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Zephyr The Vandal Part 3

Lion Tamer Part 3

By Shadowstar BoxerPublished 6 years ago 28 min read
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Daedalus and Penance

Mission: Tame the Ego

Rumael unbuttoned his support tunic, dropped the upper half of his formal robes, and faced the door in spite of my ogling at his improved physique. The last time we saw each other he had the moderately fit body of an athlete in training. This night he effortlessly personified muscular perfection for his height. Both his arms lifted above his head and pushed the cast iron doors apart as if they were pillows. I watched the major and minor muscle systems of his arms connect to his near herculean shoulders and back; a chiseled embodiment of pure, animalistic male sexuality. Rumael stood between the doors and held them open with flawless symmetry, leaving enough space for me to slip underneath either side and make my dramatically sensual entrance. Zephyr the Vandal, fingers wrapping into Rumael’s waistband to use the living statue as leverage, breasts sandwiching and squeezing against his torso, stepped into the chamber interior to get a good look at what was ahead. There were no less than ten women fawning over, tasting, serving, and whispering honey dipped words to Baron Daedalus. Their chattering sounded like excited children, their moans sopping with sensuous vibrato whether feigned or genuine.

All of this was still not enough to keep away my target’s gaze. He beheld the harrowing combination of Rumael posting with a body much more desirable than Daedalus’ and my appearance as overtly more experienced, evidently more beautiful than the silly fillies scattered across the bed. It was a disgrace to the tempered satin linens, imported cotton and down pillows, and the elegant black walnut canopy bed frame. But that was no concern of mine; not until after I was finished taming this whelp and had an entire squadron of attendants sterilize the place. Daedalus began to push aside some of the women to make a clear path of vision. I assumed that he was saving the best for last, or that he just wanted me to see that a woman was willing to continue sucking his cock while an obviously more adept woman approached. Maybe it was a show of dominance in response to what he knew to be a better looking couple than him and whatever girl he could have chosen from the room. His eyes fornicated with my lingerie, darting faster as the intimidated fellatio faerie suckled him more intently.

By this time Rumael and I had still not spoken a single word. Already The Baron was trying to prove his worth. It was very interesting to watch my influence do its silent work. A man was doing his best to make himself king before me, begging me with his gaze to join the girl in worshipping his phallus. Foolishness: we were in a brothel and he could have been ANY man in that situation. I had completely harnessed control over The Baron’s ego.

1.) Illusion of Authority

“Rumael, I left specific orders to not be disturbed. Why have you brought this one here?” Daedalus spoke as if he was directing a subordinate to their daily tasks. “As you can see I have enough servant girls to satisfy a weekend’s thirst, correct?”

Rumael allowed the doors to shut from their own momentum before joining me in front of The Baron and his vacuum headed escort. He inhaled quickly as if to speak but I placed a palm against his groin to silence him, never losing eye contact with Daedalus. “I understand your relationship with this establishment, Baron. However this one is mine for the evening, so you will address me.” I added a slight greeting nod with most of the effort coming from my eyelids. The gesture made me think of DiClara…then it made me wish that I had chosen her makeup style instead of staying with my original dressing. Yes it made me appear a smidge younger than I look normally, but it also placed me only a half cut above the majority who had already derived their styles from my own. Bless the Hagakure for teaching me how to keep thoughts from manifesting as facial expressions.

“You, lady, have yet to introduce yourself. Forgive me for not reading your mind,” Daedalus barked with a snide chuckle. It was hard to take him seriously with the sound of slurping book-ending his words from just below his waistline. It would have been more acceptable if he had been eating, but a quick glance at the floor let me know that the girl was still spit polishing his penis at full bore.

“No, forgive me. I am Zephyr the Vandal.” I still had my hand cupped on Rumael’s swollen genitalia and moved not one inch. Rumael had always been my favorite partner-in-deception. He played the role well enough that we usually ended our adventures with his cock buried deep inside me until my womb hummed with weakness, my g spot gushed with Elysium, and my clitoris throbbed in luscious agony.

