get some."
Back in the car, as we head back north on the highway, she programs the nearest diner.
"I like that you called me your girlfriend," I murmur.
"Isn't that what you are?" She raises an eyebrow.
"Am I? I thought you wanted a submissive."
"So did I, cupcake, and I do. But I'm willing to compromise."
She's coming round, and hope surges through me, leaving me breathless.
"I'm very happy that you want more," I whisper.
"We aim to please, Miss Hollis." She smirks as we pull into the International House of Pancakes.
"IHOP." I grin back at her. I don't believe it. Who would have thought... Carmilla Karnstein at
IHOP.
It's the afternoon, so it's quiet in the restaurant. It smells of sweet batter, fried food, and
disinfectant. Hmm... not such an enticing aroma. Carmilla leads me to a booth.
"I would never have pictured you here," I say as we slide into a booth.
"College. Coffee. Study groups. The old friend I met up with? He's an investment banker now,
we met up at an IHOP."
Oh, I want to run my hands through that hair. I pick up a menu and examine it. I realize I'm
starving.
"I know what I want," she breathes, her voice low and husky.
I glance up at her, and she's staring at me in that way that tightens all the muscles in my belly and
takes my breath away, her eyes dark and smoldering. I gaze at her, my blood singing in my veins
answering her call.
"I want what you want," I whisper.
She inhales sharply.
"Here?" she asks suggestively, raising an eyebrow at me, smiling wickedly, her teeth trapping the
tip of her tongue.
Sex in an IHOP? Her expression changes, growing darker. I try to shrug off my reaction to her.
"I want to date you, Carmilla, not just be your booty call. We can't always be like this."
She blinks at that, stunned speechless. Our waitress show up, with a polite smile on her face.
"Hi, My name's Leanne, What can I get for you... um, ladies... er... today?" Her voice trails off,
stumbling over her words as she gets an eye full of Carmilla, looking absolutely gorgeous opposite
me. She flushes scarlet, and a small ounce of sympathy for her bubbles unwelcome into my
consciousness because she still does that to me. Her presence allows me to escape briefly from her
sensual glare.
"Sweetness?" she prompts me, ignoring her, and I don't think anyone could stand up to the double
whammy of her seduction eyes and her suggestive voice.
I swallow, praying that I don't go the same color as poor Leanne.
"Go ahead and order first." I keep my voice soft, low, and she looks at me hungrily.
Leanne looks from me to her and back again. She's practically the same color as her dyed red hair.
"Shall I give you two another minute to decide?"
"No. I know what we want." Carmilla's mouth twitches with a small smile.
"We'll have two portions of the original buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and bacon on the
side, two glasses of orange juice, one black coffee with skim milk, and one English breakfast tea,
if you have it," says Carmilla, not taking her eyes off me. I nod, letting the waitress know that she
ordered for me as well.
"Thank you. Will that be all?" Leanne whispers, looking anywhere but at the two of us. We both
turn to stare at her, and she flushes crimson again and scuttles away.
"You know it's really not fair." I glance down at the Formica tabletop, tracing a pattern in it with
my index finger, trying to sound nonchalant.
"What's not fair?"
"How you can disarm people. Women. Me."
"Do I disarm you?"
I snort.
"All the time."
"It's just looks and confidence, sweetness," she says mildly.
"No, Carmilla, it's much more than that."
Her brow creases.
"You disarm me totally, though. Your innocence. It cuts through... all the crap."
"Is that why you've changed your mind?"
"Changed my mind?"
"Yes - about ... err... us?"
"I don't think I've changed my mind per se. We just need to re-define our parameters, establish our
boundaries, if you will. We can make this work, I'm sure. I want you submissive in my playroom.
I will punish you if you digress from the rules. Other than that... well, I think it's all up for
discussion. Those are my requirements, Miss Hollis. What say you to that?"
"So I get to sleep with you? In your bed?"
"You really want to do that?" She asked, surprised. "After you've seen me topless?"
"Yes."
"Okay then. Besides, I read that people do better when they sleep alongside someone else in bed."
Her brow creases as her voice fades.
"I was frightened you'd leave me if I didn't agree to all of it," I whisper.
"I'm not going anywhere, cupcake. Besides... " She trails off, and after some thought, she adds.
"Communication and compromise is the only way this is going to work."
"I love that you want more," I murmur shyly.
"I know."
"How do you know?"
"Trust me. I just do." She smirks at me. She's hiding something. What?
At that moment, Leanne arrives with breakfast and our conversation ceases. My stomach rumbles,
reminding me how ravenous I am. Carmilla watches with annoying approval as I devour
everything on my plate.
"Can I treat you?" I ask Carmilla.
"Treat me how?"
"Pay for this meal."
Carmilla snorts.
"I don't think so." she scoffs.
"Please. I want to."
She frowns at me.
"Are you trying to completely undermine me?"
"Laura, I appreciate the thought, I do."
"You just lost a lot of money, so let me cover the tab here."
"This is probably the only place that I'll be able to afford to pay."
"Okay, you have a point there."
I smile at my victory.
"What's wrong, Carmilla?"
She huffs.
"I wasn't entirely accurate earlier. I'm not a Millionaire. Not anymore."
"You're a Billionaire?"
Carmilla scoffs at that. "Oh hell no. If I had concentrated that much wealth, there's no way the rest
of the economy would benefit. I've played monopoly; I saw how bad it could get for the people
going bankrupt when the bank itself runs out of money because a few people are hoarding it all.
Hell, I used to be there."
"What is it then?"
"That mistake you heard about... it just cost me a lot. I'm no longer technically a Millionaire, and
probably won't be for the rest of the year. I diversified my investments so I'll be fine, I've got
money invested in free trade chocolate and coffee, as well as investments in land where the best
coffee growing regions will be in the next 5 years due to climate change. It's ghoulish, I know, but
better me so I can bleed the profits into fighting climate change."
"Exactly how much do you make?"
"On average, around two grand an hour through my various investments. It looks like a lot, but I
also pay employees and invest in my projects that will hopefully pan out. This last one though
didn't."
"And that's why you wanted to see the cats."
Carmilla nodded. "They put things into perspective for me. The Natural Order; protect your Pride,
make sure the cubs get fed, teach them to fend for themselves."
I looked at Carmilla and right then, I could imagine her bringing home a massive antelope in her
jaws for Perry to butcher and make into dinner. She definitely is a type of predator, isn't she? I
knew she wasn't the bad kind of predator, either. Leanne leaves the check for us as we finish our
food and I pay the bill, watching Carmilla wince slightly at that.
"How was your flight?" I ask mildly on the drive back to her place. She seems so much calmer
now, her apprehension gone, now that we've both eaten.
"Fine, thank you," she murmurs distractedly. "Been awhile since I have flown coach, good to
remind myself to appreciate the luxuries in life."
