Chapter Text
With her arms tied behind her back and her head buried between Pansy’s thighs, she still looked the picture of perfection. The green rope wrapped in intricate patterns across her witch's tanned torso and pulled both her forearms against her lower back, accentuating the deep dip of her spine. Pansy gathered the unruly curls, pulled them from her lover’s face, and watched as she sucked on Pansy’s clit hard enough for a white flash in her vision.
“Romilda,” Pansy purred. “You’re such a good girl for me aren’t you?”
Romilda’s dazzling obsidian eyes locked in on Pansy, pupils blown so wide it was hard to separate the shades. “Yes, Mistress.” She replied as she latched her mouth onto Pansy.
“You have,” Pansy paused, her long fingers reaching for her wand to cast a Tempus charm. “Oh, less than 60 seconds, pet. Can you do it? Can you make your Mistress come before the timer runs out? There is a prize waiting for you if you can.”
With her hands tied firmly to her back, Romilda could not use her fingers to hook into Pansy and drag forth an orgasm like she typically would. Her pet had been licking and sucking for the last four minutes, eager to finish the task set by her Mistress. Five minutes was no time at all to bring Pansy to climax. Her inner sadist delighted in Romilda’s potential failure but the ever-determined Gryffindor had not failed a task yet. Her pretty little pet had earned every reward given by Pansy since they had entered into their agreement eight weeks prior. What had started as discreet, quick fumblings had morphed into a deeper, intense connection. Pansy did not wish to imagine a future in which her beautiful girlfriend was not in it. Pansy could not fathom a life that did not involve her lover's fiery attitude, glorious obedience and talented tongue.
Romilda’s frustration with her task manifested into a growl that made Pansy stiffen and as though lightning had struck, Romilda’s body buzzed with determination. Romilda closed her full lips around Pansy’s hardened nub and softly swirled her tongue. A soft sigh escaped Pansy’s ruby-painted lips and she relaxed under her lover’s gentle touch. As Pansy allowed her body to melt into the bed beneath her, Romilda hummed. The vibrations pulled Pansy’s back into a high arch and with fingernails clinging mercilessly to her scalp, Romilda bit down. Not hard enough to hurt, never that. But enough that Pansy toed the line of pain and pleasure and with a sharp hiss, her body trembled and shuddered.
Pansy’s juices covered Romilda’s face, dripping from the sharp corners of her jaw. With wide eyes, she looked at Pansy as though her Mistress held the sun.
“You are such a good pet, aren’t you?” Pansy peeled the damp curls stuck to the nape of Romilda’s neck and tucked stray locks behind her ears. “You know exactly how to keep Mistress happy, don’t you?”
Romilda nodded excitedly. “Yes, Mistress Pansy.”
“A promise is a promise and a reward you have earned. Tell me, vixen, what is the one thing you want your Mistress to give you?”
Pansy saw the hesitation in her lover, tracked with her own careful eyes the way Romilda’s body curled in on itself. She climbed from the bed, placed in the centre of the room, and knelt next to Romilda on the floor.
“Pet, I asked you a question.”
“I want-” Romilda’s gaze was secured on her knees, her voice grew quieter with each passing syllable and to Pansy’s ear, she was sure that she heard the word share.
“Good pets get rewards,” Pansy said, her tone steady and neutral. “But good pets know to use their voice to get rewards. Are you a good pet?”
Romilda bristled and Pansy smirked. Her witch adored praise and Pansy would withhold all niceties until she confessed to what she wanted. Shame had no place in Epicurea. This had been created for the survivors of the war. It had become a home for lost souls chasing connection, healing and in Pansy’s case - devotion.
“I want you to share me,” Romilda said, head still bowed. “I want you to share me, please, Mistress.”
“With whom, sweet pet? Do you want Mistress B to bend you over and fuck you with her biggest toy? Or, as I know that you are partial to men, shall I request that The Professor take you into his dungeon and demonstrate the improper use of Devil’s Snare?”
Romilda’s eyes drifted upwards, a sheepish expression obscured her usually stunning features.
“Come now, I thought I had you trained better than this. There is no shame in this room with me. There is no judgement. You have earned your reward, now claim it before you lose it.”
Pansy stood tall, towered over Romilda’s kneeling form and crossed her arms.
“I want you to share me with Cho.”
“Chang?”
