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a cure i know that soothes the soul

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“I don’t know why the armoury even sells these,” Gail muses, perfectly conversational as she sits herself down at the foot of the mattress, “they’d be completely impractical in combat.”

Hue squirms a little under Gail’s measured gaze. She’s right, of course; the thick leather belt – really almost a corset – would be impossible to run in without getting faint, to say nothing of the short straps that lead down to garters with brass buckles at the height of each thigh. Were she standing, Hue doubts she could keep her back straight without the strong leather tugging uncomfortably, which probably shouldn’t be as appealing a thought as she finds it. She squeezes her eyes closed to banish the idea from her mind, and takes a long breath. She might be tied to the bedposts, but no Anaris concedes so quickly. “So are you going to sit and stare all night, or are we testing out your new toy?”

“I can do whatever I want, actually.” Gail’s voice doesn’t rise, she doesn’t even look Hue in the eye, and Hue resents the wave of heat that being so steadfastly ignored sends to her core. “And what I want, right now, is to admire my favourite plaything. New garter belt and all.”

Gail meets her eyes, then, and Hue can feel a deep plum blush rising to her cheeks. For a woman who is so resolutely silent in her work, Gail talks Hue in circles when they’re like this, every time. Hue is working at a disadvantage, though, with the constant pressure of leather cuffs around her wrists and the smooth shock of delicate silk stockings when she rubs her thighs together. It’s hardly fair.

“Such a cry-baby, princess,” Gail tuts, and it’s only then that Hue realises she’s pouting a little, “I don’t like girls with bad manners.”

Hue very almost voices her offence, but when Gail begins to reposition herself between Hue’s legs, she decides she’d rather not risk losing ground. She bites her lip when Gail’s hands find her skin, one tracing the lace around her hip, the other a feather-light press against the seat of her panties, surely beginning to stain with the result of her arousal. Hue rolls her hips a little, chasing any amount of pressure, but Gail is quicker, pulling her hand away with a mean little smile.

“Please?” Hue tugs on the leather securing her wrists as if in punctuation, tail flicking agitatedly against the mattress. “I can be good. Please.”

Gail smiles again, more genuine this time. “I know, princess.” She leans down and presses a slow kiss to Hue’s clit through her panties, and the heat is almost enough to make her sob for more, dignity be damned. “I wonder if you can be quiet, though.”

Hue barely has a moment to think before Gail is moving again, climbing forward to sit on her chest with a lithe grace she’s sure has never looked so beautiful on anyone else. Gail’s leggings come down past her thighs in one motion, and then a hand is in her hair, fingers massaging her scalp and coaxing the strands gently from their braid. She doesn’t notice she’s started purring until Gail settles against her mouth, the reverberations echoing in her throat as she kisses at the wetness pooled between her legs.

Hue just manages to pick up a soft hum of relief from above her, which makes her own cunt clench and throb like a madwoman; any sound she causes Gail to make is a satisfying victory and sweet praise all in one, and were Hue’s hands free, she’d be grabbing Gail’s hips to get her tongue deeper inside her, make her get noisy and messy and lightheaded, just for the sake of being smug about it after.

Without her hands, however – and maybe regardless of her bindings, if Hue allows herself to be honest – Gail is free to move her however she likes, coaxing her lips to her clit and labia and all the wonderful human parts that make Hue’s mouth water. And maybe, if she allows herself to be honest, that’s the best part.