I smile shyly at her. "I have some news," I add nervously.
"Oh?"
"I have a job."
She stills, then smiles at me, her eyes warm and soft.
"Congratulations. Now will you tell me where?" she teases.
"You don't know?"
She shakes her head, frowning slightly. "Why would I know?"
"With your resources, I thought you might have... " I trail off as her face falls.
"Laura, I wouldn't dream of interfering with your career, well, unless you ask me to, of course."
She looks wounded.
"So you have no idea?"
"No. I recall asking you because I was looking to invest in one and I didn't want to make it look
like I was planting my girlfriend in there as recon before a takeover."
"Oh." I didn't know that she was thinking of going into the media business. "Channel three
news."
"Oh, fuck me." She shakes her head slightly. "When do you start?"
"Monday."
"Well, I wish you well in your new job. The news that I became a major backer there isn't official
yet, so please don't say anything."
When we get back to her place, I pull the smart car into a parking space and kill the engine, ready
to get out. Carmilla's eyes flash to me in question.
"Do you want to come in?" She asks.
I had to think about that for a moment before I shook my head no. I have work in the morning.
Why do I want to spend every single minute with this controlling sex goddess?
I press the button to unlock the trunk for her as she unbuckled herself.
"Thank you... for the more. And for the impromptu date."
"My pleasure, cupcake." She leans in and kisses me, and I melt as our lips touch. Time seems to
stretch forever and I feel a little punch-drunk from the kissing.
"I'll uh.. I'll see you later." I stammer as she's already out of the car with her luggage in hand.
"I look forward to it." She whispers.
She waves goodbye as I drive back to my dorm room.
I think about Carmilla as I drive home, and for some reason my ridiculous grin refuses to subside.
It keeps creeping across my face after that kiss we shared. There seems to be tidal shift in
Carmilla's attitude. She denies it, but she admits she's trying for more. What could have changed?
What does Carmilla know of love? After what I heard her say about Lilita, it seems as though she
didn't get the unconditional love she should have during her very early years. In retrospect, I
understand why she warned me off. Carmilla thinks I deserve the best of everything, and she
doesn't know if she can love me in any other way than the way she has experienced it with Mrs.
Robinson. I frown. It's true, and in a moment of startling clarity, I see it. It's very simple: I want
her love. I need Carmilla Karnstein to love me.
This is why I am so concerned about our relationship - because on some basic, fundamental level,
I recognize within me the deep-seated compulsion to be loved and cherished by her. By Carmilla.
And I don't want to just be her on-demand fuckbuddy 'girlfriend', but her actual girlfriend.
And because of her so-called fifty flavors of being fucked up - I am holding myself back. The
BDSM is a distraction from the real issue. The sex is amazing, she's wealthy, she's beautiful, but
this is all meaningless without her love, and the real problem I have is that I don't know if she's
capable of love. She doesn't even love herself.
I close my eyes, imagining her pain, and I can't begin to comprehend it. I recall her self-loathing;
hating what she looked like and Mrs. Robinson's 'love' being the only form she found acceptable.
I couldn't help but recall my dream where she was punished - whipped, beaten, bled, burned - she
felt like that was all she deserved. Why does she feel like that? How can she feel like that? I
shuddered as I recalled hearing Carmilla orgasm from that torture. Because that is what it was -
torture.
Does she want to do all that to me? Is she hoping that eventually I'll be number sixteen so that I
will have to suffer all that just to be with her? I look at my phone, and see that it's not even six
PM.
Fortune favors the bold, Hollis, I think to myself as I pull a u-turn and drive back to see Carmilla
and decide to figure out if she's even capable of love.
I wanna live, I wanna love...
Chapter Notes
A/N: This will be the final chapter to 50 Flavors of Creampuff. Next in the series will
be 50 Flavors Sweeter.
A/N #2: Issues with 50 Shades: using classical opera is really creepy during BDSM
play. So I replaced Spem In Alium, or the Forty Part Motet, by Thomas Tallis with
something that I think is much easier to flog to: Marilyn Manson: Long Hard Road
out of Hell. (Also, the strands in a flogger are called falls, not fronds.)
As the elevator to Carmilla's apartment opens, I run into Brody.
"Hello, Kirsch."
"Miss Hollis," he greets me formally, but I see a hint of smile in his eyes.
He looks immaculate - smart charcoal suit, white shirt, and charcoal tie.
"I'm here to see Carmilla."
"Ms. Karnstein is preoccupied right now, Miss Hollis."
Oh, this must be 'the situation.' I am mining a seam of gold.
"Preoccupied?"
He nods.
I frown at Kirsch. "Is she okay?"
"I believe so. Just going to have to watch our next shipment more carefully. I'm going to go do a
patrol around the building, okay?"
Well, that curtails our conversation as I make my way to the kitchen. I begin to think that Kirsch's
recent slip, something about a shipment. Will Carmilla tell me what is going on? In the great
room, Carmilla is on her phone talking quietly as she stares out of the glass doors at the early
evening skyline. She's running her hand through her hair; she's agitated, tense even. Oh no -
what's wrong? Agitated or not, she's still beyond beautiful. How can she look so... arresting? It's
such a pleasure to stand and drink in the sheer sight of her.
"No trace of...? Okay... Yes." She turns and sees me, and her whole demeanor changes.
From tension to relief to something else: a look that calls directly to my libido; a look of sensual
carnality, dark eyes blazing. My mouth goes dry and desire blooms in me... just from a look...
"Keep me informed," she snaps and shuts off her phone as she strides purposefully toward me. I
stand paralyzed as she closes the distance between us, devouring me with her eyes. Holy shit...
something's amiss - the strain in her jaw, the anxiety around her eyes.
She wraps her arms around me, pulling me to her, hard, fast, gripping my hair to tilt my head up,
kissing me like her life depends on it. There's a desperate, primal quality to her kiss. She needs me,
for whatever reason, at this point in time, and I have never felt so desired and coveted. It's dark
and sensual and alarming all at the same time. I kiss her back with equal fervor, my fingers
twisting and fisting in her hair. Our tongues entwined, our passion and ardor erupting between us.
She tastes divine, hot, sexy, and her scent - all incense and Carmilla is so arousing. She drags her
mouth away from mine, and she's staring down at me, gripped by some unnamed emotion.
"What's wrong?" I breathe.
"I'm glad you're here. Shower with me - now."
I can't decide if it's a request or a command.
"Yes," I whisper, and she grabs my hand, leading me out of the big room into her bedroom to her
bathroom. Once there, she releases me and sets the water running in the far too spacious shower.
Turning slowly, she gazes at me, eyes hooded.
"I like your pants. They're quite snug," she says, her voice low. "You have great legs."
