A Different Kind of Assignation

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

It had been a very confusing week, all in all- Ambrose waking, hearing that Sun would be Queen and had known it all along, my last assignation with Mara- and all of it had left me filled with a reckless sort of energy. I needed a way to work some of it off, and training with Dominique was likely to do just that. Besides, she was playing our 'game', and there was some information I needed from her to further my own plans. There was revenge to be wrought in such a multitude of ways that it left me cunning and a little overconfident.

In one of the pleasure rooms I waited- I had no idea which one, it was beyond my concern. I was patient, so I sat still and waited for Shadow's little Mandrake witch, hoping she wouldn't be too long.

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

With one last quick crimp to my curls I flounced out of my room and off towards what I hoped would be a very interesting evening. I’d been silently gloating all night at the thought of the Prince’s return, silently because no one knew, no one could know. Ignace had made that even clearer than my personal sense of such things had already found it. It was driving me a little crazy having to bite my tongue, but it was worth it.

I said a little prayer outside the chamber door, hoping against hope that he was more like the creature I’d met at the party than the whipped dog who’d slunk out at the end of the night, I breezed in. Ruby skirts pooled briefly around my ankles as I bobbed a curtsey without a single jot of respect or deference to it. Folding my hands demurely in front of me, a move completely at odds with the tilt of my hips or the smirk on my face, “My lord Prince.” I said, “To what do I owe the honour?”

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

My eyes sparked lightning as they took her in, all of her lack of reverence, which didn't really bother me, and her seemingly chipper demeanor. Smiling a little charmingly I said, "Our lesson, precious- and of course, some games that I will need to play in the future and I think you can help me with. I'm sorry my sister isn't here to entertain you, but I figured that my coming alone would actually result in some work being done."

Moving closer to her I let my eyes pierce hers, then changed my grin to something more combative. "That's a very nice dress- do you think you'll be able to lesson me in it without mussing yourself too terribly?"

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

Excellent, he seemed much restored, “I’ve no concern for the dress, my Lord. After all, it’s your pocket that will work to restore it should our lessons prove too much for it.”

Closing what little distance still remained between us I gazed up at him through my lashes, “But if it concerns you, my Lord…” I trailed off, pushing up against him just slightly and tugging vaguely at the laces of my bodice without actually untying them, I shrugged one round shoulder out of the sleeve with a graceful shrug.

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

Raising an eyebrow I watched her through slitted eyes, boring them into my own reflection I saw there. "That would be entirely up to you, though I have do doubt that you would be more comfortable unclothed anyway," I said absently, running a finger along her soft cheek.

"So, Lady," I said with as much scorn as she said 'my lord', "Do you have anything interesting to show me today, or something interesting for me to hear, or shall we get straight to work?"

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

Pouting at him I turned and strolled away a few paces, very deliberately shrugging back into my dress. I’d played games in far more elaborate and cumbersome costumes than that gown, and I’d not stand naked while he was clothed. Something told me he’d read it as a point in his favour and everything, everything, between us was being scored.

Coming upon the huge armoire that served this particular room as a toy chest, I threw wide the doors. I spun to face him as the hinges hit their limit with a resounding bang, all the more impressive for the carefully contrived acoustics of the room. Tucking my elbows behind me onto a shelf, I leaned back and pushed my hips forward. “Is it work, Christien? What catches your fancy?”

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

I didn't jump at the loud bang of the drawers opening, but it was a close thing. She was smug and yet demure- how did she seem so calm all of the time? Must be a Mandrake thing, I thought as I walked to the armoire, brushing by her almost close enough to touch but only air brushed her gown.

Cocking my head somewhat sideways I asked sweetly, "Flechettes- tell me about those."

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

Meeting his gaze through my lashes I reached behind me without looking and drew a thin, small case to the edge of the shelf and tipped the lid back. Within was a set of six blades. Tiny and perfect, tended to within an inch of their life.

“Flechettes are, unsurprisingly, used to cut. The blade is very thin, and very sharp. The cut is slow,” I leaned in towards him, stretching myself up against his taller frame, my voice a deep purr, “and the pain mounts, ever upwards.”

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

My eyes focused sharply on the glistening steel of them, not daring to touch lest she close the box on my fingers. "They're very well kept- is there a reason for that?" I asked curiously, my voice containing its own smooth purr. "What would happen if a flechette had a nicked blade, or was dull? Wouldn't the pain of it be magnified?"

A rather cruel little side game was brewing in my head, a last resort should all else involving Theodor and Amelie fail. It was almost too cruel for even me to do, but Coretta wanted her revenge.