“Nonsense, you aren’t her,” Daedalus started to slip into denial. “Zephyr the Vandal writes bathroom readings while cowering behind them.” The blow to his ego was almost visible but I was patient before launching the next volley. It was satisfying to know that just my name could invoke such fearful instability. “You’re making a very bold claim. Fortunately you have the looks to at least support a boast like that.”

Just a bit more and I would have him roasting over my coals. Using misdirected peripheral manipulation, I watched as his eyes struggled to focus on me and not the hand massaging Rumael’s thickened mound of magic stick. As Daedalus parted his lips to speak once more, he was stopped cold by the sight of a caramel colored finger slipping in between my legs from behind. My attendant was right on cue and I couldn’t have been more anfractuous with my glee. Rumael and I kept our eyes locked on Daedalus and his servant girl who had slowed her sucking and tilted her head just enough to see my waist line while the finger played at my thong. The Baron didn’t even notice that his mouth was still open, but finally found the words to say.

“If you were half the woman Zephyr used to be, then I would be well on my way to being passed out covered in your love glaze. You would have brought me my favorite drink because you would have learned of it before even meeting, and you would have serviced the meat of my dick until your jaws wen—,” the words were caught in his throat, stunned at what he began to witness.

“Baron Daedalus Gideon, your dick is not worthy to be in the same HOUSE as me…” I pierced his heart with my words as Rumael moved behind me. “…but you think that I would SERVE you?!?” Rumael placed his second hand on my bum and slipped two more fingers inside, slowly so as not to chafe my flesh. His steady, warm sturdy hands fit me like a throne as he carefully lifted me to just above their heads. My glistening vagina was unveiled and pulsating close to Baron’s face. I ground my hips so that he could see Rumael’s fingers churning my dripping flower. “Let me say it again; I am Zephyr the Vandal!” My humping became more rounded, causing the plumpness of my ass to mound from side to side. Rumael provided solid buoyancy so that our floor show was as balanced as it was arousing. “Put away your playthings, boy. For the record, I don’t care if you are married. Every one of you here in this room will melt and plead with me, expelling your love fluids, crying to the gods until I COMMAND you to stop.”

The Baron lost all control and gripped his servant girl by the hair, pounding her face against the base of his cock, panting uncontrollably. His personal deep-throat specialist must have been prepared for this, because he drug her along with him as Rumael began to draw me away while keeping my pussy level with Daedalus’ eyes. The helpless nightclub mogul tripped over the servant girl while chasing my wetted folds of sweet nether-flesh.

“Zephyr…you are the real thing. Please let me…PLEASE allow me to serve your body, my goddess!”

I knew that he was just trying to placate some non-existent emotion, or searching for a weakness that could be determined as hubris. If I was the fool that Baron thought he was addressing, then I would consider his words to be a salve for an assumed megalomaniacal behavior. A minute’s respite swirled into pompous acceptance could have cost me the advantageous position afforded me by events thus far. No, I would not sacrifice the greater good for a few empty words of praise.

I had completely harnessed the power of sexual authority over Baron’s desires.

2.) Expose the Criminal

Overwhelming sensual thirst swallowed me whole, the after effect of powdered residue mixing with my healthy libido. I would say that Rumael’s hands didn’t help the situation, but that figure of speech would only be half true. There was no remorse felt while I made love to his dense fingers right in front of the mesmerized Baron. Rumael worked his digits one by one, typing heated sensations into my folds and flicking droplets of nectar in the Baron’s direction. Upon seeing the spatters glint reflected light from the corner lamps, I howled at Daedalus to begin his true “healing.” It would be an exhausting process that required every bit of my professed expertise. Fortunately, it is my profession that demands a more hands-on knowledge of my prey.

“KNEEL!” I let my voice take advantage of the high ceiling acoustics and concave echo. The room was designed to centralize all noise to create a chorus of carnal callings. The command was very bold and almost certain to be defied. Good; that’s exactly what we wanted.

“What, and come face to face with your servant’s cock? No, thank you,” Daedalus professed with confidence. It was a pre-programmed defensive reaction, one that is common with people of power. This particular subconscious characteristic is not specific to any gender, but it is definitely more pronounced in prestigious men.