She steps out of her shoes and reaches down to take each of her socks off, never taking her eyes
off me. I am rendered speechless by the look of hunger in her eyes. Wow... to be this wanted by
this Roman goddess. I mirror her actions and step out of mine. Suddenly, she reaches for me,
backing me up against the wall. Kissing me, my face, my throat, my lips... running her hands into
my hair. I feel the cool, smooth tiled wall at my back as she pushes herself against me so that I'm
flattened between her and the wall. Tentatively, I place my arms on her upper arms, and she
groans as I squeeze tightly.
"I want you now. Here... fast, hard," she breathes, and her hands are on my hips, pushing up my
shirt. "Are you still bleeding?"
"Yeah." I flush.
"Tampon?"
I shake my head. "Pad."
"That's fine."
She reaches into a cabinet and pulls on a pair of blue gloves before her thumbs hook over my
pants, and abruptly she drops to her knees as she tugs them and my panties off. As I stand there,
I'm naked from the waist down and panting, wanting. She grabs my hips, pushing me against the
wall again, and kisses me again. Grabbing my upper thighs, she forces my legs apart. I groan
loudly, feeling her fingers circle my clitoris. Oh god. Tipping my head back involuntarily, I moan
as my fingers grip her hips possessively.
Her tongue is relentless, strong and insistent, pressing into me again and again - non-stop. It's
exquisite, the intensity of being penetrated by her in two places at once - it's almost overwhelming.
My body starts to quicken, and she releases me. What? No! My breathing is ragged as I pant,
gazing at her with delicious anticipation. She looks directly into my need-filled eyes and kisses me
again, hard, thrusting her fingers inside me as I gasp into her kiss.
"Wrap your legs around me, baby," she commands, her voice urgent, strained.
I do as I'm told and also wrap my arms around her neck, and she moves three fingers quickly and
sharply, filling me. Ah! She bites her lip at that noise, and I groan. Holding my behind, fingers
digging into my soft flesh, she begins to fuck me - slowly at first - a steady even tempo... but as I
feel like I'm starting to crest, she speeds up... faster, and faster. I tip my head back and concentrate
on the invading, punishing, heavenly sensation... pushing me, pushing me... onward, higher, up...
and when I can take no more, I explode around her, spiraling into an intense, all-consuming
orgasm. She responds with a deep growl, and she buries her head in my neck as her growls turn
into a victorious purr, groaning loudly and incoherently as her teeth press down on my neck but
doesn't apply any pressure.
Her breathing is erratic, but she kisses me tenderly, and I blink, unseeing into her eyes. As she
comes into focus, I look into silver eyes as she gently pulls out of me, holding me steady while I
place my feet on the floor. The bathroom is now cloudy with steam... and hot. I feel overdressed.
"You seem pleased to see me," I murmur with a shy smile.
Her lips quirk up.
"Yes, creampuff, I think my pleasure is pretty self-evident. Come - let me finally get you in the
shower."
She undresses herself while I watch her, yearning to reach out and touch her, but I contain myself.
She smiles shyly as she bares herself to me and removes my top.
"Turn round."
I am thrown by her casual command, but do as I'm bid, and she undoes my bra and licks me up
my spine. She leans against me and her nose nuzzles my hair, inhaling deeply. She chuckles as
she slaps my buttocks.
"You intoxicate me, sweetness, and you calm me. Such a heady combination." She kisses my
hair. Grabbing my hand, she tugs me into the shower.
"Ow," I squeal. The water is practically scalding. Carmilla grins down at me as the water cascades
over her.
"It's only a little hot water."
And actually she's right. It feels heavenly, and I smile as I think that this is a nice way to conserve
water.
"Turn round," she orders, and I comply, turning to face the wall. "I want to wash you," she
murmurs and reaches for the body wash. She squirts a little into a loofah.
"I have something else to tell you," I murmur as she starts on my shoulders.
"Oh, yes?" she asks mildly.
I steel myself with a deep breath, and turn as she starts to scrub my front.
"My friend Danny's Summer Society's Adonis Festival and Hunt is this Friday night at Silas."
She stills, her hands hovering over my breasts. I have emphasized the word 'friend.'
"Yes, what about it?" she asks sternly.
"I said I would go. Do you want to come with me?"
After what feels like a monumental amount of time, she slowly starts washing me again.
After what feels like a monumental amount of time, she slowly starts washing me again.
"I do think that this is an unfair negotiation tactic."
"You suggested we take a shower, Mistress." Her eyes catch mine as we both smile at that.
"Fair enough. What time?"
"Sundown. It sounds kind of pagan-y."
She kisses my forehead.
"Okay." I let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Were you nervous about asking me, cupcake?"
"Yes. How can you tell?"
"Well, your whole body's just relaxed," she says dryly.
"Well, around her you seem to be um... a bit protective."
"Well, I am," she says darkly. "I might trust you to fight your own battles, but I want to be there if
you need me."
I smile at that, and decide to press my luck.
"May I wash you?" I ask.
"I don't think so," she murmurs, and she kisses me gently on my neck to take the sting out of her
refusal. "Switch." We trade places in the shower and wet my hair and pout at the wall as she
caresses her own body with soap.
"Will you ever let me touch you?" I ask boldly.
The moment seems to go on for a bit too long, until I feel her hands gripping my hips.
"Kneel for me, I'm in need of your smart mouth sweetness." she murmurs in my ear as she kisses
the back of my neck, and I know that the discussion is over.
Later we are seated at the breakfast bar, dressed in bathrobes, having consumed Perry's rather
excellent pasta alle vongole while Carmilla drinks her soy milk straight out of the container. I bite
the inside of my cheek and smile as I fight the urge to roll my eyes at her.
"How's the um... situation with work?" I ask tentatively as I see her white-knuckle grip on the
carton.
She frowns.
"Out of hand," she murmurs bitterly. "But nothing for you to worry about. I have plans for you
this evening."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I want you ready and waiting in my playroom in fifteen minutes." She stands and gazes
down at me, and she seems more content as she looks at me with playful dark eyes.
Playroom? A thrill of excitement goes through me as I nod to her. "Okay."
"You can get ready in your room." She says as she stalks off to her study.
I sit on the bar stool, momentarily stupefied, trying to figure out how we got here. I make my way
toward my room, remembering exactly how she wants me ready and waiting in the
playroom. Naked except for panties, kneeling for her, hair braided neatly. I guess she needs some
time to get ready herself as well.
Kneeling by the door, I am naked except for a set of emerald green lace panties. My hair is
braided and my heart is in my mouth. Jeez, I thought after the bathroom she would have had
enough. Closing my eyes, I try to calm myself down and think of how a submissive Hermione
would be kneeling for her Master Snape.
What will she do? I take a deep steadying breath, wishing that I knew what she wanted to do with
me, but I'm excited, aroused, and wet already. This is so... I want to think wrong, but somehow it's
not. It's right for Carmilla, and I think it's okay with me because it's Carmilla. It's what she wants -
and honestly, she hasn't done anything I haven't liked, so I have to girl the hell up and pull my side
of the compromise since she's willing to date me and let me sleep in bed next to her.
