#lizardwriting

"Hey." I force a smile and glance at his name tag - 'Mickey' - wondering if this is his real name. I considered putting a fake one on mine for a moment, but then decided against it.

"First time?" Mickey asks.

"Yeah," I confirm with a grimace. "You?"

"Yeah."

We small-talk for a few minutes, then Clyde, the group leader, ushers us all to the chairs standing in a circle. He welcomes the new attendees, emphasizing how glad he is that we're here, and that every contribution is very much appreciated. Also, we are all "so brave" to be here.

I scoot around on the hard wooden chair to find a comfortable position while being regaled by one of the members' stories about getting autopsied by 'her' scientist. Most of the others listen intently, nodding along.

"Vivisection," I finally murmur under my breath.

Mickey leans over a little. "What?"

"Well, if she's not dead, it's not an autopsy," I explain, whispering. "It's a vivisection." I got schooled on the difference myself not too long ago, even though mine turned out to be 'just' a hypnosis-induced hallucination, and Helena didn't actually cut me open. Seemed pretty real in that moment, though.

Mickey chuckles, then we join in to half-heartedly applaud the vivisected woman and her account.

Next, group leader Clyde gives a boring, endless talk about our legal rights as scientific test subjects, then he pivots to how most of us are too emotionally entangled with our scientists, making the whole thing a lot more complicated.

"So the first step of getting out of a toxic relationship like this is," Clyde lectures, "you have to want to get out."

"This is bullshit," I whisper to myself with an eyeroll - judging by the way he now looks at me, apparently not quietly enough. Blushing, I scramble to apologize. "Sorry, I didn't mean… sorry."

"No, please." Clyde gives me a forced smile. "We're all about open communication here. Speak your mind."

"It's just…" I gnaw on my lip, trying to find the right words. "I don't see why the goal has to be to get away. I mean, I'm sure it's different for every one of us, but I don't want to leave. I love her. And she's really smart and doing important work, so it's nice to play a part, right? Help with scientific progress? And like, I don't even mind the experiments. Mostly. Well, the plant monster was maybe a little extreme, but…" I frown at the memory for a second, then kick my brain back into focusing on the present. "And I know she'd never actually let anything serious happen to me! But I just would like to get asked beforehand, y'know? Instead of suddenly waking up from getting drugged again, strapped to a table, her looming over me menacingly, eyeing my naked body, and…" I clear my throat, feeling myself blush. "Anyway. I don't think 'getting out' has to be the ultimate end goal. Instead, we could maybe focus on how to achieve a more equal relationship, right? How to approach a consent discussion and things like that?" Getting self-conscious about my spontaneous little speech, I make a face. "Sorry, didn't mean to butt in like that."

Clyde stares at me with a deep frown, but before he can say anything, Mickey suddenly starts applauding, and a few of the others hesitantly join in.

"Thank you," Clyde notes, squinting at my name tag, "…Fia. That is a very valid point for discussion." He gives me another forced smile and looks into the group. "Now, who's next?"

I sink into my chair, a little embarrassed, when the guy with the third eye talks about how his scientist is still trying to clone him, unsuccessfully so far, and how it's messing with his mind, because he thinks he's about to be replaced, and he has mixed feelings about that.

A few accounts later, we reach the last program point - Clyde leading a guided meditation to strengthen our root chakra, so we can better endure whatever is to come.

I'd rather get locked in with the plant monster again, if I'm being honest.

Mickey elbows me. "Wanna get out of here?" he whispers, and I nod promptly. The hell is a root chakra anyway?

Outside, Mickey lights a cigarette. "Well, that sure was… something," he states with a chuckle.

Peeling off my name tag, I laugh. "Sure was."

"You wanna get a coffee together?"

I probably should decline, it's pretty late in the evening, and I don't even know the guy - but maybe this experience has forged a strange bond between us already. "Yeah sure, why not."

While we're walking toward the coffee shop across the street, Mickey glances at me. "Okay, but I just have to ask - this is a sex thing for you, right?"

Stumped, I blink at him. "What, no?! It's not- it's not a sex thing!" I stammer at this sudden intrusive question, feeling myself blush. "…well, not exclusively a sex thing…"

---

further recommended reading, very explicit: the vivisection, the plant monster

"Fringe files?"

"You see, my dear old mentor was of the opinion that the pursuit of knowledge is never a waste of time, no matter how ridiculous an idea might seem on the surface. So, occasionally, he indulged in some rather far-out endeavors. 'Fringe science'. Pseudoscience, if you want to be less generous."

