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The Joy of Pain

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Nicola shivered in appreciation of the beauty that was Phèdre in full thrall of her gifts as an anguissette. The night had been beautiful so far, a gift to them both for the successful mission to protect Ysandre once more. A light supper, a languorous bath, and then the gentlest beginnings of their loving had given Nicola much pleasure.

Yet it paled in comparison to watching Phèdre writhe in sensuous bliss from the 'punishments' given so far. The ivory skin was marked in red and even some beautifully darker colors from their play, with the ones along her throat most vivid by far. Those, evidence of the strength Nicola could bring to bear, had pushed Phèdre this far, to a full flush of pleasure taken in the heady throes of losing her air.

The small moans were undoing Nicola, as were the tiny motions of the other woman pressing against the hand on her sex. When there seemed to be intelligence once more in those eyes, Nicola dipped in, fingers within the warmth that waited, lips against the marks at her lover's throat, and began all over again. This was the gentleness, the sweetening of the pleasure, to enhance what would come later as they progressed.

Moans turned to whimpers of need, artful as only Phèdre could be and yet still sound so perfectly natural. Nicola smiled in her kisses, touching each bruise of her fingerprints on that ivory skin. It had never been Nicola's way to strive to reach Phèdre's safe word, and tonight was no different. She lingered on the last mark, fingers deep within her lover's warmth, before moving down to begin sharp bites along the ribs and breast of the left side.

Elua and Naamah alike had truly blessed them all when they allowed for Phèdre to be born, and Nicola was more than willing to worship with her whenever they could steal time together.