In the Gardens of Asherat

I followed the pallid attendant down the dimly lit marble corridors to the bathing room. 'She's D'Angeline,' I thought to myself, entranced by the way the soft light glowed on the lovely auburn of the her hair. Scores of glowing candles and lanterns were set about, and a half a score of attendants, all dressed in white stood awaiting me. I paused, taken aback by the sheer number of them. What was I being prepared for?
I asked her name, and she faced me then, finally meeting my gaze and I was struck by the loveliness of her face. I hadn't noticed before, overwhelmed by Melisande's presence; she had been standing so unobtrusively. A rare beauty, with delicately arching brows, a fine straight nose and softly rounded chin. She was some years younger than I, her generous lips curved up at the corners, as if she were on the verge of smiling, though her mood was somber. Her eyes were the color of shadows on snow, piercing, striated like marble with flecks of darker blue and green. Her expression was unreadable, and a shiver of comprehension ran through me, then.
So, she was hers.
I closed my eyes, shutting out the sight of her and clenched my teeth on the surge of desire and jealousy coursing through me. When I opened them again, she made a graceful gesture to the other attendants, and I gave myself over to their libations. Without another sound, I unlaced the stays of my gown, letting it slip down my body to pool at my feet. A few of the attendants gasped, one clamped a hand over her mouth as I turned, picking up the rich sangoire silk and handing it to her calmly. I slipped into the bath, sighing languidly at the touch of the steamy water on my much abused skin. Kushiel's Chosen, I had already begun to heal. My limbs grew heavy with pleasure as one attendant poured a subtley scented soap onto my head, and coaxed a rich lather up with a soothing touch. A measure of tension went out of me, as others massaged scented oils into my skin. I gasped as the unguents stung my wounds, the pain and pleasure of it snaking a path through my body. Her pale cheeks were flushed with the steam as I met her stare and she looked away hastily. Desire squeezed my chest, and I fought to keep my breathing even. I could feel her gaze hot upon me, overseeing as I was gently helped to my feet and out of the bath. A few more white robed attendants wrapped a cotton sheet around me while others squeezed the remaining moisture from my hair. I stood obedient under the touch of a score of hands as they pinned my arms beneath more layers of the cotton cloth. I shivered all over like a plucked bow string as she came to stand close in front of me. Auburn hair catching red in the firelight. The attendants' hands stilled around me as her piercing eyes captured my gaze, taking in the mote in my left eye.
"You are she," her breathy whisper had no question in it, not quite.
I continued to shiver under her regard, realizing my vulnerability, I wondered what retribution this girl could seek, and made no reply, having none. "Raquelle." her voice a gentle stirring of air that Cereus House would have approved of and the attendants' hands resumed, patting me dry and unwinding me from my mummification. I tried to seek her gaze again, wondering, but she had already moved away to oversee some other task.
The attendants coaxed me into a surpassingly lovely black silken robe, light as air, the edges stiff with gold brocade and matching black silk slippers. My hair they wound a smaller sheet around, squeezing out every last bit of moisture, then combed it out, leaving it to dry in a curly profusion down my back. The weight of it felt good brushing the base of my spine. It seems I was ready. Without another word, Raquelle turned and I followed her out, flanked by 2 attendants, down the vast hallway and into the inner sanctum of Melisande's boudoir.

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A low fire warmed the room and the soft light picked out the glimmering sheen in her hair. She stood gracefully next to a large low bed, like a black flame in an identical robe, a glass of wine in one hand. I knelt out of reflex, the hard marble bruised my knees as I caught my breath.
"Rise." No command in her tone, I unfolded gracefully and stood, my hands clasped in front of me to hide their shaking. She gave a cutting smile, "Come here, Phedre." I did, my legs wobbling like a newborn colt's. The attendants had withdrawn, save Raquelle who busied herself in the room casting one more look in my direction before attending her duties.
Melisande stood there, gazing upon me. I shivered at the promise in her sapphire stare. Her scent surrounded me, a mixture of the same sweetly illusive soap, and her own unique spice. I clamped my jaw shut and swallowed hard, praying for the strength to stay upright. Her sharp gaze missed nothing, a low laugh thrummed through her as she laid her cool fingers against my cheek. "Such desire." Amusement, and something else in her voice. I met her gaze wordlessly, the rising tide in my blood pounding in my ears. Gracefully she removed her hand from my face and gestured to Raquelle, who appeared swiftly bearing a salver with another glass of wine. "Drink, Phedre." I took the glass obediently, thanking the girl, before bringing the ruby liquid to my lips. As I sipped, then drank deeper; for it was a fine vintage, Melisande reached out and ran one finger down the shining auburn strands of her attendant's hair, smiling as her pallid skin sprung into bloom under her touch. Raquelle froze in place, quivering, and I watched, spellbound, as Melisande wound the lock around her finger, until finally it pulled painfully at her scalp. Raquelle gasped and the salver clattered to the floor as Melisande wrenched her head towards her with surprising swiftness. "You are discourteous." her voice had a deadly quietness to it. Raquelle struggled to her knees, sobbing softly. I stood rooted to the spot, shivering with pity and fear and desire, unable to look away from the scene unfolding in front of me. "The Comtesse de Montreve did you the courtesy of thanking you, Raquelle." She let go of her hair, eyes hard as gemstones, her face impassive. Elua, she was magnifiscent! I shuddered to my core, I could not help it. Raquelle stayed on her knees, hands outspread in supplication, begging with her eyes, with her soft breathy words. I gauged her reaction to a nicety, having employed those tactics myself. My breath came more quickly as Melisande set her glass down and pulled a silken cord hanging next to her. A vast curtain pulled back, and I began to realize the scope of Melisande's chamber.
