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Title: Rhinestone Kitten
(Two in the Magical Pearls Series, Master Willow-Verse)
Author: psimetis
E-mail: psimetis@yahoo.com
Spoilers: Season 3
Rating: HARD Leather Smack Blood Fuck Ow (HARD Over-18, ADULTS ONLY)
Pairing: Vamp Willow/Tara
Characters: Master Willow, Tara-Kitten, the usual Sunnydale players plus Elise and Heloise, original characters from the Master Willow series
Disclaimer: All characters of BtVS and its universe are all rights and owned by Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon. This is a fan to fan appreciative effort made for absolutely no profit.

Summary: Alt Season 3: Master Willow and Tara-Kitten embark on three interesting quests to gather a cure for a poisoned Buffy. This is quest two, Fetish Circus. LEATHER SADIST SCENE, Freaks, HARD BDSM, Dom/sub, Profanity

Warnings: Circus Dungeon, Midnight Cowgirl (Wicked) Kitten, Willow Orphan-Fuck Slave, Strap Use, Spur Use, PIERCING KINK, Ice Cube Kink, Sling Sex, Electric Rodeo Kitten, Electric Light Dildo Orchestra

Timeline: After the events of Master Willow: Master Willow (Book Two)

Author’s Note: The ‘goddess’ in this story is based on a mythical entity, and not on any accepted goddess-type. I am not a Leather person myself, nor have I ever been in the Scene or in the Life, so I hope I do the subject matter some kind of justice from the fantasy/fantastic point of view. I think this is also my first time writing pretty ouchy hardcore. :O PLEASE take the warnings into consideration. I did no continuity/backstory summary for this story, so please read ‘Tara of the Sea’ first if you haven’t already done so. This starts right where the last story lets off. Enjoy! (finished: 9.01.05)

Author's additional Note: I wrote this post surgery, and in quite a lot of pain. I think it shows. :P I doubt such a story would have happened otherwise! Thanks for reading!


RHINESTONE KITTEN

When Tara returned with Willow from Rio de Janeiro, she found that back in Sunnydale, the Family members had already laid out the details of their next quest for them.

Anya opened her mouth to explain.

“You’re going to L.A.!” Cordelia interjected from behind Anya. They were in the entertainment room of Willow’s mansion, the tall brunette lounging on the leather sofa. “Now how exotic is that? At least it’s not Bakersfield. You’re attending a ‘fetish ball’,” she air quoted. “It looked more like a fetish circus to me. For the very freaky pervert. Perfect for you, Willow.”

“Yes, freaky,” Anya agreed. “The party itself is not your target, it’s really in the dungeons where--”

“I mean, look at this dvd Anya scored from one of the insiders,” Cordelia interrupted again. “It’s absolutely disgusting!” She worked the remote for the big entertainment screen. Painfully disturbing activity played out in huge, close-view digital. “How much of Willow’s money did you spend getting this, Anya?”

“Huh,” was Willow’s only comment, as she threw herself on the couch beside Cordy. She watched the dvd with interest. On screen was shadowy action between dominant and submissive figures in a uniquely sadomasochistic setting. The room was conscientiously designed for optimum display of the activity. The leather net sling particularly caught the eye. Willow pointed. “Is this the goddess’s viewing arena?”

“Bingo,” Anya pointed back. “Performances for She Who Should Not Be Gazed Upon are held right in that play area. It’s proper name is the ‘Supplication Chamber’.”

“Huh,” Willow said again, leaning forward to watch the play action more closely.

“That dominatrix in the spiky two piece has the most amazing hair and makeup job,” Cordy commented, pointing.

“Yes, and look at those heels,” Anya added, also pointing.

“She has decent whipping technique,” Willow dismissed.

“Kitten,” Willow finally addressed, eyes glued to the big screen. “What do you th--”

The vampire noticed that Tara had already left the room.


‘The Zen of S/M’

Sadomasochism was just not her scene.

Tara had been to clubs themed for this before. A kitten couldn’t be in a relationship with Willow and not go to at least a few of these S/M things. For human clubs they switched; Willow loved being the submissive in such settings. Among oblivious humans, she was a master vampire guaranteed easy anonymity. If they engaged in play, Tara insisted that it had to be in a private room--no walk-ins, no audiences, no peephole voyeurs. She liked the reassurance that the entire situation could be safe. Only then could she let out her dark self.

Tara watched the dvd later that night, keeping the volume low. She knew they didn’t have much time, that Buffy’s fate was hanging on every minute spent procuring the magical elements for her cure. She watched intently, realizing that this party was unlike anything yet that Willow had brought her to. Cordelia had not been entirely unkind by describing the attendees as freaks. Some of the individuals caught by the camera definitely were. They were human individuals, no demons were present. These people were more than just the fringes of society, they were the Outer Limits.

And the setting left no doubt that this was hardly a snooty fetish show or ‘conventional’ leather S/M club, with recognizable daddies and dominatrixes. The element of the truly grotesque was present.

Tara carefully watched the action that took place within the goddess’s private viewing arena, and imagined herself in that chamber.

At one point, Willow silently joined her in the entertainment room, having left her sanctum to look for her Kitten.

“It’s very intense,” Tara finally said.

Willow nodded. “These are very serious supplicants,” she observed. “It’s not simply sex.” The vampire took an unneeded breath. “Kitten, you know I’ll be the submissive one.”

Tara smiled briefly, taking the vampire’s hand.

“I also know you’re not an exhibitionist,” Willow continued softly. “You’re very private when it comes to things like this. If you don’t want to go, just say so. I can take the Little Thing.”

“Elise? You don’t love her,” Tara gently countered. “I think you’ve grown just a little fond...sort of. But I doubt that’ll work for this goddess.” She nodded at the screen and the action there. “The ones who I think...succeed? Are the most honest. It’s almost like you can tell who achieves...and who fails.

“I don’t like having sex in front of strangers, Will, especially when it’ll be this kind. It makes things...different,” Tara admitted. “But why should I protect myself when it’s Buffy’s life on the line,” she then sighed.

“No need to be so serious, Kitten,” Willow tried to comfort. “It’s sex. It can be intense, but it should still be fun. Let’s just have fun.”

Tara looked at Willow soberly.

“I don’t think I can hold back for something like this, Will,” she solemnly gave.

Willow looked at her curiously.

“I’ll have to become something different, to get us...” Tara nodded at the screen. “To get us to that.”

“Oh,” Willow merely said. She was getting an inkling of what Kitten was talking about. She was talking about her inner Dark Tara.

“And you can’t hold back either,” Tara added. “You know?” She picked up the cool hand she held, emphasizing with a comforting touch. “This is an all the way kind of thing, Will.”

“Oh,” Willow whispered, finally realizing what her witch was really worried about. The prospect of being the submissive during this next quest didn’t seem as fun now.

Willow wondered if she could handle being rendered fully vulnerable for this public supplication. They couldn’t score the pearl for the Slayer if her witch didn’t work her vampire until she was reduced to...that.

They watched the activity on the screen, deep in their own thoughts. Willow had to admit, the first time she’d viewed the dvd it had been with a jaded eye. She’d participated in countless scenes like this. Even when appearing to be ‘without’ control, she’d always been in control. Real torture was another matter, and frankly, when she had been tortured, even then she could say that no one really broke her...

As Willow watched the screen, she recognized what her witch was seeing. Done right, the supplication could be...

It could be something a person or vampire might not exactly want anyone to see, much less a faceless, so-called deity.

“In every act, a ritual can be found. Steps followed towards a becoming, or a realization...or even ecstasy. In every physical expression, a meaning can be found...or just no meaning,” she heard her Kitten ponder out loud.

“Yes,” Willow agreed.

She noticed her Kitten nervously swallow.

“I think I’m going to puke,” Tara stated.


‘Kitten in Leatherland’

The mansion was decrepit, situated appropriately, near the Pacific ocean on a high, precarious cliffside. It had the very air of risk and danger. On the winding drive up in their rented limo, Willow had idly pointed out the sound of crashing shore breaks beneath them and mentioned sea caves.

Birth chambers of goddesses or the harbor of monsters, Tara had thought, watching the wave of palm trees in the nighttime dark.

For this mission, they’d brought Elise along. What Tara planned to do to Willow required an assistant, and the witch had preferred--in this ‘party’ situation, with Willow otherwise in bondage and preoccupied--to have someone she could trust while she was also occupied. The little minion sat across from them in the limo, dutifully keeping watch over their ominous, black doctor’s bag. Once their car came to a slow stop before the mansion portico, Elise disembarked first, flitting gracefully from the car door like the little, snow white fairy she was more or less dressed up as. Tara preferred to refer to the minion’s outfit as ‘Starchild-like,’ so Willow had drawn a perfect five point, silver star around Elise’s left eye. The black haired minion stood poised on the mansion driveway and went to the tips of her ballet shoes, the doctor’s bag in her hands. She glanced gracefully to the open car door.

She made a pretty little herald for their entrance, as was the plan. Already the goddess’s roaming, human cameras who were present outside the mansion’s entrance had noticed them. Men and women wearing digital video recorders and lights strapped over one eye turned their faces to watch the parked car. Tara briefly wondered what they might expect to emerge, thanks to Elise’s presence...A Circe-like woman, perhaps? Maybe a Morgan Le Fay? Or even Glinda of Oz? Tara couldn’t help the huge lopsided grin that broke on her face, and Willow looked at her curiously. Seeing herself dressed up as Glinda, Good Witch of the North for what they were about to enter was just too funny. Especially if she had the wand and did the voice.

“You’re almost my Dorothy. We shoulda brought Toto,” Tara remarked to her vampire, knowing Willow would not have a clue as to what she was talking about. The smile faded from Tara’s face as she took up the length of chain that was attached to Willow’s slim, steel collar. They were going for hardcore for this appearance, and Tara had dressed to act that part. She placed a black, steel toed, cowgirl boot firmly on the gravel of the driveway’s surface, the sharp, steel spur glinting. The engraved metal matched Willow’s collar.

As she stepped slowly out of the limo, cameras recorded the debut appearance of the young woman wearing a black, cowgirl’s hat on her golden head and a fringed, suede coat of even darker gold. Midnight, black leather cut in the style of jeans made her rugged and tall. She casually led her slave out by her chain.

Back home in Sunnydale, Willow had assumed Tara would want the vampire to dress like she always did when Kitten topped her in public; in her little Willow Leather Daddy outfit. It was made up of motorcycle boots, leather chaps (with her cute ass cheeks hanging out), the pretty little, custom chest harness Kitten had special ordered for her vampire, and her little leather motorcycle cap. It was a classic, queer look, and Kitten adored her in it. But Kitten had surprised her this time by telling her not to pack those clothes.

“But...leather convention?” Willow had queried, already sad that she wasn’t going to have the chance to be a leather daddy at this particular party.

“I want you as vulnerable as you can be,” Tara had merely answered.

“You want me to arrive nekkid?” Willow had cheekily asked.

Tara had refused even that prospect. Vampires were very comfortable in their own undead skin, her witch had wryly pointed out. Nudity hardly humiliated them, it just made them cheekier.

Willow’s bare feet touched the gravel of the driveway as she exited the car. Each pale ankle had a slender, steel anklet with a ring. Her wrists were delicately cuffed with steel as well. Their rings were clipped through an O ring placed at the vampire’s arm length along her leash chain. If she held her wrists to herself, there was still ample line for Tara to lead her. Her slim, pale body showed off the thin, sleeveless summer dress she wore. It was one of Elise’s worn, waify dresses.

