Black Gratification Chapter 13

I recline on the bed, watching the scene before me, not even pretending to hide my appreciation and amusement as the two performers enjoy their roles. Blake much more reluctantly, while Glynda seems almost giddy, at least as far as her expressiveness goes. Especially when the situation calls for her to be stern. The blonde disciplinarian is as immaculate in appearance as ever, even while wearing a bustless leather corset, crotchless thong panties and thigh-high stockings. The uncovered privates as much aesthetic as an invitation for me to join in and ravage her if the mood takes me.

Blake meanwhile hasn’t been afforded even that less than minimal level of clothing. The only thing that could even be described as covering are the straps securing her in Glynda’s bondage frame. Glynda having decided she quite likes it as an addition to her quarters. My pet’s arms and legs tied to posts, her torso supported by a harness that enhances her average bust. Her pussy is soaked, her body coated in a layer of sweat. But not a drop is allowed to stain the deputy headmistress’ carpet. Any fluids that threaten to do so are swiftly swept up with a movement of Glynda’s crop and deposited in the mouth of the cat faunus. And occasionally into Glynda’s, treating herself with the result of her exertions.

Blake pants, not just from the strenuous activity of the punishment she’s receiving. But also from fear and anticipation of what’s to come. There’s a wildness to her eyes. A fear of what’s to come and a desire, a need for it to come.

Reward. Punishment. Whichever, it comes all the same.

Thwack!

The crop comes down on the lower right side of Blake’s back, the girl arching and yelping in pain, a red welt quickly forming on her pale skin. Breaking her aura was the first part of this little game. A process Glynda had taken slowly. Indulged herself in the anticipation of when it finally happened and Blake would feel the strikes for real.

My blonde servant is forced to collect another dollop of Blake’s love juices due to the girl’s drastic response to the pain. Is this experience awakening masochism in Blake? Or did she already have a touch of a masochistic streak in her thanks to Auburn? Or perhaps before even that? I could check and have a better idea, but not knowing the true source is more fun.

“Filthy girl,” Glynda admonishes the panting kitten. “I should have known you would only enjoy any punishment I tried to administer. A deviant little slut through and through, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, Professor,” Blake manages to say through heavy breathing, “I’m a deviant little slut.”

Another thwack and another cry, or rather moan, of pain. “You aren’t here to tell me what I already know, slut! You’re here to apologise! To make amends! Well?”

“I’m sorry!”

“Sorry for what, slut?!”

“I’m sorry for being a deviant slut!”

The crop comes down again, but this time not harshly. Blake flinches as the implement of pain touches down on her back, only for it to smoothly, almost soothingly travel down her spine. “I don’t think you are. I think you’re lying to me, Miss Belladonna. I think you know exactly what you are. That you love it.” The crop continues to move, down between pert cheeks, over the faunus’ rosebud, down over her soaked pussy lips before coming away with a stream of juice. With a swish, the implement returns to in front of the girl’s face, juices swirling in a ball. “This is more honest, isn’t it? This,” Blake’s head tips back against her will with the movement of the crop as it lets the proof of her arousal dribble onto her tongue, “This tells me everything about you.”

“Ahh!” Blake tries to speak, but her mouth is held open by the teacher’s semblance.

“Yes, you’re exactly that kind of lying, deceitful little slut,” Glynda continues. Moving around behind her errant student making playful taps on her thighs. “The kind of needy bitch in heat so starved for cock that she would get knocked up,” thwack, “by her teacher,” thwack, “The same teacher,” thwack, “who knocked up her mother,” thwack thwack thwack, “and me!”

“I’m sorryyyy!” Blake pleads in pleasurable pain, shaking as she finds herself cumming from the brutal treatment. With swift motions, her spraying pussy juice is once again fed directly down her throat. She doesn’t even resist, drinking it down as though it were refreshing water.

“Disgraceful! Putting a burden like this on him after he was so good to your family,” Glynda continues to admonish, prodding the girl’s folds with the crop before slipping it in, twirling it around and making the faunus writhe in her restraints. “It’s your duty to make it up to him! You’re his now, you understand?! Say it!”

“I’m his!” Blake whines.

“His whore!”

“His whore!”

“His breeding bitch!”

“His breeding bitch!” Her hazy eyes look to me. “I’m so sorry Professor! You can use my slutty body whenever you like, for whatever you like! I’ll have all of your babies! I’ll do whatever you ask me to!”

“He doesn’t need to ask, slut!” Without her crop, Glynda instead gives her a harsh slap on the ass.

“O-of course! Whatever you tell me! I’ll be good! I’ll be good! Nnnnn!” Her whole body goes taut, then limp. Once again the crop comes away with juices, far more than before as Glynda makes the effort to fully tidy our pet so she can’t make a mess. Once again Blake drinks her own fluids down like a woman dying of thirst.

