Steel and Promise

by Alexa Black

  Heat rose in Cailyn’s flesh as its motion filled her senses, erasing the ache. She moaned, a wordless plea.

  “Yes, I think you do like that,” Teran said, and drew it back out again.

  Cailyn whimpered, bereft, and the flogger hit her again, right over her vulva, as before. Through the excitement she already felt, the pain set her nerves dancing. Her hands clenched as the impact burst against her flesh again and again.

  The flogger withdrew. The metal returned, slid into her waiting and sore flesh. She accepted the reward eagerly. She only wished she had more room to move to meet it.

  Whatever price Teran might exact for it, she apparently did like seeing Cailyn climax. Which would happen any minute, unless Teran—

  —pulled it out again. Cailyn sighed as Teran swung the flogger again.

  “I should make you come like this,” Teran said as Cailyn grunted. Cailyn’s eyes welled up with tears.

  “But you—I can’t—” Cailyn gasped. Surely she couldn’t, not through pain like this.

  Then the metal was back. Cailyn sobbed with relief as the pain became pleasure again. She willed her body to go, finish, now, before Teran changed her mind.

  “You can’t?” Teran said. She pulled the dildo out and then the hit came, hard. Confused, over stimulated, and stretched to the breaking point, Cailyn responded. Her flesh spasmed hard around nothing and she shuddered with climax.

  Cailyn sagged, bewildered. Her heart pounded. Her face was wet. Tears, she realized, as the blindfold retracted above her eyes and light flooded them.

  She felt a hand on her face. She looked down at Teran’s other hand and saw what she’d been holding, a flogger with a metal phallus for a handle.

  She laughed, thin laughs that dissolved into hiccups. The hand drew her face up, gentle, inexorable, and pulled her into a kiss. She closed her eyes, thankful for small mercies, and lost herself in it.

  Chapter Nine

  Now it was Cailyn’s turn to do something for her lady. That thought suffused her with relief, a warm and comfortable feeling that mingled with the afterglow. She hovered above Teran’s back, massaging Teran’s shoulders.

  She liked the body under her hands, the firm muscles hidden under Teran’s skin. She skipped her fingers over them, pressed into them and drank in their strength.

  “You did well,” Teran said. “Especially for someone who avoids the dark channels.” She lifted her head. “Or do you?”

  Cailyn’s hands froze. “What? No. I’ve never been on them.”

  She clapped a hand over her mouth. What was she doing revealing things like that?

  And what was this about? Hadn’t Teran called her in the first place because she’d wanted something different?

  Teran tilted her head. Her lips twisted into a smile. “You’ve never been on them? Why not? Anyone looking on the dark channels would be delighted with you, little one.”

  Cailyn blushed. She pressed her fingers harder into Teran’s shoulder.

  Teran sat up on her elbows. “Last night you asked me for it, as I recall.”

  “Asked you? You made me.”

  “Did I? I say you like it more than you think.”

  The dark channels. What would happen if she offered herself on them? If she could take what Lady Nivrai offered, she could take anything.

  Still, if she advertised there, people would assume she craved it.

  She leaned down to kiss Teran’s back. Her arms ached from pressing and kneading the skin in front of her. And she suspected Teran would enjoy being kissed this way, as if Cailyn were paying homage. She traced a path with her lips down Teran’s back, tasted the grooves in Teran’s skin.

  When she reached Teran’s buttocks. Teran tossed her a barrier. “Here. Lick, but use this. I might need your tongue later.”

  Cailyn spread the thin film over Teran’s flesh and held it there. She sought the small hole with her tongue, circled it, entered, retreated, and circled again.

  To do this was nothing new to an experienced courtesan. But to tend the most hidden part of someone else’s body made Cailyn feel small all the same. She suspected Teran Nivrai knew just how small.

  But it felt good to give herself over, to dedicate herself to Teran’s pleasure, whatever cruel little joke might lay hidden in it. She had trained for years to serve, and to serve well. Whatever Teran might do, here she was on solid ground.

  She reached her other hand around to see if Teran wanted to be touched. She burrowed her fingers under Teran’s body, seeking out the sensitive places, and found them, slick with the reward. Teran came with a quiet cry.