It made her look innocent, accessible, and unprotected. It made her look like the pathetic, orphaned ‘little thing’ Willow always liked to address the minion by.

Her Tara had chosen exactly what Willow would feel self-conscious and uncomfortable in.


‘Tara Got Your Gun’

Like in Rio, they did not need an invitation to this party, they were merely accepted without question into this goddess’s home. And thanks to the bootleg dvd Anya had obtained, Tara knew what to expect. She, Willow, and Elise walked directly through the shadowed, velvety foyer for the double doors of the ballroom proper. Tara glanced back only once to see if Willow was behaving. There was nothing about her vampire’s humble body language that looked insincere. Thankfully, the talk back home had emphasized to the master vampire how Tara wanted this to go.

“No disobedience. No independent thinking. No speaking unless spoken to. You’re just a little girl, and you’re mine. You do everything I say,” Tara had ordered her.

“Yes Tara,” Willow had answered meekly, and the witch could tell that her lover meant her acquiescence.

At the time of their conversation, Tara had to forcefully set aside the horrified realization that she’d sounded very much like her own father. It only proved that the young witch was indeed personally familiar with how domination could be meted out.

Tara slung the chain leash over her shoulder, a move which would keep Willow’s wrists up, emphasizing to everyone her bondage. When she’d glanced back at Willow she’d noticed the two human cameras following closely behind.

She mentally sighed. Time to get this carny show on the road then. She faced the double ballroom doors. Upon its surface, a huge, naively painted visage of a snake haired gorgon stuck her wiggly tongue out at Tara.

The gorgon’s visage split, and Elise entered first, stepping delicately with a ballerina’s training. A hypnotic, Goth house beat pulsed on their senses. There was a dance space. There was a bar. There were hanging cages, whipping posts, and swings. There were places to sit, straddle, mount, and ride. There was laughter, even amid the cries of pain and pleasure. And everywhere there were the human cameras, attentively recording the people exercising sexual power and filming the ones who needed to be powerless. Tara saw Siamese twins in full, head to toe leather, their customized outfit stretching across a shared torso. She passed a bald man, face and naked body completely illustrated with lurid, bright tattoos, just as he swallowed a live mouse. She caught the misshapen eye of a once beautiful woman, her face rearranged as if from a car crash.

Jigsaw Woman, Tara thought, nodding briefly at the disfigured female dominant. The woman went back to working the groveling submissive beneath her latex gloved hands.

Tara saw a reason for the cameras, voyeuristic as they were. Their attention empowered these outsiders.

And by all outward appearances, Tara, Willow, and Elise did not fit into this scene. The blonde beneath the black cowgirl hat could sense the resentful stares. Since the other participants were all human, they could not know: She was not just some ‘normal’ girl playing dyke cowboy, but a witch, and her slave was not a meek, little girl in chains but a true monster--a vampire. Tara would not be surprised that if such a fact were commonly known, the freaks would consider them freakier.

One of the human cameras stood suddenly before Tara, a silent messenger of sorts. The one eyed man merely pointed to an opulent, beaded curtain to the side of the ballroom area. Obviously it led to the areas down below.

Tara did not mask her sigh. She simply stood, not bothering to check if her leashed Willow was okay behind her, and assessed how she herself felt at the moment. Definitely inadequate.

“Not now,” Tara told the camera face. She changed direction and headed directly for the bar. There was a tug on the chain she held over her shoulder from Willow reacting a microsecond too slow to Tara’s abrupt change. Elise skipped to catch up with Tara as well.

Before Tara approached the bar top, she casually tossed up Willow’s chain end to one of the dancers whose cage hung over a little sunken play area. The dancer, noticing the gift, immediately picked up the chain and began reeling Willow in. The vampire had to step into the play area, her slender, protesting arms slowly rising above her head. She looked desperately to Tara, but her cowgirl witch had a stirruped boot up on the foot railing and her fringed elbows laid on the studded, leather bar top. Nothing could be seen of Tara’s profile beneath her black hat except for the sulky, pouty line her mouth made.

“Whisky,” she ordered the bartender who approached her. “And don’t be stingy.”

“Tex-sasss,” someone drawled to her side.

“Get lost,” Tara bit out. She stood at the bar, the very picture of surly, black hatted cowgirl, and pouted.

Meanwhile Elise balanced in her ballet shoes at the edge of the play pit, trying to assess if Master was all right. The dancer above, using the cage bars as leverage, forced Willow to rise to her tiptoes. After watching Master struggle for a bit, looking very unhappy (which would therefore preclude a Master tantrum), the minion decided she should check on her Mistress instead.

“Rodeo Queen,” someone with a smooth and silky voice addressed Tara. “How about sharing your little gir--”

“No,” Tara replied curtly. Her drink finally arrived. Before her lips could touch it, Elise squealed beside her.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea!” the minion exclaimed, deftly extracting the shot glass from her mistress’s slow, human fingers with easy, vampiric swiftness. God, Tara hated when the vampires did that.

“I need that,” Tara growled. She only planned to have the one, dammit. She reached around Elise for the glass the minion had set aside. The naked Illustrated Man (who appeared conveniently at the bar at just that moment), eagerly grabbed the glass before she could and downed the shot.

“Oh! Oh fine, sure!! That goes great with ‘mouse’,” Tara snarled in indignation. She couldn’t believe this guy stole her drink. She motioned impatiently for another.

“Why are you drinking now?” Elise asked her plaintively, trying to catch her Mistress’s eyes. “You said that to do this, you had to concentrate.”

“I’m not turned on,” Tara muttered under her breath to the young vampire.

“What?”

“You can hear me!” Tara hissed. “I’m...I’m depressed. I’m not interested in, um...stuff, right now.”

With a worried frown, Elise glanced back at her still struggling, hung up Master and then back to her Mistress. “Does Master...looking like that, not turn you on?”

Tara glanced back to where Willow was now trying to kick away two Little People (midgets), who had dropped into the play area to harass her. While her vampire was trying to kick away one little person, the other pulled her skirt up, revealing her pantyless privates.

“No, I just think that’s funny,” Tara guffawed. Her second drink arrived, but to her amazement and frustration, the Illustrated Man grabbed that quickly too and downed it.

“Here,” Elise said, pulling something from the black doctor’s bag. “Master said to have you drink this if you uh--if you needed it.” She picked up the emptied whiskey glass and poured the contents of an uncapped test tube into it. The shot glass began to smoke, the puffs rolling down the sides and onto the countertop.

“Are you--are you trying to make me drink dry ice?” Tara asked incredulously.

“No!! No! It’s...well, it’s something Master made for you! Especially! Please try it,” Elise encouraged, pushing the glass to her Mistress.

Tara noticed the Illustrated Man eyeing her smoking glass. It was probably the only motivation for her to down the shot before he could make a grab for it. Tara swiftly tossed the drink back.

Fire hit her throat, chest, and belly. Tara gave a ‘wooooo’ of an exhale, then smacked the glass back down on the bar top. She wiped her mouth. She stuck a thumb into her leather belt and snorted. She looked down, and then to the side, her black hat accentuating her motions. She squinted.

“Hm. Yeah,” she muttered to herself. Thoughtfully, she straightened, cocking her hips. She pursed her full lips. “Hm. Yeah,” she repeated, shifting her hips again.

Elise watched her with big, expectant, blue eyes, nodding with each of Mistress’s noises. Mistress finally swiveled on a stirruped boot and strutted down to where Master was being tormented.

At Tara’s cowgirl strut approach, the dancer lowered Willow’s painfully stretched arms at last and tossed the end of the chain down to the witch. The little people skedaddled, but not before successfully bunching up Willow’s dress so that her bare buttocks and freshly shaven, pale pussy could be displayed for everyone to see. With the chain now in Tara’s hand, Willow merely stood, trembling slightly, her entirely unhappy face sporting twin, tiny marks of redness on the pale cheeks. The vampire was doing the undead’s version of a full on, angry blush.

Tara stared at this rare, facial occurrence--especially on Willow’s face. It only meant that her vampire was truly upset.

“Hey, you,” Tara called out to a midget who didn’t run too far away. Curious, the small person came back to where Tara stood beckoning. When he was within arm’s reach, the witch gave him a sharp smack to his head.

The midget spun a bit then fell over violently. Willow and Elise shared twin expressions of shock on their faces.

Tara pushed her black hat back, leaned over, and captured her vampire’s slack mouth in a hungry kiss. Once she ended it, she pulled the brim back down again with a smile.

“You through showing everyone your goodies?” she asked Willow. Wrist cuffs clinking, Willow hastily pushed her sun dress back down again. Tara threw a fringed, suede arm around her vampire’s slim shoulders and brushed her lips against her forehead.

“You’re a good girl,” she murmured in praise against Willow’s red hair, knowing only the vampire could hear. She wanted Willow to know that she recognized what an effort it had been for her to keep quiet while she was being played with. Willow was very vocal, words could often be a weapon with her, but she had surprisingly maintained her quiet because Tara had ordered her to. By taking away the vampire’s ability with words, Tara had taken away one more source of self-confidence away from her lover.

The witch gripped Willow’s shoulders in a one armed, good-natured shake. It was inadequate reassurance--rather stupid looking really--but Tara blamed the silly gesture on the fire still burning in her gut. “Now let’s get you fucked,” Tara stated cheerfully, and gave the camera face pointed in their direction a big, winning smile.


‘Rough Rider: Tamin’ Willow-Filly’

Willow’s sneaky, smokey concoction had been an aphrodisiac. It had no effect on Tara’s mental capabilities, nor did it boost her courage any. It only made her randy. If she wanted to walk right out the ballroom doors she’d entered earlier and never look back, she still could. Instead, she followed the human camera to her certain doom.

Tara led Willow to the beaded entrance, feeling a little surly again about the options she still had and what she still decided to go through with. Public sex, at least, was easier than killing Kakistos or the Master. Sort of. She just may or may not like herself later for the things she was about to do to Willow. That was all.

She glanced back at her lover, led on her slender chain, and saw that the upset of earlier was now replaced with big, green eyed excitement. That’s my girl, such a horndog, Tara thought. Though they both knew exactly where they were going, Willow did not know exactly what Tara planned to do to her once they were in the goddess’s Supplication Chamber. Such wholehearted trust from the vampire could make Tara’s own heart break.

Beads hit the brim of Tara’s black hat as she entered the curtain and the dark, velvety space beyond the barrier. She noticed that the strands hitting her jacket front and shoulders were strung with real, natural pearls. Being the polite person she was at heart, she forgot her surly attitude and moved an arm behind herself in order to hold the curtain back for Willow and Elise. When Willow passed through, Tara no longer walked ahead and led her slave by the chain leash. She placed her arm comfortingly around her vampire’s shoulders.

As one, they walked the length of the shadowy, barely lit hall together. Gold framed paintings were hung along the walls they passed, and Tara had to fight her natural curiosity to stop and look. This was no time to play museum visitor. Interestingly enough however, from the corner of her eye she thought she saw the demure, female figures of the paintings metamorphize into that of evil, beautiful women as she and Willow passed, much like creepy paintings would in a haunted mansion. She couldn’t quite be certain, but there seemed to be an ongoing theme with really wild, evil hair. Tara resolved to ask Willow about it later--she hoped since the vampire had better eyesight, Willow would have at least bothered to look.

As they neared the end of the hall, the light beam from one of the human cameras illuminated the iron latticework of the lift ahead.

