Mystique (ravendarkholme) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-07-09 16:27:00 |
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It wasn't until she was in the basement and looking on her computer to see what had been done, that Tristan realized she'd lost four days. Four days of absolute nothing, blankness, she couldn't recall where she'd been or what she'd been doing and it wasn't like she had just left Vegas. There was nothing else to indicate that she'd been anywhere but here, except for the fucking health food upstairs. Some minor coding had been done, but there were other things on the harddrive now. Folders she hadn't created, that Zoe must have done. Dimly, like a whisper in a crowded room, she heard another voice in her head. It was nothing but her name and Tristan ruthlessly ignored it as she climbed the stairs, footsteps thunderous as she emerged in the kitchen. She'd been back again. This time she'd talked to Tiffani, brought Tiffani into the house. What else had Tiffani done for her? Teeth bared, she went to the refrigerator and began pulling out all the crap that hadn't been in there before. The cabinets were given the same treatment, until everything that she could find that might have been Zoe's was removed from the kitchen. And then she sat down to wait, her idle hands finding a knife, slender and silvered, and sharp enough that every time she slammed the blade into the tabletop, another divot appeared. Tiffani knew she’d fucked up. Honestly though, it wasn’t her fault that she trusted what Zoe said considering she didn’t have any information to the contrary. She really didn’t want to walk into The Gardens because Tristan was pissed and that meant she was in serious trouble. It was a mistake, sure, but it wasn’t done maliciously. That had to count for something, didn’t it? Just in case, she bought six bags of Doritos and a case of Mountain Dew to try and soothe some of her boss’ inevitable anger. It took less than half an hour with all of her rushing, a poor attempt at not angering Tristan even further, and she was clearly out of breath when she finally pushed her way into the building. “Tristan?” she called, not looking as she stepped into the kitchen, hands full of the junk food Zoe hated so much. It was just fucking perfect that the one person she thought was really nice was getting her in a shit ton of trouble. Just as she slid the case of soda onto the table, she glanced up and visibly jumped. “Oh! Tristan. Um. Hi.” The nervousness she was feeling had to be more than a little obvious but she wasn’t in any state to hide it, as scared as she was of Tristan’s anger. The knife in her hands still as she watched Tiffani come in, set down the bags and the case of soda, and none of her anger was appeased by it. What else had she done for Zoe? That sprawling chasm inside her grew restless at the thought of it and with a snarl and a scrape of chair across the floor, she rushed the other woman. Knife still in hand, her free hand closed around Tiffani's throat as she rammed her backwards into the kitchen wall. "Did she touch you? Did you spread your whore's legs for her?" She bit off, one of her own slender thighs driving between Tiffani's and for once, she seemed uncaring that her bare skin, if only her hand, was touching someone else's. "I own you. I pay for your fucking cunt every time I sign your goddamn paycheck and you don't listen to any hot little slut that comes in here saying she knows me. I don't care if she fucking promises you millions and a stiff dick whenever you want it, you're mine!" Tiffani stiffened when she caught sight of the knife. That just made her nervous and she was even more cautious as she put the food down on the table. There was a brief moment where she wasn’t sure what Tristan was going to do but the next thing she knew, she was pressed against the kitchen wall. Her head hit hard, leaving her dazed for a second as Tristan wrapped her hand around her neck and shoved her leg between hers. A whimper escaped her as the words filtered through. “No! I never even saw her!” Tiffani had a feeling that her insistence wouldn’t mean anything to Tristan, but she had to try. “She didn’t pay me. Didn’t ask me for anything. I swear, Tristan, I didn’t do anything except buy her food. That was it. I’m sorry.” Desperation seeped into her tone but she didn’t struggle against her boss. As upset as she was, even she didn’t notice that Tristan was touching her without any sort of barrier between their skin. “I’m yours, I’m sorry, please,” she begged. “I don’t want the money or the guy. I swear, Tristan please!” At her insistence that she'd never seen the other woman, Tristan simply leaned in closer, pressing more of her weight into Tiffani's body. She looked far too desperate to be lying, but that didn't stop Tristan's tongue from flickering out, snake like, testing the air like she could somehow taste any lies that the other girl made. It left her moderately appeased, but not entirely so, her head tilting forward until the corners of their mouths almost touched. "You sure about that, Tiffani? Half a scrap of attention and you're on your back, legs spread and your cunt wet," Tristan said, voice low as the knife came between them, catching under the material of her shirt and shredding it, the fabric giving a most satisfying tear as it parted under