Curious, I look at her. "Like what?"

"Oh, things like telepathy, mind control, parallel universes…" Helena shrugs.

"Seriously?"

She holds up the folder in her hands. "Necromancy…"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry, I mean 'late-stage resuscitation'," she reads out loud with a chuckle and leafs through the pages. "Seems like he was trying to find out how far you can push the time frame of reviving a human body. Looks a bit questionable." She shakes her head, seemingly amused by the whole thing.

"I thought he was some kind of genius, and not that… weird."

Of course I heard the stories about Nathaniel Westmoreland, one of the greatest minds of his generation, the pinnacle of rationality. I also know how ruthless and cruel he could be in the name of science, so to picture him being involved in this random hocus-pocus feels very strange.

"Well, sometimes genius and insanity are a lot closer together than one might like to admit," Helena says. "Fortunately, he usually dropped these ideas rather quickly when they turned out to be unfeasible. He kept all his notes, though, boxes and boxes full of them. And occasionally, he even found some inspiration in them later." She smiles at the folder in her hand, a smile I'd almost call fondly. A rare sight.

"So, I assume I shouldn't throw them away?"

"No. Leave them here, I'll put them with the rest." Helena drops the file back into the box. "You'll never know when you need some… unorthodox ideas."

"I can digitize them for you, so they're not so unwieldy," I offer.

"No need, I'll keep them like this. But thank you."

I can't help but tease her a little. "You're not turning all mad scientist on me now, are you?"

She raises an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching. "If you get sassy, I'll see what I can find in these to make you behave. Maybe I'll repurpose one of the mind control experiments."

"Yes, Sir. I'll keep that in mind," I reply with a grin, before leaving her alone with a box full of weirdness. Hopefully, it doesn't inspire her too much.

---

now where might these come in handy one day...

"Can I get you a coffee while you wait?"

"That would be lovely. Little milk, no sugar, please."

"Coming right up, Ms. Rhodes."

"Just 'Addie', please," she chuckles. "If you don't mind." Oh, I certainly don't.

She settles into one of the plush chairs outside of my boss's office, somehow making it look like she's lounging on a throne, and I hand her a coffee a few minutes later.

"Thank you, darling."

There's this amazing smile again, and I'm pretty sure I am actually blushing a little. Guess I'm not immune to a very charming woman twice my age calling me sweet pet names. "You're welcome."

"You're new here, aren't you?" Addie is apparently a regular enough guest to know that, and I wonder what her relationship with Amir is. He put that appointment on his calendar himself, with only her first name and no further info, so I'm not even sure if this is a professional date. Not that it's any of my business.

"Uhm, yes. Started a few weeks ago," I reply, clearing my throat. Why the hell am I so nervous all of a sudden? I small talk with random people all day, it's no big deal - but right now, I am acutely aware of the way I am standing, and my sweaty palms, and how my voice sounds, as if I have to consciously control how to be a human being.

She's intimidatingly beautiful, it's unreal. And her perfume smells really nice.

We chat for a few minutes about my job here, and if I like working for Amir - which I do, because he seems like a good boss so far, we get along pretty well - and I manage to not make a complete ass of myself. Almost a miracle.

Then Amir emerges from his office, and I can't quite decide if I'm glad he's saving me from further embarrassment, or sad that she'll leave now.

"Addie, hey. Sorry for the wait." They greet each other with a kiss on the cheek, seemingly very familiar with each other.

"Don't worry, darling," she assures him. "I had lovely company." She smiles at me, squeezing my arm, and once again I am blushing, which is so silly. I am not easily flustered, usually. But this woman has me wrapped around her finger after a five-minute conversation. Fuck. It must be so obvious.

"Glad to hear," Amir chuckles. "Now, come on in."

He leads her into his office, closing the door behind them, and I exhale. Was I holding my breath since Addie stepped in here? Probably not, even though it feels like it. When did I turn into such a pathetic mess?

It's not easy with her perfume still lingering in the room, but I manage to turn my focus back to my actual work, more or less. Of course, that focus is immediately shattered again when they re-emerge half an hour later, and I try so hard not to stare. Did she get even more beautiful, somehow?

After they said their goodbyes, she turns to me on the way out. "It was very nice to meet you, darling." God, she needs to stop calling me that, or I'll never stop blushing.

