A/N: Do you think life is fair? Do you? Really?

X xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx X



"Godammed motherfucker!"

Angell knocked quietly on the bathroom door. They had been getting ready to go to the club, after spending the morning sleeping and watching TV and generally being lazy. And now Flack was inside the bathroom cursing for all he was worth.

"Everything okay in there?"

"Everything's just peachy, Angell. I just diminished Mamma Flack's chances of getting a grandson any time in the near future by eighty percent or more, but other than that, everything is a fucking perfect!"

Chatty Flack was not a good thing. Whiny Flack, she could handle, for that meant his annoyment was only skin deep. Chatty Flack, on the other hand, meant that he was hurting and he kept a nonstop chatter I order to keep his mind away from what was really bothering him.

"May I come in?"

"You wanna gloat or something?"

"I'm hurt you think my intentions are anything but honorable…"

"But… oh, what the hell… come in…"

Angell pushed the door carefully, not knowing where he could be situated. She found him crouching by the toilet, teeth clenched. She also noticed she had an amazing view of his bare ass, which she tried real hard not to stare at. But, then again, she couldn't look at any part of him, as it appeared that he was completely naked and in some sort of pain.

"I pinched my fucking balls with this goddamed piece of cloth, loins or thong or whatever the fuck you want to call it!"

"I see"

She had found a spot near his forehead where she could focus her gaze and not burst out laughing… not that he hurting himself was funny per se but… oh hell, who was she kidding? It was funny as hell; she'd just have to be wise enough as to not let it show…

"How do you do it, huh? How the hell do you wear these things? I can barely stand up and you women seem to live 24/7 with no complaints whatsoever…"

She felt sorry for him. He was working his damnest best towards pulling this gig and he was being set back by mere two square inches of leather. She'd be frustrated as well if she were him… had actually been frustrated when she had to fight the evil boots from nightmare street.

"I guess it's just a matter of physiology, hun… and practice"

"Do you really enjoy wearing them?"

They say curiosity did kill the cat… or, in this case, Flack.

"Sure… although I prefer to go commando whenever possible… thongs are pretty comfortable and can be… uh… stimulating…"

As soon as her words left her mouth, she regretted them. He didn't, for his balls stopped hurting and began throbbing with a different kind of feeling… he couldn't avoid glancing below her waist, trying to figure out what, if any, was she wearing at the moment. He still felt like killing Silva for breaking the moment.

For him, the Earth had literally stopped spinning on it axis as soon as he felt Angell's mouth on his. The kiss had not been passionate… more like a gentle and tender caress which ended way too soon for him. Holding her firmly against his body, he had turned in bed until she was beneath him. With a quick movement, he opened the pajama top, moving the clothing away so her torso was completely naked. He had positioned himself on top of her carefully, letting his body weight fall just so for them to feel the contact between their skins, but not so much that he suffocated her under his weight. Then he had swooped down for another kiss.

And another, and another, and another…

He could have kept on kissing her all morning long, just kissing her and feeling the way her body trembled underneath him but Silva had seen fit to interrupt the moment. And given what had transpired after he'd left, the kissing had been put on hold indefinitively.

Of course, the fact that they had stopped doing it did not mean they had stopped thinking about it.

So there they were, standing too close in a room that was too small and pretending not to be openly staring at the other and wondering… Their eyes met and held. And the house of cards that was their façade of composure came crumbling down.

"Stand up"

Not a request, an order. She walked towards him; he kept his gaze down, slightly trembling with anticipation, uncertain of what came next in this dark game of madness where neither 

one of them were clear on the rules, but were both knew what prize would have to be paid if they failed.

As dispassionate as possible, she studied the sole garment he was wearing. A leather thong, clearly a size too small for him in every sense, paired with a much too recent first waxing, were the culprits of his discomfort. That and the fact that he hadn't tucked himself correctly; a fact she quickly corrected in a professional matter-of-fact fashion that didn't fail to amaze and excite him.

"Come" she said, and for a moment he was uncertain of what she meant, until he saw her turn around and leave the bathroom, and he was quick to follow her into the bedroom. Laying on the bed were her crop and her leather boots. She sat next to them, and took them in her hands.

"Put them on me" she ordered, handing them to him.