Descent into darkness; how apt that the open cage elevator still registered the echoing sounds of people in agony--good or bad agony, Tara could not tell. After a while, in places like these, such sounds seemed the same. Such was the nature of dark sex.

She took that moment to hug Willow close to her in the shadowy dark and take private comfort and pleasure in the embrace.

“You’ve been a really good girl for me. You going to be a good girl for me some more?” Tara murmured into Willow’s hair.

“Yes Tara,” Willow whispered back immediately.

The lift came to a crunching stop. The gate rattled open and Elise flitted ahead. The hall was plain, solid concrete, like a bunker. Its total blankness seemed to strip the air of self-identity and extraneous thought. Tara realized she no longer caught the sounds of the mansion above. As she walked with the bravado of a cowgirl’s laconic grace down to the single door, her barefoot Willow beneath an arm and the chain leash held in the other hand, the only sound heard was of her steel spurs’ deliberate jangle.

They entered the barely lit room. In the center was the studded, leather net sling, its four hung corners spread wide. It was the only object illuminated in the room. Beneath the laid out netting was a bracing block--curved like a gentle bridge. Near it, in the shadows, a small, covered table could be seen. Close by, a human camera was helpfully stationed at a standing control panel. Around the room stood four more of the human cameras.

Tara stepped in a slow tour around the room with Willow tucked in against her, her face and thoughts obscured by her black hat. Every step she took, her stirrups rang pensively. She knew Willow would especially eye the covered contents of the table, wondering what Tara could have possibly requested to have placed there. Elise waited beside it with the black doctor’s bag already opened. When they reached the control panel, the human camera standing behind it helpfully demonstrated its use.

Tara watched the sling respond to the panel’s commands.

“Lower it,” she finally said. She walked over to the front of the sling with Willow.

Her vampire slave was trying not to look it, but she was brimming with excitement. Tara knew that the only way she could pull this off was to focus on the fact that everything she’ll do to Willow in this room would be all for her. Screw Buffy and her ‘I’ve been poisoned’ issues--the single thing that mattered to Tara right at that moment narrowed to one person.

She took hold of Willow’s chin and kissed her mouth vehemently.

“Who’s my girl?” Tara asked softly, her blue eyes dark and fathomless beneath her black brim.

“I’m your girl,” Willow answered promptly.

Tara shoved Willow hard towards the sling.

The vampire’s hands smacked down on the block to stop herself from falling over. She felt Tara come from behind and grab her dress in two, tight fists. Tara loudly ripped the material apart.

At the feel of fabric ripping, Willow stifled a shriek. The violence and adrenaline within the room spiked to a giddy level. She felt Tara rip at her dress again, exposing her back to the waist, then heard the deliberate pop of something unsnapping.

There was a smooth click, oily and sleek, and then--

Willow felt what undoubtedly was the steel point of a very sharp knife slice down the rest of her dress. The point nearly nicked her in the crack of her trembling ass. She felt a shove at her back again.

“Up, on your knees,” Tara simply ordered. Willow immediately clamored onto the net covered block, keeping herself on her hands and knees. The cut dress that fell about her arms and legs didn’t help much, nor did her shackled wrists, but when she felt a firm hand slap her bare butt and remain there, she froze.

Tara pushed Willow’s knees apart and then slipped fingers inside her. Willow swallowed her responsive moan.

“This act of love and pain is given to the Goddess,” she heard Tara announce, her witch consecrating with words what was to follow next. “This is light in the dark.”

Willow felt the abrupt shock of ice water thrown on her back.

Tara braced her hand as Willow yelled and reared back, the vampire’s pale skin drenched in ice cold water. Ice cubes fell noisily to the concrete floor. Tara quickly handed the large glass back to Elise and took her whip from her.

Grasping the personally designed tool firmly in her right hand, she immediately laid into Willow’s exposed skin. With each crack on flesh, she provoked cry after startled cry from Willow. Whipping looked best when Tara could get the bright water droplets to spring up and dance with every bite of leather into wet skin. Her mouth set in concentration, she worked to keep her fingers inside Willow and to make a beautiful show of laying her mark down.

She liked to use a strip of leather that was long and thin. She wasn’t into the whole, ‘throw your arm back and whale at your demon lover’. Breaking the skin was also of no interest to her. That was a kind of sadistic power display Tara could never quite get her heart into. So she had made her own braided, thin (and magically reinforced), leather strip--barely visible in action, but entirely effective in delivering searing pain. She had knotted it thrice near the flicking end to weigh it. Wield right, it bit like a snake and Willow often could never see it coming. Tara twirled for speed and snapped from the elbow--it laid a long, thin welt down that admittedly had an aesthetic look on Willow’s pale body when she worked up a pattern. If her horndog, masochist lover needed her kinky beating, at least the witch could give her something to admire on her skin for later. After all the half hearted attempts with conventional whips, Tara was satisfied with the tool and technique she’d finally developed. Meting out a whipping the way she preferred to meant she could stay nice, close, and intimate with Willow’s body.

With her left fingers still buried inside Willow and her right arm raised, Tara snapped her tool down almost casually, cutting a long welt along Willow’s right buttock. Each move of her arm was accentuated by the following snap and sensual wave of her sleeve’s fringes. She wore the suede coat specifically for that and for another reason.

Tara put the whip handle in her mouth. There was an asymmetrical pattern of criss crossing welts along Willow’s shivering back and butt now and Tara decided to leave it at that. Willow’s arousal was already pruning her left hand.

She reached across Willow’s body, deliberately letting the suede fringes of her jacket caress all the hot welts. She tapped her vampire’s head and then withdrew her arm, again dragging those fringes along the sensitive, trembling skin. Willow immediately obeyed the silent communication, dropping down to her forearms and letting her ass rise into the air. There it was, that little puckered entrance Tara needed access to. She had to admit, she was secretly very pleased that Willow could be so obedient and responsive now whenever they played.

“Gift,” Tara then requested through clenched teeth. She was biting on her whip handle like it were a cigar. Elise knew what she was requesting, they’d worked out all the particulars long before coming to this mansion. The minion placed the gift needed in her Mistress’s demanding, right hand.

Thankfully, Elise had discreetly lubed the object beforehand. Tara held the non-lubed end and worked the object into Willow’s willing anus. A no-nonsense insertion got it in quick. Her vampire appropriately whimpered and groveled at the intrusion. The vampire’s cunt clenched and the witch felt the familiar squeeze of powerful, inner muscles on her fingers. Her left hand was now too drenched for words.

Tara curled her fingers against the squeeze, knowing her randy, little slave would react by raising her ass higher. Unknown to Willow, the vampire was making it easier for the twinkling top of her new anal toy to be seen.

The human cameras clustered closer for a very studious look at the bright, light stick pushed into Willow’s ass and the celebratory, flashing, plastic, spike ball topping it. Tara retrieved an equally festive, flashing lights bracelet from Elise and slipped that on to Willow’s right ankle. The LED lights twinkled merrily. She unexpectedly pulled her fingers from Willow’s pussy, plucked the whip from her mouth and then delivered a resounding crack to the vampire’s left butt cheek.

Willow screeched in pain and surprise. Tara took snide pleasure in the fact that the human cameras were startled into stepping back at her sudden move. She slipped another sparkling, light-up bracelet on to Willow’s left ankle.

“Your first present,” she declared, smacking Willow’s behind in emphasis. Willow shuddered from the abrupt contact on her whip marks. Tara then pulled a red, paisley bandana from a back pocket and pensively wiped off her Willow-drenched hand. Beneath her black hat, no one could see what she was thinking, and her full lips were set in a near surly line. She took the bandana and began wiping down Willow’s inner thighs. Then she wiped between the vampire’s legs, causing Willow to jerk. Using her fingers, Tara poked the bandana into Willow’s pussy.

The human cameras moved in for a closer inspection of this interesting use of a handkerchief. If anyone wondered why the cowgirl had slowed up the play action and was now preoccupied with giving her docile vampire a bright, red, pussy flag, no one was motivated to ask. Elise attentively watched with unblinking, round eyes and knew; her Mistress was preparing her mind for what was to come next.

“Lay down,” Tara ordered suddenly, in a tone that broached no disobedience. Willow quickly moved to stretch out-- again maneuvering with difficulty due to her cuffed wrists and the new toy inside of her. As soon as the vampire was laid fully on her stomach, her arms and legs outstretched, Tara stepped back.

In a blur of motion, the witch stepped swiftly forward and viciously kicked the support block out from under her vampire. She sent it skidding across the room.


‘Rough Rider: Ownin’ That Filly’

Feeling the abrupt absence of support beneath her, Willow realized that if her torn dress hadn’t been in the way, her nipples would have gone painfully missing when the block skidded away. Her body hung heavily in the net now, looking very much like an easy catch of helpless, fuckable prey.

“Secure it down!” she heard Tara snap out--not at her, but possibly at the Little Thing, or even at the human cameras. The hanging web was held taut to the floor by chains, but her witch apparently needed to make double certain it would not move.

A little bit of scrambling could be heard to accommodate Kitten’s command. Then the leather beneath Willow creaked and drew tight. She felt someone step up and mount the sling edge behind her. The weight imbalance rocked the entire contraption slightly.

Willow trembled, realizing that Tara now stood above her.

An unforgiving, flat heeled boot stepped down upon the back of one of her thighs. A second, heavy boot then claimed her other thigh. Willow tensed up against the sharp pain. Kitten began to walk on her.

With every casual step of Tara’s boots upon her body, Willow felt like crushed bug about to be strained through leather straps. She bit back gasp after protesting gasp, some unfortunately escaping her lips as the pressure of Tara’s weight on certain parts of her became too much. If Willow were a breather, she’d have nothing left in her lungs.

Tara walked the length of Willow’s marked back from her butt to her shoulders, jaunty and uncaring. She walked like a woman conquering a rope bridge (which happened to have a moaning, Willow body strewn in the way). The witch’s outstretched arms moved with easy grace from support chain to support chain. On her return trip, she stopped at the small of Willow’s back, knowing secretly that it was the least painful place she could stand upon. But that wasn’t the reason why Tara stopped there. Supported by the sling’s chains, she swung around to face Willow’s prone body.

“Who’s my girl?” she asked almost off handedly, her right boot slowly sliding along Willow’s back towards her neck.

Willow unclenched her teeth.

“I’m your girl,” she gasped quickly.

Willow felt the sharp bite of a spur at the base of her neck, and realized that Kitten was lightly digging her heel into her.

The vampire barely had time to register the searing pain. The spur cut its lightning way straight down her back.

Tara saw blood well up in a streak down Willow’s white skin. With her leg kicked up behind her, she could hear her spur’s violent spin. She had filed the steel teeth so sharp there could be no danger of the spur catching and ripping her lover’s skin ragged. Back home, Tara had tried it first on leather hide and then on herself, just to make sure.

Their sex play had finally moved into the expected realm the hidden, watchful goddess would appreciate: Cruelty.

Tara stepped backwards. She casually hopped down from the sling that held her agonized vampire and then moved to the table. Before Elise could respond, Tara grabbed the filled ice water glass and flung the contents on to Willow’s back.

This time the vampire did not suppress her shocked scream. The color red mingled with clear, cleansing water. They ran entwined in rapid patterns along her skin. Ice cubes that had not fallen away glistened like precious stones on her body. The human cameras maneuvered in, tracing this interesting masterpiece.

Tara spent her moment of reprieve from the cameras to stare pensively down at the metal tips of her boots. She communed silently with the sexual darkness awakened within her.

She placed no value in cruelty, but Willow did. Tara knew that this rare assertion of violent domination from her would be something the vampire would secretly cherish, always.