the blade. "No one has to ask a whore, they just pay them." Her gaze locked with Tiffani's as she drew the blade up her heaving stomach, and a flick of her wrist between her breasts cut her bra in half. "You sure you didn't come over here just like this and let her fuck you?" She asked, almost sweetly as she finally buried the blade into the wall by Tiffani's head. Her grip around her throat relaxed, became almost affectionate, her index finger stroking along her jaw. "Cause I know you bare those pretty tits for anyone that might look." She couldn’t understand why, even in the midsts of fear, Tristan could arouse her. She would have turned her head just enough to make it a proper kiss, but with that knife near at hand, Tiffani didn’t want to risk it. Instead, she pressed further back against the wall trying to get as far away from her as possible. “No,” she whimpered, trying in vain to move away from the knife. “I only keep a few clients and no one by the name of Zoe.” Was that enough to still Tristan’s hand? Of course not, but it was worth a try. “NO!” Tiffani had squeezed her eyes shut and flinched when the knife began moving toward her and she whimpered when it was pushed into the wall right next to her head. For a brief moment, she was actually afraid that she was going to hurt her. Fuck. She exhaled deeply and then opened her eyes, afraid of what she might see. The affectionate stroke of her jaw sent a chill down her spine and although she shook her head, she just wanted Tristan to stop. “I do. I’m just a whore. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Tristan, please.” She just wanted to be let go. The admission, true as it was, only served to anger her further instead of satisfying. "You're so fucking worthless, I don't know why I keep you around," she hissed, fingers tightening again, making sharp dips into Tiffani's skin. "You don't even think, you just do, like some stupid little half wit slut. I could find a dozen of you in a single trailer park, barefoot and pregnant without a single clue who the father is because you live your life on your back. A willing hole for every dick that winks at you." She leaned in close again, their bottom lips almost touching as she inhaled the very breaths that came fast and hard out of Tiffani. "I don't even need a cock to make you willing," she whispered, practically gleeful as her free hand found Tiffani's bare breast and squeezed, not at all gently. Telling Tristan exactly what she wanted to hear didn’t seem to be doing the trick and Tiffani wasn’t sure how to get out of this one. She wasn’t even sure how far Tristan was willing to go this time. A gasp escaped her as the grip tightened around her throat again and finally she brought her hands up to try freeing herself. “Ma’am, please,” she tried, opting for a more polite route instead of Tristan’s name. Tears prickled at her eyes again as her boss described the area she grew up in. Hell, that was her mom to a tee. She nodded as best she could as the tears started to fall. “I’m worthless. All I’m good for is sex, that’s it,” she replied, breathing heavily. For an instant, she pictured what her future could have been like if she’d stuck with Mrs McLear after her mom died. She could’ve gone to college, found a husband and had two point five kids like everyone else but she’d gone the route of her mother. It was a wonder she hadn’t gotten pregnant, despite how careful she was. A gasp mingled with a half-sob when Tristan’s hand closed roughly around her breast. What the fuck was wrong with her? Her nipple was hard already against Tristan’s hand and there was the telltale wetness between her legs. “No,” she agreed softly. “I don’t want men, just you. Only you,” she whimpered against Tristan’s lips. Tears. Tristan could no more resist them than she could resist the impulse to hurt Tiffani and her tongue traced up the lines of her face, following the salt sweet path up her skin to her eyes. "I know," she murmured. "My sweet little whore. Desperate for affection." She gripped one erect nipple between her fingers, squeezing and pulling on the hard flesh as she kissed the tears off Tiffani's cheeks. "All the cocks in the world could line up outside your door and you'd be begging for me to come fuck you instead." This, too, pleased her and it was enough to have her press their mouths together, her tongue slick as she courted Tiffani's mouth with it. Sweet affection soon turned to ruthless pillage though as she took over the other girl's mouth, tasting her tears, her acquiescence, her need. Purring, like a great jungle cat being scratched in all the right places, she broke the kiss as suddenly as she'd started it. "If anyone touches you, I will kill them," she promised, licking up a stray track of tears. "And I'll kill you too." She gasped again, this time without the sob, and felt ashamed for wanting this so badly. Her hands moved to Tristan’s waist, careful to stay over the woman’s clothing as she nodded. “Yes, please, just you. I just want you.” She knew how messed up it was, going from afraid to aroused in just the blink of an eye, but she couldn’t help it. There was something about Tristan that just kept drawing her back in. The kiss was the perfect example, something that was enough to give her a spark of hope that maybe there was a possibility of affection on her side. Tiffani was