It felt good - felt good watching... Watching the water start to pour into the tub, watching Blackjack turn it off, watching him start the shower instead... watching the pair of her playthings do as they did, exist within her purview, follow her rules without her needing to mind them every waking moment. Judas only realized she was gripping Vivica like a vice because the poor girl finally, desperately, released a cry of pain. The vampiress's eyes widened with shock, surprised despite herself - and then, surprised at her own surprise. Didn't she like that sort of thing? Wasn't hurting Vivica fun?
A cold ichor pumped through Judas's veins, then, chilling her heart like a flash-frozen piece of produce. She didn't linger on the introspection long enough for the ice to set deeper than the surface of her mental lake; instead, she mumbled out an apology to the doll-cum-toy-cum-bodypillow. She didn't even have the wherewithal for that to strike her as odd; truthfully, it was probably better that she didn't.
The idea struck her, then, in her mental scrabble for something non-catastrophic to focus on, that they were at a party. She was hosting a party, with everyone worth anything in Vitus in attendance. She could definitely do something way more fun than... what was this, anyways? The prelude to sloppy, drug-fueled sex in the bathroom? In a running shower? Judas narrowed her eyes as she regarded the running water, eyes losing focus as she imagined what would come next - or, if not next, eventually.
Shower sex was inconvenient.
Inconvenient, yes... but she had to make an impression. She had to make a serious impression, one that would last... And besides, something big and flashy didn't feel quite right - she didn't want to make a spectacle of this. Not this time; no, this time? She wanted to keep this to herself - to the three of them.
Judas turned to Vivica fully, then - it took her some moments to realize, and ponder, that Vivica was looking up at her like an orphan getting her first Christmas present. What had Judas done? What was the fucking hang-up? She'd stopped pinching the neon-haired night nurse, so why was the brat still looking up at her like - Oh. The apology. Judas's head began to spin a little, brain on a lazy Susan as she tried to make sense of her own actions. She was two seconds from asking Vivica outright why Judas had apologized to her - as if the captured dissident would have an answer - but a clearing of the throat from the executive's soon-to-be-boytoy drew her from her haze.
Oh, that's right - she had told them not to speak. Good. No one should be speaking but her.
He was waiting at-attention, the shower having warmed up enough that steam started to fill the room. Both ladies' outfits were condensation magnets, and the wetlook shine became genuine damp. Judas released Vivica's waist, though not without giving her a quick, curt slap on the rear. She whimpered, but didn't dare look away.
"Here. Give me the platter, Vivica. You and Blackjack... go first. Coke, booze, a bite or two of steak - in that order, yeah? And if you don't finish your line, or your drink, I'll put your face in the tray until you do." There was no hint of play in her voice; no implication of a joke being made, or an exaggeration being offered. She was serious, about all of it. Especially the part about putting their faces in the tray.
Vivica handed off the platter without a fuss. Click clack went her heels, the ostentatious sex-shop stunners more than a little difficult to manage on slowly-wettening bathroom tile. Her fetish costume groaned almost imperceptibly as she bent down, her hands shaking like leaves as the baggy was snatched and timidly, reluctantly, opened; she couldn't exactly tell Judas she had never done this before. Under the sadist's purview, she'd done a lot of stuff she'd never done before - mostly get kicked, put on a leash, shot, and made to walk on all fours in public. Mostly.
Blackjack took a step forward, standing to Vivica's side with intimate closeness. With one hand, he held her hair up so it didn't get in the wine, or in the steak, or in the coke; with his other, he took the razor. No words. After all, none were needed for the both of them to come to an agreement, assistance easily given without anything so vocal as to breach Judas's orders. Vivica poured the baggy out, then setting the empty plastic to the side of the champagne bottle - Blackjack, for his part, put the razor to practiced use. Without delay, three fat lines of ivory powder lay atop the mirror-like tray, sinful indulgence calling out from each bleach-white speck.