Tara finally raised her head, the black brim only partially revealing the resolve that was now the blue steel of her eyes. It was a steel that pushed away a personal fear she intended to deal with at another time. Dad had been cruel. In her brother Donnie, it was a parent’s legacy. Irrational as it now was, there was a part of Tara that still feared the ‘inner demon’ Dad had so insisted she had.

She walked over to Elise’s table and picked up a few items her helpful minion had already laid out. She then returned to where Willow lay, shivering and moaning. The human cameras deftly removed themselves in the witch’s determined wake. Tara reached over, suede fringes again trailing along Willow’s wet body, and took firm hold of her vampire’s hair.

Slowly, she pulled up.

Willow felt the painful, unforgiving grip at the back of her head and realized she was now meant to get up. As Tara slowly forced her to rise, Willow’s cuffed hands scrambled blindly to the side of the sling, using the leather straps to help pull herself up.

“Up,” she heard Tara coax, and though the delivery was matter of fact, the underlying gentleness of the tone made Willow’s undead heart swell. Kitten was the only one who could hurt her body and still take care of her. Even now, with her abused flesh so cold and with such a painful grip on her hair, Willow never doubted that comfort, warmth, and love were hers to have, always, from Kitten. Unconditionally.

“I l-love you, I love you,” Willow softly chanted, as Tara finally forced her to rise to her knees.

“Shhhhh, sweetheart. You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Tara admonished in a rough whisper. Her hold on the back of Willow’s head was the only thing preventing the vampire from falling back down. She reached around, pried Willow’s fingers from the leather netting they were entangled in, and pressed her ring to the lock on the joined manacles. The large, masculine ring had a coded chip keyed to Willow’s steel restraints and collar. It was the only key that could release Willow from her slave-wear.

Willow’s wrist cuffs clicked apart and fell away from their leading chain. Tara helped one slender, trembling hand to the opposite side of the sling. As she did so, she slipped a sparkly, flashing lights bracelet on to the docile, shackled wrist. Willow obediently wrapped fingers into the leather netting Tara guided her to. The witch then worked another pretty lights bracelet on to Willow’s opposing wrist.

Poor, shivering vampire, Tara couldn’t help but think. So cold. With Willow now able to support herself, Tara grabbed her red hair again, forcing her head back. The move exposed Willow’s steel collared neck and arched her body provocatively. The remains of her ruined dress was still in the way, so Tara reached behind herself for the knife holder clipped to her belt.

Willow heard that familiar pop of a snap coming undone again. Now she knew what that pop was--the snap cover of a leather sheath for a knife. An oily click sounded once more and bright steel brandished in her view: a lock handle hunting knife.

Willow’s excitement level spiked again, and for the moment she forgot she was cold. She expected the blade to go for her throat. At least a light cut, which would have been her choice of play were she the one holding that wicked, big knife. Instead, her witch went for the dress, the sharp blade cutting away what still hung from her body. With just the one hand, Kitten folded the hunting knife shut before Willow’s enrapt gaze.

As Tara put the knife away in its sheath--both brand new and recently purchased--she also put away the sobering observation of how the men and boys where she’d come from liked to wear such weapons.

Still keeping a grip on the vampire’s head, Tara took hold of the fallen dress material. Thoughtfully, she ran it along the length of Willow’s body as she removed it. Willow shuddered in response to the fabric’s pensive caress. Just for a moment, the witch’s attentions seemed precious. She threw the ruined clothing away.

“Gift,” Tara suddenly demanded. Elise responded promptly. Like a dance thoroughly memorized before the debut performance, Elise knew exactly what Mistress wanted and when. The minion activated the special bondage toy prepared for this part of the play and placed it in Mistress’s hand.

Before continuing, the witch impulsively placed her head close to the vampire’s. She ran her nose and cheek along the side of Willow’s face, taking comfort in intimate scent and feel. She hadn’t meant to indulge herself--she was playing at remote, sadistic bitch after all-- but Willow’s beautiful submissiveness was finally turning her on. Unlike other dominants, Tara was too affectionate for her own good. If she could stop the play right then and skip working Willow towards her Rapture, she would. Straight to the pleasure of flesh on writhing, happy flesh and to the many, rewarding orgasms, that was her.

Because with Willow’s pale body arching the way it was exquisitely arching, poor little breasts with their chilled nipples just aching to be sucked--

And with a freshly shaven, neglected pussy below, its bright red bandana flag screaming, ‘Reminder! This needs to be fucked!’--

Tara could almost--almost--forget why she was in this god awful, depressing room in the first place.

A room (she very reluctantly reiterated to herself), that was a secret goddess’s viewing chamber with five different cameras recording her metamorphosis into Tara-Randy Rider.

“Mouth. Open it,” Tara abruptly ordered. She reluctantly removed her face from Willow’s. The quicker she got this supplication ritual over with, the better.

Willow eagerly complied. Tara held the gift before her vampire’s eyes so she could clearly see it. The ball gag was not the conventional sort. It was clear plastic with twinkling, flashing LED lights.

Willow stared at the ball gag’s cheery, light dance and realized that Kitten’s kink play was indeed going for something very special, if not surreal. She finally noticed that the additional bracelets Kitten had slipped on to her wrists pulsed little lights as well. As Kitten placed the ball gag firmly into Willow’s mouth and secured it, the vampire could imagine what she must look like.

I’m the lit sacrifice in the dark, she thought.

“On your back, baby,” she heard whispered fiercely behind her. Underlining menace colored the strangely dark request. Surprised by the tone, Willow thought her Kitten’s voice had sounded like--

like--

A vampire Tara, Willow concluded in silent awe.


‘Rough Rider: Fuck The Filly’

Without the support block beneath Willow, her attempt to turn over and lay down on her abused back was slow going. What turned out to be a spiky toy up her ass didn’t help either, its presence reminding her thighs that staying away from the plastic, nubby thing was good for them. She also had to remind her butt to hold on to that spiky toy tight. Eventually, Willow made it to her back. While Willow struggled, Kitten chose not to help her; usually she was very attentive when having Willow-slave move from position to position. Instead, her witch had stepped away--not too far away, but enough for Willow to feel bereft--and stood facing the Little Thing’s table.

When the vampire finally attained a proper missionary position, she looked to her Kitten and her ignoring back. The enigmatic surface of the golden suede and the graceful, cowgirl stance of her legs just screamed quiet contemplation.

Kitten reached for something on the table and then tossed the items unexpectedly at Willow. The set of steel, catch-lock rings fell with a cold, hard smack on the vampire’s chest.

“Clip yourself to the sling. Arms, legs, spread,” Kitten ordered, barely turning. Willow obeyed immediately--first one wrist, then an ankle (hey, pretty, flashy jelly bracelet!), another ankle, and finally, she contorted her fingers to work the last ring of her steel cuff to the netting. When Willow was done, ankles and wrists held aloft, Kitten glanced at her in askance, the black brim revealing only one, dark, blue eye.

The witch reached over and took hold of a corner of the bandana stuffed up between Willow’s now wide open legs. With forefinger and thumb, she slowly pulled the soaked, crumpled rag out.

The Little Thing, Willow realized, as she arched her neck to watch what Kitten was doing to her, was kneeling before her Mistress. She was diligently strapping something to Kitten’s hips beneath the fringed coat.

Putting one and one together and getting ‘ouch’, the vampire’s eyes widened into green circles as big as her sparkly, ball gag. Kitten wouldn’t, would she? Willow thought excitedly. It would be so--it would be so dark of her. Just as the vampire expected, Kitten slowly turned on a ringing, stirruped heel, flicking her coat ends back in emphasis. She laid her hands on her strapped hips. She wore a new dildo, as inky black as her leather pants and hat. And as Willow craned and stared at the new dildo’s sinister approach for her currently not very moist entrance, she could definitely conclude that the thick, pristine tool was not slick, nor shiny.

“Meet Rattlesnake,” Tara introduced with an ill-suppressed grin, and slapped her new, stiff, and very unlubricated member in emphasis. It hardly wobbled, it was strapped on proper all right. If Willow’s cunt could, it would say ‘how dee doo’. But like those uptight prairie ladies who adamantly refused the cowboy villains, Willow’s pussy was ill prepared to properly receive this sinister dick.

‘Rattlesnake’, indeed! Willow thought. Kitten had a name for every fake prick in their collection. She never took their dildos seriously. Willow watched her Kitten’s eyes switch from humor to grim determination and felt a familiar push between her spread legs.

Oh fuck, she’s really going to do it! Willow’s mind squealed, enrapt with the sight of Kitten’s fingers positioning the new tool for pushing in. She’s really going to go in--

Dryyyyyyy. Willow felt the burn and stretching pain in her vagina that she’d not experienced in such a very long time. Before, she would have taken such callous penetration with demonic aggression, but this from Kitten was a gesture of domination so unlike her--it was unexpected and entirely deliberate for all the right reasons. Willow reveled in this rare act from her Kitten. The vampire responded appropriately, moaning against her gag. If she looked like she suffered while Kitten pushed into her relentlessly, it wasn’t entirely a show of feigned, submissive helplessness for the hidden goddess. Willow felt truly taken by her Kitten. She was eager to be violently pounded, to be roughly used, to be taken all the way.

“You really get ahead of yourself,” she thought she heard her Kitten wryly say, but Willow couldn’t be certain she’d actually heard it or imagined it. She had been too busy making submissive sounds against her ball gag. What she thought might’ve been the brief, half-smile of her witch’s immediately disappeared from those soft lips into a concentrated pout. Kitten straightened. Her hands, which had been possessively gripping the vampire’s hips during the slow insertion now ran fingers casually up the spread, taut thighs. Kitten was apparently done, her new cock entirely encased in a tight Willow-wallet that was burning to juice up. Kitten watched rather indifferently while her shackled vampire squirmed beneath her. The human cameras maneuvered as unobtrusively as possible for a close up of stuffed, and rather frustrated slave pussy.

Willow, in any other sub situation with Kitten, would have tried rocking to get some friction satisfaction. But this was definitely not the time to be a naughty vampire; she felt like a raw, spread feast on the table that’d been poked quite thoroughly by the hostess. She could only await what Kitten would do to her next. The effort surprisingly almost brought tears to the vampire’s eyes.

Kitten abruptly rapped her ringed knuckle on Willow’s shaved pubic area, prompting her slave to squeal in surprise against her gag and arch from the hit to her sensitive clit. Kitten had now regained Willow’s wayward attention.

“Don’t,” she heard her witch say, as she accepted something from the Little Thing. “Move,” she chastised.

Tara poured out the iced contents of the glass she held above Willow.

The shock of cold and ice was enough to make Willow convulse, practically slamming herself against Kitten’s hardened pelvis. Again, she’d been caught by surprise, and she instantly regretted her involuntary reaction. Stilling her body took Herculean effort, as she felt the water poured in an agonizingly deliberate pattern up her shaking belly to her chest, and then back down again. Ice hit her pussy. She was literally shrinking around Kitten’s dick.

Willow knew what ‘Don’t Move’ meant; if she so much as jerked her pelvis (again) against Kitten’s strap on, she’d have failed her witch’s explicit order, and that could not happen before their hidden, goddess audience. Willow screamed in frustration against her gag, desperately held on to the netting she was shackled to, and kept her hips more or less as frozen as her poor pussy felt.

The ice fall ended, but the valiant suppressing of Willow-shivers did not. Kitten plucked something from Willow’s cold, wet chest: An ice cube.