“I’m not entirely sure that it was a request, Baron. You may have one more opportunity to comply.” My words traveled down Rumael’s body and played against The Baron’s ears. The flighty phrase gave him an impression of sarcasm. I could see his confidence building and a tell-tale smile starting to gleam. Rumael took a couple steps toward Daedalus and his returning crew of prostitutes. From the outside we all probably looked to be warring clans preparing to settle our differences with a competitive orgy of flesh.

“Allow me to spare you the trouble, Zephyr. If you won’t let me dine upon you, then at least let me dine with you,” he whined. When it was evident that my silence disturbed his attempt, Rumael typed at little faster while starting to pinch my ass meat between his palm and thumb, then flung another spray of my love rain onto The Baron’s face. Biology be damned, I was gushing wet! It was enough to turn the modest sounds of finger squishing into a cacophony of popping splashes.

Maybe it was my third or fourth orgasm, not that it mattered. I knew that Rumael enjoyed every second of his service to me. It would most definitely be rewarded before my departure from Gran Seraf.

Baron Daedalus gathered all but one of his whores. She had been signaled by another and ran into the pantry to retrieve a tin of Czechoslovakian Kolaches. I couldn’t believe they were pandering to my lust for imported delicacies. When she opened the tin I could see the plush, fruit filled pastries were still naturally moist, meaning that the humidor I had installed in ’93 was still in working order. It also meant that Rumael kept my room stocked for all the years I had been absent, and for all of the subpar mistresses who occasionally used this well-known sleeping chamber. With a heavy heart I signaled Rumael by pressing my met buttocks against his nose, and my lovely assistant hoisted my pussy upward. I felt the slight trembling in his muscles while he regulated weight distribution. Never mind that he had been holding me up for the past thirty minutes and could probably feel the burn of lactic acid build up; he was instantly more concerned with not dropping me. Please allow me to note again that Rumael was my favorite attendant and “plaything.” He knew the proper way to handle me… and used all three guilty fingers to splatter those innocent Kolaches with liquid silk.

“What the FUCK?!?” the girl exclaimed when she realized what we had done, “Who the fuck squirts onto European cookies?!?” She stumbled backward in a stifling mixture of disbelief and disgust. “What the fuck?!?” she asked again once she was safely behind Daedalus. He couldn’t have found the words if they were life-sized marionettes hanging from the chandelier. I pushed off of Rumael’s shoulders so that my back would arch and point my breasts into the light. The result was a deep contrast of light and dark that cast a shadow over Rumael, and covered my body with a soft, translucent glow.

“Firefly…” The Baron spoke from his position on the floor. Excellent! That was the one thing I was hoping to hear. Daedalus may not yet recognize it, but the invisible threads of guilt had begun to work their way into his heart. It was a weakness that stunk like fresh blood in shark filled water, and I was absolutely FAMISHED. Rumael’s grip shifted a little to accommodate my jerking hips. My patience and skill were still not enough to actually stop a wave of dripping climaxes.

“What did you say?” I moaned ferociously toward him, just barely peeking over my nipples to see his strange expression; a clamoring mess of arousal and confusion stamped firm across his brow.

“Firefly,” his voice began to fade into an unfocused mumble while trying to gauge his level of commitment, “The light makes your body glow like a firefly.” The Baron locked his eyes onto my pussy and sealed his fate. Rumael pumped his fingers deeper into me as he lowered himself, allowing my body to descend at an arc. When my feet touched the floor and Rumael’s hand was safely removed from my honey pot, I bent over at the waist and locked eyes with Daedalus. An innocent man would have held my gaze, but this man had trouble even holding his head up to breathe. It was a glorious victory that left The Baron knelt in submission. Concerned that their fare would become too distracted, more of the house girls left the bed and sauntered in our direction. They haphazardly piled around Daedalus, pawing him like the jealous kittens they were.

In the wake of my awe-inspiring dismount, I used the time to my advantage and made my footsteps incredibly slow. One of the girls was fondling The Baron’s sac, then positioned his fully erect monument upward so that one of her cohorts could straddle him. A single bead of moisture could be seen forming between her vagina and The Baron’s mast.

But when she intended to sink onto him, I snatched her head backward fast enough to make ALL of the birds gasp with surprise.