The memory of her laying eyes on me when I came in this evening, the longing in her face, her
determined stride toward me felt like I was an oasis in the desert. I'd do almost anything to see that
look again. I press my thighs together at the delicious memory, and I remember that I need to
spread my knees. I shuffle them apart, realizing that this pose leaves me exposed and it turns me
on even more. How long will she make me wait? The anticipation is killing me, crippling me with
a dark and tantalizing desire. I glance quickly around the subtly lit room; the cross, the table, the
couch, the bench... that bed. It looms so large, and it's made up with red satin sheets. What toy will
she use today?
The door opens and Carmilla breezes in, ignoring me completely. I glance down quickly, staring
at my hands, positioned with care on my spread thighs. Placing something on the large chest
beside the door, she strolls casually toward the bed. I indulge myself in a quick glimpse at her, and
my heart almost lurches to a stop. She's wearing a short over bust corset and skintight leather
pants. I forget to breathe, she looks so freaking hot. I lick my lips instinctively. My blood pounds
through my body, thick and heavy with salacious hunger. What is she going to do to me?
Turning, she nonchalantly walks back to the chest of drawers. Opening one, she begins to remove
items and place them on the top. My curiosity burns, blazes even, but I resist the overwhelming
temptation to sneak a quick peek. When she finishes what she's doing, she comes to stand in front
of me.
"You look lovely," she breathes.
I keep my head down, conscious that she's staring at me while I am practically naked. I feel the
flush as it slowly spreads over my face. She bends down and cups my chin, forcing my face up to
meet her gaze.
"You are one beautiful woman, Laura. And you're all mine," she murmurs. "Stand up." Her
command is soft full of sensual promise.
Shakily, I get to my feet.
"Look at me," she breathes, and I stare up into her smoldering gray gaze. It is her Domme gaze -
cold, hard, and sexy as hell, seven shades of sin that makes her seductive look pale in comparison.
My mouth dries, and I know I will do anything she asks. An almost cruel smile plays across her
lips. She knows exactly what she's doing to me.
"We don't have a signed contract, Laura. But we've discussed limits. And I want to re-iterate we
have safe words, okay?"
Holy fuck... what has she got planned that I need safe words?
"What are they?" she asks authoritatively.
I frown slightly at her question, and her face hardens perceptibly.
"I need to know you're still mentally here enough to consent and safeword if needed." she says
slowly and deliberately.
"Yellow," I stutter, spitting the word out as I recall how to talk.
"And?" she prompts, her mouth setting in a hard line.
"Red," I breathe.
"Remember those."
And I can't help it... I raise my eyebrow at her and want to say something sarcastic, but a sudden
glint in her dark eyes stops me in my tracks.
"Don't start with your smart mouth in here, Miss Hollis. Or I will fuck it with you on your knees.
Do you understand?"
I swallow instinctively. Okay. I blink rapidly, chastened. Actually, it's her tone of voice, rather
than the threat, that intimidates me. Don't mouth off in the play room, remember to call her
'Mistress' or 'Ma'am'. Got it.
"Well?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I mumble hastily.
"Good girl," she pauses as she stares at me. "My intention is not that you should safeword because
you're in pain. What I intend to do to you will be intense. Very intense, and you have to guide me.
Do you understand?"
Not really. I shake my head. "May I ask a question?"
Carmilla nods.
"What are you wanting to do today?"
"Blindfold you, flog you, maybe shackle you down and fuck you with a strap on. This is about
sensation, cupcake. You will not be able to see me, but you'll be able to feel me."
I frown - not see her?
"I am going to tie you to that bed, Laura. But I'm going to blindfold you first and," she reveals her
MP3 player in her hand, "I'm going to play a song that I've always wanted to flog and play to."
Okay. A musical interlude, not what I was expecting. Does she ever do what I expect?
"Come." Taking my hand, she leads me over to the antique four-poster bed. There are shackles
attached at each corner, fine metal chains with leather cuffs, glinting against the red satin. I think
my heart is going to leave my chest, and I'm melting from the inside out, desire coursing through
me. Could I be any more excited?
"Stand here."
I am facing the bed. She leans down and whispers in my ear.
"Wait here, keep your eyes on the bed. Picture yourself lying here bound and totally at my
mercy." The way she whispers, just behind my ear, makes the words feel more dark and delicious.
She moves away for a moment, and I can hear her near the door fetching something.
All my senses are hyper alert, my hearing more acute. She's picked up something from the rack of
whips and paddles by the door. Holy cow. What is she going to do? I feel her behind me. She
trails her fingertips down my braid, deft fingers skimming my back occasionally, each casual
touch is like a sweet, electric shock against my skin. She pulls again to the side so that I angle my
head, giving her easier access to my neck. Leaning down, she nuzzles my neck, tracing her teeth
and tongue from the base of my ear to my shoulder. I shudder silently as the tip of her tongue
threatens to undo me right there.
She hums softly as she does, and the sound resonates through me. Right down... right down there,
inside me. Unbidden, I groan quietly.
"Hush now," she breathes against my skin. She holds up her hands in front of me, her arms
touching mine. In her right hand is a flogger. I remember the name from my first introduction to
this room.
"Touch it," she whispers, and she sounds like the devil herself. My body flames in response.
Tentatively, I reach out and brush the long strands. It has many long leather falls, all soft suede
ending in square tips.
"I will use this. It will not hurt, but it will bring your blood to the surface of your skin and make
you very sensitive."
Oh, she says it won't hurt.
"What are the safe words, Laura?"
"Um... yellow and red, Mistress," I whisper.
"Good girl. Remember, most of your fear is in your mind."
She drops the flogger on the bed, and her hands move to my waist.
"You won't be needing these," she murmurs and hooks her fingers into my panties and sweeps
them down my legs. I gasp as I step unsteadily out of them, supporting myself on the ornate post
of the bed.
"Stand still," she orders, and she kisses the small of my back and then gently nips my behind,
making me tense. "Now lie down. Face up," she adds as she smacks me hard on the behind,
making me jump.
Hastily, I crawl onto the bed's hard, unyielding mattress and lie down, looking up at her. The satin
of the sheet beneath me is soft and cool against my skin. Her gaze is impassive, except for her
eyes which glow with a barely leashed excitement.
"Hands above your head," she orders, and I do as I'm bid. Jeez, I want her already.
She turns, and out of the corner of my eye, I watch her saunter back over to the chest of drawers,
returning with the MP3 player and what looks like a sleep mask, the kind you'd see on a long
airplane flight. The thought makes me want to smile, but I can't quite make my lips cooperate. I
am too consumed with anticipation. I just know my face is completely immobile, my eyes huge, as
I gaze at her.