She held it up for Willow to see. The fingers of Kitten’s other hand--warm!! So warm fingers!--worked her pussy apart at the clitoral hood.

Oh---God!! Willow’s mind could only shriek as she watched the ice descend for her poor, exposed clit. Her entire body froze into stone. For the first time in play with Kitten, Willow had to reach within herself for ironclad fortitude.

Tara’s blue eyes narrowed as she watched Willow fall within herself, staring straight at the ceiling as her rigid body took the ice cube without flinching. The vampire was now barely trembling. Unbidden, dark pride swelled within Tara. Like it or not, this was the first time she’d pushed Willow--a vampire who could take just about anything done to her body and probably enjoy it--into actually suffering for her. The thought that such a capricious, contrary, and very powerful creature could unquestionably obey the witch to this extent was a rare, celebratory moment.

One second more was allowed for the human cameras documenting this moment of submissive control to the watching goddess, and Tara finally removed the ice from Willow’s cold, vulnerable folds. She leaned in, the strap-on’s harness pushing into the vampire’s abused clit, and reached for her rigid slave’s ball gag. Again, Willow showed no discomfort, though the jaw of her open mouth seemed locked tight. With one hand, Tara loosened and removed the gag, gently feeding Willow’s stiff mouth the ice.

“Good girl,” Tara murmured softly. Her finger traced wet across Willow’s now shut lips. Though Willow continued to stare at the ceiling, she sucked at the ice eagerly. Elise briefly approached and handed items to both Tara’s hands. Remaining above the prone vampire, Tara ran the fringes of her sleeves down Willow’s still rigid body and then up again. Her hands stopped at Willow’s breasts. She pressed ice cubes to the erect, hard nipples.

Willow stopped sucking, but neither did she flinch or cease staring at the ceiling. The ice in her mouth cracked.

“Finish your ice, baby,” Tara bade softly. She ran slow, wet circles around Willow’s nipples. The vampire resumed sucking in earnest. “Done?” she finally asked. Willow’s throat had swallowed and she nodded immediately. Tara removed her bits of tormenting ice. Once Willow unclenched her jaw, she strapped the twinkling ball gag back into her vampire’s mouth again.

She tapped the vampire’s chin so that she’d take her unblinking eyes off the ceiling and look at her.

“You can move all you want,” Tara gave. She straightened. She sucked one of the ice cubes into her mouth. Moving the cube to her cheek, she suddenly winked. She raised her arm and cut a sudden, stinging stripe across Willow’s chest.

The whip was back!! Willow erupted into motion. Gratefully, she gave up the rigid control of before and shuddered beneath Kitten’s rapid, lightning hot strokes. She howled. As hot welts bit a pattern into her cold body, the room reverberated with nothing but the loud sounds of wet lash and victim. Every searing blow had Willow grinding up against Kitten’s own steeled hips. Try as she might, the dildo was unresponsive and unyielding. The woman attached to it was the master of Willow’s cunt. Kitten could either fuck it or leave it. The vampire attached to that tormented cunt could no longer hope for a good ramming. More and more, Willow was feeling like an instrument, a sex toy for Kitten to play with and manipulate merely for the hidden goddess’s pleasure. It was happening by inches, but the vampire was finally letting go of what she thought she deserved from Kitten. ‘Want’ was no longer a word with any place in what was happening to her here. ‘Need’ was no longer an issue. ‘Satisfaction’ did not even exist.

Trapped beneath the lash and upon uncaring cock, the vampire could only suffer.

Kitten’s got me, Willow realized, through her haze of hot pain and frustrated desire.

If Willow could, her heart would thunderously pound. Instead her profound realization merely resounded, a washing calm of acceptance through every inch of her tormented body.

Crack! Tara laid her last mark down, leaving the leather resting in a long, caressing stripe along the length of Willow’s beautifully nude torso. She had seen the change in Willow’s eyes and demeanor, an apparent acceptance of her submissive state, and it made the witch’s mouth twitch with a half-questioning, half-reassuring smile. It seemed too early for Willow to fall into whatever place she sometimes fell into when Tara gave her the pain/pleasure she craved. But then, Tara reminded herself, she’d never gone this far with Willow in thoroughly subjugating her before.

The ice had dwindled in Tara’s mouth and she thoughtfully crunched the last of it to pieces.

Never taking her eyes off her now very still, moaning lover, she motioned for Elise, and received her silent request in her hand. She began to pat Willow’s little breasts dry.

Even while Willow’s will was residing in the valley of submissiveness, she couldn’t help but wonder what Kitten was planning next. It was kind of funny being skewered on stiff ‘Rattlesnake’ while Kitten was attentively wiping her whipped boobies. The touches made Willow wince and squirm as much as she enjoyed the soft attention. When Kitten lifted the towel away, Willow saw light, red stains on it.

She hit hard enough to draw blood, Willow realized. That was new from Kitten.

Kitten began laying a few cold, metal things on Willow’s chest. The mystery objects, palmed in her witch’s hand, left no clue by their weight on Willow’s skin of what they could be. Tiny? Metal?

The vampire couldn’t picture her gentle Kitten wielding razor blades and such. The objects had to be something else, because the previous thought was surprisingly icky. Dangerous, little weapons were the sort of things Mummy or Angelus would revel in...and Willow as well, once upon a time.

Kitten suddenly took firm grip of the vampire’s hips and leaned back, a move apparently meant to loosen up her own body. As Kitten let out a deep breath and adjusted her stance, Willow had to squeal against her ball gag. ‘Rattlesnake’ had dug deep into her like a stake that had found its mark.

Fucking prick.

Kitten’s hand approached her chest again, coat fringes trailing a pleasurable caress. Willow felt her hardened, left nipple engulfed in cotton softness and swabbed. She smelled alcohol. She felt the flat teeth of a clamp.

The clamp bit hard. As Kitten pulled up (ow, thought Willow), the vampire saw her witch’s lips silently move...

A chant? Willow couldn’t help trying to suss, even as she trembled at what she knew was about to happen. A prayer, a...meditation?

Oh--Willow realized excitedly, reading her witch’s lips--a ‘guide my hand true’--

“Gift,” Kitten solemnly requested of the Little Thing.

There was the flash of a very long needle. Willow reacted to its intrusion by stiffening. Unfortunately her stiffening body managed to bump right back into her witch’s steeled hips. The move delayed Kitten’s deft hand, the insertion of the jewelry piece causing extra pain. Before Willow could recover and look down, her right breast was already being manhandled and hoisted into the air.

This time Willow waited until Kitten was finished before thrusting her pelvis out in reaction.

The vampire could already feel the area of her nipples swell like little, overripe fruits. She looked down, eyes stinging wet from the throbbing sensation. The matching jewelry was bright steel, the style was elegant, little barbells, and the ball ends housed sparkling LED lights. She watched Kitten’s warm hands palm her newly pierced breasts, pushing the tender handfuls up. The human cameras floated in close.

Willow had brand new, blinking, twinkling boobies.

“That was gift three and four,” she heard Kitten whisper down to her. Willow looked up into her witch’s darkened eyes and realized that she herself had started breathing harshly against her gag. As Kitten’s hands left her breasts and caressed down, soothing in their touch over the welts on her body, Willow realized where gift five was going to be.

“Spread them,” Kitten ordered, her tone cold, and before Willow could think on how to accommodate that request, the sling’s motor suddenly sounded. As the sling widened, Willow felt her shackled ankles stretched further apart. Kitten leaned back again, pulling ‘Rattlesnake’ out just a little. Fingers at Willow’s pussy once more revealed the vampire’s now aroused clit.

Somehow, Kitten intended to pierce her vampire there while keeping Willow thoroughly piked. Even when the vampire had pierced her own kittens she’d never thought to do that.

Thank all goddesses for the flawless accuracy of ‘my hand be true’ spells, piked Willow could only think. She trembled once more in excitement.

As she was wiped dry again, Willow tried to relax and still her body. Wasn’t that what she’d always told her kittens and puppies to do when she pierced them?

Watching her witch’s mouth solemnly pronounce ‘Gift’ and receive something in her needle wielding hand, Willow fell back into herself once more.

The needle rapidly descended. Willow could only think: Look at how far Kitten’s pushed herself to make me hers.

It was over in a blink. The excruciating throb began, and Willow could not crane her neck hard enough to see her latest present. Once Kitten had set aside her tools she fulfilled the vampire’s desire by leaning forward and rolling Willow’s hips up.

Oh FUCKFuckFuckFuck!!! Willow sputtered against her gag. The harness dug into her freshly pierced clit area and brought stinging tears to her eyes. When Willow could finally see, her chest shuddering with unneeded, jagged breaths, she saw a steel ring in her clitoral hood that blinked a tiny LED light back at her.

P-pretty, Willow’s mind shakily gasped, even as her head pounded with nothing but the sounds and colors of fresh, intimate pain. Kitten slowly rolled the vampire’s hips back down.

“That was five,” Kitten stated. Willow dimly watched Kitten pull slowly out of her throbbing pussy. Then she pushed back in.

OH OWFuck--was all Willow could think when pelvis met pelvis. Another pull out, then another push. Another pull out--

The sensitivity of the fresh clit piercing was practically pushing the vampire into faintdom, but after the third slide into home, Willow felt Kitten pull entirely out. ‘Rattlesnake’ emerged with a sucking pop, and Willow missed its aggravating presence immediately. The gagged vampire wailed her surprise and disappointment, and if her body threw a brief tantrum against her restraints, it couldn’t be helped. True, she wanted her long overdue fucking, painful as it was, but most of all she felt she’d failed Kitten somehow. A playful pinch at her needy, bereft pussy distracted her briefly.

“Shh, baby. We’ll visit it again,” Kitten soothed. She put a black boot to the sling edge, and hoisted herself up. She stood easily between the vampire’s spread legs. Willow immediately forgot her misery at the sight of very tall, surprisingly scary, Midnight Kitten with a big, black strap-on towering above her.

Kitten stared down at her, eyes once more enigmatic, and then laid a heavy, stirruped boot on Willow’s abdomen.

The vampire tensed up as hard as she could, feeling Kitten’s entire weight mount her. Kitten laid her other boot right on Willow’s chest.


‘Rodeo Queen’

“Who is my girl,” she heard Tara softly ask. The boot on her abdomen rose up, and Willow felt the uneven weight tilt her and Kitten on the sling. Willow was shaking. The boot came down and landed by its partner, stirrups biting into her breasts, and Willow knew that if she weren’t already dead this would be one life-threatening moment.

“Who is my girl,” she heard Tara slowly repeat, and the blue eyes that stared down at her were not only wells of deep, fathomless sea but they were practically begging her to answer.

“MMphh!!” Willow eloquently replied with the last of the air in her crushed chest. Oh fuck, not only was she trapped beneath Kitten’s boots, but she couldn’t answer verbally!!

Who is my girl, Tara’s lips pronounced down to her, and Willow knew, since this was the third time asked, that she had to answer, somehow.

Me Me Me Me!!! her mind screamed, as Kitten’s weight seemed to flatten her straight down into hell. Mmmmeeeeeeeeeee!!!

And with a burst of magic, Willow lifted them both up into the air.

The room crackled--where once Willow’s shackled arms and legs had been held aloft, her body now joined them, magic lifting her up and taking Tara along for the ride. Willow arched, lifting Tara further, and the witch could only marvel at her vampire’s strength as she held on desperately to the sling’s support chains. Another burst of power erupted from Willow and pushed Tara’s boots up directly from the vampire’s chest, practically a foot high. For a brief moment, Tara floated.