“Woman, you have just spoiled my adoration for you,” Daedalus growled in fury with his throbbing cock shining with the remains of potential satisfaction, “you do NOT take the king’s candy!”

“I’m so glad that you feel confident enough to show your true colors,” I growled back at him, clearly undaunted, unintimidated. My right hand was full of cheap hair extensions. My words felt like napalm. My god, even Rumael’s musk could be felt in the air and the scent of it boiled my sex. “I’m SO glad, Daedalus, that you are ready to be tamed.”

“You can’t be serious…”

“Tell me, Baron, if you can remember the Japanese word for ‘firefly’.”

He couldn’t tell if I was upset, cheerful, devious… nothing could be read from my expression; especially when I leaned down and kissed my female captive. The false locks of hair fell against sweaty skin as I tongued her lips. When I finished, Daedalus was ready to answer. With painful guilt storming onto his facial features he lifted his head and answered me with a raspy, fault stricken voice.

“Hotar—,” he could not complete his reply with my foot smashing into his chest, sending him flat to the carpeted floor. A hollow ‘huff’ let me know the wind had been cleared from his lungs.

I had completely harnessed the power of his image. The Baron was now just a broken thug.

“Rumael…get my silk ropes.” My lovely attendant took to my command with delight.

3.) Rehabilitation

It would have been nice to get through The Baron’s therapy session without having to embarrass him, but the values of his wealth and social standing were the main fuel for his sin. Crushing it without incident was impossible, but if my course of action continued undeterred then we could at least save his pride. Restlessly I fought the urge to take Rumael, escape to an empty chamber, and douse the flames of lust with his milk. Instead, my partner had removed the rest of his robes and revealed a clever little make-shift tool kit fashioned to the lower back section. Since he never made a move toward the door I was sure that he was fully equipped for the job. The naked attendant hulked over his collection of bondage gear as the scattered fillies played with each other. They had been paid well so no one was leaving the room until The Baron was absolutely ready to go home. I waved two of them over to where I was kneeling above Daedalus.

“He’s not unconscious. I want you to milk him until I tell you to stop,” said the demon inside of me. My hunger had grown and it was past time to have a bit of fun for myself. “Rumael, I want YOU to set up a ‘Peepshow Stage’ on the bed. Leave me to these playthings. When you are ready we will add Daedalus and me to the trap.”

Having my partner construct our final stage of The Baron’s punishment gave me enough time to watch my two captives take turns being jockeys for his steed. They gladly slumped over the heaving husk of Daedalus while thrusting their hips and taking his length down to the hilt. I massaged my way in between the girls by pushing one to take a seat on his face. She slurped the air between her teeth when she felt his tongue enter her. You could tell the depth of Daedalus’ sexual depravity by his lack of self-defense. He didn’t even reach up or grip her bulbous cheeks to balance her while she grinded against his nose. It just happened to him which was fine by me, so long as he stayed erect. If he was allowed to ejaculate too quickly then I would have no real leverage with which to discipline him. My hands were slipping over breasts lubricated with essence oils and premium water-soluble gels. My lips were intertwined with those of the panting servant girls, and a cleverly hidden, strategically placed toy vibrated the space between The Baron’s torso and my shimmering buttocks.

“Your trap is ready, Vandal,” Rumael called from behind the bed. He had completed the trap beautifully; soft leather cuffs were mounted diagonally from each other on two bed posts, a pleather sheet was slathered with a fruit flavored gel lubricant and fitted to the mattress, and a near invisible strand of floss tied into a low hanging position on the bottom of the canopy. In the center of the floss was a small silver bell with a shorter string of floss hanging out from the middle of it. With a few petty ass slaps and another deep kiss, I separated myself from the tangled mess of Daedalus and servant girls.