"Lift your head," she commands, and I do so immediately.
Slowly, she slides the mask on, pulling the elastic over the back of my head, and I'm blind. I'm
deafened by my own breathing - it's shallow and erratic, reflecting my excitement. Carmilla takes
my left arm, stretches it gently to the left-hand corner, and attaches the leather cuff around my
wrist. Her long fingers stroke the length of my arm once she's finished. Her touch elicits a
delicious, tickly shiver. I hear her move slowly round to the other side, takes my right arm and
cuffs it. Again, her long fingers linger along my arm. Oh my... I am fit to burst already. Why is this
so erotic?
She moves to the bottom of the bed and grabs both of my ankles.
"Lift your head again," she orders.
I comply, and she drags me down the bed so that my arms are stretched out and almost straining at
the cuffs. Okay, I cannot move my arms. A feeling of trepidation mixed with exhilaration sweeps
through my body, making me wetter as I groan. Parting my legs, she cuffs first my right ankle and
then my left so I am staked out, spread-eagled, and totally vulnerable to her. It's so unnerving that
I can't see her. I listen hard... what's she doing? And I hear nothing, just my breathing and the
pounding thud of my heart as blood pulses furiously against my eardrums.
The music starts, and it's something that seems familiar, with violins that seem to be mournful,
accompanied by a piano and a bass line that suggests darker things...
Carmilla trails her hand, unhurried and deliberate, down to my belly, circling my navel, then
carefully from hip to hip, and I'm trying to anticipate where she's going next... but the music... it's
in my head... transporting me... the hand across the line of my pubic hair...
I want to fly into your sun
Need faith to make me numb
Live like a teenage christ
I'm a saint, got a date with suicide
Her hand goes up between my legs, along my thighs, down one leg... up the other... it almost
tickles... but not quite... more voices join...
And still, her fingertips are moving down my arms and round my waist... back up across my
breasts. My nipples harden beneath the soft touch... and I'm panting... wondering where her hand
will go next.
Oh Mary, Mary
To be this young is oh so scary
Mary, Mary
To be this young I'm oh so scared
I wanna live, I wanna love
But its a long hard road, out of hell
I wanna live, I wanna love
But its a long hard road, out of hell
Suddenly, I can feel the falls of the flogger flowing over my skin, following the same path as her
hand, but it's so hard to concentrate with the feel of the soft suede against my skin... trailing over
me... abruptly, it disappears. Then suddenly, sharply, it impacts against my belly.
You never said forever, could ever hurt like this
You never said forever, could ever hurt like this
"Aagghh!" I cry out. It takes me by surprise, and it doesn't exactly hurt, but tingles all over, and
she hits me again. Harder.
Do do-do do, do-do do, do-do, do-do...
"Aaah!"
I want to move, to writhe... to escape, or to welcome, each blow... I don't know - it's so
overwhelming... I can't pull my arms... my legs are stuck... I am held very firmly in place... and
again she strikes across my breasts - I cry out. And it's a sweet agony - bearable, just... pleasant -
no, not immediately, but as my skin sings with each blow in perfect counterpoint to the music in
my head, I am dragged into a dark, dark part of my psyche that surrenders to this most erotic
sensation.
Do do-do do, do-do do, do-do, do-do...
She keeps going as the music reaches a climax, and then suddenly - the music goes quiet. And she
stops, resting the leather falls against my warm flesh, and I find myself actually wanting the
flogger against my skin.
Spin my way out of hell, there's nothing left this soul to sell
Live fast and die fast too
How many times to do this for you?
How many times to do this for you?
As the tempo starts to build, she rains down blows on me... and I groan and writhe.. in an odd
pleasure.
Mary, Mary
To be this young I'm oh so scared
I wanna live, I wanna love
But it's a long hard road, out of hell
I wanna live, I wanna love
But it's a long hard road, out of hell
Yes - I get this. She hits me across my hip, then moves in swift blows over my pubic hair, on my
thighs, and down my inner thighs... and back up my body... and then just over my vulva.
"Aagghh!" I cry out. It takes me by surprise, and it doesn't exactly hurt, but tingles all over, and
she hits me again.
You never said forever, could ever hurt like this
You never said forever, could ever hurt like this
Harder, and I'm ready to climax from this, but then she stops. I arch up away from the bed, body
begging to be hit some more. What's happening? What's she going to do now? The excitement is
almost unbearable.
Do do-do do, do-do do, do-do, do-do...
I've entered a very dark, carnal place. The bed moves and shifts as I feel her clamber over me, her
lips running down my neck and throat, kissing, sucking... trailing down to my breasts... Ah!
Taunting each of my nipples in turn... her tongue swirling round one while her fingers relentlessly
tease the other... I groan, loudly I think, though I can't hear.
Do do-do do, do-do do, do-do, do-do...
I am lost. Lost in her... lost to all the sensations I cannot escape... I am completely at the mercy of
her expert touch. She's kissing and sucking and nibbling... moving south... and then her tongue is
there. At the junction of my thighs, sliding inside of me and making my thighs shake in need.
I wanna live, I wanna love
But it's a long hard road, out of hell
I throw my head back and cry out as I almost detonate into orgasm... I'm on the brink, and she
stops. "Please!" I wail, begging for release.
I wanna live, I wanna love
But it's a long hard road, out of hell
The bed shifts, and she kneels between my legs. She leans toward the bedpost, and the cuff on my
ankle is suddenly gone. I pull my leg to the middle of the bed... resting it against her. She leans
over to the opposite post and frees my other leg. Her hands travel quickly down both my legs,
squeezing and kneading, bringing life back into them. Then, grasping my hips, she lifts me so that
my back is no longer on the bed. I am arched, resting on my shoulders.
Long hard road, out of hell
She's kneeling up between my legs... and in one swift, slamming move she's inside me... oh fuck...
and I cry out again. The quiver of my impending orgasm begins, and she stills. The quiver dies...
oh no... she's going to torture me further.
I wanna live, I wanna love
But its a long hard road, out of hell
"Please," I beg, and in one swift move, she lowers me back onto the bed, and she's lying on top of
me, her hands on the bed beside my breasts as she supports her weight, and she thrusts into me as
the music and I reaches our climax and I fall... free fall... into the most intense, agonizing orgasm I
have ever had, and Carmilla follows me... thrusting hard into me, three more times... finally
stilling, then collapsing on top of me.
Sell my soul for anything, anything but you
Sell my soul for anything, anything but you
As my consciousness returns from wherever it's been, Carmilla pulls out of me. The music has
stopped, and I can feel her stretch across my body as she undoes the cuff on my right wrist. I
groan as my hand is freed. She quickly frees my other hand, gently pulls the mask from my eyes,
and I blink in the dim soft light and stare up into her intense gaze.