An unexpected bubbling of tremendous joy rose within Tara and she laughed as she stood--no, practically crouched--close to the ceiling, high above Willow’s chest. Relief, joy, whatever it was, Tara felt a lifting from her conscience and spirit that only a gesture like this from Willow--her wonderful, masochistic, sadistic, in bondage, and gagged Willow--could do. Tara was not dad, she was not Donnie. Willow was not truly hurt, she would not, ever, scar. Tara felt the vampire’s devout love buoy her up, and Tara could not believe she was in possession of such a gift.

When Willow’s magic finally brought them both gently down, Tara’s boots firmly landing on the outside of the vampire’s torso, two tears from the witch hit Willow’s chest. At that point, Tara didn’t care if the cameras recorded her break from ‘mistress’ mode, there was too much gratitude in her heart. Eyes brimming, she could only look down at Willow and smile her appreciation and joy.

“Omph! Omph!” Willow uttered, obviously dismayed to see her witch crying.

“It’s all right baby,” Tara quickly assured. Her voice was rough. She cleared her throat. “You...you make me feel great.” She turned her head to wipe her eyes on a suede shoulder and sniffed. When she looked back down at Willow, her eyes were vulnerable and regretful.

“Mmm mmph,” Willow commented simply. She shrugged her body, a gesture of offering. She knew what Tara needed to do next and the witch could not help feeling grateful all over again.

Her lips pursed in an apologetic smile, Tara laid her right spur down at Willow’s left shoulder and cut a slow, bloody line across the vampire’s heaving chest.

She did the same to the opposite side with her other spur. Once Willow’s writhing body was marked, Tara laid her feet on either side of the vampire’s torso again and stepped back. She was done. She’d fulfilled the part of S/M play that was pain and cruelty. Now it was party time.

Tara’s leather clad legs bumped up against Willow’s prone ones. Playfully, the witch leaned back as she held on to the sling’s support chains, Elise’s swift hands coming around and working at the harness around her hips.

“This act of love and pain is given tothe Goddess,” Tara repeated, but she spoke the words directly at Willow, love quirking her mouth and bringing light to her blue eyes. Willow ignored the searing, new lines of pain on her chest and moved her legs so that they’d rub against Tara’s. She wondered why the Little Thing was removing ol’ Rattlesnake. But the sight of her Kitten hanging like a casual cowgirl from the chain supports and revealing a l’il Tara-tummy distracted the vampire. Tara wore a new steel buckle, big, oval, and practically off-putting in its industrial design. But her rodeo shirt caught Willow’s two, big, staring green eyes. Kitten’s suede coat hung back, exposing a little of what her witch wore beneath. It was one of those lurid, stripper see-thru shirts, the kind that was translucent white and if wet, looked even more lurid. Her Kitten’s flesh could be seen beneath the seamed lines. Willow wanted to ogle Kitten’s breasts in that shirt--badly.

“Meet Supergirl,” her witch suddenly introduced, indicating below with her chin. Willow’s eyes skimmed down. Then she craned her neck. ‘Supergirl’ was an electric blue, glow in the dark, rocket dick. Willow’s pussy wanted to scream, ‘Irradiate me!!’.

Ice water suddenly hitting her belly made Willow scream in surprise instead.

Tara handed her emptied water glass to the Little Thing. As Willow shivered resentfully from her ice water shower, she noticed Kitten touching a holstered battery strapped to her thigh. Kitten stared affectionately down at Willow again, in that ‘I love you more than you know’ kind of way.

“This is light in the dark,” her witch declared. She removed each arm from its hold of the sling to shrug quickly out of her suede, fringed coat. She flung it aside, managing to nail one of the camera people behind her as she did so. Kitten was wearing a see-through rodeo girl shirt all righty, her lovely dark aureoles and nipples could be seen through the naughty fabric. And sewn all along the sleeves and torso of the naughty shirt were tiny bulbs of light. Kitten slapped her thigh, and the bulbs came to life. She was an Electric Cowgirl.

“This is your sixth gift, baby,” Kitten smiled down at her. With a rakish wink, she hopped off the sling, sending it and Willow softly swaying. The solitary, dismal light of the room suddenly dimmed and all Willow could see was the bright presence of small lights on Kitten and on herself--and watch how that gorgeous, ultra blue-bright ‘Supergirl’ advanced on her starstruck pussy. Belatedly, Willow realized that her hanging, shackled arms and legs were finally close to becoming numb. All the ice water torture, the beatings, and the ‘walk on Willow’s were also finally taking their toll. That and her little magic stunt had been a little draining. Willow felt truly helpless as Kitten positioned her brand new, bright blue ‘Do-Willow’ and drove Supergirl into the vampire’s Lois Lane home. The push, then pull, dance began, and in the dark of undulating and sparkling lights, Willow heard a ‘fuck me’ dance beat begin to play. To the seductive, powerful throb of strip music bass, the Supergirl rocket did a smooth boomboom between her legs. Willow’s newly pierced pussy was pained beyond complaining, her twinkling tits practically throbbed to the beatbeatbeat, and on either side of her, the human cameras had been drafted into solemnly twirling flashing glow-whips in both hands.

This is a celebration of Willow-fuck, the vampire thought.

“What’s the seventh gift,” she could hear her Kitten say from between her spread legs, and Willow felt ‘Supergirl’ drive for her center of the Willow-earth.

“Yoofh!” Willow uttered around her gag, because oh, how easy a question to answer. The seventh was the best there could be; the seventh was Kitten.

“Who’s the seventh gift, baby,” Kitten asked her again. How fortunate that Willow’s vampire ears could hear her witch below this throbbing beat. Every thrust from Kitten was an enthusiastic, sensual roll of hips meeting hips like Kitten were smoothly ridin’ Willow-horsie. Willow loved being her rodeo.

You you you, Willow’s mind chanted, and she sputtered and moaned against her gag, more or less mouthing the same words.

“No baby, the seventh gift is you,” Kitten told her. She leaned in, fucking the vampire, body and tits straining against a ‘see-me’ shirt. She twinkled lights like it were Christmas and Willow was her splayed open Solstice gift. Willow couldn’t help herself, she actually started crying.

How can she--no I’m not--Bawaaaah! Willow’s mind blubbered. But it was so like Kitten to make her feel special, so treasured and adored even above Mummy’s love. Willow had hurt and killed millions--billions--and a woman like Tara still loved her.

The music’s beat sped up, becoming insistent and hard. Willow could hardly remain upset for long as she felt the change. Kitten’s sexy thrust-roll developed suddenly into the hump-and-bang. ‘Supergirl’ began sliding in and out at super-speed, giving Willow-puss a rapid pounding. F-Faster than a speeding bullet indeed! Willow couldn’t help but mentally quip, even as her little tits shook with every welcomed slam. In the dark of the room, ‘Supergirl’ was a blue streak of lightning, flashing in and out of the vampire’s legs.

Just when Willow thought, at last, she’ll finally get to cum, she heard Kitten murmur deeply in the dark.

Her witch’s white magic roiled around the lit up rodeo shirt, illuminating their bodies. Before Willow’s magical sight, the tendriled energy swiftly coalesced right at ‘Supergirl’ central.

Oh!!--was all Willow had time to think. She didn’t even get to scream. White light set off like a pistol shot straight up the vampire’s vagina and into every dead organ in her body. Willow thrashed, then she screamed. From her clit to the tip of her fingers she was on a deliciously painful, white-fiery high. She felt Kitten pull out and then shoot magic into her again. Pull out, and then again. And again. Willow was several kinds of convulsions beneath the onslaught. She was filling up to the eyelids with light. She was certain she was glowing.

Oh help! Help! the vampire mentally cried, and she was mortified to realize she was asking for what she would never ask for, ever. Every white magic thrust from Kitten threatened to shake her in two. She was lost, she was conquered. She was even crying ‘help’ like a baby in the dark. Kitten had done it. Willow was nothing; completely, wretchedly, ready for her re-birth, nothing. She was merely a vessel, a white-magic receptacle. And she was nothing but hers.

I’m going to take you--

You can’t hold back--

Let go--

The orgasm Kitten finally tormented out of her helpless body overtook and gripped the poor vampire. Her body responded by gripping back.

Once again, Willow took hold of Tara and rose.


‘Inamorata’

Tara was sweating. Tara was heaving. Tara wished she hadn’t worn such a tight shirt. Tara was hoping that her next shot of magic would finally take Willow over the edge at last. The witch didn’t think she’d be able to make it to the end of the music.

But just as she was about to pull out again, she couldn’t move. Willow’s entire body was wrought stiffer than steel. Her vaginal muscles had clamped down so hard on the electric-blue dildo, Tara couldn’t budge it even if she had actual super-strength. For a second, she was absurdly reminded of that time Willow’s enthusiastic vagina accidentally sprained her fingers.

Willow’s eyes were screwed tight. Her vampire was caught in an orgasm as deep and powerful as an earthquake. Her demon face broke out. Willow’s body was an impossible bridge, lifting high on crackling magic. Tara’s boots left the floor. The vampire’s body reversed and suddenly Tara soared up as well. She clung desperately to Willow’s taut legs, those pelvic, vampire muscles lifting the witch like she were some little barbell weight. As Tara hung in the air, watching Willow’s body burst light from the magic she’d put into her, Tara couldn’t help b-b-b-but--

c-c-c-C-Come--

too.

The room, except for all the flashing LED lights, went completely dark. Tara’s boots hit the concrete floor with a resounding smack. Willow’s body landed abruptly into the leather sling. Tara could hear nothing but her own harsh breathing as she laid sprawled against Willow’s unmoving body. The music had ended.

Oh baby oh baby, Tara mouthed over and over, still feeling the fading, powerful pleasure Willow had provoked in her. She felt like crying.

As much as she wanted to just hold Willow to her and run her hands all along that still body--post-coital bliss was always the best--Tara became aware of just how quiet the room had become. She was the only person breathing.

She abruptly straightened. Where had the human cameras gone? She looked down at her very still lover. Willow was merely a triangle of pulsing piercings illuminating a very pale body. Was Willow knocked out again?? A shake of her vampire’s hips proved that indeed, Willow was taking one of her ‘naps’ and was not available to respond anytime soon. If her vampire were awake she would have been too busy moaning, groaning, and enjoying the fact that Tara was still inside her.

Tara wanted to try another ice water shower on Willow but Elise’s soft, scared whisper distracted her instead.

“M-Mistress?” the minion queried nervously, and when Tara looked up, she saw what Elise had noticed; on the opposing wall, light appeared, cast from an entrance slowly cracking open behind them. Upon that cast light, the shadow of a veiled figure loomed.

“Elise, cover your eyes!” Tara whispered shakily as she watched another veiled, female shadow emerge and grow upon the wall. “Whatever you do, don’t look!”

She wanted to cover her unconscious Willow’s eyes as well but for the moment, Tara was too mesmerized by the increasing, approaching shadows and by what she could hear emerging from the door next. There was the hiss of snakes.

Like an elegant dancer, the silky shadow of a woman slowly appeared in the cast light, her hair wildly roped and alive. The ends rose, revealing their snake heads. They hissed.

Tara had eyes only on the goddess’s shadow, but she already felt turned to stone.

“She Who Should Not Be Seen,” Anya had explained to her back in Chase mansion. “Or for simplicity, just She, that’s what we called Her.”

Willow had not been worried about this particular demi-goddess, Tara had recalled. The vampire knew it was She; that one who no one, even demons, named out loud because calling her name might give this particular demi-diety a reason to visit. Like Anya, Willow understood that She did not go out of her way to turn everyone in her presence into stone. Willow knew Tara would be safe.