  After a moment, she turned onto her side. Cailyn lay down, glad to be under her again. Claws tickled her back. She welcomed the feel of them.

  “Still blank,” Teran mused. “I should change that. Give you something to remember me by.”

  Cailyn shivered. Blank? What did that mean? Her body tingled with anticipation.

  “Frightened again?” Teran asked. A claw ran silver down Cailyn’s back. “You’re shaking.”

  “What will you do to me?” Everything centered on that touch, on what it might turn into. “My lady.”

  Then came the faint click as the claws retracted. “Nothing, for now. For now I have something to show you. Come with me.”

  Thin fingers pulled her away from the bed. She followed, sad to leave its softness. Still, whatever Teran had in mind now was probably less frightening, or painful, than the memento she’d mentioned. Cool air wafted from the vents on the walls and swirled along the skin of her back.

  They stepped into a wide, open room. Mats lined the floor. Soft bags stood on the sides of the room. Mariel’s practice room, she supposed.

  Against one wall was a small bench, with a large mirror overtop of it. On it sat two smooth stones, set a handsbreadth apart.

  Teran walked over to them, took a deep breath, and laid her hands on the globes. They flashed blue for a moment. Teran’s face in the mirror winced.

  The glow from the stones faded. Teran’s thin fingers clutched tight around them. She drew in another long breath, then let it out.

  Cailyn walked up beside Teran. Teran’s eyes moved to look at Cailyn’s reflection in the mirror.

  “What is it, my lady?”

  “It’s an altar. Or at least, it’s what one used to be. Very few worship the god it’s dedicated to any more.” She stepped aside. “The stones helped clear the mind.”

  Cailyn walked up to the globes and put out her hands. They hovered, reluctant.

  Teran pushed her hands down. A shock crackled through her body as her flesh touched the globes. She jumped and tore her hands from them.

  The pain, sharp as it had been, vanished in a moment. Strong arms twined around her. She sagged into them. Her head tilted to one side.

  Metal tickled her neck and brushed away her hair. Teran’s teeth traced the skin of her neck. She tilted her head, offering more to Teran’s lips and teeth.

  A hand snaked down her stomach. She hadn’t liked the pain. She did like Teran’s arms around her.

  Teran’s mouth sucked at her neck, pulling hard at the tender flesh there. She made a sound of her own.

  “Don’t tempt me.” Teran laughed. “This isn’t what I was planning.”

  She kissed Cailyn’s neck where she’d bitten it. The mouth was still eager, whatever she’d said. Cailyn wondered if Teran had left a mark. Was she trying to kiss away the pain, or just kissing the sign of it?

  Teran moved away. Cailyn missed the feeling of the arms around her. She reached to hold herself.

  Teran stood still and stared straight ahead. They did not blink. She breathed in once.

  Hands and feet cleaved the air, their movements crisp and sharp. Her small, strong body twirled to face imaginary attackers, blocked invisible blows, spun through counterattacks.

  Cailyn had wondered what they looked like, had imagined Teran’s small form doing just this, the precision and strength igniting her lust.

  And
, yes, her flesh tingled at the sight. She ran her hands along the skin of her own arms for the sensation. Her skin tingled where her fingertips had passed.

  But this was something between Teran and Mariel, a piece of their history. This was like watching someone else’s private video, the laughter and smiles ripped from the context that gave them their meaning.

  Teran whirled around. Her fists sliced through air. She stared ahead, unforgiving and unchanging like the metal tucked inside her fingertips.

  She moved quickly, all her slow, easy movements forgotten, her small body all force. Cailyn saw little hint of the coaxing touch she’d come to know. How hard would those strikes hit if she were on the receiving end of them? She decided she didn’t want to know.

  Still, this was beautiful. Beautiful and cold. Cailyn shivered, thinking of the newsteel tipping Teran’s hands. The claws were beautiful too, the cruel beauty of any well-kept weapon.

  Cailyn watched Teran’s hands spin to block imaginary blows. Had she always done this exercise alone, a series of strikes and counterstrikes made into a private dance?