Which, in a way, might be an accurate description.

“Good. At least you know your place.” Opening her closet with a wave, she draws out a mask and takes it in hand. “Now, I suggest you get some rest. Your owner and I have some things we need to discuss.”

“Ah–!” is the only sound Blake is able to make before the mask is put over her head, buckled and tightened. Her voice is now only muffles. Her eyes are covered, as are her ears. At best all she’ll be able to sense are the straps holding her up, some vague muffled sounds, and the scent and taste of leather.

“We have things to discuss, do we?” I ask, moustache twitching into a smirk as I look her up and down while she tightens the last strap on Blake’s mask. “And what would those be?”

She frowns, looking rather cross with me even as she joins me on the bed, handing me her crop. “Let’s start with our agreement that you wouldn’t get the students pregnant.”

“As it happens, what I recall of that conversation was that it related to only Miss Scarlatina. Who to this day remains entirely unbred, despite copious activities that might have facilitated such.” She frowns harder and I only smile in response. “Honestly, Glynda, just how angry are you really?”

This is a test, though she doesn’t know it. I only have one perk from Salem until I manage to fuck her again, and that perk is Corruption. The more a woman is exposed to my semen, the more her morals cater specifically to my interests. Moriarty spilled himself inside her several times before I became him. I have done the same many, many more times since. Including putting my child in her belly. I was confident in her response to Ren’s situation because of that. But now I get to see just how much she’s willing to cater to my whims even if they run up against her principles.

As it happens, there’s very little fight in how quickly her frown is ended with a sigh of defeat. Her leg crosses over both of mine as she straddles me, sinking herself down on my absurd cock. Her eyes narrow at my victorious grin. “Don’t get, ahh, full of yourself. You still robbed her team of the chance to compete in the Vytal Festival tournament.”

“And in exchange I gave her the joy of motherhood.”

“Haa...” she sighs as her insides cling to me, her hips rising and falling in steady strokes. “That’s true. I admit it feels... Amazing to know there’s a part of you always inside me. Like you’re always with me.” For a moment the stern disciplinarian is completely gone, replaced with a devoted wife and mother.

Well. We can call that an interesting data point, can’t we?

“As for the Vytal Festival... Hmm,” I pretend to think, having come up with one potential solution that I don’t particularly care about being viable. By the time of the festival, she definitely won’t care whose dreams I’m stepping on. “Perhaps for the sake of fielding teams for the festival we could shuffle them. If a team fails to qualify, one of their members can join another that is short a member.”

“That is a possibility,” she acknowledges absently as her head rolls back. Then suddenly snaps to awareness, the movement of her hips coming to a complete stop. “Why did you phrase that like more teams will be short members?”

“It’s always best to plan ahead for unfortunate eventualities,” I counter, thrusting upward into her as a not-so-gentle reprimand for stopping. She has to put her hands on my chest to steady herself, leaning forward to leave her full breasts hanging deliciously. “No other complaints about my conduct?” I ask in a teasing tone as she gets back to riding me. No problem with me breeding mother and daughter? A married woman? “Your assistance with Miss Ren is much appreciated, by the way.”

“What would I have to complain about?” Glynda asks with a confused frown. “So long as these foolish girls become huntresses at the conclusion of their time at this school, nothing else matters.” She gets back to riding me in earnest as she gives me the final clue regarding the state of her morals. Namely, her duty as a trainer of huntresses. That’s pretty much the last true principle she clings to. Even her problem with Blake’s pregnancy comes back to that. “As for, Miss Ren, hah,” she pants out, her ass slapping against my thighs, taking me as deep as she dares with a life growing inside her, “She’s reaping, what she’s sown.”

“Really now? Such a harsh judgement,” I muse as I absently fondle her breasts.

“Says the man, who saw, her situation, exploited, for all it’s worth!” The way her pussy is squeezing me, the only reason she hasn’t cum yet is because I’m forcing her to focus on this conversation. “Made her a whore!”

“I did,” I agree. “And you have no problem with that? None at all?”

Her hips drop. “Part-time jobs are normal,” she tells me with an impatient stare. “Are you going to fuck me properly or not?”

It’s amusing when she thinks she has any kind of power in this relationship. Enough so that I indulge her, giving no warning as I use my hold on her tits to roll her onto her back. The head of my penis rocks against her cervix as we move. My hands release her breasts letting them fall and bounce freely as I grab her wrists and bring them together. I withdraw, then thrust, Glynda’s eyes rolling back as she takes it. Her preference is to get fucked. Get ravaged even. Unfortunately I’m not quite willing to do that. Not for her pussy at least. But I can at least give her something approaching the real thing as I start slamming against the entrance to her womb, her walls soon fluttering, squeezing and milking me as she gets the climax she craves.