desperate for it and her kiss spoke to that. There was something so fierce and passionate about Tristan, the rough possessiveness of the kiss just a taste of it, and Tiffani submitted willingly. Even the purr sent a thrill of arousal right between her legs and she whimpered. “Okay,” she promised, because she fully believed Tristan. If anyone but the raven haired woman touched her, they’d both be dead. “I promise. No one but you.” Her hands slid up, ghosting over Tristan’s breasts as they wound around her back, holding her close. “Please, help me. I need you,” Tiffani whispered, afraid if she gave more of a voice to the request it would be denied immediately. "Help you? There's no help for you," she promised the other girl, her lips moving over Tiffani's as she spoke. "There will never be any help for you," Tristan whispered, her dark eyes full of promise as she released the other woman's nipple, her fingertips trailing down her flat stomach to the top of her jeans. It wasn't enough to have her tears now, she'd waited too long to taste them. The thing inside would only be calmed by one thing now as it snarled and twisted in Tristan's guts. All it took was a moment's decision, and then she knew how she was going to get it. There was nothing sweet in her smile, nothing to suggest that that this was going to end well for Tiffani in any way, but that didn't stop her from unfastening her jeans with one hand, pulling the button free before wrestling the zipper down. "But one day I will free you," she whispered and smiled, her hand working into the front of her jeans, nearly tearing Tiffani's panties before she got her hand inside them as well and two fingers jammed up her cunt. She always cried with Tristan and somehow that didn’t stop her from being aroused. It had become something between the two of them, a ritual of sorts. The fear, self-depreciation, and utter submission got twisted into arousal at the hands of her boss. Tiffani would never have categorized herself as kinky in that regard but Tristan demanded it, craved it. And wasn’t she just the best employee, giving it to her every single time? Her world was diminished to just the two of them, everything else forgotten and irrelevant. Was it the same for Tristan? Did she really care so much that she’d kill her if she cheated? Was it cheating when they weren’t in a relationship? But then Tristan was undoing her jeans and she knew what that meant. It excited her and she struggled in a poor attempt at helping the older woman. Tiff regretted it as soon as Tristan unceremoniously shoved her fingers deep inside her. There was no denying how much it hurt and the cry that escaped her lips was all pain and no pleasure. She tried to spread her legs in an attempt to make it hurt less, to find that pleasure, but it wasn’t there. Not yet. It would come in time she knew, just a few more strokes and she’d be able to find that warmth that she craved from Tristan. If she'd known how much Tiffani lied to herself in these moments, she would have laughed. Tristan was no more capable of love than a jellyfish of having a backbone and what she was capable of, was no more sweet and perfect than a brick to the head. But she knew as soon as she heard that cry that Tiffani wasn't enjoying herself. It wasn't a cry of pleasure, not even the shocking kind that could sometimes come when a person wasn't quite sure if they liked something or not. The thing inside her went cold and still and just as unceremoniously as she'd shoved her fingers into Tiffani, she pulled them out. This wasn't what she wanted. Letting go of her suddenly, her face tilted away from the other woman's, she took a step back. Confusion spread through her like wildfire when Tristan let go and took a step back. It didn’t make it any better that the knife was still embedded in the wood next to her head or that Tristan wasn’t saying anything. She’d been so close to enjoying it, too. What was going on though? Tristan never stopped, not when she had Tiffani right where she wanted. Tiffani was terrified of what would happen next and she made a poor attempt to cover herself as Tristan backed away. “What....Tris?” Tiffani could scarcely speak, but she needed to know. This was not what she wanted. Taking another step back, she froze, just for a second before rushing over to the sink and turning on the flow of water. Her hands were shaking as she pushed them under the faucet and started scrubbing frantically at them. She could still feel Tiffani's skin under her hands, feel the places she'd touched the other woman -- and gagged, her stomach dry heaving as she bent over the sink. That confusion didn’t abate in the slightest as Tristan backed away further and then all but ran to the sink. She watched as the older woman scrubbed her hands nearly raw it seemed. Tiffani nearly asked again but then she remembered. Tristan had touched her. “Oh god.” She couldn’t even begin to think about what the consequences of that would be. Scrambling, she grabbed the ripped fabric of her shirt, then her car keys, and ran. Tiffani ran as fast as she could, uncaring that she was topless as she slipped out of The Gardens and into her car. “I’m going to be in so much trouble.” She fumbled with the keys for a brief moment but then the car was started and she was racing to get as far away from the building, from Tristan, as possible. |