  Or was this one half of a routine done with another person?

  She looked around the room, doubtless a training room of Mariel’s. She pictured a tall, muscular man, lunging at Teran and parrying her blows.

  She found it easy to imagine, arms and legs slamming hard against one another as their hearts raced.

  The final move came with a yell. If this had once been done in tandem, it apparently ended with Teran winning.

  It ended with the claws, finally extended, striking the face or body of an opponent thrown to the ground.

  Cailyn closed her lips on a laugh. Yes, this was more than likely half of a duet.

  And she felt surer than ever how it ended.

  Teran walked over to her, the spell broken.

  Cailyn felt a fierce desire to touch Teran, to wrap her arms around her, to soothe her and calm her. To bring the woman out of the weapon and know she’d been the one to do it. Only well-instilled discipline kept her on her knees.

  “That was beautiful, my lady.”

  “Thank you.” Teran held out her hand. Cailyn took it and stood.

  “But why did you show that to me?”

  “I hadn’t done them yet today.”

  A clawed hand caressed Cailyn’s cheek. “But that’s not what you were really asking, is it?”

  “No, my lady.”

  “Then I’m not going to answer the question you were really asking. You should already know that, little one.”

  Cailyn sighed. “You did this with Mariel?” she asked, feeling steel move along her chin as she spoke.

  “Yes.”

  “He must have been good at what he did.”

  “He was. Then again, I was a decent student.”

  Cailyn would have shaken her head again if there weren’t newsteel crawling all over it. “I don’t doubt you were.” She reached up to touch Teran’s face. “You must miss him.”

  Teran sighed and turned away.

  “I watched him waste away,” she said, her voice soft. She put a hand on Cailyn’s shoulder. “Come on.”

  *

  Teran bid her lie facedown on the bed and told her to make herself comfortable. She did, remembering Teran’s back under her hands. Now it was Teran’s turn to run her hands along Cailyn’s back.

  Strangely enough, the claws stayed in. Teran’s touch felt like any other lover’s.

  That made Cailyn wary, as good as the gentle touches felt.

  “Very nice,” Teran said, tracing the blades of Cailyn’s shoulders.

  Cailyn flushed with pride to hear Teran praise her body. But what was Teran studying so intently?

  “You’ve never had an issue with marks before.”

  Cailyn squirmed. “No, my lady, I never have. Are you planning to leave worse ones?”

  She’d looked in her mirror at the marks Teran had left her with before. She’d touched them, studying their contours with her fingertips. The slight pain when she did it had reminded her of Teran, the ice-gray eyes, the silver laugh.

  The rhythm of the gentle flogging, the sharp sensation of the braided whip biting into her skin. Teran’s smell and taste.

  That last flogging had left some new marks, too. She could still feel the welts on her skin, a constant vague sting.

  Teran was laughing now. She wound a claw in Cailyn’s hair. “Not worse. Different, but not worse.”

  Cailyn stiffened, not entirely sure she liked that answer. Her eyes strayed to the door. She felt a sudden urge to leave.

  Still, she couldn’t help but wonder just what Teran was up to. She’d hate herself if she didn’t find out.

  She let out a slow breath and forced herself to relax. Well, my lady, she thought, hearing the metallic sound of Teran’s claws as they extended, let’s see just what it is you’re up to now.

  Her skin sighed open at the first cut, blood and a burning feeling rising together as it did.

  The claw traced swirls into her skin. Her hands tightened into fists. Then Teran cut into her skin again, the cut curved like the first. Shorter cuts came after these, sharp, staccato bursts of pain.

  It must be a pattern, Cailyn realized. But what sort of design would a helldemon choose to etch into her flesh? She stared ahead in a haze of pain. Her hips shifted.

  “Mine,” Teran murmured, her voice and breath like water running over Cailyn’s skin. The claw seared a new line through her skin.

  “Yes, my lady,” Cailyn gasped. She fought to hold still. Her shoulder stung, but the heat rose in her body.

  An arm pushed her body down, strong, insistent.