"Likewise," I murmur, very flustered, trying to commit every single detail of her face to memory.

"Until next time." Addie gives us a little wave and another breathtaking smile, then she takes her leave while I stare after her like a lovesick little puppy.

I get pulled back into reality when I vaguely register Amir calling my name.

"I'm sorry, what?" I blink up at him, standing next to my desk with his hands buried in his pockets, giving me an amused look.

"Fia, you still with me?"

"Yes! Yes, I am. Sorry." I really need to get it together. "So… who is she?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"Addie? My ex-wife," he shrugs.

"Wait, seriously?" Wouldn't have been my first guess, even though they did seem very comfortable with each other. But she's a good ten years older than him, by my estimate, and most of his fellow successful businessmen buddies seem to go for young trophy wives instead. Perhaps it's not surprising, considering the effect she had on me, too.

"Should I take it personally that you sound so shocked about that?" Amir chuckles.

"No, it's just… she's so beautiful, and-" I bite my tongue, horrified about having actually said that out loud. What the hell is wrong with me? "-and maybe now I should stop talking."

He laughs, taking it in stride, and doesn't seem too offended. "Maybe you should."

Holy shit, this is so embarrassing. I have a massive crush on my boss's ex-wife, twentysomething years older than me, and it must be so, so very obvious. Perhaps I should find a new job - if I don't die of humiliation first.

Amir has mercy and doesn't rub it in, instead switches back to his business tone. "Can you get me the finance guy from this morning back on the phone, please?"

I grimace. "Sure. On it, boss."

God, I hope he never ever brings this up again.

spontaneous continuation: [here]

---

She hates asking for help, and this whole topic feels especially humiliating for some reason. But she doesn't have time to work this out on her own, and Adelaide felt like the best person to ask, because she certainly always looks exceptionally well dressed, as far as Helena can assess that. Plus, she likes her. They're not friends, because Helena doesn't make friends easily - but they're definitely friendly.

Adelaide grins, almost a little too excited. "Oh, I would love to! When are you free this weekend? We're going shopping!"

Helena makes a face at the sudden enthusiasm. "Actually, I thought you'd just tell me a specific store or two, maybe some general tips, and I'll figure the rest out on my own."

"Oh, no, that's not going to work," Adelaide chuckles. "Not that I don't trust your abilities to 'figure it out', but I can assure you, the result will be so much better - and achieved so much quicker - if we take a little trip together." Before Helena can protest, she adds, "And don't worry, I'm not going to drag you around all day. I'm really good at finding the right stuff quickly."

Helena frowns, hesitating. "Fine. If you insist."

"I have a condition, though."

Oh great, of course she has. "I'm listening?"

"I know how much you like being in charge, but you are not going to fight and debate me on every single detail. Instead, you will trust me to pick the right outfit for you," Adelaide states firmly.

Helena's frown gets deeper, and she considers her options. Then she sighs. "Under no circumstances will I wear a dress, or anything dress-like," she declares, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"I can work with that."

"And no cleavage," she adds.

Adelaide beams at her. "Deal. You will look great once I'm done with you."

---

Well, she didn't exaggerate completely.

Helena eyes herself in the big mirror, studying the view closely. She looks surprisingly… dapper. Not pretty, because that would require more than a change of clothes, but still. Not bad, not bad at all. She is still not exactly sure how that was achieved, though, because it's not even that far off from her usual outfit - black pants, white blouse, black jacket. Plus the tie, but even without that, she looks a lot fancier than usual. Very curious.

The whole process was remarkably painless, too. Not that she enjoyed their little shopping trip, but Adelaide wasn't lying when she claimed to be good at this. They only had to visit two different stores, and both times, Adelaide was quick to scan the place and then home in on a few things that all fit exceptionally well. A very strange talent, but definitely useful in this case.

For the night of the banquet, she insisted that Helena would get ready at her place, so she could do her hair too, to quote 'not ruin the outfit with that messy ponytail'. Now her hair is neatly pinned up, which also took a lot less time than Helena thought it would.

"Satisfied with my handiwork?" Adelaide asks, emerging from the other room while putting in a pair of dangly earrings. She's wearing some type of elaborate gown and heels even higher than her usual ones. Helena has no idea how she can walk in them, but she makes it seem effortless. And of course, she looks stunning, which is no surprise.

"Yes," Helena chuckles. "Thank you, by the way. I don't think I mentioned that yet."