Trading her principles, her freedom and eventually her life for a good fucking and orgasms. It’s only special because she’s the first one to make the decision entirely of her own volition. Soon enough, she’ll be one of many.

-(-)-

Summer– No, no, no! Not Summer! Silver! She was Silver today!

Silver walked with pride and purpose through the halls of government, doing all she could to keep her composure. To keep her stern appearance as a woman here to do serious business, no matter how giddy she was on the inside to be doing Master’s work. She had done so much in preparation, Master helping her along the way with advice and guidance on how she should manage things. She had made sure to get everything in order. The location he wanted was purchased under an assumed name with a complete paper trail for that identity. All fake of course, and could conceivably be found out if someone were interested enough to perform a dedicated investigation.

But that was part of why she was here, in the offices of Vale’s government, ready to meet with one of the councillors. Her long black skirt fastened over her shimmering grey, short-sleeved blouse that showed the silver armbands she wore over her forearms. Five-inch heels of similar colouration to match the rest of her outfit. All to match the colour scheme that began with her ‘hair’. The long grey wig was something she had to spend time getting used to wearing, so as to make it seem natural, her eyebrows dyed to match.

She tried to settle the butterflies in her tummy as the secretary waved her into her meeting, offering a polite smile in response as she walked past. She assumed it was nerves. She didn’t remember everything about her life, but she was fairly sure she had never done anything like this before. Master had coached her. She had practiced on her own. She was grateful when Master sent the faunus woman to the house. It had freed Summer up from homemaking duties when Kali was more than willing to take up cooking and cleaning in her stead. Gave her more time to mentally prepare herself.

As much as she knew she needed the preparation, that preparation wasn’t the source of the confidence that kept her nerves in check. Those butterflies in her tummy had company after all. A little piece of her master that was with her always.

She didn’t knock. Master had given her instructions on how to behave and it was important to take as much control of the meeting as she could. The man she was here to meet was in his office, in his seat of power, such as it was. That meant he would feel safe and secure in his decision making. She needed to take actions to unsettle that security. Through small things like entering unannounced, to larger things like the information Master had armed her with. If she aimed to use that information, she also needed to seem the type who would do so. Bold. Unyielding. Dominant. In control. She may not have had experience of this kind of business, but those traits she had demonstrated in spades once upon a time.

“Councillor Ochre,” she greeted, from the doorway as she closed it behind her, wasted no time taking in the man’s mild surprise as she strode forward with her right hand outstretched. “Silver Sable, representing my employer, Mister Roy G. Biv. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Err, yes,” he responded, rising from behind his desk to take her hand, reciprocating her firm handshake. “Charmed, I’m sure.

 He wasn’t an old man but he certainly wasn’t young either. His red-brown hair beginning to fade into a grey at the roots. Or rather, he had already gone grey and was overdue for getting it dyed. He had campaigned for office as the ‘youthful’ candidate and had made the mistake of clinging onto that image rather than age gracefully out of it. The least among his many, many secrets.

 He retook his seat as she took hers across from him. He regained his composure quickly to his credit, checked his terminal, his planner, then gave her his full attention. “You’re here about... Business permits for the upper class district? Permits for...” He trailed off, his expression flattening to give away nothing. “Oh. I see.”

“The property we intend to use is legally ours, is in the middle of refurbishment and will be ready to open by the end of next week. All we require now is the approval of a sitting council member, as necessitated for business enterprises looking to operate in that district.”

“Yes,” he answered tightly. Likely seeing how this meeting might go already. “And you expect me to give approval for a business of this nature? Your employer has more than a little cheek, expecting any of us would give the go-ahead on this kind of thing! Even putting aside the dubious morality, it would be political suicide!”

“Would it?” Silver asked, with calm surprise. “Now that is quite surprising, seeing as another business of similar methods happens to already operate in that district. Well,” she makes a show of rethinking that statement with a smile, “I say similar methods. The things they get up to there, if your concern is morality they do far worse. Of course, that kind of whataboutism is a little unfair, assuming you would approve our permit because someone else approved theirs. Except it wasn’t someone else who approved them, was it Mister Ochre?”

“So that’s how you intend to play this, is it?” the councillor asked, the tension on his face telling her exactly how cornered he felt. As he should. Becoming known as the man who approved a slave market in uptown Vale genuinely would be the end of his career, and probably his freedom. Even if he didn’t know the scale of their operations. On paper, that business was an employment agency but Silver’s master knew from his dealings with them what ‘employment’ meant. And based on his reaction, so did the councillor.