  “But not for long. So I suppose”—the claw curled into her skin with ruthless efficiency again—“I’ll just have to leave you with a reminder.”

  Wet blood flowed over Cailyn’s back. She remembered what Teran had said. Blood is a part of you. She pressed her thighs together to keep from shivering.

  Teran must not have been doing worse damage than she had before, but this slow tracing hurt far worse. Maybe it came from lying facedown, waiting for something, not knowing what. Maybe it came from knowing that this time the marks were the point.

  And even her skin opened to the touch. There was no resisting. It didn’t matter how deep Teran cut. Her skin itself was parting at the touch. The skin leaked blood, her very self spreading open. The sting of being cut, the fear that came from bleeding, meant nothing compared to that.

  The curling movements reminded Cailyn of the turns in Teran’s form. Whatever Teran’s claws carved would be elegant. It would beautify her, as much as her lipstick or the hairpins she’d been so glad to wear. She winced as another line seared her, but soon drifted into passivity. Her body hurt, but the skin between her legs prickled with heat.

  “Just a few more,” Teran said, her voice rich with desire. The claw moved so quickly now that Cailyn felt her skin tear only after Teran finished her lines. Three passes and it was done. Her skin burned in the sudden calm.

  Teran’s lips pressed against the untouched skin in the middle of her back. “It’s finished.”

  Cailyn drifted. She wanted to rest. She clutched the pillow her head sat on and made a small, irritated sound.

  “All that and you don’t want to know what it is?”

  Teran traced the lines she had drawn with a cloth. The cleanser on it stung so much Cailyn rose off the bed, grimacing.

  Her head swam, Teran’s eyes silver pinpricks in her vision. As her vision cleared, the calmness in that face infuriated her. Her whole body felt as if it had been through fire, and Teran did nothing but look at her?

  She sat up, a move she immediately regretted as her vision doubled again.

  “I wouldn’t move on your own just yet, little one.” Teran laughed, wrapping an arm around her lower back. “But here, if you want to get up.”

  She guided Cailyn to her feet and led her to a small bathroom.

  Cailyn, still wobbling from being cut,
twisted around to see the mark on her back in the mirror.

  “It’s the Nivrai symbol,” she whispered.

  Or something similar, anyway. To cut all of the twists and turns in a noble’s official insignia—her wounds throbbed anew just imagining it. Others who weren’t thinking of Nivrai or of Teran might not recognize the simplified design at all. Cailyn might not have recognized it herself if it weren’t on all the servants’ livery and more than a few of the doors.

  Mine, Teran had said. Now she would send Cailyn back into the world with her mark carved into her back. At least until it healed. Cailyn shivered. Wetness seeped between her thighs.

  It made no sense to feel this way. She had never wanted to belong to anyone. Not for longer than one meeting.

  She thought of Teran’s lips on the line she’d carved into her thighs. For a crazy moment, she hoped Teran would kiss or lick this mark as well, liven it with lips and tongue.

  If Teran had similar thoughts, she gave no sign. Instead she turned her attention to the cut. To Cailyn’s chagrin, she skipped soothing ointment she so often used, instead coating the lines she’d carved with a liquid bandage.

  “For when you lie down,” she said and led Cailyn to the bed.

  The sheets chafed against the cuts on Cailyn’s back. She shifted, trying to get comfortable. Teran waited. She settled as best she could.

  Teran’s fingers entered her, moved inside her, gentle, inexorable. Her will slipped away with the rhythm, and she was grateful for it. Warmth spread through her as her hips moved in time with the fingers filling her. She’d trained for this, to give herself over. She smiled and moved faster.

  The sting flared through her skin as her body rose and fell. Clearly, it pleased Teran to see her moan and wince.

  Someone else might dive in hard, wrest pleasure and desire from her all at once. But this slow rhythm meant far more. There was no resisting it. It pulled her under, inexorable as tides.

  Lightning danced along Cailyn’s back. She moaned, half in pleasure, half in the hope Teran would speed up.

  Teran’s breath came quick, sharp, her eyes narrowed in concentration. She flicked her thumb against Cailyn’s clitoris, once, twice, then again.