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“You aren’t him,” the Lyctor Prince said, licking her pallid lips. A wash of anger crossed her face.
“‘Fraid not, kid,” Pyrrha Dve smirked. “I’m his cavalier.”
“Fuck,” Ianthe snarled, kicking over a decorative vase. It smashed onto the ground, but Ianthe paid no attention. “I needed him for this! Not some… some old news with a knife for a brain.”
“I think you need to watch your manners,” Pyrrha said, shifting in her binds. “I’m Pyrrha Dve. You may call me Pyrrha or you may call me Ma’am.”
“I’ll call you a dead bitch if I want to,” Ianthe snapped. “What good are you without his powers? Just some useless soul in his meat. Can you do anything useful at all?”
Pyrrha smiled, the corners of Gideon the First’s scarred mouth turning up in good humor. Something clattered to the floor behind her; Ianthe felt her stomach drop as the cuffs rolled away, disabled and useless. Pyrrha cracked her knuckles, stretching out toned muscles.
“Oh, I’ll show you exactly what I can do, little girl,” Pyrrha said dangerously. “I think you need to take off that ridiculous outfit. It makes you look peaky.”
“You can’t-”
“Now.”
Ianthe paused, her mouth hanging slightly open as she studied the woman before her. Rust-red shorn hair, scarred and muscled flesh, arms that bulged at the sleeve. Her arms weren’t the only bulging objects, Ianthe noticed with a flush. She necromantically forced the blood back - Dve did not need to know how the outline of her cock against dark denim made Ianthe’s mouth water. Damn Augustine to hell for all the extra training sessions late at night.
“Make me,” Ianthe said, raising her head stubbornly.
“Oh, you’re fun,” Pyrrha laughed, rolling her eyes. “Cute, even.”
“I am a Lyctor, and-”
“-I know exactly who you are, Pet. I’m not impressed. You’re a little girl in Mommy’s clothes, and it’s time to learn your place.”
Pyrrha crossed the distance between them in three big steps, gripping Ianthe’s arms in her meaty hands. Ianthe struggled, nearly panicked as her necromantic theorems proved useless against Gideon the First’s borrowed body.
“You are going to strip naked and kneel at my feet, Pet. If you disobey, I’ll be very cross.”
“Fuck you,” Ianthe spat.
“Suit yourself.”
Pyrrha raised one booted foot to perch atop a low cabinet. She manhandled Ianthe across her knee, despite the woman’s protests, and brought her palm down hard against the bony backside before her.
“I don’t think you understand your position, kiddie,” Pyrrha said, snapping her palm down crisply against Ianthe’s thigh. “I could kill you, you know. I don’t want to, but I could.”
“Then… then, do it! Kill me,” Ianthe gasped, trying to throw her hand back to protect herself. “Fight me! Don’t… don’t-”
“Don’t spank you like Augustine did?” Pyrrha mused, bringing down a hard swat. “Or Mercymorn, or John, or even your sister-”
“Don’t you bring her into this!” Ianthe snarled, writhing furiously across Pyrrha’s knee. Her toes couldn’t quite touch the ground from this angle. She felt off-kilter, her balance fucked as the burning swats landed on her ass.
“Listen,” Pyrrha said firmly, pausing to rub her hand across the warmed seat of Ianthe’s trousers. “We could be allies. Behave yourself, and this could be very good for both of us. I know you’re intelligent and ambitious. You’ve just never had someone challenge your bluffs before, have you?”
“Fuck you.”
“Language,” Pyrrha scolded, popping her hand down again. “Listen to me and do what I tell you to do, and we might come to an arrangement. It could be mutually beneficial. I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine, etcetera etcetera.”
“Why would I do something like that?” Ianthe yelped, her leg kicking out as Pyrrha’s palm landed again.
“Because if you don’t agree, I’ll just stand here and spank you until someone comes by. It’s your choice. I’m sure everyone’s walked in on their boss getting her ass tanned across a big strong knee before. It certainly wouldn’t bring any gossip into this dull station.”
Pyrrha knew she won before Ianthe could open her mouth to protest.
“That’s what I thought. Now, will you do as you’re told? Strip, poppet.” Pyrrha lowered her leg, allowing Ianthe a moment to regain her balance. She squirmed, her hand rubbing her backside even as Lyctoral healing took over.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ianthe said, but her fingers slowly moved to unbutton her crisp white jacket. “This isn’t for you. This is-”
“-a mutual understanding. Sure, kid, I know. Now get those fucking clothes off.” Pyrrha watched as the coat dropped to the floor, followed by the boots and trousers. “And you can turn off the healing, while you’re at it. I know you can do it. Next time I spank you, I want you to remember it.”