"That's what friends are for." She adjusts Helena's tie with a quick motion. "Ready?"

"I think so."

Adelaide links arms with her, pulling her along. "Then let's go charm some of those investors…"

---

"Where's 'home'?" she asks after activating the med scanner. The machine will need a few minutes to run the full program.

"Some backwater rust bucket called Elysium station," he chuckles. "Made noises like that all the time, too."

Helena raises an eyebrow behind the face shield of her suit's helmet. "'The crown jewel of the Gemini Expanse'?"

Stumped, he looks at her for a moment, then he laughs. "Oh, you've heard of it? I'm impressed, not many people have."

"I actually lived there, a while back," she says, double-checking that the scanner is running correctly. "Only for about a year, though."

She's usually not big on volunteering information about her past, especially when it comes to the time before her life on Earth, but she likes 792 for some reason. Of his whole test cohort, he is by far the most pleasant. Cooperative, specific and detailed in his statements, and a very high pain tolerance. Truly the model patient. Also, he's rather smart and well-spoken - good company. She enjoys their little chats.

"Huh. Now that is quite the curious coincidence."

"It is indeed. When did you leave?"

"About thirty years ago."

"Long before my time, then. Do you miss it?"

"Oh, God, no," he snorts. "I mean, you've seen the place - and I doubt it's gotten any prettier with time."

"Probably not, no," she chuckles.

The scanner makes the familiar beeping sound, indicating its completion, and Helena checks the readings. She can't help but frown. 792's rather lively state is a little deceptive, unfortunately.

"Well, give it to me straight, doc," he asks, watching her face intently.

"Viral load is still unusually high. Depending on the effectiveness of today's round of treatment, I'd say your chances of surviving the week are about fifty percent."

He looks at her silently for a long moment, then he starts peeling off the sensors, stating dryly, "Did anybody ever tell you that your bedside manner could use some polish?"

It certainly isn't the first time she has received that criticism. "I apologize. I figured you didn't want me to sugarcoat it."

792 sighs. "No, you're right. I like that about you - no bullshit." He stares at the scanner with a frown. "Hope you get at least some good data out of my little predicament. Would be a shame if it were all in vain."

"That we do. There have been a lot of useful findings in this trial so far."

He is one of the few subjects who actually seems to value and understand the work they are doing here. And Helena appreciates how stoically he is about his whole situation. A lot of his fellow patients resort to begging or bargaining the closer they get to death, not that this helps them in any shape or form.

"Anyway, fifty percent isn't too terrible," 792 says. "And I'd like to think our little Elysium-connection is a good omen."

Helena can't help but make a face. "No offense, but Elysium isn't exactly the place I'd associate with favorable odds."

"Oh, but having made it out of there seems like proof of being a lucky person," he replies with a shrug, giving her a wry smile.

"Maybe." Helena pats his shoulder a little awkwardly and grabs her things, readying to leave. "I'll check in on you tomorrow."

She doesn't believe in luck. But she hopes subject 792 will make it.

---

Her smile gets wider. "Enjoy your meal."

I can't help but laugh at the ominousness, but I am a little intrigued, too. Helena has the weirdest connections, so it's probably something exotic. Maybe from the colonies? The natural fauna on most planets isn't particularly palatable - sometimes outright inedible - for humans, but a few get gene-modified for exactly that purpose. And some Earth-livestock takes on unusual properties after being introduced to a slightly different atmosphere - everybody knows about Obos Prime beef. So I assume it's something like this.

I carefully cut off a bit of one of the pieces, chew, and focus on the taste. Lean, pretty mild overall, with a hint of sweetness, I think? Certainly tastes similar to pork, too.

"It's very good," I comment after swallowing a bite.

Helena is watching me intently the whole time. "Not too bland? I went light on the seasoning to not overpower the natural flavor."

After trying another bite, I shrug. "I mean, it could totally see it fitting well with some kind of marinade, in general. But no, not bland. I like it."

"Now the other one, please."

"Yes, Sir…"

I once again focus on the taste. Definitely the same type of meat, the same animal or whatever.

"Any difference?" she asks, taking a sip of her wine.

"I'm not sure." I try another bite. "Maybe a little more… flavorful? But to be honest, I never before paid this much attention to my food, so I might be imagining it. You're putting me a little on the spot here," I complain playfully.

"I apologize," she chuckles and finally starts eating, too.