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

My lip curled a little bit in distaste, I couldn’t help it. Tool care is drilled into us from the age of ten, earlier if we’re born into one of the Houses of pain as I was. The idea of a poorly kept fletchette made me a little bit ill.

“The pain- would change. With the blades well kept, the body doesn’t even register it’s been cut right away. It infiltrates so smoothly, the pain is in having been cut, not in being cut. A dull blade- I’ve never met anyone who would enjoy that. And the drag off a nick would tear, not cut. It might even scar.”

Glancing down at the case that held him rapt, I very nearly shuddered. “It’s not done, Christien.”

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

"Of course not," I said, a little shocked she would think me that sort of a monster. I'd never use such a tool myself, but if someone else had something like that done to their tools and was too stupid to test them first, then maybe they deserved the pain they got. Part of me was sickened by the idea as well, but sometimes we had to do things in this game that didn't please us so much. "I was only curious," I said lightly.

"This thin line between pleasure and pain- it's something I don't understand. If you get pleasure from pain, then wouldn't greater pain mean greater pleasure? Who draws that line, that shadowy, faint line?" I asked, running a finger along her hand where it held the box.

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

“That which bends decides what would break it. Hence the signale.” I said, drawing my hand away from the case, and his along with it, I rested my palm against his chest.

“The trick is in finding someone whose line matches your own. Because make no mistake, you too have a line.” I smiled at my pointed wording

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

"And, I would be willing to bet, so do you," I said, taking a step toward her while her hand rested on my chest, eyes flashing. "Or are you infalliable, able to do whatever you wish without being hurt? I doubt it."

In a flash I stepped back, eyes calm and limpid. "Well then, what next, precious?" I asked charmingly, as though I never had a thought in my head.

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

What next indeed, I thought, with a little half smile. His mask fell into place with an ease that spoke of long experience with such things. I suppose it made sense, being who he was, wanting what he did. But I liked him better with that temper laid bare. And I was very used to getting my way, especially in a pleasure room.

Drawing a crop from the shelves behind me I pouted up at him as I stepped close. “Well that,” I said, as I dragged the thick leather tip across his chest tracing his collar bone, “is entirely up to you. You are after all the patron.” I emphasized my last word with a smile and an expert slap of the crop against his cheek.

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

Taken aback as I was by the blow to my cheek I was stunned for a moment- the welt was warm and pleasant rather than terribly painful and that, along with the indignity of my position, made the rage within me start burning brighter. My eyes glittered like the flechettes she'd shown me and I grabbed the crop, ripping it from her grasp with my greater strength and a matching blow on her own cheek.

Gasping for breath through the red blinding of my rage, I said through gritted teeth, "I am not one of THOSE patrons, precious- and if you want to keep your own skin, you should consider cooling those urges."

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

My eyes watered in a reactionary sort of way, the strike wasn’t painful, but the sting of it had just the right kind of force to make my eyes shine. I pushed forward, not touching him, but invading that little cocoon of his rage, and matched his glare with one of my own, just as angry but more serene than his emotional torrent could allow.

“I am no Valerian girl to quail at your will. I told you before that I don’t slow down, well I don’t hold back either. I will do what I choose and you will face me or you will go elsewhere for your instruction.” I shifted my hips ever so slightly, ready to jump back should he try to strike me again.

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

The tears that sprang to her eyes called back images of similar ones flowing down Mara's face and called up a bit of the hunger that all tears of pain seemed to bring me. It fed my rage slightly, but I was still able to react with thought though I was getting closer to the breaking point.

"You have no need to slow down or hold back for me; I can take whatever you serve now that I know what to expect. Are you sure you can say the same?"

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

I threw back my head and tossed my curls with a cocky smile and said, “I never doubted myself.”

Then, as my urges dictated, I flung myself at him. Quick as you please, I snaked one arm around his neck and curled my other fist around the crop he’d snatched from me, and kissed him very soundly. Drawing back a very little, I relinquished my grip on the crop but kept my arm flung over his shoulder, “I’m glad you think you can anticipate me.”

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

A little shocked but acting nonplussed I raised an eyebrow at her, my eyes calm and flat except for a slight glitter from the ever-present rage. "Whether I can anticipate you or not at least I know what I'm getting. And you, I think, have some predetermined ideas as to who and what you think I am."

Eyes glittering slightly more as my rage and the hunger that was it's mirror was stifled. I grabbed the arm that was around my shoulder by the wrist, twisting it around behind her back, then shoving slightly and releasing so that she would stumble. "Get another one of these, precious," I said, indicating the crop I had in my hand, "And show me how to use it."