“Who says you’ll get your hands on me again?” Ianthe snapped, peeling away her bra. She hesitated at the waistband of her panties, a flush creeping up her cheeks.
“Oh, Pet, you’ll ask for it,” Pyrrha shrugged. “After all, I’m the only one of the elder Lyctors you never could bed. He never gave you a second glance. But me? I see the potential. Just have to teach you some manners before I give you what you want.”
Ianthe swallowed the lump in her throat. She slowly peeled off her underwear, giving her hips a shimmy she hoped looked seductive. Pyrrha tried to repress her laughter at the attempt.
“Kneel,” Pyrrha said, pointing to the ground at her feet. “And look up at me.”
“This is ridiculous,” Ianthe huffed, dropping to her knees. “I am a Tower Prince.”
“And you look much better on your knees,” Pyrrha grinned. “You’re staring.”
“I am not,” Ianthe dropped her gaze. She hadn’t realized how much being at eye-level with that conspicuous bulge would make her feel. Her mouth watered instinctively. She tried to look anywhere else but at the hardness between Pyrrha Dve’s strong legs.
“Hands behind your back,” Pyrrha said, unbuckling her belt. “You want a taste? I heard you're good with your mouth.”
“Bite me, you sick old fuck,” Ianthe turned her head a moment too late as Pyrrha’s hand caught her beneath the chin. She felt her head jerked up, forcing her to lock eyes with this intimidating woman whose playful smirk faded into a cold, determined smile.
“We’ll see how you feel when I get done with you,” Pyrrha said, pulling the belt through the loops of her jeans with her free hand. “You want to play rough? Let’s play rough. Hands and knees, ass in the air. I know you know the position.”
“You seem to know a lot about me,” Ianthe balked, crossing her arms stubbornly. “And yet I seem to have a dearth of information about you and your-”
“Of course,” Pyrrha rolled her eyes, playfully smacking herself in the forehead. “Augustine did say you were terribly long-winded when your mouth wasn’t busy. You talk too much. Let’s do something about that.”
Pyrrha pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket, ignoring the grease stains and sweat. She balled the fabric up and shoved it into Ianthe’s mouth, silencing her indignant squawk of protest. She wrapped her fist in Ianthe’s hair, bringing her up to a half-crouch.
“Hear that?” Pyrrha sighed pleasantly. “Peace and quiet. Won’t last, of course. I’ve never met anyone who could take a whipping from me without crying. And trust me, I’ve belted a lot of asses through the years.”
Pyrrha spun the girl around and dropped her to her knees, pressing her forehead to the cool tile floor. She pulled Ianthe’s hips up, exposing her ass and thighs to her mercy. More interesting, she noticed the dampness in the soft blonde curls between the girl’s legs.
She wasted no time in whipping her belt across the soft, pale skin of Ianthe the First. The girl groaned into her gag, an angry red mark blooming where the belt kissed her cheeks. Pyrrha hummed pleasantly as she drew the belt back, painting lines of fire across Ianthe’s ass and thighs at a languid pace. To her amusement, Ianthe’s body responded in kind; the blonde Tower Prince arched her back, leaning into each snap of leather on flesh. Pyrrha had to admit, she was fun to play with.
“Wouldn’t you look like a treat over Daddy’s knee?” Pyrrha said, landing the tip of the belt above the barely-exposed strip of labia dangling between Ianthe’s thighs. That one made the girl howl against the handkerchief, her legs shaking even as her pussy dripped with need. Pyrrha could feel her cock stirring beneath her jeans. “Spread ‘em, doll.”
Ianthe couldn’t find the forethought to disobey. She jerked her legs apart, letting Pyrrha’s belt slap lightly at her tender folds. She could only manage three hits to her pussy before she clamped her legs together, moaning in exquisite pain.
Pyrrha laughed.
“You tried, kid. That counts for something. I think you deserve a reward.”
Ianthe looked over her shoulder, her stolen eyes watery and full of need. Pyrrha laughed again at the desperation hiding there. She squatted down on her haunches, pulling the handkerchief from Ianthe’s mouth.
“Mouth, cunt, or ass, babe?” Pyrrha asked, her cocky smirk like a livewire in a lightning storm.
Ianthe glared, trying to wipe the taste of grease and cotton out of her mouth with the back of her hand. She pouted out her lips in thought, which made her look a little too much like her sister for Pyrrha’s liking.
“You really do look just like her sometimes,” Pyrrha mused, tucking Ianthe’s hair behind her ear. “Though, you’d look fucking ridiculous with a rifle.”
“Have you-?”