**Allow me to explain the “Peepshow Stage” trap. With the diagonally contrasted leather cuffs, my victim is bound to the bed directly across from me. We sit diagonally so that Rumael can easily access my body at the corner of the bed. The short floss connects our hanging bell to my victim’s penis. When the exercise starts my partner plays with me in order to arouse my victim. As things become more sexually charged we wait to see if my victim has the self-control to fight an erection. When a sufficient amount of blood rushes to the penis, the muscle constricts pulling the floss that rings our little bell. If the bell rings then Rumael will reward my victim with a solid gut punch. This method of discipline serves to teach patience and modesty. **

“Why am I being tied to the bed post?” asked a mind-boggled Daedalus while Rumael finished adjusting the wrist fasteners. I could see my reflection in the button fixtures on The Baron’s restraints. He must have thought of a thousand ways to ravage me since I was also being bound to my bedpost, splayed across my corner of the mattress. My body was completely exposed, polished by personal lubricants and sweat, with my legs spread wide enough to show off my prize.

“You should know why,” I let my words bite into him, “especially since it’s obvious that I’ve come here to collect your head.”

“My head is no concern of yours,” he mumbled, “Who are you to tie me to a bedpost?”

“I am Zephyr the Vandal, but I’m sure we’ve covered that before now. Pay better attention, boy.”

We watched each other for a few moments of silence while Rumael made his way to my side of the bed. It took every ounce of my strength to not laugh in his face, so I settled for a diabolical smile as the opening theme to my next psychological offensive.

Using the slick plastic leather mattress cover to my advantage, I began rolling my hips in concentric circular movements, something akin to using a hula-hoop. Each twist was swift to start and slow to end, allowing me to theatrically flex my abdomen upward at the peak of each roll. This very sumptuous maneuver created a soggy squeaking sound from underneath my supple buns. At the same time it lent me the attention necessary to grab The Baron’s gaze with my pelvic floor exercises. Many people like to refer to them by their more popular namesake. I mean no disrespect to Dr. Arnold Kegel, but my extensive training has never allowed such a simple-minded label to pass my lips or even cross my mind.

“Do you like this, Baron Daedalus?” My voice was a cool breeze sending waves of sensuous calm over his battered psyche. I deflowered myself using an extroverted motion based between the inguinal canal and adductor longus. “Enjoy it while you can. I don’t believe you have what it takes to survive.”

As I sped up and continued to mill the mattress, Rumael knelt next to me and snaked a hand up the length of my right leg until he was tickling the opened crease of my inner thigh. My scant inhibitions became as the wind and were carried away as Rumael’s fingers seemed to charge my nether-lips with electricity. He teased my clitoris using the tips of his index and middle, taking the time to stroke my labia in a delightful rhythm. I broke eye contact with Daedalus to notice that the short floss had started to flit about, lifting ever so slightly from the end that was tied to his member. You are enjoying this, I thought as my man-servant gorged his flesh on my constant love drip. If his hands could drink then they would have already been filled to bursting. A few more moments pass by before the short floss moves again, but this time much more dramatically. There was a much deeper dip in the middle as a result of The Baron’s stiffening, and the bell chimed a crisp ring when his penis fell.

Like lightning, Rumael shifted his body toward the head board, rolled onto the mattress, and crashed his fist into The Baron’s abdomen. Daedalus heaved as if to vomit but nothing came, just a shamefully dry hacking sound coupled with a few shocked crocodile tears. The gall of this man; to feign innocence in the face of hard evidence was unforgiveable. Even more disgusting, but sharply on cue, was the force behind his next erective charge. Upon watching Rumael withdraw his hand, Daedalus attached his field of vision to my pulsating vagina. Please forgive me for being so aroused while watching my man do his work. I did say that he would get his hands dirty for me. The bell rang again before Rumael had time to return, eyes darting back at me in slight confusion. We were both taken aback by this reaction from our prey. No one has ever been aroused by my servant’s penetrating physical attack. I knew that he had not held back anything because the canopy drapes were still swaying their frayed ends from the force of Rumael’s punch. It was a curious situation that warranted further research into how many times we could make The Baron’s penis ring the bell. With a titillating upward swoop, I used my tongue to beckon my servant. He returned to me, instantly positioned himself, and resumed the luscious petting that would continue tormenting our restrained tycoon. Just as I suspected, the bell went into a seizure.