"Hi," she murmurs.
"Hi, yourself," I breathe shyly back at her. Her lips quirk up into a smile, and she leans down and
kisses me softly.
"Well done, you," she whispers. "Turn over."
Holy fuck - what's she going to do now? Her eyes soften.
"I'm just going to rub your shoulders."
"Oh... okay."
I roll stiffly onto my front. I am so tired. Carmilla sits astride me and starts to massage my
shoulders. I groan loudly - she has such strong, knowing fingers. Leaning down, she kisses my
head.
"What was that music?" I mumble almost inarticulately.
"Marilyn Manson - Long Hard Road out of Hell."
"It was... overwhelming."
"I've always wanted to fuck to it."
"Not another first, Ms. Karnstein?"
"Indeed, Miss Hollis."
I groan again as her fingers work their magic on my shoulders.
"Well, it's the first time I've fucked to it, too," I murmur sleepily.
"Hmm... you and I, we're giving each other many firsts." Her voice is matter-of-fact.
"Since you have work in the morning, you should probably be in bed in an hour."
"Okay," I breathe. "So what shall we do for half an hour?" I say as I snuggle into the bed,
moaning at her massaging.
"I can think of a few things," she grins, dark eyes alight with mirth. I gaze back impassively as my
insides clench and melt under her knowing look.
"On the other hand, we could talk," I suggest quietly.
Her brow creases.
"I prefer what I have in mind." She scoops me onto her lap.
"You'd always rather have sex than talk," I laugh, steadying myself by holding on to her upper
arms.
"True. Especially with you." She nuzzles my hair and starts a steady trail of kisses from below my
ear to my throat.
"I think I'm... fucked out for the night."
"Alright, cupcake."
"But I want to get something straight," I whisper as my pulse starts to accelerate, reveling in the
feel of her lips on me.
She pauses momentarily before continuing her sensual assault.
"Always so eager for information, Miss Hollis. What needs straightening out?" she breathes
against my skin at the base of my neck, continuing her soft gentle kisses.
"Us," I whisper as I close my eyes.
"Hmm. What about us?" She pauses her trail of kisses along my shoulder.
"The contract."
She lifts her head to gaze down at me, a hint of amusement in her eyes, and sighs. She strokes her
fingertips down my cheek.
"Well, I think the contract is moot, don't you?" Her voice is low and husky, her eyes soft.
"Moot?"
"Moot." She smiles. I gape at her quizzically.
"But you were so gung-ho on that."
"Well, that was before. Anyway, the rules aren't moot, they still stand when we're in the
playroom." Her expression hardens slightly.
"Before... Before what?"
"Before," She pauses, and the wary expression is back, "more." She shrugs.
"Oh."
"Besides, we've played in my dungeon, and you haven't run screaming for the hills."
"Do you expect me to?"
"Nothing you do is expected, Laura." she says dryly.
"So, let me be clear. You just want me to follow the contract when we're playing in that room?"
"Yes, and maybe if we play in other places, and we'll figure that out when it happens. Look
creampuff, I want you to follow the spirit of the contract outside of the playroom, and when we're
inside it, I want you to follow the letter of the contract."
"And if I break one of the rules?"
"Then I'll punish you."
"But won't you need my permission?"
"Yes, I will."
"And if I say no?"
She gazes at me for a moment, with a confused expression.
"If you say no, you'll say no. But the punishment is just a part of the dynamic."
I pull away from her and stand. I need some distance. She frowns as I stare down at her. She
looks puzzled and wary again.
"So the punishment aspect remains."
"Yes, but only if you break the rules."
"I'll need to re-read them," I say, trying to recall the detail.
"I'll fetch them for you." Her tone is suddenly businesslike.
Whoa. This has gotten serious so quickly. My scalp prickles. Jeez, I need some tea. The future of
our so-called relationship is being discussed right now, after she has fucked my brains out? I try to
get up to follow her but settle for just sitting up in bed.
"Here you go." She pushes a typed piece of paper toward me.
submissive agrees and understands that any infractions of this agreement, or any act submissive
commits which displeases her Dominant, will result in punishment. submissive will gracefully
accept punishment and try to learn from it. submissive agrees to assemble the punishment
materials as ordered by her Dominant and assume any position needed to accept the punishment.
submissive understands that failure to comply with her Dominant's orders will result in a more
severe punishment. The Dominant will inform submissive that she is being punished when
punishment occurs, and will explain the reason for punishment either before, or during
punishment. The Dominant agrees to discipline only out of a desire to better the submissive and
her servitude, and further agrees to never punish out of, or during, feelings of anger.
"So the obedience thing still stands, and there's no list of exactly what displeases you? I'm
eventually going to get punished for something I didn't know was an infraction, aren't I?"
"Oh, yes." She grins.
I shake my head amused, and before I realize it, I roll my eyes at her.
"Did you just roll your eyes at me, Laura?" She breathes.
Oh fuck.
"Possibly, depends what your reaction is."
"Same as always," she says, shaking her head slightly, her eyes alight with excitement.
I swallow instinctively and a frisson of exhilaration runs through me.
"So... " Holy shit. What am I going to do?
"Yes?" She licks her lower lip.
"You want to spank me now."
"Yes. And I will."
"Oh, really, Ms. Karnstein?" I challenge, grinning back at her. Two can play this game.
"Are you going to stop me?"
"You're going to have to catch me first."
Her eyes widen a fraction, and she grins, slowly getting to her feet.
"Oh, really, sweetness? Can you even stand?"
I grimace at that. I honestly don't think I can.
"Are you going to come quietly?" she asks.
I arch an eyebrow. "Do I ever?" She smirks in reply.
"Cutie, you may fall and hurt yourself."
"I have been in danger since I met you, Ms. Karnstein, rules or no rules."
"Yes you have." She pauses, and her brow furrows slightly.
"I guess I feel about punishment the same way you feel about me touching you." Her entire
demeanor changes in a nanosecond. Gone is playful Carmilla, and she stands staring at me as if I'd
slapped her. She's ashen.
"That's how you feel?" she whispers.
Those four words, and the way she utters them, speaks volumes. Oh no. They tell me so much
more about her and how she feels. They tell me about her fear and loathing.
"No. It doesn't affect me quite as much as that, but it gives you an idea," I murmur, staring
anxiously at her.
"Oh," she says.
She looks completely and utterly lost, like I've pulled the rug from under her feet.
"You hate it that much?" she breathes, her eyes filled with horror.
"Well... no," I reassure her. Jeez - that's how she feels about people touching her?
"No. I feel ambivalent about it. I don't like it, but I don't hate it."
"But before, in this playroom, you... " she trails off.
"I do it for you, Carmilla, because you need it. I don't. You didn't hurt me with it, and that was in
a different context, and I can rationalize that internally, and I trust you. But when you want to
punish me, I worry that you'll hurt me."