“Not with her, no,” Pyrrha said, pressing her thumb into Ianthe’s mouth. The girl moaned, allowing Pyrrha to hold her by the jaw as Ianthe sucked. “Though, she did have me in handcuffs with a riding crop once. That was an enlightening conversation.”
Somehow, Ianthe moaned louder at the thought.
“Since you can’t make up your mind, little girl, I’ll make it up for you. Get up on the desk and spread your legs for Daddy.” Pyrrha released her grip. Ianthe’s lips popped free from her thumb, a thread of drool hanging between them.
“Front or back?” Ianthe breathed.
“I’ve always been a fan of doggy style,” Pyrrha said. “Your choice.”
“Fine,” Ianthe stood, catching herself before toppling over. Pyrrha’s eyes focused on the sweet little pussy she was about to conquer.
“I know you aren’t a virgin,” Pyrrha said, watching with interest as the girl crossed the room to bend over the desk, spreading her legs wide. Ianthe’s ass was raw and red from her spanking, and Pyrrha desperately wanted to give the aching skin a squeeze. She restrained herself, focusing instead on her intended target.
“Finger yourself. Touch your clit,” Pyrrha commanded, and she unzipped her jeans.
“Oh, fuck,” Ianthe groaned, burying her face in the crook of her elbow while her other hand slipped to her cunt. She easily slid one finger inside herself, pumping in and out several times before adding a second. Her thumb settled on her swollen clit, rubbing it firmly. She couldn’t hold back a moan.
Pyrrha was already hard, but she gave herself a few solid strokes as soon as her cock sprang free from the confines of her underwear. Borrowing your best friend’s body had its perks, she thought as she pressed the sensitive head of her cock to the slick patch where Ianthe’s fingers worked furiously at her cunt.
“Ready for me?” she said huskily, watching as Ianthe’s cunt tightened in response. The fingers left her vulva, leaving her open and wet for Pyrrha to take over. Pyrrha nudged her cock against the twitching hole, laughing softly at the needy noise that came from the girl’s throat. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Sinking into the heat of Ianthe the First was different in a way that Pyrrha didn’t mind at all. The girl’s responsive cunt welcomed her in, squeezing her cock as Pyrrha tangled her fingers in a lock of blonde hair. Using her hair as leverage, Pyrrha began to thrust into the younger Lyctor, drawing desperate noises from them both. With every instance of thighs meeting hips, Pyrrha could feel the heat between them, radiating from Ianthe’s milky skin whipped red. Pyrrha couldn’t resist landing a hearty slap against the girl’s ass with her open palm.
“Fuck,” Ianthe hissed, her pussy spasming as a gush of liquid drooled out of her. “Fuck, harder, please.”
“Please what?” Pyrrha asked, teasing. She gyrated her hips, not giving Ianthe the depth she craved.
“Please Ma’am,” Ianthe growled, gripping the edge of the deck. “Fuck me harder, Ma’am.”
“Good girl,” Pyrrha purred, yanking hard on her brat’s hair as she thrust deeper, harder, faster. Ianthe lost all sense of time and self as Pyrrha’s thick cock speared her again and again; two, three orgasms rocked her body, and the elder Lyctor still wasn’t done. Ianthe’s hips bruised from the edge of the desk; her arms felt numb from holding so tightly to the other side. Pyrrha drew a fourth screaming orgasm out of Ianthe before her deep voice resonated through the room.
“I always come inside,” she breathed, grinding against Ianthe’s ass.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ianthe gasped, pressing her cheek to the cool surface of the desk. “Yes, yes, now, inside, now!”
“Good girl, good girl,” Pyrrha praised, breathing heavily. “Daddy’s going to fill you up good, little girl.”
“Fuck, Daddy!” Ianthe howled as Pyrrha came, spurts of semen shooting deep inside her in waves of pleasure that left the elder Lyctor moaning like a common whore.
They lay together, Pyrrha’s muscled body draped across Ianthe’s frail one, for several minutes until Pyrrha’s flaccid cock slid out easily. Ianthe’s body buzzed with pleasure. She felt liquid trailing down her thighs, felt her pussy twitching from the emptiness, and then there was a handkerchief wiping her down beneath steady hands. She closed her eyes, basking in the touch.
“Well?” Pyrrha asked at last, discarding her handkerchief in the nearest receptacle.
“I think we can come to… an arrangement,” Ianthe said, pushing herself up from the desk. She exhaled slowly, reaching for her panties. “An arrangement that suits us both. Mutually beneficial.”
“Of course,” Pyrrha smirked, wrapping Ianthe’s coat around her naked shoulders. She pretended not to notice how the girl’s face softened. With the snarls and fury erased from her scowling face, Ianthe the First could be considered lovely. “Mutually beneficial is my middle name.”