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

I recovered quickly, Adept training ensured that, and a good thing it did, I’d have hit the armoire otherwise. Drumming my fingertips on the shelf before me I surveyed the crops hung within, there was no double for the one in his hand, I could only go larger or smaller. I withdrew the next size up. After all, he was larger than me.

I turned back to him, temper and excitement boiling inside of me, the crop dangling loosely from my finger tips. “It’s a flick,” I explained, demonstrating on nothing but with enough force to sting the air, “The flat of the leather and nothing else should contact.” I touched my check where it had begun to turn red, “It’s a sting.” I purred with wry twist of my lips. I slapped his knuckles, curled around his own crop.

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

Hissing at the sting on my knuckles from where the crop had hit them I managed to keep a grip on the crop I myself was using and mimicked her blow in the air, making the air swish around it. Then, eyes blazing for want of revenge, I lay an equal blow to the one she had put on my knuckles on her wrist, trying to sting it enough to have her lose her grip.

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

My fingers twitched, but held, and I unlike him kept silent. I bit my tongue to do so, but I did. Flexing my wrist to ease the discomfort of his slightly off timed strike, I struck again. This time more to the point I hit at the base of his throat, where the collar of his shirt lay open. It was a stupid thing to do, especially with the expanse my neckline lay open being somewhat less in need of precision to be soundly struck.

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

With a slight hiss of pain and the anger flaring fiercely in my eyes I saw things starting to go red and fought it. I wrested enough control from it to not tackle her with my hands about her throat, but instead I hit her with the crop in the direct center of her open neckline, trying to leave a welt that would last until tomorrow at least.

"If we play this game, one of us is going to get hurt, and I'm not certain it's me," I said in a growl, stepping closer to her so I could grab the crop on the next swing of it.

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

I did hiss this time as the leather struck true, he was a quick study this little Prince. Swishing the crop at my side, I tapped it against my calf thoughtfully. “Well then, you’re not entirely certain that it won’t be you either, are you.” I cooed, with a flutter of lashes and a knowing smile.

He was too close for me to strike without being deflected, but I ‘tried’ anyway. Bringing it down over his left shoulder just as hard as I would have if I thought I had a chance of striking him. He caught it and the flexible shaft bent in a smooth arc from the opposing pressures we exerted. “And what 'if' is there about it, darling? You and I can’t stand here and do nothing. Can we?”

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

"Oh, of course not, precious," I purred deeply, switching my grip from the crop to her wrist where I gripped just hard enough for her to be uncomfortable. "What do you suggest?"

My glass-blue eyes caught here, flashing with fire. Without looking away I softly, almost delicately, swept the soft leather over her curves in one movement.

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

“I suggest you unhand me.” I murmured softly as I leaned into his grip, running my free hand up his thigh. I rolled my wrist hard in a well practiced trick, twisting his grip just enough for my slim wrist to slide out past his thumb.

I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and tugged him a little bit closer to me, “Why? What did you have in mind?”

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

Clever move, I thought as I felt her hand slide up my thigh- I was pretty sure it was a distraction and it did make me lose my focus enough to loosen my grip. AS her hand grabbed my shirt and tugged me closer I grinned, a fiery light of passion- for her or the competition, I wasn't sure- started to blaze in my veins and my eyes.

Smiling a feral but charming smile I stepped closer yet so she would have to tilt her head to look up at me and snaked a hand to grasp a handful of her hair, though not pulling.

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

We were pushing each other ever closer to the same goal we were each striving for. It was a competition, to se who would snap first. There was something undeniable about the fight in both of us, so different from playing with a submissive. It was almost painfully adrenal. My chest felt tight, no, my bodice, it was my dress that was making me pant.

But it was his clothes I turned my attention to. I unfastened the button beneath my palm and slid my hand inside, running my hand across his bare chest. First finger tips, then flattened palm, then nails, scoring without breaking his skin. Always staring into those crystalline eyes of his reading the rage and the lust there and feeding off of it.

[Prince Christien de la Courcel]

I could feel her fingers against my bare flesh, causing sparks and a rush of heat. Eyes flashing in appreciation of a real challenge I used my hand on her hair to guide her closer to my form so her heaving chest was almost against mine. Ever so slowly I ran the end of the crop in my other hand over her breast, teasing her nipple to hardness.

[Dominique nó Mandrake (D)]

My skin tingled as he teased my nipple. I closed that last little space between us, fitting my body to the curve of him, swaying against his hips. Withdrawing my hand from beneath his shirt, I reached up and fisted my hand into the hair at the nape of his neck.

I stretched up as far as I could and pulled his head the rest of the way down to meet me, I whispered into his ear in a voice that was as much growl as it was purr, “You don’t have anything in that mind. Do you, little Prince?