He knelt in front of her and did as he was told, taking his sweet time doing so. Despite his original objections as to not having any sort of fetishes, the whole experience had been an erotic adventure from day one and he couldn't help but feel in a perpetual state of semi arousal. Once the second boot was zipped up, his hand lingered for a moment on his mistress thigh. His action was rewarded with a swift smack using the crop.

Jezebel stood up. Grabbing her boy toy by the chin, she forced him to look up at her while still kneeling.

"Donnie, Donnie, Donnie… you're not being a good boy today. I think you need a punishment to help you remember that you cannot do anything without my permission…"

Why did the whole thing have to be such a fucking turn-on? His erection was now clearly outlined through his leather thong, the pull of the string nested in between his cheeks crossing back and forth the line between pleasure and pain.

"Get up"

He did as ordered, is hands modestly crossed in front of him, as his mistress had not allowed him to have an erection. Jenn looked him over, trying to stay in character. She ran her crop over his body, sliding it down his sides and then up again on the inside of his legs, dragging it slowly, so maddeningly slowly, watching as his muscles quivered under her touch. How she longed to touch him with her own hands! But she knew she wouldn't stop at simply touching and it was better if she kept her hands off him. That is was safer if she kept her hands off him.

She moved around him, staying behind him, watching his back muscles tremble. She couldn't help but smile when she noticed his clenching and unclenching of his lower back muscles in vain search of some relief for the tension created by the thing he was wearing. And as charming and tempting as she thought that was, it wasn't an acceptable behavior in a slave. Hating to have to do so, but with no other choice, she took her crop and smacked his buttocks, hard enough to sting, but not hard enough to hurt.

He bit his lower lip to avoid giving out a startled yelp. It hadn't hurt… at best, it smarted, but it was the surprisingness of the action that had got to him. On the surface, his quick temper was irked… how dared she? He'd show that shrew! But his rationale, deep below but still reigning over everything else, thanked her. He was supposed to be used to getting beaten on regular basis, to actually get off by being hit… surprise was definitively not an acceptable answer.

Angell went over to the big box containing all the leather paraphernalia Vice had given Flack and started moving things around. When she came back, she put the garments she had chosen on the bed: a black fishnet long-sleeved tee shirt and a pair of boy shorts. She had also chosen a pair of black construction boots that made Doc Martens look high fashion. The final add-on to the bed was a leather choker with spikes, something you'd expect to see around a pit bull's neck, with a detachable leash.

"Get dressed"

Flack did as told, slightly unnerved by the revealing attire and the fact that her gaze never left his body, watching his every move. He felt virtually naked, and completely vulnerable, in her choice of clothing, and the whole choker/collar made him uneasy… he'd heard of yanking one's chain, but this was completely over the top. When he finished dressing he stood still again, hands once more placed in front.

Angell circled him once more, taking a critic attitude, searching for flaws, but finding none. Feeling bold, she ran her hands over his ass, squeezing tightly. She then moved to stand before him to give him a look over.

The collar was a perfect fit: not too tight, not too loose, and it gave him a bad motherfucker air that suited him just fine. The tee was just an excuse for clothing; being nothing more than a glorious bunch of holes separated by thin threads… she got distracted when she noticed his left nipple peeking out through one of them, as if begging for attention. She closed her eyes, and images of both wood and metal clamps flashed before them. She opened her eyes and looked at his nipples again; these were virgin nipples, never once subjected to torture, still rosy and small sized.

And if she could notice it, there was no way in hell that a professional sadist such as Nico would miss it.

Avoiding his eyes, for she hated what she was about to, she got hold of both nipples in each one of her hands and pinched them. Hard. A strangled noise came from Flack's throat, but he managed to silence it quickly. She kept manhandling them until he grew a bit more comfortable with that level of pain and then she went on to bite one of them, sinking her teeth with restrained force, and then proceeding to rake her long nails over it. She moved to the other one and repeated the same procedure over and over again, alternating between nipples, until they grew distended and engorged and had lost their rosy tint, substituting it for a darker, purplish tone.

When she looked down she was a bit surprised to find the bulge of his erection straining his shorts. If he could reprise this whilst Nico played with him they'd have bagged the whole thing, but that was a huge if… she had been as gentle as possible within the limits set by the circumstances and Nico did not waste time in such niceties.

Nevertheless, she gave in to a little whim and tenderly stroked him.

"Good Donnie…. Such good boy, such good Donnie" she murmured as she held him in her hands, wishing impatiently for the moment when she'd actually feel him inside of her.