Judas nodded upwards, gesturing to the cocaine. This was... good. She could feel the power coming back to her - the disgusting, addicting, undeniable power of her station. Watching, as she had earlier found, felt good - and watching Vivica and Blackjack fumble around the packet of hard drugs, and stumble through cooperation without the use of voices, felt even better.
Vivica had her line, then, but hadn't the heart to go through with it. Her legs were shaking, her knees trembling, her lower lip a-quiver; wide eyes flicked upwards towards Judas's own, but they only got as far as her chest before they backed down like a dog that was kicked. An awkward still fell over the room, only broken by the subtle rush of the shower's man-made rainfall... awkward for the two bitches, anyways. Judas was feeling so much better now.
The ebon tendrils of pain and grief had receded to their holes; even the faintest whisper of derealization had been cast out, and every fiber of Judas's body was beginning to thrum. Beneath her lips, and the tight-lipped smile of a wicked tyrant, her newly-healed tongue went across her top row of fangs despite herself. Looking down at Vivica contemplate what came next, procrastinate as completely as she could, do anything short of beg for reprieve... it filled Judas's heart to the point of stretching the seams. A hateful sort of amour dripped from the leaks in her chest, and she could stand the other woman's delay no longer.
"You're taking too long, toy. We're waiting." Her right hand held the platter steady, keeping it flat and still; her left hand, however, rose in an instant. It wasn't a sort of speed used to intimidate, or to overpower, or for means of malice; rather, its purpose was simply to make contact before Vivica even had the chance to perceive it. There was no wriggling out of this for her.
Judas's hand found rest upon the back of Vivica's neck, touching down gently enough to cause no harm, but forcefully enough that Viv almost smashed her face into the tray. Instinctively, she tried to stand up to full height - to rally against Judas's touch, to distance herself from the drugs she was being coerced into taking. The Tsang tsarina wouldn't, and couldn't, allow that. Her thumb and forefinger pressed into the sides of her playmate's neck, firmly enough to begin restricting her airflow though not to crush her windpipe; just a playful bit of choking, really. 'Playful'.
Almost immediately, Judas began the second part of her barrage: to pump the poor girl full of vampiric influence, palm and thumb and forefinger more than enough skin-to-skin contact to send her target into fucking overdrive. Judas focused on it actively, directing every bit of pressure she could - from the pheromones, to the unseen waves of thought and desire, to the directed heat of her skin on Vivica's. The reaction was everything she hoped it would be, and more.
The poor girl nearly fell, knees buckling like faulty supports - she wobbled on her legs as a newborn fawn, eyes first widening to their fullest extreme before shutting tightly to revel, despite herself, in the sensation. The warmth which now rippled over her... The tingle in every inch of her flesh, and the blood-gift that was heightened sensation, increased awareness, and emphasized physicality... her body shifted despite itself, muscles trembling, flexing, loosening, and aching like she had gorged herself on fresh red. A shuddering sound, that of a moan caught halfway with a wind-whipped shutter, rattled from her throat - alongside a single tear, formed in the only instant her sober mind had to process what was happening.
Blackjack rushed to catch her, dropping the razor without a second thought - it clattered softly to the tray, landing in the outermost line and spreading powder as it did. His hands went to her hips and his body made itself known at her rear, doing his best to hold her up without outright carrying her; it took her some moments, moments of her body trembling in that rainfall-punctuated silence, before she could truly make use of his support.
As her eyes began to open again, the initial rush no longer keeping her head pushed so far beneath sanguine waves, Judas spoke again. This time, her tone was imperious, demanding - but also calm, and tinged with that breathiness which only a practiced seductress could dredge from their chest. "Vivica... Sweetheart... You know what I want you to do, right? What I need you to do... don't you?"
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Vivica's knees, which had only just ceased their trembling, were set to knock once more. The scent of lust had now begun to prick at Judas's senses, the telltale sign that she had her victim right where she wanted them; Vivica hadn't even the focus to be embarrassed, or resentful, of her body's involuntary reactions. She could only mumble-whine a response, words reduced to mush and humidity against the tray's surface, but their intent more than clear enough.