After a bit of silent chewing, I look at her curiously. "Well, do you taste a difference?"

"Yes, but it's very subtle," Helena confirms. "I thought it might be more pronounced."

"You want to enlighten me already what our mystery meat here is?"

"Why don't we finish first?"

There's that cryptic smile again, and I laugh. "I'm not going to like the answer, am I?"

If she's this sketchy, it's something weird. Some kind of animal I wouldn't have eaten if I'd known beforehand. I don't particularly mind that she's introducing me to new foods this way - I am well aware that it's purely in my head where I make the distinction which animal to label 'food' and which not. It can't be too cute or too creepy, and having the meat be a little more 'anonymous' makes it easier to swallow, literally.

We eat, drink, have our usual pleasant dinner conversation, and eventually finish our plates. Wine glass in hand, I lean back in my chair, very curious to finally solve the mystery. "So - what did we just eat?"

Helena smiles at me silently for a long moment, then she simply states: "Us."

"I'm sorry?"

"Clonemeat. Of you and me." I stare at her, trying to process her words, and she continues. "I was wondering if there is a noticeable difference in taste if you don't factor in age, recent nutrition, and all that. If multiple generations on a different planet may have an influence. Of course, I'm well aware that the sample size is too small to make an actual judgment about it, but I was curious, so I figured - why not give it a try?"

"You're kidding, right?" I ask, mouth agape. Helena raises her eyebrow in response - of course she's not kidding, when is she ever? Now that it slowly settles in what she just told me, I can feel this sour sensation building up in the back of my throat, my jaw clenching. I take a deep breath and try to wash down the taste with a big gulp of wine. "I can't believe you made me eat this," I murmur, half to myself.

Helena frowns, almost a little surprised by my discomfort. "I thought you enjoyed it."

"We ate human meat! Our human meat!" I'm not even sure if that makes it better or worse, somehow? But I guess it's nice we at least ate both of us, and not just me, in some fucked up display of dominance… God, this is so gross.

"So?"

Is she serious? "It's called cannibalism," I press out with a grimace. How is she so nonchalant about this?

Helena rolls her eyes. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. Not like I chopped off your arm and grilled it. It's clonemeat like any other."

"No, it's not?!" How can she not see this? "Also, I thought there's laws against this kind of stuff!" Not that it's exactly my area of expertise, but I'm pretty sure it's illegal to grow human meat for consumption.

She shrugs, unbothered as usual. "There are laws against growing it commercially, yes. But it's not like anyone can stop you from doing it in private."

Yes, because people just randomly grow their own meat at home. Unbelievable. "This is so fucked up."

"I really don't see what the big deal is."

I run my hand through my hair, exasperated. "How can you not see this?! We ate human meat!"

She takes a sip of wine, looking at me intently. "How is that different from literally any other meat?"

"Because it's wrong, like, on a moral ground!"

"Why?" Helena asks, eyebrow raised.

"…because!" Maybe not my brightest argument, but I'm still so flabbergasted by this whole encounter that I can't think straight.

"Well?"

"Because it is!" I huff, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "It feels wrong!"

"That sounds more like a sentimental reason than a moral one to me."

"Are you serious?!" I can feel myself getting increasingly agitated, while Helena remains her usual calm self.

"Well, you don't mind eating meat, generally speaking."

"That's different."

"Why?" she asks, and there's genuine curiosity in her voice. "What is the morally relevant distinction between humans and other creatures? Why does Homo sapiens as a species deserve special treatment? Why is it more moral to kill and eat an animal, than to lab-grow human meat?" She gestures at our empty plates. "Nothing died for this."

"Are you trying to turn me into a vegetarian?" I grumble.

"No, not really. But that at least would be morally consistent, in my opinion," she shrugs. "Everything else seems a little hypocritical."

"Oh, so I'm a hypocrite now," I pout, a bit hurt.

"No, I said your argument is a little hypocritical."

I frown at her silently for a few moments, still really grossed out by the whole thing, and at the same time frustrated that I don't have a better argument. I know I can't win this one, and I hate it when that happens. Guess that's the downside of dating a fucking genius who always has rational, well-thought-out reasoning for everything.

"Fine. You're right. It is hypocritical," I finally admit, refilling my glass and taking a big swig. "I would still very much prefer to never, ever eat human again, if possible."

"Noted." The corners of her mouth twitch. "But you have to admit, it wasn't bad."