“There’s no need for hostility, Mister Ochre,” she replied, not rising to the raised tension of the room at all. “We aren’t interested in implicating you in any dirty dealings. Whatever they’re doing over there, well you aren’t to blame for it, obviously. No one needs to be aware of your role in all that. Just the same as no one needs to be aware of our enterprise but our select clientele. You’re just a man doing his best to serve his kingdom. A fine, upstanding councillor.  All we need is your signature, your approval, and all of these pesky files can stay buried in the records room where no one will ever even think to look for them.”

Lifting her briefcase onto the desk, Silver opened it and pulled out a small parcel that she then slid across the desk. He gave her a sideways look as he opened it. Inside was a small stack of 500 lien cards, one hundred in total. Alongside a small pin, fit for the lapel or to be used as a cufflink.

“A token of our appreciation for your diligent service to this kingdom,” she flattered him, “Alongside an invitation to partake of our services. We only intend to invite those who have an appreciation for what we have to offer, and of course, the money to burn on our exclusive merchandise.”

“That’s why you don’t want the commercial district like any other–” He let out a gust of frustrated air with a growl. He glared at her in accusation but Silver simply smiled back at him innocently. “This doesn’t just stay quiet, it stays silent. Understand?”

Poor man. Trying to regain control when it was lost to him the instant she brought up the slavers. But at this point, she was happy to return it to him. “Of course. It’s in both our interest for that to be the case.”

Even with that capitulation, he still stared at the form displayed on his terminal for a good few seconds, as though weighing his options. As though there might still be a chance he would do the ‘right’ thing. Deny their approval. Weather the consequences. See the slave market exposed. Her master had it on good authority the councillor genuinely didn’t know that was what they were doing when he approved them. But he had certainly known for a long time. Too long for anyone to ignore.

His willingness to do the right thing had died long before Silver and her master had gotten to him. That was why she went to him instead of either of the other councillors. His stylus swept over the form, digitally signing it, the system approving the signature and sending the form down to records. To be printed by an automated system and filed by an uncaring peon. And so, no one would ever need to know. They had approval, as the paper spat out by the printer in Ochre’s office was happy to declare. Turning around, he grabbed the paper and handed it over. Snapping the small box on his desk shut, he moved it into a drawer. “Our business is concluded. Get out.”

Silver smiled as she stood, closing her briefcase and taking it in hand. “A pleasure doing business with you, Councillor Ochre.”

She left the office with a pep in her step. She had done so very well! She hoped Master would be proud of her! She didn’t even need to use the biggest bit of blackmail she had, though she suspected he believed she had it in her back pocket after assuming he would be interested in their business.

Eight months or so. That was the longest Master had said they needed to keep their activities quiet for. If it was found out, it would be no great shame. Inconvenient at worst. Neither she nor Master would be implicated. The only real name on that form was the councillor’s signature. After all, the best way to make sure no one would be interested in revealing you, would be to make it worse for anyone who might care to do it.

If the other councillors cared to try, her master had ways to keep them quiet too.

-(-)-

“Kali, you’re happy your daughter is my breeding bitch now, aren’t you? You want her to do whatever it takes to make me happy.”

“Velvet, no one else needs to know about this, right? You work for me now. Be a good girl.”

“Blake, you’re happier being my pet aren’t you? No grand injustice to worry about. Just how best you can please whoever I tell you to.”

“Ren, being a whore isn’t so bad, is it? After all, you’re in so much debt and you want to work it off in whatever way I tell you is appropriate.”

“An, you’re happy when I’m happy, aren’t you? Even if I told you to do your old job, you’d happily go back to it if it would make me happy, wouldn’t you?”

It’s a good start. With these and the few others I’ve gathered, I have the beginnings of my enterprise. Enough to get things going for opening day. I could have more in line. Summer would agree in a heartbeat if she thought it was what I wanted. Glynda would only be a slightly harder sell. But no. No one gets to touch them but me. The rest? I don’t even feel particularly proud of acquiring them, let alone invested in keeping them to myself. Why would I care to keep them? At least it’s kinder than the Moriarty before me would have been. He tossed them away entirely to spiral into misery without him, living on their backs, letting their bodies be soiled night after night because it was what they thought he would want.

... Practically speaking, it’s not that different. But at least they’ll have the pride to know they’re working for my happiness. As my huntress strippers and prostitutes. The slut defenders of humanity. I imagine Salem will be quite pleased at the outcome. Even enough for another meeting, perhaps.

And when that day comes, the whole world will change. The petty systems of humanity don’t interest me. It’s a machine easily controlled by a skilled and knowledgeable operator. But to take what is effectively a goddess of destruction, to bend her until she breaks and turn her into my obedient toy. Now that sounds like a worthwhile endeavour.