A well stocked flagellery lined a quarter of one wall. Sumptious carpets and cushions were strewn about. An X-shaped whipping cross stood facing an enormous guilt framed mirror that must have stretched longer than the bed. I clamped my thighs together on the rush of moisture, as the wine sloshed in my glass. The firelight glinted on leather and buckles and implements d'amour, all immaculate. Melisande simply stood there, gazing at us both, and calmly picked up the glass, pausing before she brought it all the way to her lips.
"Must I command it?" I set my glass down with alacrity, hastening to undo my robe. Melisande laughed, genuinely amused, as Raquelle and I both raced to be the first one naked in front of the whipping post, neither of us wanting to be the slowest one. I daresay I had an unfair advantage; the black silk pooled at my feet and I welcomed the rough grain of the wood against my skin like a lover. Raquelle was only moments behind, but it was enough.
"Wait." Melisande said. We both froze, quaking with fear. She gestured gracefully to Raquelle, and then met my gaze. "Tie her."
Raquelle moaned softly and I stepped away from the cross, so that she could take my place. I tightened the buckles around her wrists, her skin was soft, so soft beneath my fingers. Full lips quivering, those eyes staring into mine, pleading. I bit my lip, apologizing softly as I secured each ankle, so that she stood spread eagled against the rough wooden post. I heard the rustle of buckles and leather straps and then startled as I felt Melisande's hands at my waist, turning me. Obedient, I moved under her touch and faced her, gasping at her nearness, her deadly allure. I felt the carress of leather against my back, a brush of many strands and steel tips tickling. I moaned as she placed the handle in my palm and I wrapped my fingers around it; it was the size of a man's phallus. Elua help me, this went against my very nature, and yet I could not stop the tide of desire that threatened to overwhelm me. Smiling cruelly, Melisande swept around to meet Raquelle's gaze. She flicked her eyes to mine, and nodded once.
Steeling myself, and breathing an apology, I did my best to hit her as gently as possible with it. She sobbed, shoulders heaving and chafing against the rough wooden cross. Melisande's voice was competely devoid of emotion. "Harder." Dispairing, I complied. Gritting my teeth, I adjusted my grip on the handle and swung again. Raquelle cried out, sobbing as the steel tips bit into her soft flesh. I cried out with her, I could not help it. Again and again, I could feel every lash as if it were falling on my own skin, and we both wept as I continued to whip her, my eyes blurred with tears. Melisande watched calmly, sipping her wine, as I meted out her punishment for her, to the one person who would probably resent it the most, coming from me. Ahh my lord Kushiel! Raquelle writhed against the post, pleading raggedly, the harsh wood chafing her hips and breasts raw as stripes rose on her back, specks of blood where the steel bit in.
After a dozen more strikes, Melisande raised her hand, and I halted, heart pounding as I took in the damage I had wrought. Never, never had I desired another's pain, my strength lies in yielding; and yet deep down, in a small part of me I dared not look at too closely, I had liked this in a way that made my soul shudder, transitory though it was. Melisande knew, how not, when it had been exactly what she had designed? She stepped forward and grasped the handle, slick my sweat and Raquelle's blood, and abruptly pushed me backwards onto the cushions, kneeling between my legs. I barely had time to gasp before she thrust it roughly into me, penetrating me deeply with the thick leathern handle. I sobbed in guilty pleasure as she pressed her thumb against my Pearl of Naamah, moved it slowly in a circle, eyes staring into mine, and pumped the handle in and out of me again and again. I clutched at the bedsheets, my breathing becoming labored as she adjusted the angle so that it rubbed against a different spot inside me. Kushiel's face swam before me, stern and approving, as the haze of red obscured my vision. I met Raquelle's gaze in the mirror, knowing that she watched, and the tide in my blood surged forward. My climax shook me, leaving me weak and gasping, until finally, Melisande withdrew the whip handle from my body. I shivered all over with the aftershocks of pleasure, watching as she crossed to stand in front of Raquelle, and brought the handle to her lips, tasting the fluids commingled. "Mmmm.." Raquelle moaned aloud, and Melisande leaned in closer. "Do you want to taste?"
Raquelle writhed against the wooden cross, craning her neck towards the glistening leather. Her small pink tongue darted out, seeking. Pleased, Melisande captured her mouth in a kiss, and then released the buckle on one of her wrists.
"Phedre," I rose and swiftly knelt to her. She favored me with an amused glance. "fetch the ewer, I must ring for the chirurgeon." I hastened to obey, pouring warmed water over Raquelle's weals, sluicing away the blood. She winced, and in the firelight I could see there were a few old scars fading on her back, crisscrossed by the fresh pink marks. We were alone for the moment.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, offering her the robe. She met my gaze bleakly. Guilt and mortification shut my mouth on anything else, in truth I was at a loss for words and I was surprised when she stopped me with a gentle touch.
"Tis not your fault," she breathed, "how can you refuse?" I nodded wordlessly, grateful for her forgiveness. I smoothed an errant lock of auburn hair from her brow. I watched her pupils dilate as she stared at me. Fresh tears pricked my eyes and I took her hand. As one victim knows another, I felt a kinship with this girl.
"How did you come to serve, Raquelle?"
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