Reluctantly, she let go of him and took a step back. Giving him one final once-over, she moved towards the door, intent on leaving the room.

"Practice time is over, Flack, time to get going"

He was on her in a second, pinning her face down against the wall, his hands moving all over her, his desperation clear in his movements, his breathing… his words.

"I want you so badly…"

His right hand was working on her breasts, recreating the same movements she had performed on him, twitching and pinching and bringing her nipples to painful, pleasurable attention. His left hand finally got to work the zipper on her crotch, and his fingers began stroking her clit in a rough pattern that had her whimpering. He was humping her, rubbing his erection all over her ass, her slick leather covered ass, as his mouth latched to her lower neck, sucking, biting.

He was surprised by this blinding need… if he could, he would crawl inside her body; that much he needed to be a part of her, to feel her a part of him. Soon it wasn't enough and he stopped his movements trying to figure out what would be the best way to fuck her given the present dressing conditions. A moment hesitation was all she needed, and she used it to turn around to face him and try pushing him away.

Flack wasn't having any of it. Reacting, more than acting; convinced he had to have her or die, he raised his hand to pin her wrists above her head, causing her to instinctively flinch.

It was as if he had been slapped, hard. He took two staggering steps backwards, away from her, and tried sitting on the bed. He missed the mark entirely, and ended up sitting on his ass next to the bed, a bewildered and shocked expression on his face. Angell had also slid down the wall, half kneeling, trying to catch her breath. They stared at each other, from across the room, not knowing what to say. Flack couldn't erase from his mind the expression of fear that had fleetingly filled her eyes, and was starting to seriously hate himself for making her think he would harm her in any way. He hung his head in shame, unable to look at her in the eye any longer.

"I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry…"

Her whispered apology had him looking up again. Was she out of her mind? He had almost raped her, had caused her to think he'd hit her, and she was the one apologizing? It should be him, HIM, down on his hands and knees begging for her forgiveness. He tried getting up, but when he put his arm on the bed to gain leverage, the whip and the leash fell to the floor next to him with a thud and a slinky clatter. Looking down at them, he realized there was only one thing, and one thing alone, he could do.

Angell looked in confusion a she grabbed the leash from the floor and snapped it into the collar/choker he was wearing. Her confusion turned to shock as she saw him grab the whip, place it between his teeth, and begin crawling towards her. She stood up, shaking her head in refusal and horror, as he placed the leash and the whip in her hands and crouched at her feet.

"No… no… I can't… not to you… not because of me… no… NO!"

Her blood nearly froze as she heard his next words:

"Donnie has been very bad. He did some very bad things. He needs to be punished by his mistress Jezebel…"

He moved his hands to pull the shirt over his head, leaving his back bare. She had tears streaming down her face… this was so fucked up, the whole case was a fuck up, and they were going mad… would it had been so bad to submit to his desires? They'd be having sex like madmen instead of her being here, whip in her hand, him waiting for her to strike the first blow… both situations were wrong in all kinds of levels, but at least in the first stance it would have been her the one hurting, not the one doing the damage.

"Please forgive me…" she murmured once, before bringing the whip down on his back.

She did it again, and again, and again, until the whip was just a hazy blur moving at the end of her arm. Flack was biting his lower lip to stop himself for making any noise, enduring the penitence. She had been smart, thinking about roughing up his nipples, but he was taking things a bit farther; the only way to cover for non-existing old scars is to show them some newly fresh ones. And if she could kick his ass in private, she was going to excel at doing it in public. His only regret was the amount of guilt she was going to have to carry around because of him and he promised to make it up to her tenfold in every way he could.

The only remaining thing to be seen was that if he was man enough to get off on such level of depravation. This had nothing to do with love making, and he was thankful he had been stopped when he had, for he wanted their first time together to be an act of love. There'd be plenty of time later for fucks, quick and strong, whenever and wherever they felt the urge, but not their first time. Romantic and old-fashioned, perhaps, but if he didn't love her, he wouldn't care. So he concentrated on the memories of them together, the good memories, like the feel of her breasts in his hands, or the way she moaned his name in his mouth as they kissed, as Jezebel kept her whip dancing and he kept going back and forth between pleasure and pain…

And when she was done, he couldn't remember having experienced such a potent orgasm in a very long time.

X xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx X

A/N: Twisted as fate itself. Next stop, "The Oysters Club"