TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 10

Lisle sat down at the breakfast table at her Mistress' insistence. Jayden had arrived earlier bearing the gift of fresh bagels. Miranda was already up, but Emily was still in the land of recovery from jet lag. Carolyn and Cassidy helped by carrying the serving dishes, laden with food to the table, and then settled in to join the others. They had already made "deliveries," to the guards outside the door.

Andrea's cooking was a rare treat and one to be enjoyed. The gathering was quickly becoming festive. Those already at the table began helping themselves. This did not yet include Miranda, who was in the kitchen watching Andrea with not a little awe.

She had asked, earlier. "Wasn't your boyfriend the cook?"

"Many, many moons ago." Andrea had said, using her spatula for emphasis. "However, I am a much different woman now. I gained skills."

"Point."

Andrea had nodded firmly, and returned her attention to what she was doing, which allowed Miranda to watch her with a growing appreciation. No movement was wasted and each choice was quite deliberate. It was actually quite peaceful. "I could help."

Andrea had turned to grin at her, briefly, before saying, "One of us is still recuperating. Nope, you get to be pampered and do a lot of near nothing."

"Frying bacon and scrambling eggs is hardly heavy lifting..."

"Darling, it's not about the lifting. It's about the opportunity to make you breakfast."

"Ah." Miranda lifted a hand and waved it mock-dismissively, "Well, then. Proceed."

-TDWP-

Emily woke to a sensation of glorious change. It made her feel a little off, but in a good way. She stretched, inhaling deeply.

She smelled coffee and food, and felt like having some. That was unusual, but really, the wonderful feeling was much more than that. For the first time in weeks she felt rested, able to face a day without the fear of tears, rage, or being overwhelmed by travesty and the horrible realization that she had to maintain face before all dangers. For the first time, in a much longer time than that, her universe felt fresh with potential. For the first time, she had sure awareness that her mind had not been playing a long game of wishful thinking. Miranda had always been aware.

Wow.

The redhead's estimation of her … ex-boss..., gods that hurt in so many ways, but she was a woman who faced things head on... her estimation of Miranda has risen to greater heights.

Not that she had the older woman on a pedestal, though she had been accused of it more than once. Emily was aware of Miranda's flaws. She simply saw them as also being part of what made the other woman great, in both stature and personally. Not all love or worship was blind, merely... accepting.

And yes, acceptance was a trait that Emily shared with Andrea, at least in regards to Miranda.

On the other hand, given what she was learning about Ms. Six, perhaps she might do well to set aside earlier perceptions. They might share more in common than Emily first considered.

The redhead rolled out of bed and considered her bare... everything. She glanced around, spotted the clothes that had never quite made it to hamper or chair and she realized she must have been more tired than she'd first thought. Still, whatever changes in relationship might be ahead, she could not go out starkers, and a shower would do a world of good. If the food wasn't there when she finished, so be it. Emily intended to present her best face to the world, one that might even smile a bit.

-TDWP-

Emily knew she'd made the correct choice as soon as she entered the dining area. It did appear that the feast, which apparently it was, was for the most part over, but people were speaking convivially, including the children.

"Emily." Andrea stood up, walked toward her and then took her by the hand. "We've got a plate saved for you. Though, if you would like, I can make something else..." She began leading the art editor to a chair.

"Whatever you are serving is fine, thank you." The redhead cast a glance at Lisle, who lifted a cup of coffee in warm salute, and then her gaze traveled to a shorter, much more colorful person. That individual watched her with an arched brow and folded arms, expression serious, as if weighing and measuring and then, as if Emily's being had been assessed in mere heartbeats, the woman lunged left. Working at Runway had taught the Brit how to be calm in a crisis and so, despite being startled, she managed to take her seat with some aplomb. Meanwhile, the hoyden was teasing the twins, tickling one and then the other. The peals of laughter rang through the dining room.

Andrea leaned in and whispered in Emily's ear, "That would be Jayden. She goes by Jay. She is a random element. Enjoy!"

