Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: lokifanFrom: silvernatashaTitle:
Daphne Greengrass/Pansy ParkinsonRating:
Dub-con, nipple playOther Warnings/Content:
D/s, spankingWord Count:
Pansy is a bitch. Daphne decides to take matters into her own hands.Author's Notes:
A big thanks to my beta for helping me whip this into shape. No pun intended.
"Yes, of course we'll see you soon." Pansy smiled blithely, letting her lips settle into a sneer as she watched Millicent head away from the cafe and into the Diagon Alley throng. Unnoticed by Pansy, Daphne gave a small sigh, shaking her head.
"Honestly," Pansy said, turning back to her companion, "whoever told her those robes were a good idea needs their head checked." She scoffed. "But not as much as Millicent needs to lay off the cakes, if you know what I mean. Her boobs looked like they're trying to escape. One more eclair and they might have."
Daphne set down her empty coffee cup, patience schooling her delicate features into a neutral expression. "She's pregnant, Pansy."
"That's still no excuse for her to be wearing horizontal stripes like that." Somewhere nearby, a church bell chimed the hour and Pansy sat up a little straighter. "I ought to be going. I have an appointment soon."
As Pansy rose, Daphne tilted her head, accepting a kiss on each cheek. "Have a nice afternoon, darling."
Pansy smiled once more. "I'm sure I will. Same time next week?"
"I think so, yes." Daphne nodded. She smiled lightly. "But who knows? Perhaps I'll see you sooner."
Less than an hour later, a flame haired witch in modest black robes escorted Pansy into the cellar of a Victoria terrace house where Daphne stood waiting for her. There were no smiles and kisses in this darkened room. In sharp contrast to her redheaded associate, Daphne wore form-fitting dark leather and tall boots with heels that looked sharp enough to stab a man.
"Your four thirty appointment, Lady Noir," the witch said demurely. Daphne nodded but didn't watch her leave, instead keeping her gaze fixed on Pansy to study the emotions flickering over her pale face. First shock, then a delicious kind of fear, before she settled on a wide-eyed wonder as Daphne's assumed name registered with her. For nearly two years Pansy had been coming to enjoy the pleasures of Lady's Noir's House; now she knew that Daphne knew.
The door closed with a soft click. Daphne stepped forward, heels staccato on the stone floor. "Mistress Emerald finds herself unavailable today." A small untruth, but one for the greater good, Daphne told herself. "Therefore, I will be taking this appointment. Will that be a problem?"
Pansy's silence seemed to fill the room that she had become so familiar with over the years. Finally, she said, "No, Lady Noir."
"Good. You are to afford me the same respect as Mistress Emerald. Do you understand?"
"Now," Daphne said, moving to sit on the high-backed chair that occupied the centre of the room, "I understand that you like to be punished. Shall we start with that?" The trepidation that seemed to dance in Pansy's eyes delighted her, especially when she nodded.
Daphne watched as Pansy removed her robes and folded them carefully, moving slowly as though in a dream state. Well-practised, she settled herself across Daphne's knees, her lace covered backside exposed.
"Good," Daphne murmured, stroking her hand slowly back and forth over the pert curve of Pansy's bum. "Your recent behaviour warrants punishment, I think." Daphne watched the slight tremble that ran down the length of Pansy's spine. "Tell me," she said finally, "how many women have you insulted behind their backs this week?"
After a long moment, Pansy said, "Five."
Daphne's hand came down on her without warning; Pansy jerked, taking a sharp breath.
"Every time you lie to me, you'll be punished. Now, how many?"
Pansy exhaled slowly. "Fifteen," she whispered as Daphne peeled down her underwear.
A neat number. Too neat, Daphne thought, but it would suffice. Unseen by Pansy, a smirk crept onto Daphne's face. "Fifteen," she agreed icily as she plucked a crop that hung from the back of the chair. "Count for me."
The crop came down with blow after blow. Daphne's gaze slid from Pansy's bum to what she could see of her face, the way her eyes screwed shut as she took each lash and tried to stifle every sound that threatened to escape from her mouth that wasn't a number. The higher she counted, the quicker she spoke, lips pursing shut.
When the crop stilled, Daphne rested it gently on Pansy's reddening backside. "That was fair, wasn't it?"
Yet it wasn't enough to satisfy Lady Noir. Pansy needed to learn a lesson, and while Daphne knew she had crossed a line arranging to take over Pansy's appointment, she wanted to see this through. "Kneel before me."
Pansy stood on trembling legs, her knickers still bunched around her thighs, sinking to her knees with her eyes wide and curious. "Lady Noir?" she asked softly.
Daphne pressed the tip of her crop to Pansy chin, forcing her to look up. "Only speak when spoken to, slut," she said quietly.
Pansy shivered and Daphne was sure that it wasn't from the temperature in the room. Slowly, Daphne drew the crop downwards, drawing up goosebumps on Pansy's skin.
Pressing her crop between Pansy's breasts, Daphne considered the witch before her. "Your tits look like they're trying to escape. Help them."
Pansy's jaw clenched, but she obediently reached behind her, releasing the clasp of her bra. Carefully, she removed the lacy fabric.
Gently, Daphne drew the crop across Pansy's exposed breasts, taking care to drag it over her nipples. They grew hard under the attention and Daphne could hear Pansy's shallow breathing as she tried not to react.
Much like Daphne's wand, a single unicorn hair served as a core to the crop, giving it limited abilities. She flicked it in a seemingly idle way; the lock on an ornate trunk at the side of the room opened with a soft click, the lid raising. With another flick, two small silver objects zipped from within it. They neatly clamped themselves to Pansy's nipples, a delicate silver chain snaking over her skin to link them together.
Another flip of her crop and half a dozen small silver baubles the same size as the nipple clamps emerged from the trunk and fluttered into her outstretched palm.
"Now your tits look lonely." Slowly, Daphne hung three of the baubles on the chain that ran between Pansy's nipples, each one increasing the weight and pulling on the clamps. Pansy grimaced, a soft grunt escaping her. Keeping the remaining baubles in her hand, Daphne gave her slut a few words of faint praise. "You're such a good girl when you have a firm hand to guide you." The praise had the intended effect; Pansy squirmed, bottom wiggling as she pressed her thighs together.
"Are you wet for me, slut?"
"No." Pansy bit her lip as soon as she said it, knowing what was coming. Shaking her head, Daphne released the crop, letting it fly through the air to deliver its stinging punishment. Then it waited there, hovering just inches from Pansy, ready to strike again.
"Are you wet for me?" Daphne repeated.
Pansy hung her head. "Yes, Mistress."
As if pleased by the admission, the crop gently stroked her pink cheeks. Daphne was pleased, too, and she added another bauble to the chain; they chimed merrily as they collided.
"Tell me, my little slut, do you like being humiliated as much as you enjoy humiliating others?" An honest curiosity framed Daphne's question; how would Pansy answer?
The crop knew the truth and struck her blushing backside once.
"Such a nasty little liar. Are you ever going to stop being a bitch?"
This time Pansy looked up at her, eyes gleaming and dark. "Yes, Mistress."
Daphne beckoned the crop back into her grasp. "I think," she said carefully as she hooked one more bauble to the chain, Pansy's nipples red and straining against the weight, "that I need to use a little more force." Thwack.