“My goodness, Baron, you are a squalid pervert!” I sang through shortened breaths. Daedalus mumbled things to himself as he watched. It was obvious that he had given himself over to the hunger, knowing the consequences of ringing the bell, and deciding to satisfy his penile thirst for visuals. This exercise had long taxed my self-control and it was time to exhale. Being strapped to the bed, unable to escape my lover’s grasp, my mind split into soldier and slave. One had already decided to act on “plan B” in case of a lapse into sexual delirium. Filled with a feral desperation I fucked Rumael’s hand, splashing pellets of aromatic lubricant and femme fluid. The Baron struggled to get as close as he could without dislocating his shoulders and the bell went into conniptions. This prompted my servant to crash three more crushing punches into Daedalus’ torso. I squealed with pleasure as Rumael hurriedly returned to fingering my wanting flower.

“Zephyr… please,” he drooled, “give me…” The stammering fool was drunk with the smell of my sex. The head of his painfully bloated cock shined with waiting ejaculate. The bell tolled his punishment a hundred fold.

…and I shook with overflowing pleasure, so much that the cuff chain began to cut into the wooden bed frame. My eyes shut snugly as if that was the only thing I could do to keep from drowning in orgasms.

Rumael, the only man who had learned my body to a deserving extent, orchestrated my end and pulled away with expert grace. He looked like he had been panning for gold with his bare hands; fitting, since my honey pot is one of the greatest treasures in the universe. The world would be much better off if every woman in the world believed the same thing about themselves. Surely Gran Seraf is standing testament to that fact. Where else could these women go to become masters of as many fates as they wished?

One such house girl had been notified of my visit a few hours before I arrived. Point timing had her knocking on the chamber door just in time for the finale. I looked up to see her when I heard the door sliding open. Cool air rushed in to abate the fires of passion that had singed the room. Compared to the preceding events, it felt as if we had been transplanted into an ice cavern. Blurred lights danced against my pupils until the blood vessels lost some swelling, relieving the vision altering pressure behind my eyes. As things faded into normalcy I watched the girl quietly make her way across the chamber floor. She deftly avoided the wildly strewn clothes, swiftly stepped over the outstretched play-girls, and crept over to my side with a small fold of paper tucked behind her ear. She couldn’t have been more than 17, so I was sure that she hadn’t served any customers. At best, she was an ornate errand-girl.

“You have something for me,” I said to her with relief coating my words as Rumael unfastened my wrists.

“Yes. A woman with princess cut black hair gave it to me,” she let the words creep toward me from her bowed head, “but she refused to come upstairs.”

“It’s alright. She will come up shortly,” I told the girl. She nodded more deeply before giving me the note, and then quickly shuffled out of the bed chamber. Someone called to her just as the door was resealing itself. This must have been what finally broke The Baron’s trance because he sat upright with eyes as barren as the Sahara, staring into the bell that was still, quite literally, hanging by a thread. He winced a bit and the bell chimed a light, sarcastic ringing sound. Rumael stood to allow me enough room for moving off of the bed. Daedalus didn’t even notice that he had not been released from his leather restraints. Instead he just looked into my eyes…or eye, I should say. I took the opportunity to relish in this final broken motion of guilt, remorse, and ultimate repentance. He knew that the bell had chimed a healthy beating that would come from Rumael’s powerful strikes. Yes, this was my moment. This was the window of opportunity that could only be opened by Daedalus himself. He was also the only person who could fly away through it, to leave this life of emptiness and return to his wife. Most of all, this window led to ending the constant humiliation of his wife, to stop feeding her fear tempered lusts with meaningless money and silver-tongued suitors, and to cease leaving her to suffocate in the toxic perversion of “leniency” or “convenience”. This was the final trap to be sprung.

“…seventy-three.”

“What seventy-three?” asked a completely spent but surprisingly active Baron. “You’ve done enough. Just kill me and collect your money from whatever filth hired you.”

“Are you sure that you mean to say filth?” I goaded him, swearing upon my skill in mind manipulation.

“Yes! YES! Fucking FILTH, wicked bitch! What else do you want?!?” He roared at me in the height of his arousing embarrassment. There have been plenty of men who have gotten a surge of sexual satisfaction from being dominated, humiliated, or physically injured. Before that day, I had not EVER seen a man endure all three and still retain his erection along with an unshakeable masculine pride. It was hilarious, to say the very least.