Romilda nodded her head. “She is a bartender here, I’m certain.”
“It appears you have a taste for older women, vixen. How can you be sure it is her?”
All the staff at Epicurea were masked for anonymity purposes. Pansy had suspicions, naturally, about the identities of the staff but did not care to busy herself with those that were not there to play.
“She has a swan tattoo on her left ankle. When I was a healer for her team last season I spotted it in the changing room.”
“My, my, my.” Pansy cooed. “Were you spying, little pet?”
Romilda looked up at her with watery eyes, and a remorseful expression, sparking an idea in Pansy’s mind.
“We will invite her to join us on Wednesday evening, however, the choice will be hers to accept.” With a sharp flick of her wand, Romilda was on her feet. “But for now, you will bend over that chaise in the corner, with your legs spread wide. I have a new toy that I want to slide into that pretty pussy of yours."
She paced the length of the stage, and her mind ran over her plan, again and again, to find any fault that she may have missed. Satisfied that the scene had been set up perfectly, she inhaled the heavy scent of vanilla that hung in the air throughout every room of Epicurea. Pansy’s nipples tightened in response, she would never be able to enjoy vanilla without clenching her thighs in longing. Behind the thick satin curtain that encompassed the stage, Pansy began to imagine the faces of the club members who sat in wait for their performance.
Wednesdays, at Epicurea, allowed for the main room to be utilised by its members. The House Doms, Masters and Mistresses and their Submissivies and Pets, who performed throughout the week, had the opportunity to relax and mingle with the other members. To ensure the success of her plan she had offered two free lessons on Shibari to the couple who originally held the booking, they happily exchanged their slow and Pansy had secured the Wednesday slot for her pet, as promised. She had made a deal with The Professor, the club owner, to ensure that the bartender in the Swan mask, who she truly hoped was Cho, would be on shift. A fact that he could not confirm or deny when she inquired the night before.
“The anonymity here at Epicurea is the key to its success. I simply cannot tell you the names of my staff Miss Parkinson.”
Tucked in the breast pocket of her robe was a duplication of the Swan’s list - a list that each member of staff, and member, at Epicurea was obligated to complete, it compiled their preferred kinks and their hard limits. The list matched Pansy’s and Romilda’s own as though it was tailored with them in mind. The Professor would be furious to know that Pansy had broken into his office and stolen it but it begged the question that if he didn’t want her to rifle through his belongings then why had he installed such flimsy security charms?
Pansy turned toward the clicking sound that made its way towards her and beamed at the sight of her pet. Her sweet, fiery vixen wore a sheer midnight blue babydoll that left very little to the imagination, paired with crotchless underwear and strappy heels. Her curls hung softly to her waist and Pansy fought the urge to run her fingers through them.
“Oh pet, I want to just eat you up.” Romilda flushed under her praise and it made her tanned skin glow. “Here let me add the finishing touches.”
And from within her robe, she pulled two matching ribbons. One used to secure Romilda’s curls into a high ponytail. Pansy trailed her fingers, using her nails to scrape gently, against Romilda’s now exposed neck and watched as gooseflesh appeared in its wake. Pansy breathed in, her nose pressed against Romilda's neck, the scent of bergamot was too enticing. The second ribbon she wrapped around her pet's neck and with clever, wandless and nonverbal, magic Pansy transfigured the ribbon into a blue leash that glimmered in the dim lighting.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“But?” Pansy asked, sensing the worry in her pet’s tone
“But,” Romilda turned to face her, almost at Pansy’s height in the heels that she wore. “What if she says no.”
“Then she says no.” She tugged at her hips, pulling them flush against her own. “She is entitled to say no, vixen. Regardless, every eye will be on you tonight and you will put on the best show this stage has ever seen.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Pansy kissed her deeply, mindful to not displace the lipstick so precisely applied - not yet, but soon, she thought.
With a wave of her hand, the curtain pulled back.
The main room with its soft lighting, swathes of soft materials and chairs that covered every inch of the room embodied luxury and comfort. There was not an empty seat in sight. Rather, several people were sitting on the laps of their lovers, Doms and Masters. She could not help but smirk with the power that she channelled, it felt good to be in control. Everyone applauded, several cheered and a few even whistled.
She smiled brightly and tugged gently on the leash around her pet's neck. They had a show to perform and a witch to ensnare.