Judas squeezed harder, only a sliver more, but enough to truly restrict Vivica's airflow. There would still be enough, of course, for her to do as ordered... but little more would be within a stone's throw of 'feasible'. The dominatrix pulled back her lips to smile fully now, ivory trim for those iconic gold daggers; she flashed a conspiratorial look up to Blackjack. He looked perturbed... but made an effort to smile back, even if his heart wasn't truly in it.
"Then do it."
Ask and you shall receive - order, and it shall be followed. Emphatically. Vivica scrunched her already-shut eyelids as she forced in a breath through her left nostril, right hand going to close that side less than a second before her pull. The entire line disappeared in short order, even a bit of the line just beside it getting caught up in her rush to do as she was told - her intake only halted by Judas outright ceasing her airflow, fingers closing her throat off just enough that she couldn't snort any more of their shared party favours. Once Vivica realized what was going on, and fumbled through indicating she was done, Judas allowed her to stand at full height once again.
The noncompliant nurse straightened her back, with Blackjack's help, her body now leaning into his own with no small amount of her weight. She was fairly lean, though; Blackjack was weighed down more presently by his own aiding and abetting of what was going on than any physical strain he might have borne.
"Good girl, Vivica. Good girl..." The champagne was ignored - Judas had gotten more than enough of a rush from this alone, and her blood was pumping hot and fast just from watching. Watching, as she had discovered multiple times this evening, was good. She licked her lips as Vivica stumbled forwards, remembering Judas's earlier orders about the steak, and the wine - but she was held back by the concerned Tsang security officer at her rear, keeping her from doing anything too zealous, or stupid, in her sudden delirium.
Only issue? Now it was his turn.
Judas gestured with her newly-freed hand to the shower, giving Viv a wink. "Be a good little toy and get in there for me, won't you~? I promise I'll be gentle this time - I'm getting tired of seeing you cry, you know..." Ice again; pain again. This time, it was the realization that she actually, honestly, meant it - that she was growing tired of Vivica's pain, and that she had subconsciously resolved to stop hurting her. At least... stop hurting her like that. There would always be room for a little sting in every sugared caress, but now?
Seeing her cry, and swoon, and scrabble to acquiesce to Judas's demands? It was all too reminiscent of the blonde. That blonde. Judas couldn't even think of her name, not out of forgetfulness, but because considering the secretary's name would be too much for her. It would remind Judas of the missing link in her chain of command, the ghoul-shaped hole in her patchwork quilt. It would ruin the moment - this moment, so rife with those endorphins that kept the vampiress sane and stable. She suppressed a tremble in her hands as she moved past the thought of everything and anything blonde, much less possessed of sharp teeth, and green eyes, and a timid little voice-
Blackjack, again, saved her. Inadvertently this time, it was undeniable, but his was still the gesture which snapped Judas from delusion. He had helped Vivica clip-clop-clip over to the shower (here she now stood, huddled in the corner as if shamed but watching with doeish eyes), and now he was bent at the waist to take his position over the platter. He took their semi-seclusion as an opportunity to address his superior.
"Judas... I'm worried about you. I... Fuck, Judas, you're getting worse. You know that, right?" His sheer audacity, to speak to her like they were equals, was more than enough to shatter the pane of Judas's frosted mental glass, and let the light of awareness shine in. She snapped her gaze down to meet his own, those icy, piercing blues cutting her to her core. There was no contempt in his eyes; no condescension, no hatred, no revulsion. Only concern. Only genuine, compassionate concern for his superior.
Judas felt her stomach roil, stomach acid now a tumultuous sea as though the kraken of guilt and shame that dwelled within would force its way out, should she relent. Her hands trembled anew, though this time her focus was placed firmly upon the physical - the real world, the world she could reach out and touch and grope and break and tear, should she choose. That was, if she could choose; in this instant, she was frozen.