I glare at her for a second, but I can't suppress a chuckle. What is this woman turning me into? "No comment. Also, for the record: If I die, I do not want to get eaten by you." I am joking, but on the other hand, I suddenly feel like I need to state that explicitly. What does it say about the nature of our relationship?

Helena lets out a dramatic sigh. "Well, if you insist…" Her smile gets a little mischievous. "It would have a certain romanticism, though. Don't you think?"

I stare at her, flabbergasted, then I start to laugh. "You are the worst!" Sometimes I forget how fucked up her humor is.

Because surely, she's joking. Hopefully.

---

Helena's arguments cite directly from:

Routley, Richard (1982). In Defence of Cannibalism, I: Types of Admissible and Inadmissible Cannibalism. Canberra: Australian National University, Philosophy Department

Wisnewski, J. Jeremy (2004). "A Defense of Cannibalism". Public Affairs Quarterly. 18 (3): 266, 271.

---

Helena walks into the room, wearing her usual getup of tank top, panties, and huge strap-on, and I swallow the lump in my throat. There are a lot of emotions rushing through me in this moment, and none of them positive. Anger, mostly. Sadness, being rejected. I can feel tears stinging in my eyes.

This is one of the crueler things Helena has done to me. What happened to 'you have no reason to be jealous of her, she's not a threat to you'? So what if I'm scared of being replaced, of Helena getting bored with me and finding a new toy. It's not like I'm particularly clingy and show those emotions much - but I can't exactly control having them. And for Helena to now treat me like this? Making me watch? That's really heartless, even by her standards.

I should storm out there and tell them both what I think of this little stunt, drag Raquel out by her hair or something. Yes, I am aware it's not technically her fault, she probably doesn't know about Helena and me, but still. If this stupid cow hadn't thrown herself at Helena at every opportunity… I hate her.

I don't have to do this - torturing myself by watching the woman I love fuck someone else. I should get out of here before they actually start, or I'll never get those images out of my head.

I can't. I have to see.

Raquel is sitting on the edge of the bed, with Helena standing in front of her. They are talking about something - is there sound? I find the volume control and turn it up.

"I'm not sucking your strap," Raquel chuckles. "And please don't call me a slut again."

Helena gives her a long look. "Raquel. Open your mouth. I'm not going to repeat myself."

Raquel wiggles her eyebrows and smiles in an attempt to be seductive. "I can do other things with my mouth instead."

Without warning, Helena grabs Raquel's hair and shoves her cock into her mouth. Startled, Raquel lets out a surprised squeal and gags, trying to push Helena away. Yeah, that's not going to work, I know from experience that Helena is stronger than she looks.

"I don't think you understand your role here, my dear. This isn't for your enjoyment, it's for mine." Helena pushes her cock in deeper, making Raquel gag once more. "All I want to hear from you is 'Yes, Sir' and some pretty noises." Another push, another gag. "Are we clear?"

She pulls Raquel off her cock by her hair to give her an opportunity to answer. I wonder if she will protest again, because she sure glares up at Helena very defiantly. But then she just murmurs a quiet "Yes, Sir."

Helena shoves her cock right back into her mouth with a pleased grin. "See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" Pushing deeper, she pats Raquel's head. "What a pretty little cocksucking slut you are."

She starts laying into her, fucking her face for real, and the room is filled with gagging noises. I have to say, that's a pretty weak performance Raquel presents here, for someone who usually excels at basically everything. I can take Helena's cock a lot better… Is that something to be proud of? I also don't protest as much, obviously. Raquel sure has a lot to learn - not that I want her to learn, because I hate her, and I hate seeing her with Helena like this.

And what I hate even more is the unmistakably tingly feeling in my pussy. For fuck's sake, why is this turning me on? But I just can't drag my eyes away from that view, Helena roughly using Raquel like some kind of toy, with her clearly not liking it. Maybe Helena's sadism is rubbing off on me.

She eventually has mercy and pulls out, leaving Raquel coughing and gasping for air. Wiping the spit off her chin, she scowls. "I did not enjoy that."

An amused snort is all the reply Helena cares to give, showing exactly how much Raquel's enjoyment matters to her. Instead, she simply orders, "Get on the bed. On your knees."

Raquel crosses her arms in front of her chest. "What, you're going to fuck me, just like this? Not even any foreplay?"

"That was the foreplay, my dear," Helena chuckles. I thoroughly agree - and if Raquel didn't get wet from having her face fucked, then that's her own fault. Somehow. I would be dripping down my legs by now.