Emily finally cast a glance at Miranda, who merely offered a smile and an arch of a brow, as if daring the Brit to make a comment. The redhead considered, arched a brow back with as much self-assurance as she could put into it, much to Miranda's amusement, and then she proceeded to tuck into her meal.

-TDWP-

Addison's recommendation of rest and recuperation was gently enforced. The girls enjoyed the time spent with their mother and their new friends. They did not lack for entertainment or company. Andrea worked some, as did Lisle, which meant they left the abode. But Emily and Jayden stayed to make sure that all went well and needs were seen to.

While Miranda was healing rapidly, she did experience moments where her body needed rest and insisted on it. She slept through half of a movie, ate voraciously when she awakened, and then needed another nap at a pivotal point during a board game.

Jayden was the one who led her to the bedroom, but it was Emily who slid in beside her and held her, just as her eyelids closed. Her senses told her many things, but the most important was trust and so she did. When she awakened, she was hungry again, but held still, enjoying the restfulness of the moment.

She knew the instant the Brit awakened; not because the younger woman stiffened, but just in the sense of presence. And also, the momentary uninhibited caress along her back was a good indication. "I'd say good morning," Emily said, "But I am sure it is afternoon now."

"Yes," Miranda replied. "Forgive me for stealing your day."

"Hardly stolen. Restful, which has been... odd, and unexpected, but good. I don't think I realized I needed a nap, until I had one. Fully expected to stay awake."

Miranda smiled, felt a warmth in her heart. She pushed herself up and touched Emily's cheek with her fingertips and then her lips; which led to another kind of kiss, one that was softly insistent and compelling, but only so far.

Emily, mindful of warnings, was able to pull away. Her gaze was stormy and revealed a well-spring of desire. "Mustn't." She couldn't help rising to another kiss, and pulled back again, "Really."

Miranda exhaled and pulled away slowly, well aware of the truth. "Well, if I can't kiss you, then you must feed me."

"Again?"

"It's the nanites." Andrea approached from the door, which had only recently opened.

Neither of the women on the bed were terribly surprised, both had been aware for different reasons. She sat down on the edge of the bed, closest to Emily. Then continued the thought, "It's part of the process. What it tells me is that there was much that needed healing, even with Addison's care. Not worrisome, since we were told what to expect. Just a necessity." She smiled softly at them. "I've been sent to fetch you. The girls, with the help of Jay, have fixed a meal."

"They have?" Miranda looked a little surprised, but pleased.

"I promise it is not peanut butter sandwiches. Though right now that does sound good."

"Right now," Miranda said, as she sat up, "Anything sounds good. I'll eat food burnt, if that's how it is served."

Andrea smiled, leaned to Miranda and kissed her, enjoying the sleek heat of it. When she pulled back, she looked Emily, who was still reclining and leaned, moving slowly to give the other woman a chance to pull away. She did not. Their kiss was soft, warm, and spoke of possibilities.

"Come to dinner then," Andrea said as she pulled back.

-TDWP-

The day passed by peacefully and settled squarely into night. Lisle brought a message for the Mistress. Andrea grimaced, "The timing could be better, but at least it's tomorrow. I will be there."

"I would like to see what you do," Miranda said quietly, when an opportune moment arrived. "I can not function in your world if I don't understand it. You want to protect me, which I appreciate, but how long can you split your attention between what you want me to see and what you are?"

"Miranda..."

"You have Jason listed among those you trust, though I spotted a notation by it, expressing ambivalence. I understand in general what it is he does. I do not judge it."

Andrea turned away for a moment, pondering her own hesitation. In some ways the girls had seen more of the Mistress in her full aspect than Miranda and she found that she worried about what her lover might think. It was one thing to discuss, but quite another to experience.

"Do you think I, of all people, will judge you?"

Andrea considered and turned back. "No, Miranda, I do not. I think you understand, or will. Certainly you know what it takes to hold onto power and respect it. I have understood that for awhile now. But I have been careful in my introduction of you to my world, first because of my respect for you. Second, because you have held reins of power for a long time. Such a thing is not easy to let go of, or forget, and there are habitual responses to consider."