“If you think about it, the Mediterranean would be a huge statuary garden by now,” Anya had explained as she laid more pasta down in the lasagna dish Tara had taught her. “Wielding the power of Her gaze is not her interest. People don’t commonly know this, but She did not ask to become a demon, and one of such terrible visage. I had asked to become one. Halfrek had asked. She was a pawn in a game of gods, just minding her own business. And to add insult to injury, at one point She got her head chopped off and used as self-promotion by another goddess. Chopped off by a mere human boy, of all people. After a while She eventually rejoined her body, and She wrote a play about it. It’s pretty funny.”

Tara had listened silently to Anya as her friend made dinner. With arms wrapped around her legs and bare feet propped up beneath her, she imagined the lonely, frustrated, and rather hysterical life of a cursed demi-deity.

“Any other being would have gone mad after what She had been through. But She’s got quite a sense of humor. We demons would have invited her to more parties if it weren’t for, you know,” Anya had waved her hand before her own face, and then shut the lasagna dish into the oven with finality. “But She paints, writes stuff, and She has that niche right now where She’s patron goddess to the fetish sex lives of outcasts. I guess She’s happy.”

Tara watched the goddess’s shadow grow ever bigger and wondered if she herself could feel any less scared. One of the veiled figures moved slowly into her peripheral sight. It was one of the goddess’s attendants, bearing a huge, round, silver shield. The inside was polished bright, like a mirror. The attendant holding the shield wore a gauzy blindfold beneath her bridal-like veil. Beneath the gauze, Tara could see that the woman no longer had eyes.

The attendant held the shield aloft, and Tara’s own, disheveled, black hatted reflection came into view.

Can I look any more scared? Tara thought. Hisses sounded near her ear. At least she thought they sounded that near. She came into view, seemingly close to the witch’s own suede shoulder.

Ray Harryhausen did not get her right, Tara thought, looking at a face that was remarkably beautiful, even with the ghastly skintone, luminous red eyes, mouth of fangs, and er...snake hair. Tara realized that She must have been a very beautiful human at one time. Possibly with a very envious head of hair.

The goddess cocked her snaky head as Tara watched her reflection. She seemed to have eyes only for the witch, a mischievous look captivating her face.

“Do you like our shield?” the attendant bearing the object in question suddenly asked.

Tara blinked.

“It, uh...” she uttered. She hastily cleared her throat. “It’s very, um, appropriate.”

The goddess looked at her indulgently.

“Are you going to cut off my head too?” Tara practically squeaked. That made the goddess laugh. Actually, it was more like her snakes laughed, bouncing on her head like tiny Henson muppets. The goddess made no sound, though her face was a wreath of obvious mirth. She then pulled her hands back, mimicking the wielding of an imaginary sword, and swung it, pretending to take off the witch’s head.

“Ooooshhhhh,” Tara heard the snakes hiss.

“Ha, ha ha,” Tara laughed nervously. Oh god.

“We are pleased by your offering,” the veiled attendant standing beside the goddess stated. Only a little of the blind woman’s reflection appeared in the shield. “Lend us your knife, so that we may give you our gift.”

Tara quickly complied, fumbling for the Bowie in its belt sheath behind her. As she bent a little to access it, ‘Supergirl’ pulled slightly out of Willow with a big, embarrassing, Squelch!

Good god, Tara thought, as she numbly handed the knife to the blind attendant. The goddess merely watched Tara with a congenial look on her face, apparently unaffected by the sound of squishing privates below her. She opened her mouth and extended her very long, almost snaky tongue.

Tara however, was very affected by the sight of her hunting knife, now unfolded in the goddess’s hand, preparing to pierce that long tongue from underneath. She tried valiantly to keep at least one eye open through the ritual. The sharp steel slowly pierced near the end of the elongated muscle until the point of the blade shone through at the top. The goddess pulled the knife out and then leaned slightly over, allowing three, large drops of her red blood to fall where Tara could not see.

The witch heard her knife click shut. Then the attendant next to the goddess held something out to her. Tara looked down. It was a silver bowl, polished to a reflective brightness. Within its clear waters, the goddess’s blood was molding into a round, ruby-dark ball.

Tara put a trembling hand out and plucked the large, blood red pearl from the bowl.

“We thank Goddess most s-sincerely for this gift,” Tara whispered. The goddess smiled serenely in return, and briefly turned away to hand the knife to her attendant.

“Please keep the knife,” Tara quickly offered.

She clasped the folded hunting knife to herself, looking with delight at Tara. She looked just like a young woman who’d unexpectedly received flowers.

“We wonder if we might have a small token of your visit,” the attendant holding the shield suddenly requested.

“We welcome the Goddess,” Tara answered almost automatically. She had been a little disturbed by the goddess’s adoring look. She hoped she hadn’t made a fan.

She had also assumed that the ‘token’ would be taken from her--a lock of hair perhaps, her jacket--but instead, the attendant next to the goddess began to fuss with her hands at Willow’s level. The goddess looked down and seemed to indicate to her attendant what she wanted.

Oh god, she’s not taking a piece of Willow, is she?? Tara mentally panicked. Before she could say anything, she watched the goddess pop something suddenly into her mouth.

She made a few faces as she moved around whatever was behind her pursed lips. She was making the same kind of faces Tara would make when she twisted cherry stems into knots for Willow.

The goddess smiled at her.

“ELAH!” She emitted, suddenly sticking her tongue out at Tara. In the newly cut slit twinkled Willow’s clitoral ring.

“HA HAHA!!” Tara erupted into near hysterical laughter. Goddess’s facial expression was a coy mockery of her archaic visage of Greek antiquity, emblazoned on the cuirass and shields of warriors. It was a face of terror now complete with a blinking, twinkling tongue ring.

Goddess laughed silently along with Tara, her attendants chuckling demurely. As She turned finally to leave, Tara felt the need to give one more gift. She quickly plucked her black hat from her head and held it out.

“Please,” she offered, watching the goddess in the polished shield. Her red eyes grew huge with surprise.

She did not even wait for her attendant to accept the offering for her. The goddess snatched the hat from Tara’s hands, gazing gratefully at the witch all the while. She finally looked at it, gave it a flip, and then placed the black cowgirl’s hat carefully on her head. The snaky locks hissed their displeasure as they disappeared beneath the hat. Once the cowgirl hat was secured, the goddess gave it a tap.

She admired how it looked on her head in the polished shield, ooo’ing silently. She ran her fingers along the brim.

Pow, the goddess indicated at her own reflection, making an imaginary smoking gun with her hand.

“A question,” the attendant with the shield suddenly demanded. Tara looked at the blind woman in surprise, and realized that the goddess was looking curiously at her own attendant as well. The blind woman heft the mirror and indicated with her chin, the unconscious Willow-pire below her.

“Why this one?” she asked, and the query was surprisingly cold. Tara wondered why the attendant would ask such a question; wasn’t her goddess...well, y’know?

“Why not?” Tara answered simply.

Beside her the goddess gave a silent screech of mirth. She placed a hand on her new black hat and Tara watched her in the mirrored shield, setting back and preparing to give a holler.

“YEEEEE--” the goddess screamed.

“HAW!!!!”

And with that, everyone but Tara, Willow, and Elise disappeared from the room.

* * *

Tara could hear the roar of the ocean. Willow was a dead weight in the witch’s fireman’s carry. The vampire, wrapped in Tara’s coat, was just as heavy as a sack of feed, at least. Tara hurried forward, strength borne of anxiety and adrenaline, and watched the dim form of Elise ahead of her in the sea cave. After they had quickly packed all their things and unlocked Willow from the harness, they found only one exit from the room. It was a natural tunnel, a cave’s, and as they neared its opening, trudging through sand, they could see that the moonlit entrance ended near the sea.

When Tara emerged, Elise was already at their waiting limo. Apparently their car had been directed to wait at that spot for them. The minion helped Tara place Willow into the car. Once the witch was inside and the doors shut, the car began moving. She roughly pulled her rodeo shirt open, the snaps popping. She dragged Willow to her, clasping the cold vampire to her bared chest. She held her tight and closed her eyes.

Elise wrestled with Mistress’s stirruped boots, pulling them off. Once that was done she glanced wide eyed at Master held in the tight embrace of Tara’s arms. She turned and rapped quickly on the limo’s opaque privacy glass.

“Stop,” Elise called out. The minion immediately got out, and Tara could hear the side door to the front of the car open, then slam. The limo began moving again.

It’s over, Tara could only think. Over, and now they were finally alone.

Wearily, she rearranged her coat around Willow, trying to tuck in the vampire’s feet. Willow’s cold nose was against her chest, but also, Tara belatedly realized, was a cold hand cupped around one of her breasts.

“Are you awake down there?” Tara whispered, smoothing Willow’s hair. She raised her lover’s chin slightly to take a look. Her vampire was still in demon face, the yellow, demonic eyes glazed and very far away. In such an inhuman visage, there was such deep peace and trust. Tara kissed the vampire’s ridged forehead and held her tight again. A few tears squeezed from her eyes.

“You, um,” Tara roughly whispered. “Come back whenever you want.” She rocked her Willow gently.

There was a place subs went to when they were worked far enough; a safe place, a haven of ‘rapture’, Willow had called it. Tara felt that she could never fall that far herself. She was often reduced to tears before that could happen. She always had to use her safe word. For whatever subconscious reasons, it all came down to certain personal specters Tara could not face just yet.

And although she always failed to give herself up--in that way--to Willow, the attentions after were so very worth the aborted journey. Held in safety, praised, adored, loved, she would bask in all the attentions Willow gave as master, as protector, as her devout love. Tara wanted to believe she learned best how to be a dominant from Willow, and not from dad.

Willow sighed against her chest, and kneaded her breast.

That very action reminded Tara of something she’d forgotten to do. Willow should be fed. Tara placed her palm at Willow’s fanged mouth, and ran it quickly against a sharp tooth. Pain blossomed in her palm as well as blood. Willow roused briefly from her submissive state and licked up her meal eagerly. When the wound had closed and her demon face had gone, Willow snuggled back into Tara again.

...love you, Tara felt breathed against her chest. She held Willow to her warmth and closed her eyes again.

“You’re my gift,” she whispered.


‘Just Kitten’

They arrived back in Sunnydale by dawn. They slept until afternoon. Tara rose first, showered, ate a little something, and then had to lose herself in the gardens. She knew that in early evening Willow would already be washed, dressed, and ready for her scheduled meeting with her Family members. As the Kitten, Tara didn’t need to be present, and she was glad for that.

In her Sanctum, a freshly washed and dressed Willow proudly raised an end of her white, translucent blouse--buttoned only at the center--and showed off the welts on her slim, pale body.

“Nice,” Harmony complimented from where she sat before Willow’s desk, and snapped her gum.

“Yes. Tara beat you very properly this time,” Anya agreed from her chair next to the bubble gum chewing vampire.

“Did you have to wear that?” Cordelia pointed out cattily from her own seat next to Anya. “I can see your breasts, Willow. Why are they blinking?”

“They’re pierced,” Willow explained with big, earnest eyes. She palmed her own boobies to emphasize. “Kitten did them.” She then pointed between her legs. “And she even did me h--”

“So anyway,” Cordelia interrupted abruptly. “San Francisco. Or more accurately. Marin County. It’s the lair of another pervo goddess. Anya?” she then demanded imperiously of her companion to her right. Harmony, to the far right, merely sighed loudly and rolled her eyes.