She was getting worse. She was getting so much worse, every day, and she didn't even know why. She had been a vampire for sixty-or-so odd years, and had been relatively the same the entire time - sure, she had reached her lucky number 7'th therapist in the last few years, but that wasn't because of any sort of mental deterioration. She just enjoyed the way these shrinks squirmed when she spun them tales of utter woe, and pain, and traumatization - ones she knew were horrible and nightmarish, just to see them struggle to tell her something she would want to hear.
But now, having it addressed by someone else - recognized by someone else - her blood was set to liquid nitrogen. Where moments ago she had been red-hot and raring to go, she now felt weak again. Weak, small, and confused - and scared. Everything in her brain screamed at her to put up a stiff upper lip, to show dominance and confidence and superiority. She was in control, of course. Wasn't she?
It was a monumental display of self control to not bite through her tongue for the second time today.
She put on a wavering smile, lips wobbling like one of those characters in the anime she watched in secret. "Hmm? Worse? What do you mean? I'm better than I've ever been - I'm richer than God, more powerful than Satan, and the whole of the West is at my feet. What could be worse about me?" The bluff was bold, and less convincing than she would have liked - deception tended to be less deceiving when one's voice warbled like a songbird while putting it forth. The gambit, in the end, paid off - but only so far as to get Blackjack off her back, for the moment.
He sighed, shutting his eyes and leaning down an inch more; he closed off his left nostril and took in a smaller, preparatory breath through his mouth, steeling himself for what came next. He could only hope that this wouldn't be his first death; that would be a mood killer, wouldn't it?
"We'll talk about this later. But you're getting worse, you know you're getting worse, and ignoring it won't help. It'll hurt you, and us. And-" His monologue was sliced in twain as a tatami mat used for swordplay training; Judas held the blade, of course, and she was merciless with its edge. Her voice hissed through her grit teeth, the smile now edging towards a grimace with every passing moment.
"Shut the fuck up and snort your line, Blackjack. I need this. You need this, if you want to keep your job. Vivica needs this, because if she doesn't, then what good is she to me? Why am I keeping her around? Don't make me regret keeping you two around." The edge of her lips twitched as she fought back the urge to scream, to unleash the demon which dwelt in her breast, to expose her pair of playthings to the rawest, most direct showing of her turmoil that she could muster. He sighed again, this one tinged with a sadness that cut Judas more deeply than any silvered blade.
"Yes, ma'am." And like that, his line disappeared, taken with the sort of resignation one gives to their last cigarette before execution. He shivered as it hit his system, Vitus's purest snow coming neither from the sky nor a ski hill. He shuddered again, and again, his neck and face tensing, untensing, and tensing again as it worked its way into him. He staggered back a few steps, eyes still shut - and, without prompting, began to undo his uniform.
Judas felt her smile reinforced, even if it was only delusion which gave her strength in this moment. She set the tray down on a nearby decorative table, pushing aside some scented candles and a statuette of a nude woman to make room for it; she stayed low, however, taking a preparatory breath of her own.
There was no hesitation on her part - she was already dead, and had done coke enough times to know what was coming. It would feel like the blood, and then she would drink the bloody champagne from the glass, and the blood would feel like coke. She'd be hard enough to nail the both of them to the wall like the paintings in the manse's hallways, they'd both do what she wanted when she wanted it, and then... Frankly, Judas felt inclined to keep them longer. Just for fun.
The coke went up her nose; her dress came off; she followed Blackjack into the shower. As she had said earlier, shower sex was inconvenient - but inconvenient didn't mean unenjoyable, if your playmates were hopped up on drugs and willing to listen to your every command. Vivica's body was plush, supple, satisfying; despite her lean build, Judas had sent her to a personal mortician to be more suitable. Blackjack, by comparison, was something new, and firm, and fun, but never outshone by - or outshining - his partner in provision. His was a body more suited for a runway than guard work, really - though that was, again, Judas's decision making at work. Regardless, the sounds he made (and that he could pull from Vivica, as the drugs took them and their senses truly left them) were plenty of fun, Judas thought.
And, leaning against the wall with both partners on their knees, showing her their oral deference? Judas was glad she'd made that appointment those weeks ago. She'd have to see if they could fix her brain, too.