"Habit?"

"Even in nothing more than your shift, Miranda, it took effort for some of my minions to avoid bowing to you. You carry yourself a particular way. As do I. But you must remember this is not Runway, and while you may rank very high in my estimation, and by association, in status, you must stay aware that you represent me. Not the other way around. You must be careful how you treat those under my care and authority." She exhaled. "You must also be very, very careful how you address those who are only associated nominally with me. I have... people whose interests do not necessarily coincide with my own."

"Enemies? You?"

Andrea's smile held teeth. "Oh. I might prefer a different word for it, but yes. And then there are just those who enjoy participating in the scene, or watching, or who have other ambitions."

"I understand. Or, rather, I believe I do. But as you say, habit. I can only do so much."

"Thus, this discussion."

"But it still does not address my original point. If you hide from me, I can not help you. I can not be all that I could be for you. I am, as you point out, a woman of power in certain circles. I have areas of expertise. But I can't apply them or know my place entirely, without the correct context. And you can't protect me adequately, if that is indeed that is what you are saying, if I do not see the world of which you speak."

Andrea stepped close, gazing into remarkably serene blue eyes. "Tomorrow then."

-TDWP-

They arrived on time, escorted by the Tams and Jayden, whose usual puckish behavior was definitely muted. Emily blinked in astonishment as Miranda looped an arm through Jayden's as they walked. "You seem worried."

Jayden glanced up, drawing the taller woman closer. "I am a little. But I think you'll be fine. Just don't let people spook you."

Miranda peered down at her friend, eyes alight with a touch of danger. "Jayden. People don't spook me. I spook them."

"Maybe in your old life," Jayden acknowledged, "but this is a different world."

"We shall see." Miranda sniffed, appearing unconcerned.

-TDWP-

Miranda paused at the entryway to the main presentation ground and took time to absorb what she was observing. She eyed the sanded floor of the small arena, noted that the sand was clean, but was obviously there for a purpose. She noted tall stakes, set evenly apart and pegged down securely, with large stainless steel hoops attached to their core. The rings would move, she thought, up and down the pike, and perhaps in a swinging motion in response to any pull. She spotted other equipment, some on wheels, just on the periphery, not quite in the arena, but near - as if ready to be used. She noted tables, some filled with interesting objects and others, long enough to hold a body, quite empty.

"Most of the equipment is actually in one of the rooms near the passageway over there," Jayden pointed out the shadowed entry to the other passage helpfully. "Can't have all the goodies out at one time."

"Everything is portable?"

"Mostly. Some people like variety in the scenes."

"The lighting is quite good." Emily commented.

"It gets a little darker during a scene, hides the audience, but focuses on participants."

"It would make for an interesting photoshoot," Miranda offered.

"Oh. We've had plenty of those, believe me." Jayden grinned impishly. "When you get a chance, check the network for Triple Six. You'll see what I mean."

"Oh my god." Emily turned and stared at the younger woman, then blushed furiously when she spotted an arched brow. She couldn't quite figure out how to change the subject, but she really wanted to.

"I take it you know what this means?" Miranda queried, watching Emily's reaction with both fascination and amusement.

"They have … certain items of apparel and... accessories." Emily's face continued to crimson.

Miranda's grin was pure wickedness. "Then you've seen Jayden's work."

-TDWP-

The further they went into the arena, the more it became clear that was exactly what it was. Miranda was surprised to note there was an audience and that many had filled the tiered seating, though not all had taken seats. Some knelt. Some stood, in what appeared to be preset locations so they would not block the view of others.

She looked for her lover, and when she spied her, felt a tingle rush through her body. Andrea on a dais was a sight to behold, regal and self-possessed. Andrea's long hair was twisted into a firm bun at the top of her head, creating a sense of classical proportions and ancient beauty. Silver hoops in her earlobes complimented the chained belt she sported. She wore a burgundy silk v-neck button down blouse. The collar was opened quite low, but not quite to the belly button. The blouse was covered by a short black vest, which only reminded one of the healthy ample breasts that Andrea possessed. She wore tight black, fitted leather leggings, which stacked, like Levis over the top of her very dangerous looking pointed black boots. Miranda realized one thing, Andrea was imposing.

