"Harder."
"I'll cut you."
"I trust you."
"It's not a matter of trust. If I press any harder, I'll cut you."
"I trust you to cut me."
Cara froze, exhaling in a rush, staring into determined green eyes. "You don't know what you're saying," she breathed, her hand tightening around the hilt of the dagger, the blade quivering as she struggled to hold back.
"Yes, I do," Kahlan said resolutely, arching into the point until it pierced her skin, a trickle of blood running down her throat.
Cara pulled the knife back, the coppery smell flaring her nostrils as she inhaled, igniting her bloodlust. "You're insane," she hissed, suddenly trembling with want, her eyes fixed on the deep red rivulet, stark against pale white skin.
Kahlan tilted her head back, fully exposing her throat. "Come get it, before it stains my dress," she beckoned.
Cara's hands twitched. "You're about to unleash something you can't handle," she said darkly in warning.
"The offer expires in five, four, three, two..." Kahlan didn't get to one.
Cara lunged forward, fixing one hand tightly in Kahlan's hair, her mouth closed over the small wound at the Confessor's throat. She growled at the taste, swallowing hungrily and sucking more blood out with feral desperation, unable to get as much as she wanted from the tiny break in skin.
She pulled back, taking Kahlan's arm instead of her hair, bringing the tip of the Confessor's dagger to the underside of it, carving a long but shallow slice, pupils dilating as she watched the skin split and blood slowly seep to the surface, pooling up before finally being released.
Kahlan shivered, her other hand sliding under her skirts to stroke herself while she let Cara play.
Cara held the knife between her knees to free her hand, and swiped a finger through the Confessor's blood, brought it to her lips, painting red liquid across them like gloss. She went back to the source, then drew war paint across her cheekbones and above her eyebrows.
Barely aware of what Cara was doing, Kahlan simply held her arm out, palm-up, fingers curled lightly, while her other hand worked between her legs. When she glanced up to see her blood smeared across Cara's face like war paint, her hips jerked, fingers pushing deeper, eyes slightly wide. "What are you doing?" she gasped.
Cara stared at her a moment, intensity burning in her gaze, then sneered, dropping her head to Kahlan's arm and sucking the wound dry like a starved animal.
Kahlan purred, and moaned, and strangely wished she had some of Cara's blood to paint on her face, though she had never desired anything like that before.
The taste of Kahlan's blood drove Cara wild, and when she'd had her fill, she wrenched Kahlan's hand from beneath her skirts, flipped the Confessor over the log she'd been sitting on, and hiked up that dirty white dress.
Kahlan didn't object to the rough treatment, even as the tree bark scraped her bare thighs. Abrasions were a small price to pay for being fucked like she wouldn't break. Nails dug into her hip as three fingers sank into her swollen sex, tearing a moan from her throat.
Cara wasn't afraid she was hurting Kahlan. She'd read the Confessor's journal, she knew her darkest fantasies, knew what she wanted more than anything else - to be treated like a woman, not a priceless, delicate porcelain statue. She thrust hard, until her wrist ached, the tendons in her arm straining against sweat-slicked skin. "Talk," she demanded.
"Fuck me," Kahlan gasped, palms pressing into the dirt and grass to steady herself, blood still slowly dripping from the underside of one forearm as she bucked against Cara's fingers. "Fuck me, Cara... fuck me like no one else will... like no one else can," she said breathlessly.
Cara fucked her relentlessly, not stopping until she had come violently, twice, soaking her lover's hand each time, and each time letting out an indecent howl into the woods, the thin silver ring around her neck vibrating with the intensity of her power being released. She had never felt it do that before.
Cara noticed and grabbed the collar, yanking Kahlan upright, forcing the Confessor's head back onto her shoulder as she rubbed their cheeks together. "You're not trying to Confess me, are you?" she growled.
Kahlan cried out, mostly at the accusation, and turned in Cara's grip, kissing her possessively. "Would it matter? You're already mine, and I yours. Confession would have no effect."
"We have never exchanged vows of love."
"What we have is much more sinister than love," Kahlan breathed, running her tongue over her lips, tasting the blood that had transfered to them from Cara's mouth. She didn't like the taste, but she liked what it did to Cara. "Our bond is a thousand times stronger than love's would be. You cannot be Confessed."
Cara's eyes glazed over as she watched Kahlan lick her lips. "Then why do you wear that collar?"
Kahlan's smirk was lazy and wicked as she dropped to her knees and undid Cara's belt. "Because you make me come hard enough to Confess anyone within ten leagues." She tugged down Cara's pants. "And because it feels authentic when we play Mistress Cara."
Cara leaned forward and picked up the discarded dagger, holding it across Kahlan's throat. "In that case... I didn't give you permission to speak, Pet."
Kahlan's eyes sparkled as she lowered them to the ground. Whenever she gave Cara a little push, things always turned out... good.