The Hell- Bound Mistress (STORY) 2: The Cloudy Flask
The girl yelped in pain, but despite the intensity of the burn she didn't jump out. She was well familiar with the sudden brand of burning soot by this point, and only managed to croak out: “I'm sorry Mistress.” But however she had intended to sound, her words were wretched like a bestial meow. Instead, her burning eyes were already wet, and one of her eyes had began to bead out despite herself.
“I'm~ ” She sniffed, sucking back a string of snot which had snailed out of her nose, “I'm sorry Mistress.”
Rather, the Mistress's brass pipe head, still burning like a clothing iron slowly drifted to the girl's lowered jaws. Like a hand, the L shape anchored itself under the girl's jaws and guided the girl's face upward. And the girl beheld the perfect beauty of her odious Mistress. To those white naked legs which rested upon the well lacquered cherry wood.
The Mistress loomed over her, and leisurely glowered down at the crying girl, taking stock of the girl's feverish, shame- puffed face, and the reddening bruise which slowly revealed itself in the shape of her gorgeous naked foot.
“Are you one of those one tear criers?” She mocked, barely holding back a snickering smile of contempt.
“No, ...no Mistress.”
More tears, and the girl shielded her leaking eyes with a few curt brushes of her sleeves, wiping away the tears that she hoped she had hid from those cruel watching eyes.
“No wonder your parents died.” the mature, perfect woman jeered. Blowing a haughty puff of choking opium squarely on the girl's bruised face, “Probably better so they never have to deal with you again.”
“Isn't that right? Piss Pot?” The face painted white sneered at the face painted black.
“Yes Mistress.” Without a beat, the maid replied.
“Hmmm” the Mistress mused, amused but more than anything a little surprised that her little toy had actually learned something this time rather than crying those stupid eyes out like so many times before. Like the field bumpkin she always was and is. And instead of going harder, like she had done so many times before. She took another look, and found distraction in taking stock at the red blush of her foot print upon that servile cheek.
Instead, the cobra like stork leg of the Mistress drew back like a cobra. And~ as if it had an intelligence of its own, felt up the air between the two of them. Then heavily rested on the girl's soot covered face.
As if it had its own sympathy, the babe- soft foot gingerly smeared away a streak of soot, in its wake, was shone the bright foot print on the tearful girl. As if making peace, that long white offending- foot, so loved by the girl rested on the loving girl's wounded face. The Mistress leaned her painted high cheeks so close to the girl's face their lips were almost touching. For a moment, their 2 faces formed the reflection of a mirror in the opium smoke. And though they were not connected, she felt her mistress's confident nose on her own nose tip.
Feeling the length of the foot's silken warmth, and the brunt of Mistress's intimate scrutiny, the girl's eyes softened before that mighty, gorgeous face. And hot tears, akin to gratitude formed on the rims of her lids and splashed on the floor boards between them.
But a crooked smile came to the Mistress's crimson lips.
From her well manicured hands, she produced an ornate translucent flask of lavender glass, imported from the white barbarians of the Southern Seas. Within it contained spools of pearly, porridge of her many lover's seeds. A full night of tribute, in white and mottled gold of their exertions, which they lovingly spilled for her. She made a show of the cloudy wax in the bottle, which, judging from this night, the maid guessed was discharged tonight from at least one honorable Tycoon, one feared gang boss, and a whole sports team of aroused and impatient men, all coiled upon each other.
And although it was often expected for her Mistress to delight in exalting in such spoils, which she often brandished triumphantly before the other expensive painted whores of the District, there was something else in the amused eyes of her Mistress, a devilish glint.
“Rare love from a Hatamoto.” The mature woman's sharp eyes hardened.
At this whisper, the wounded girl's expression melted away. And suddenly, his loving face came to her, young, keen with concern and sympathy, and so often asked her of her day. The exact kind who had melted her heart and sex.
“Oh I taught him a few things. Free of charge even.”
The smile widened on the Mistress's face, glad that she had stole away whatever comfort that girl had regained after that foot's slap. Knowing fully that the stupid Piss Pot had an interest in such a man. A pathetic budding Interest which was reciprocated in some measure between the two of them in disgusting sweetness.
“He left a love- sick Hatamoto.”
She Knew! The girl shrieked in her terrified skull. Fully grasping the full measure of the Mistress's threats, the long foot on the maid's servile cheeks pressed down, and she felt the Mistress's weighing in it. Her cold hawkish eyes were like cruel black diamonds. And the the white silk drool- which she guessed were also from her Hatamoto shifted the tense, silent air between their faces. The smile which widened as Mistress enjoyed that blushing cheek warm up beneath her feet.
“I hope he made you happy Mistress.” The girl croaked demurely. But her eyes were already leaking again, running over the long planted foot of her Mistress.
“Oh he's quite forgettable, actually.” the Mistress let out a trilling song of giggles, like she could barely remember the boy in her afterthoughts.
“But he did promise many gifts the next time he comes back to me.” At this, the dam of the maid's eyes broke, and she began to cry, first in small fits as that foot rested on her face. The images of the Mistress's long fingernails digging deeply on his naked back raked her mind like a school of coiling mud eels. Then, more fully in cough wracked sobs as she convulsed with all that that he meant within her.
“If you want to see more from him, just look down at my chamber pot the next time before you empty it. Whatever came first there's got to be a bit of him in there if you squint.”
Like inflamed tallow, the girl's love for him burned inside her. As her uncontrolled sobs stopped, her resigned lost eyes rested on the solitary, cum clouded bottle which contained all that she imagined was once meant for her. In there, might have lied her own very soul.
“Then I wish he learn to make you happy in the future.” came the girl's grim humbled voice.
“Hmmmm,” Finally, the Mistress leaned back lazily and took a leisure draft of opium from her pipe. “God I hope so.” she giggled. And in the moment let her foot unstuck from the coal hot face beneath it.
“Go prepare my bed, Piss Pot.” She hissed, and using her snake like leg as if it were a white pointing hand, gestured for the tear- stained maid to get out.
“Of course, Mistress.” The girl bowed reverently, sniffing as she gathered her soot covered sleeves and huddled out.
For just the fraction of a second, the maid stopped before the exquisite screen doors which led to the garden and the night sky. Just enough for her to catch the sight of her once- beloved Mistress and her white naked legs sprawled on that dark lacquered throne.
Was it harder because the beauty she still saw in that proud, perfect face? The wondrous effect of those cold white makeup and queenly luster? That despite the flames of her own all consuming hate, as she beheld her take another long draft of opium smoke, seeing her giggling to herself, all she felt was but astonishment? Perhaps it was lucky, that it would not be up to her for the task, now, in this moment, despite her full hate, she knew clearly she still couldn't do it.
Instead, the girl breathed out a prayer.
At least It had been a good night for the bitch.
And the girl disappeared into the night gardens.
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