It took her breath away and caused her to visibly pause, which was apparently enough to gain Andrea's attention. "Jayden and company," Miranda heard very clearly, "stay where you are." She realized then the auditorium and staging allowed Andrea's voice to carry naturally, without her needing to shout or even speak loudly.

All of them stopped, even Emily, whose expression turned a touch grim. Miranda's, however, remained cool and distant. Jayden assumed the relaxed posture of a dangerous youth. The editor's brow rose slightly at the sight, and then the young woman with the bright hair winked at her.

Miranda's attention then turned back to see that Andrea now stood and was moving to step down to meet them in the middle.

She stopped in front of Miranda, daring.

"I see you thinking," Andrea said softly, nearly purring. "What do you see? You may answer freely."

"You. Wearing Helmut Lang..." Miranda spoke concisely, listing out each designer, each person who had contributed to the full package that made up the Mistress' outfit. She listed the qualities, the essence, the why it worked. Finally slowing to a finish, feeling the way those who were not Emily or Andrea, watched her as if she were a mystery unfathomable, an artist. A magician. She straightened even more, and tilted her head toward Andrea, waiting and unsure if she should have tagged her lover's title at the end; especially when one of the bulkier observers started to step forward as if to chasten.

She nearly exhaled in relief when Emily stepped in front of that person and said, very clearly, very coldly. "You do not get to touch her. You are not even worthy to look at her." The redhead stood her ground, even as she watched the other person lift their hand as if to strike her away. Her eyes promised doom if he tried, but she was willing to take that first hit if necessary; if only to wipe the smug off his face.

"Touch Emily and you die. She has spoken only the truth. Very few of you would ever have been in this slave's presence now, except that she has requested it. Make sure to spread the word. Slave 4289 belongs to me, and only to me. Any attempts to acquire, remove or harm her, or the ones directly linked to her, whom are also mine, will be detrimental to health, wealth and status. This woman is royalty where she comes from. Some of you already know this. You know her true name and what that means. But all you need truly know now, is that she is royalty within my House as well. You will treat her and our Emily with respect." Andrea did not look back, did not see the man pale, did not watch as the Tams suddenly took their places at either side of the redhead. She heard the fresh round of murmurs, but disregarded them. If something were important, Lisle would note it for her later. Her attention focused solely on her Miranda. The Mistress paced slowly around the silver-haired woman, close, but without reaching out just yet. She said, calmly, "You want to touch me, don't you?"

The older woman's gaze tracked Andrea hungrily. She nodded, slowly, not quite prepared to verbalize her desire in front of so many strangers. The energy between the two of them sizzled.

Andrea's smile was tight and she stepped closer, and clasped the top of Miranda's hand. Then, laying the older woman's palm on the sleeve of her burgundy silk shirt, she drew it down her arm, taking in the sharp inhale, the way Miranda's eyes gained light and turned nearly silver. They crossed skin and Miranda shuddered, bit down on the flare of shared desire and the need to cry it out. Andrea turned her palm, so that the object she held in her hand was now being experienced by her Darling. "This is also a part of me," Andrea whispered. "This is an extension of my power, both my caress and my sting. Do you see it?"

Miranda glanced down and let her fingers stroke the coiled, dangerous braids that sang of blood, pain and pleasure. She spoke, just as quietly. Their conversation was their own, but words carried in the arena. Even quiet ones. "Yes." Her mind ran through several thoughts at once, finally arriving at an intimate destination. "Mistress."

This time it was Andrea who shivered. There was a nakedness in the delivery of her office by Miranda's tongue, a prayer of confidence. "You must be quicker, my darling," Andrea cupped Miranda's face and whispered in her ear. "My court might take offense." She kissed the skin between jaw and ear, "Not that I would let them ever have you, but I must appear strong, you see. I don't want to have to punish you for something so simple."