“And don’t you dare pull your pants down, Willow,” Cordy warned, as Anya opened her mouth to speak.

Below in the kitchen, Tara didn’t know whether to cook dinner, or just put something together. Like her own Momma, she wanted to fuss, warm up the kitchen, gather her brood around her and get them well fed. That was a hard thing to replicate in a home mainly made up of vampires. Anya and Cordelia usually returned to their own home to eat. The Chase mansion was often a haven for Tara just for the human company.

Unable to decide, she got a small scoop of ice cream for herself instead.

Cordelia’s bossy tones at the top of the stairs heralded the end of Willow’s meeting. As Tara sat at the kitchen island, she debated again on whether she felt like company, or whether she herself was good company right about then. She pensively ate a spoonful of ice cream.

Harmony trooped through the kitchen first, snapping out ‘Tar’, in her indifferent, vampire manner and immediately exited. Cordelia followed, but instead of her usual blaze-through, she paused to flash Tara one of her model perfect smiles.

“You did good,” she praised enthusiastically, and even reached over the kitchen island to squeeze Tara’s resting hand. “Want to come have dinner with us? It’ll just be us girls.”

“Yes, I am cooking, not Cordelia,” Anya added from behind her.

“She’s fucking banned from the kitchen!!” could be heard hollered outside. Harmony had obviously overheard them with her vampiric hearing.

“I was just trying to make quesadillas! Quesadillas! I used a faulty frying pan!” Cordelia protested in return. She moved for the door. Cordy gave Anya a discreet, pointed look before deftly removing herself in order to leave her housemate and Tara alone. Once she left the kitchen, Anya stepped to the witch’s side.

“Cordelia made me promise not to ask you what you did at Her place, so don’t worry, I won’t bother you if you come over,” Anya assured. “Willow was actually too happy to share details. If you want to be with us, you are welcomed,” she added earnestly.

Tara smiled, even as she ate another spoonful. “Maybe um...maybe tomorrow?” she asked. Somehow she knew that being with her human friends was not what she needed right then.

Anya nodded and patted her on the arm. “You did very well,” she confided to her friend. “You did what you had to do. And you gave Her a night to enjoy, right? That’s what matters.”

Tara was smiling gratefully long after Anya had gone.

She still had half a scoop of ice cream to finish when Willow finally appeared at the kitchen doorway. The vampire had a hand on the doorframe and only allowed one large, green eye to peep around the frame. She was playing at sly.

Tara knew Willow eavesdropped on anything having to do with her. The vampire was utterly without shame when she was in control-freak mode.

“You’re acting like you’re in trouble,” Tara accused. She put a look of mock severity on her face.

“Maybe I am,” Willow breathlessly answered. She skipped into the kitchen, playing with her blouse ends. Tara saw how thin the material was, and how much it revealed. No wonder Cordelia had seemed more shrill this evening.

“Will,” she chastised. The vampire could be such an exhibitionist. Even now Willow was running a flirtatious, light hand across her marked collarbone and another across the surface of her bared abdomen, playing with the criss crossed welts.

“If you’re expecting a-a s-spanking, think again,” Tara ejected almost sullenly. That was odd, she thought to herself. It had hurt to say ‘spanking’. It had made her stutter. Brow furrowed, she stuck another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

Willow paused, standing as still as a poised statue. She knew Tara was in a mood. Finally she approached--so carefully, so silently, Tara knew that if she closed her eyes she’d never think that Willow was there. Willow came easily around her, blowing cool breath just near her ear.

“Have you eaten yet?” Willow whispered to her. Tara shook her head. The vampire touched her face ever so lightly, with the cheek of her own face.

“Want to go to Heloise’s? Be my pet Kitten for tonight?” Willow suggested with breathy coquettishness against her cheek.

Tara fell back against Willow’s chest, her spoon clattering on the counter. She held her lover’s encircling arms tight to her like a blanket.

“Is that a yes?” Willow teased softly. Tara’s heart raced. “You’ll be my darling? Wear a pretty collar for me?” The vampire traced a finger along Tara’s throat. The young woman shivered. “Wear...pretty cuffs for me?” Willow lifted one of Tara’s wrists to emphasize. On her own slender wrist, Willow still wore one of her flashing, LED bracelets.

“Maybe I’m not the one who’s been naughty,” Willow added lightly. “Maybe I’m not the one who needs a little...disciplining.”

Yes, yes. Please. Take care of me.

Tara closed her eyes. She wanted to bury herself in the security of Willow’s arms. She couldn’t say anything. She didn’t have to say anything, really.

Later, as they readied to go to Heloise’s club, Willow softly apologized about letting her witch handle everything having to do with their last Goddess visit. But it had been necessary, Tara had reassured. For Willow to feel like a real slave, Tara had to play master. Like Anya had said, it had to be done, and despite what Tara had put them through, it had been worth it.

As they drove silently to the club, Tara realized that she had not planned on self-discovery when she took on the role of top last night. Having to deal with hurting Willow, that she had anticipated, but baby steps toward a ‘self-acceptance’, a ‘closure’, whatever, she hadn’t seen those coming. Dominating Willow in the future would become easier and easier as the role became more and more her own, but until then...

She took her seat at Willow’s feet, the vampire settling easily into her chosen chair at Heloise’s. Heloise, a vampire turned in the fifties and possessing the social habits of such a time, deftly lit Willow’s cigarette. The waiter served them Bloody Mary. Willow wore one of her starched, white men’s shirts, foregoing the usual tie. As she and Heloise smoke and drank, watching the demon clientele around them, Tara snuggled into Willow’s thigh. She wrapped a hand around it, her silver bracelet bright against the black pants fabric. The delicate, silver chain between her slender cuffs draped around Willow’s leg.

Good pets get nice long chains, Willow had said. Bad pets get shorter leashes.

At the goddess’s party, the length between Willow’s steel cuffs had been very short.

A server laid a tray beside them. Willow glanced at the fare.

“No piggies in blankets,” she spoke down to Tara with wide eyed solemnity. “So you’re safe. But we have mini-quiche. Want some, Kitten?”

Tara stroked her face against Willow’s thigh.

Willow fed her tiny quiches. She fed her cheeses, vegetable sticks, and Tara’s favorite, deviled eggs. She gave her fresh, spring water.

Tara did not have to think, she didn’t have to speak. She didn’t have to do anything except what Willow told her to do, and she trusted Willow completely. Having nearly been brainwashed into becoming a lifelong servant to the menfolk of her childhood home, Tara secretly reveled in being the girl who could give up all responsibility and be truly cherished and adored at last. And most of all, she was safe and protected. She could drop her vigilance; no longer did she have to fear violence from those close to her, of watching her mouth and her thoughts. No longer would she be that hidden ‘demon’ girl, that one to be used and then made to feel less than human. She was a woman, and she was beautiful, a desirable object worthy of display, and Willow made her so.

The vampire’s fingers absentmindedly stroked Tara’s neck, lightly exploring her pet’s collar. The collar was a choker, encrusted with rows of brilliantly cut jewels. Tara had thought they were rhinestones.

“Tara,” Anya had said to her, her eyes nearly falling out of her face. “Those are diamonds.”

“Affectionate Kitty!” Willow exclaimed above her, finding her fingers now in Tara’s mouth. “We have to put that mouth to more proper use.”

Heloise chuckled across from Willow, feeding her own female pet some quiche.

“Kitten,” Willow addressed down to her. “Heloise is curious about She. She wonders what you saw.” Willow cleared her throat. “I was, ah, very preoccupied at the time, so I can’t say I saw her myself.”

“I’ve heard what they say about Her,” Heloise added, her face cool, sophisticated, and yet curious. Cordelia had often declared that the stylish vampire club owner looked very much like Jackie Kennedy. “But I wonder what you, a witch, saw.”

Tara thought for a while before saying anything.

“I saw a woman who wants to be seen,” she softly answered.

* * *

Heloise’s club was a bleeder’s club. Humans present expected to be bitten, so Tara had to anticipate the same. Heloise’s pet was finally in her mistress’s lap, whimpering softly while the vampire teased her with murmured words and touches. The girl was new; she hadn’t yet been bitten often. Although Tara had known Willow for longer, she still feared the bite. Willow said that was natural; it did hurt, after all.

“I have two questions,” Willow whispered to her, having retired both of them to the long, chaise lounge behind their table. Smoke rose from Willow’s unfinished cigarette at the ashtray. The vampire held her pet as they reclined.

Tara turned to nuzzle Willow’s neck, indicating that she heard her.

“What happened to my pussy ring?” Willow asked with a prominent pout. Tara blushed hotly against Willow’s neck. The fate of Willow’s ring piercing reminded her of the three packages at home ready for mailing and addressed to the goddess. She and Willow were certain to have a row about them later. One box contained the steel toed cowgirl boots and spurs she’d worn (cleansed of Willow’s blood), the second held ‘Rattlesnake’ (plus harness), and the third had her belt with empty knife holder and ‘Supergirl’. She wasn’t sure which object Willow will throw the biggest fit about, but she had to make certain the vampire only got to keep one of the items.

“Mm...Goddess has it,” Tara breathed.

“Oh.” Willow’s ‘oh’ sounded utterly disappointed...and as frigid as the North Pole. “And did we get the pearl?”

Tara lifted her head. She’d forgotten to let Willow know. “Yes! We have it! And I’m um. Hiding it right now.”

“You...” Willow deliberately pronounced, stroking Tara’s thigh. She lightly palmed the intimate area she intended to inquire about. “...You’re hiding it right now, Kitten?”

Tara only bit her lip and nodded. Willow’s chosen hiding place from Rio de Janeiro had proven a very convenient place to temporarily stash their second pearl--before it joined the first in the security of Willow’s Sanctum, anyway.

“Naughty Kitten,” Willow tutted with a grin. She moved smoothly to place Tara against the lounge and herself hovering over her. The vampire edged her pet’s dress up. “We should check on it, don’t you think?” She began to stroke with a finger, teasing against the underwear. “Is this it, I wonder?”

“No, that’s me,” Tara squeaked. She began to gasp. She didn’t like public sex, but at Heloise’s, Willow made sure to have her in secluded spots. The club owner’s table more or less hid them from watching eyes, and Heloise herself was very preoccupied at the moment.

“Well that feels like a pearl to me,” Willow whispered down at her. Her large, green eyes were brilliant and cold. Tara could see the beast behind those beautiful surfaces.

“Please,” she softly pleaded.

Beasts liked begging. But last night, when Willow had begged her with her sex and with her body, Tara had paid no heed. She wondered if she could be that cruel again. She wondered if she’d ever let Willow push that far with her.

Willow unfastened the collar at her throat--the pet collar not made up of rhinestones, but of diamonds. Tara was already a trembling slave beneath the insistent stroke of the vampire’s fingers.

Yesterday she was the dom stepping all over Willow, tonight she was the pet writhing beneath her hand. She didn’t know what obtaining the third pearl might put them through, but at that moment, she’d welcome going through anything with Willow.

The vampire descended on her throat.

“Will!!” she cried.

end.

next: (tentatively titled:) O. B. Willow-L.

Author further notes for Rhinestone Kitten: the song, ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’ by Glen Campbell, the movie, ‘Electric Horseman’ with Robert Redford, the movie ‘Midnight Cowboy’, with Jon Voight. The first for the title, the second for the electric light bulb cowboy outfit, the third for the suede fringed coat and black hat. She’s a Rhinestone Tara-gigolo.

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