“It’s sad that you think so. No matter,” I teased my prey with a tail-swish, “This letter should help to clarify things for you.”

Rumael went to the door and waited while I released the note from its crumples.

—BARONESS HOTARU GIDEON HAS COMPLETED THE RECORDING. SHE IS AWAITING YOUR CALL—

Daedalus’ sank backward against the bed post to which he was tied, his once confident penis started to become flaccid. The look on his face was an irreplaceable etching of horror and self-loathing. He didn’t know what to do so, after strolling over to his side of the bed. I leaned in close enough to tickle his earlobe with my lips and gave him one last bit of information.

“She has already paid me, and now you belong to her. Do you want her?”

The sins of a thousand men bore down upon him causing his head to hang. He could be heard breathing deeply as if wearing a filtration mask attached to his face. “She knows? What recordings?”

Without an answer to satiate his well-deserved curiosity, I signaled Rumael to open the door. My perfect man pulled apart the bed chamber gates while I dressed myself. By the time Hotaru entered the room and was in full view of her husband, I had gathered my things and began waking all the casually strewn call-girls. Daedalus was a mentally crippled, sexually drained, and deathly tired broken man; a triumphant herald to my accomplishment, in some ways. The Baroness stalked the area around my canopy bed, eyeing all the fillies that were scurrying away from her husband. As the girls filtered out of the chamber, Hotaru reached her husband with a look of sweet devilish revenge scrawled onto her features. She wore the exact same corset and G-string set that matched mine in every way except color, of which hers was sapphire blue.

“Seventy-three?” she called to me without breaking eye contact with Daedalus.

“Yes, we counted seventy-three rings of the bell after Rumael’s last strike.”

“Hm… then I guess tonight will be longer than I thought,” The Baroness said with another smile. One thing that I didn’t notice until later was the rather stylish, leather training glove that she brought with her. Dainty wrists require support when striking. I fully supported her effort.

I and my delicious servant exited the room as swiftly as we could, but there was no escape from the sound of the bed creaking, reeling in response to the wet thud that marked Hotaru’s first punch. I wish that I had stayed to see her exact punishment against Daedalus, to watch her cry and plead and bare her soul to him. I wanted to feel the flood of emotions, to hover over that desolate sea of reconciliation, to witness love rekindled and forgiveness given generously. I wanted to hear all of the things that Daedalus tried to say to me, but could not because I am not his wife. It was now up to his “Firefly” and the universe to determine what would come next.

Another shudder of wood signaled our need to vacate. Hotaru would handle things just fine from here. As for me, I need to take another dose of elixir before my imbalanced pH disturbed and shorted the leftover effects, leaving my body to start showing its true age. Oh no-no-no, there would be time to whither and sleep once I got home. For the time being, I needed all of my energy for “thanking” Rumael.

Mission complete: it was time for an uninterrupted circus of flesh with my dear attendant.

“A man will never fully bow to a woman, so you must take advantage of his senses. While the ego does not allow for him to be subordinate to you, the strength of human desire is immeasurably useful. Tame the ego, offer the illusion of authority before stripping it from him, and expose the criminal for what he truly is. It is just like being physically naked, but worse in a lot of ways because they cannot put their hands on the feeling in order to heal it. This is your greatest advantage because YOU have created the wound, so YOU are the only one who can heal it.”—Safir Mujata Kambi: Tantrum and Torture Methodology
“You must understand something about my master. There is a rumor that she is attempting to create the ‘elixir of eternal life.’ Let it be known: the old Taoists who perverted their own teachings left many secret recipes to their descendants who eventually came to realize that their predecessors were chasing a dragon. Eternal life is a selfish motive for doing ANYTHING within the fields of health or medicine. Zephyria has obtained knowledge that led her to a revelation concerning the aging process and internal health. She has formulated several elixirs that allow her to monitor and guide her body’s health without the aid of medical machines. The ingredients for each elixir are known substances recognized as ‘edible and not harmful to the consumer or the environment of the consumer’ by a multitude of international food and drug authorities. Please do not smear my master’s name without having just cause or the fangs to defend your position. Thank you.” —Rumael the Revealer

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