Miranda leaned against Andrea's hand. Had it been anyone else, hellfire and brimstone would have been the only way to get the word to pass her lips, but there was something about her Andrea that allowed Miranda to shed, if only temporarily, her nearly impenetrable armor and hand over control to someone that she could, finally, trust. "Mistress." The word was a benediction between them and nearly took Andrea's breath away.

She leaned in very close, whispered into the other woman's ear so only she could hear, "Sometimes it's not a punishment at all. Miranda." She felt the other woman's shiver, knew that she was understood, that an exploration of the response was a must.

She stepped back and took Miranda's hand. "Chairs, Jayden. By me. See to it."

The small woman sprinted away, oh so very quickly.

-TDWP-

Miranda sat primly on the seat provided, ankles crossed demurely, expression stern and cold. Beside her, Emily sat stiffly, but also neatly. Her expression promised dire things to those who offended her or, more importantly, her Miranda. It only emphasized what had already been declared by Mistress Six. The Tams stood just behind them, arms folded across their chests.

Of the three of them, Andrea was the most relaxed. She leaned back in her chair, legs crossed at the knees, one leg kicking softly and evenly, eyes glinting with dangerous amusement. In her hand, the whip moved, its coils loosened so the line of it slithered with each casual twist of the wrist. Her other arm was propped on the armrest of her very expensive chair. Lisle stood at attention just behind her and slightly to the side, so that she had a clear view of the proceedings.

Jayden was on the other side, not even really sitting in the chair she'd gotten for herself. She crouched, as if she might leap off of it at any moment.

Presently, from a darkened corner, a male of average height was brought forward to the center of the stadium by two people. They literally carried him, then propped him on his knees, before forcing him into a bow. Miranda observed that he was gagged. His arms and hands extend out in front of him. His hands are clasped and cuffed. His forehead touched the ground between his arms.

From an opposite corner, also hidden by shadows, a tall feminine figure strode in measured steps towards center. She wore a latex dress, black with red accents. It dipped low on her bust, and the skirt was long, but wide and slit down the middle. She wore the classic thigh high boots and fingerless gloves and a black mask. Her auburn hair, curled at mid shoulder, and wafted around her head like a glorious crown.

When she arrived, she placed a foot, very carefully on the backside of the prone man. The assistants who guided the man broke off, sprinting away, then brought in a rolling table of instruments of contact and then a standing, sturdy frame.

It was quiet as a church, during the whole of this and the woman in the mask fearlessly took in the whole of the audience, working her attention slowly across until she reached Mistress Six and her companions. Her expression gave nothing away, but her attention slowed and then picked up again as she continued her observation to the other side. By the time she was finished, there were very few people who felt they had been missed by those sharp green eyes, especially Miranda.

The editor, previous to her arrival, had not come into the stadium entirely blind. She had always been a well read woman, an experienced one. One does not deal in or appreciate fashion without understanding its influences, affects and effects. And it sometimes meant dipping into unexpected worlds and relationships. It's not that she was fearless, it was that she always refused to let it rule her.

During the course of her life, Miranda had made friends, a very few and a very select from various walks of life. Despite her taunt to Emily just a few days ago, there were more than just Serena and Nigel to count. Some of those friends had occupations that were similar to hers or related by artistry or sometimes in fields utterly different. She always guarded those friendships with a very great care, as they guarded hers. Their names were not included upon the list she gave to Irv, though she was sure she could have used them. They protected each other.

As she watched, it was the small things that caught her attention, that struck chords of familiarity; a glint in the eyes, a physical movement. Intimacy is not always about the sex. Sometimes it's about what you knew about a person.

One of the rules, one of things Miranda absolutely knew about Andrea's world is that one does not break masquerade. If one wore a mask to the ball, one did not tear it off; unless invited to do so. Her body tensed and she forced herself to relax in increments, to remember, that just because she did not wish to be verbal did not mean she could not communicate.

"You may begin." The words were spoken softly by Andrea, but heard by all. The woman in the mask offered the very slightest head nod.

Miranda did not know for sure, until the woman spoke. Then the woman said, "As you wish."

-TDWP-