Absolution

The rules may have seemed unfair, but Iolaire didn't care. She was in control. She was dominating the woman beneath her. A woman who wasn't used to being dominated. Why was Iolaire doing this? Because this could very well be their last time together and she wanted to make Deathbelle remember it. Denying that which was desired was a very memorable act. She denied the woman pleasure on and off for hours, bringing her to the highest peaks of ecstasy. If that wasn't memorable, she didn't know what was.

Hours later and well into the night, Iolaire stood next to the pool, wetting her throat with the cool water. Her jaws were a little tired, but she would live. She would be surprised if Deathbelle's legs didn't feel like stalks of grass when she tried to rise. Iolaire was in no hurry to return to her lovers side and continued to drink her fill. She was deep in thought. She was thinking of Hannibal. Deathbelle too, of course, but she hoped that the man had picked up on her hints. She practically told him that he needed to open up to Belle. Perhaps he was just what she needed. He definitely needed her. She just had a feeling. They could trust one another. They knew one another. The man had said that she was his ultimate desire. As long as he was faithful, thing between them could be damn near perfect. A long, low sigh was released before the tiny dame turned and made her way back to the furs. Sprawling upon her stomach, hind legs splayed out behind her, Iolaire began to clean her dainty paws.