Her dark eyes blaze like a turbulent storm. Time moves, and expands and slips away before she
answers softly.
"I want to hurt you. But not beyond anything that you couldn't take."
Fuck!
"Why?"
She runs her hand through her hair, and she shrugs.
"I just need it." She pauses, gazing at me with anguish, and she closes her eyes and shakes her
head. "I can't tell you," she whispers.
"Can't or won't?"
"Can't explain the concept of the color blue to a dog. You're not a Sadist, I am."
"Show me," I whisper.
"Show you?"
"Show me how much it can hurt."
"What?"
"Punish me. I want to know how bad it can get."
Carmilla steps back away from me, completely confused.
"You would try?"
"Yes. I said I would." But I have an ulterior motive. If I do this for her, maybe she will let me
touch her.
She blinks at me.
"Laura, you're so confusing."
"I'm confused too. I'm trying to work this out. And you and I will know, once and for all, if I can
do this. If I can handle this, then maybe you - " My words fail me, and her eyes widen again. She
knows I am referring to the touch thing. For a moment, she looks torn, but then resolve settles on
her features, and she narrows her eyes, gazing at me speculatively as if weighing up alternatives.
Abruptly, she clasps my arm in a firm grip and turns me to rest on the bed on all fours. Pleasure
and pain, reward and punishment - her words from so long ago echo through my mind.
"I'll show you how bad it can be, and you can make your own mind up." She pauses, uncertain.
"Are you ready for this?"
I nod, my mind made up, and I'm vaguely lightheaded, faint as all the blood leaves my head.
"Stand up, and go bend over the bench," she murmurs softly. That wasn't confident, Dominant
Carmilla. She sounds scared.
Okay. I can do this. I bend over the smooth soft leather, and turn to see her holding a cane. Holy
fuck this is going to hurt... I just know it.
"We're here because you asked for this, Laura. I am going to hit you ten times, and you will count
with me." Suddenly, it's gone - that nervous edgy fear in her voice. She's back from wherever
she's been. I hear it in her tone, in the way she places her fingers on my back, holding me - and the
atmosphere in the room changes.
Why the hell doesn't she just get on with it? She is making a production out of punishing me. I roll
my eyes, knowing full well she can't see me.
I close my eyes, bracing myself for the blow. It comes hard, snapping across my backside, and the
bite of the rod is everything I feared. I cry out involuntarily, and take a huge gulp of air.
"Count!" she commands.
"One!" I shout at her, and it sounds like an expletive.
She hits me again, and the pain pulses and echoes along the line of the cane. Fucking hell this
hurts!
"Two!" I scream. It feels so good to scream.
Her breathing is ragged and harsh. Whereas mine is almost non-existent as I desperately scrabble
around my psyche looking for some internal strength. The cane cuts into my flesh again.
"Three!" Tears spring unwelcome into my eyes. Jeez - this is harder than I thought - so much
harder than the spanking. She's not holding anything back.
"Four!" I yell as the cane bites me again, and now the tears are streaming down my face.
I don't want to cry. It angers me that I am crying. She hits me again.
"Five." My voice is more a choked, strangled sob, and in this moment, I think I hate her. I'm
halfway there, come on... My backside feels as if it's on fire.
"Six," I whisper as the blistering pain cuts across me again, and I hear her panting behind me, and
she's aroused... she's fucking
turned on by this...
"NO! Stop!" And I find myself struggling as the seventh blow hits, and I scream.
"RED! RED RED RED!" I hiss. I turn and face her, and she's watching me as if I might bolt, her
eyes wide, licking her lips. I dash the tears angrily out of my eyes with the backs of my hands,
glaring at her.
"This is what you really like?! Me, like this?"
She gazes at me warily.
"Well, you are one FUCKED UP BITCH!"
"Laura," she pleads, shocked.
"
NO. Don't you dare, 'Laura' me! It's always 'sweetness' and 'cupcake' and playful unless you
want something and then you're serious! You need to sort your shit out, Karnstein!" And with
that, I turn stiffly, and I walk out of the playroom, slamming the door behind me.
I pace back to 'my' bedroom, furious.
Do I run? Do I stay? I am so mad, angry scalding tears spill down my cheeks, and I brush them
furiously aside. I just want to curl up. Curl up and recuperate in some way. Heal my shattered
faith. How could I have been so stupid? Of course it hurts.
Tentatively, I rub my backside. I enter my room, or the room that will be mine, no, is mine... was
mine. This is why she wanted me to keep it. She knew I would need distance from her.
I rummage through the dresser and start putting on underwear and socks. I can't be this angry
while I'm naked.
What was I thinking? Why did I let her do that to me? I wanted the dark, to explore how bad it
could be - but it's too dark for me. I cannot do this. Yet, this is what she does, this is how she gets
her kicks. What a monumental wake-up call. And to be fair to her, she warned me and warned me,
time and again. She's not normal. She has needs that I cannot fulfill. I realize that now.
Run, Sixteen, Run. I recall the words in my dream.
I don't want her to hit me like that again,
ever. I think of the couple of times she has hit me, and
how easy she was on me by comparison. I am going to lose her. She won't want to be with me if I
can't give her this. I have a pair of jeans and a shirt on as I slip on shoes that fit.
Why, why, why have I fallen in love with her? Why can't I love Danny, or someone like me?
I tried to follow my heart, to not over think things, and I have a sore ass and an anguished, broken
spirit to show for it. I have to go. That's it... I have to leave. She's no good for me, and I am no
good for her. How can we possibly make this work? And the thought of not seeing her again
practically chokes me... but she's too fucked up.
I hear the door click open.
"Hush," she breathes, and I want to get past her and out of my room.
"Don't hate me," she whispers into the silent room. My heart clenches anew and releases a fresh
wave of silent sobbing.
"I bought you some Advil and some arnica cream," she says after a long while.
I gaze at her beautiful face. She's giving nothing away, but she keeps her eyes on mine, hardly
blinking. Oh, she is so breathtakingly gorgeous, but she doesn't see it. In such a short time, she's
become so, so dear to me. Reaching up, I caress her cheek and run the tips of my fingers just
behind her ear. She closes her eyes and exhales slightly.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
She opens her eyes and looks at me puzzled.
"What for?"
"What I said."
"You didn't tell me anything I didn't know." And her eyes soften with relief. "I am sorry I hurt
you."
I shrug.
"I asked for it." And now I know. I swallow. Here goes. I need to say my piece. "I don't think I
can be everything you want me to be," I whisper. Her eyes widen slightly, and she blinks, her
fearful expression returning.
"You are everything I want you to be."
What?
"I don't understand. I'm not obedient, and you can be as sure as hell I'm not going to let you do
that to me again. And that's what you need, you said so."
She closes her eyes again, and I can see a myriad of emotions cross her face. When she reopens
them, her expression is bleak.