Apparently realizing that being a brat doesn't get her very far, she tries another tactic, and puts on an appeasing smile, fluttering her eyelashes. "Helena, come on, I-"

Her pathetic begging is interrupted by a firm slap to the face. "It's 'Sir'," Helena reminds her with a sweet, not-very-sincere smile. "If you don't mind."

Raquel blinks away a few tears, dazed for a moment - and then starts to complain again. She really doesn't learn, does she? "I told you, I don't care if you're going a bit rougher, but that actually hurt and-"

Another slap, even harder this time. "Bed. Now."

There's this glimmer of fear in Raquel's face, and I bet she's contemplating running away. Did it simply never occur to her to be afraid of Helena? Doesn't she realize what she's capable of? I thought she's smarter than this.

She finally does as she's told and gets on her knees, with Helena positioning herself behind her.

"Can you please go slow-" Raquel's request segues into a pained moan, because of course Helena rammed her cock into her in one go - which must be really unpleasant if you're not a masochist like me, who gets wet from being slapped around and degraded. If I had any sympathy for her, I'd feel sorry. Instead, I can't help but rub my thighs together, because it is actually pretty hot how Helena starts fucking into her without mercy.

"Hel- Sir, stop, please," Raquel tries to bargain one more time. "This really hurts."

Helena grips her hips and picks up the pace even more. "Raquel, you need to stop talking so much."

"Please stop," she whimpers.

Ignoring the begging, Helena gives her a few really deep strokes, definitely hitting her cervix quite nicely. "I have to say, I'm a little disappointed. I explicitly told you I'm not going to be gentle. And you assured me you can handle it. That you can take whatever I throw at you. But so far, I'm not particularly impressed."

"It hurts," Raquel whines, letting out what sounds like a sob.

"You see, my dear, that's the point."

Helena lays into her, relentlessly pounding away, and Raquel finally stops protesting. She's still not enjoying it; I think she simply gave up. It's actually getting a little boring, she doesn't even make many noises? What a sorry excuse of a plaything.

Seems like Helena finds it as dull as I do, and eventually stops. She pulls out and walks away toward the bathroom while Raquel collapses onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow. Is she crying? Serves her right.

When Helena returns without her strap, she drops a pile of clothes on the bed. "Get dressed, please. You can leave now." Raquel quickly wipes her face and glares at her, then grabs her clothes. "I don't see this working out, by the way."

"What, because I don't like getting abused and degraded without warning?" She actually sounds quite offended. "Because I have boundaries?"

Helena gives her a wry smile. "Yes."

From the office window, hidden by the curtains, I watch Raquel storm out of the house, and I breathe a sigh of relief. The less time I have to be under the same roof as her, the better. Then I hear the door behind me, and Helena enters, still barefoot, but having thrown on her pajama pants and a loose sweater.

Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I grumble, "That was so unnecessary."

"Told you I'd prove to you that she's no threat."

"By fucking her?!"

"I think I made my point," she shrugs.

I glare at her for a moment, then I look at the ground. This stupid stunt really hurt, and I think I have every right to be angry.

Helena steps closer and gently lifts my chin. "Sofiya, she could never replace you. Nobody can, in fact," she states softly, and I can already feel my anger dissipating. She really knows how to get me, because that one hit. And I have to admit, it did cure me a little of my jealousy regarding Raquel. Still. I want to be mad at her. It's just not exactly easy when she looks at me so gently and strokes my cheek. "You're my good girl, and nobody else could ever be as perfect for me as you are."

I get lost in her eyes, choking up a bit. This almost sounded like a love confession. She means that, doesn't she? Fuck. Before I can stop myself, I press a kiss on her lips. Helena pulls me closer, deepening the kiss, and I let out a little sigh. This woman has me wrapped around her finger.

"For the record, I still don't approve of your methods," I murmur against her lips, my eyes closed.

"You rarely do, my dear," she chuckles. "Now, how about you come and suck my cock clean?"

I stare at her, flabbergasted. The thought of licking Raquel's juices from her damn strap is really gross. Unfortunately, it also makes my pussy tingle.

Hesitating, I gnaw on my lip for a moment. Oh, fuck it. "Yes, Sir," I mutter. I can't believe I'm actually agreeing to this.

The kiss she rewards me with makes it worth it, though. "That's my good girl. My perfect good girl."

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