"You're right. I should let you go. I am no good for you."
My scalp prickles as every single hair follicle on my body stands to attention, and the world falls
away from me, leaving a wide, yawning abyss for me to fall into.
"I don't want to go," I whisper. Fuck - this is it. Tears swim in my eyes once more.
"I don't want you to go either," she whispers, her voice raw. She reaches up and gently strokes my
cheek and wipes away a falling tear with her thumb. "I've come alive since I met you." Her thumb
traces the contours of my lower lip.
"Me too," I whisper, "I've fallen in love with you, Carmilla."
Her eyes widen again, but this time, with pure, undiluted fear.
"No," she breathes as if I've knocked the wind out of her.
"You can't be in love me, Laura. No... that's wrong." She's horrified.
"Wrong? Why's it wrong?"
"Well, look at you. I can't make you happy." Her voice is anguished.
"But you do make me happy." I frown.
"Not at the moment, not doing what I want to do."
Holy fuck. This really is it. This is what it boils down to - incompatibility - and all those poor subs
come to mind.
"We'll never get past that, will we?" I whisper, my scalp prickling in fear.
She shakes her head bleakly.
I close my eyes. I cannot bear to look at her.
"Well... I'd better go, then," I murmur, gathering up a cold resolve I never knew I had.
"No, don't go." She sounds panicked.
"There's no point in me staying." Suddenly, I feel tired, really dog-tired, and I want to go now. I
step around her and get out of the bedroom, and Carmilla follows.
I have had my eyes opened and glimpsed the extent of her depravity, and I now know she's not
capable of love - of giving or receiving love. My worst fears have been realized. And strangely,
it's very liberating.
The pain is such that I refuse to acknowledge it. I feel numb. I have somehow escaped from my
body and am now a casual observer to this unfolding tragedy. I gaze at myself in the mirror. A
pale and haunted ghost stares back at me. I scoop my hair into a ponytail and ignore how swollen
my eyelids are from the crying.
I cannot believe that my world is crumbling around me into a sterile pile of ashes, all my hopes
and dreams cruelly dashed. No, no don't think about it. Not now, not yet. Taking a deep breath, I
head for the great room.
Carmilla is on the phone. "She said what!" she shouts, making me jump. "Well, she could have
told us the fucking truth. What's her number, I need to call her... Spencer, this is a real fuck-up."
She glances up and doesn't take her dark and brooding eyes off me. "Find her, and tell Will!" she
snaps and presses the off switch.
I walk over to the couch and collect my backpack, doing my best to ignore her. When I turn to
face her, she's staring at me, stupefied with horror.
"You can keep the smart car" My voice is clear and calm, devoid of emotion... extraordinary.
"Laura, I don't want it, it's yours," she says in disbelief. "Please, keep her."
"No Carmilla - I don't want to feel like I owe you."
"Laura, be reasonable," she scolds me, even now.
"I don't want anything that will remind me of you." My voice is quite monotone.
She gasps.
"Are you really trying to wound me?"
"No." I frown staring at her. Of course not... I love you. "I'm not. I'm trying to protect myself," I
whisper. Because you don't want me the way I want you.
"Fine." she says acidly.
"Thanks."
She doesn't smile, she just turns on her heel and stalks into her study. I take a last lingering look
around her apartment - at the art on the walls - all abstracts, serene, cool... cold, even. Fitting, I
think absently.
"Kirsch can drive you home."
Have the help ship me off?
"That's fine, I can get myself home, thank you."
I turn to stare at Carmilla, and I see the barely-contained fury in her eyes.
"Are you going to defy me at every turn?"
"Why change a habit of a lifetime?" I give her a small, apologetic shrug.
She closes her eyes in frustration and runs her hand through her hair.
"Please, Laura, let Kirsch take you home."
"I'll get the car, Miss Hollis," Kirsch announces authoritatively. Carmilla nods at him, and when I
glance around, Kirsch has gone.
I turn back to face Carmilla. We are four feet apart. She steps forward, and instinctively I step
back. She stops, and the anguish in her expression is palpable, her gray eyes burning.
"I don't want you to go," she murmurs, her voice full of longing.
"I can't stay. I know what I want and you can't give it to me, and I can't give you what you need."
She takes another step forward, and I hold up my hands.
"Don't, please." I recoil from her. There's no way I can tolerate her touch now, it will slay me. "I
can't do this."
Grabbing my backpack, I head for the foyer. She follows me, keeping a careful distance. She
presses the elevator button, and the doors open. I climb in.
"Goodbye, Carmilla," I murmur.
"Goodbye, Laura." she says softly, and she looks utterly, utterly broken, a woman in agonizing
pain, reflecting how I feel inside. I tear my gaze away from her before I change my mind and try
to comfort her.
The elevator doors close, and it whisks me down to the bowels of the basement and to my own
personal hell.
Kirsch holds the door open for me, and I climb into the back of the car. I avoid eye contact.
Embarrassment and shame washes over me. I'm a complete failure. I had hoped to drag her into
the light, but it's proved a task beyond my meager abilities. Desperately, I try to keep my emotions
banked and at bay. As we head out, I stare blankly out of the window, and the enormity of what
I've done slowly washes over me. Shit - I've left her. The only person I've ever loved. The only
person I've ever slept with.
I gasp, and the levees burst. Tears course unbidden and unwelcome down my cheeks, and I wipe
them away hurriedly with my fingers, scrambling in my bag for my sunglasses. As we pause at
some traffic lights, Kirsch holds out a linen handkerchief for me. He says nothing and doesn't look
in my direction, and I take it with gratitude.
"Thank you," I mutter, and this small discreet act of kindness is my undoing. I sit back in the
luxurious leather seats and weep.
The dorm room is achingly empty and unfamiliar. I have not lived here long enough for it to feel
like home. I flop onto my bed, and reality slams into me. Oh - what have I done?
I lay face down in my bed, shoes and all, and howl. The pain is indescribable... physical, mental...
metaphysical... it is everywhere, seeping into the marrow of my bones. Grief.
This is grief - and I've brought it on myself. Deep down, a nasty, unbidden thought comes to me;
the physical pain from the cane is nothing, nothing compared to this devastation. I curl up,
desperately clutching my yellow pillow and Kirsch's handkerchief, and surrender myself to my
grief.
END PART ONE
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Document Outline
- 50 Flavors of Creampuff
- The Interview
- Conversation and Decompression
- Shop Talk and Coffee
- The Bar Scene
- The Hangover
- The Elevator Scene
- The First Real Date
- Red Room of Pain
- The Situation
- The Morning After
- Returning to Normal
- Contract Negotiations
- Graduation Day
- The First Spanking
- The Riding Crop
- Meeting Will
- Insertables
- Internship
- Scars
- Back Together
- I wanna live, I wanna love...
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