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“There’s something on your mind, Alcina, spit it out before the entire table collapses under the weight of your thoughts and miserable expression,” Mother Miranda snapped, looking at the countess sternly. She’d been cradling the same glass of Sanguis for the best part of an hour, staring off into the middle distance. At Mother Miranda’s words, she seemed to unwillingly shake herself back to the present, but gave no indication that she was sorry for being such a poor hostess.
The priestess raised her eyebrows, clearly expecting an explanation, and as unwilling as Alcina was, she knew she didn’t have a choice. She traced her finger down the side of her glass, trying to balance the need to speak clearly with the need to explain quickly. “Mother Miranda,” she began, her voice unwavering but her words telling a different story. “It would not be foolish of me to believe that I am your favourite of all your ‘children’, would it?”
If Alcina realised how unattractively needy her words sounded, she didn’t seem to care, and Mother Miranda frowned. “What is this about?” she asked; although it wasn’t the first time that Alcina had so obviously sought reassurance from her, she refused to give even an inch until she was sure what her words would be used for.
The first cracks began to appear in the countess’ composure, and she drained her glass to avoid having to respond immediately. Her eyes were shining with tears, and she blinked them away rapidly, rightly knowing how much the priestess despised weakness. “Mother Miranda, I...” Silence dragged, and though she eventually managed to continue, it was clear from the subtle change in her demeanour that she’d decided to take a slightly different approach. “I regret to inform you that Heisenberg’s loyalty to you has proven to be as weak as the useless man himself,” she said bluntly, “he cannot be trusted, and I would strongly recommend that you-”
Mother Miranda exhaled hard, hoping that was sufficient to communicate her annoyance, and the countess had the good sense to look cowed. “Are you trying to tell me what to do, Alcina?” she asked tersely, unable to keep the annoyance from her tone, and placed down her wine when she felt the tell-tale signs of the glass beginning to fracture beneath her strong grip. Alcina looked panic-stricken; it really was incredibly easy to keep her in line with the mere threat of having done something disappointing.
“No, mother!” she said quickly, her voice coming out as a gasp, “I would never presume to-”
Mother Miranda raised her hand, cutting off the conversation abruptly. The subject of Heisenberg was one which already took up way more of her time than was acceptable, and certainly wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with anyone, even the most trusted of her lords. “Then let us not speak of it again. And as to the original question…”
She stood up and walked around the table, feeling intense golden eyes tracking her every movement, and sat down as near to Alcina as she could, knees bumping gently. Pressing her hands to the countess’ strong thighs, she leaned in to speak to her, so close that she could see the residue of Sanguis glistening on Alcina’s lips. “You know that you’re my favourite, dear one. Nothing could ever change that. You’re so beautiful, so strong; I couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome from my experiments than you.”
Alcina’s lower lip trembled minutely, and for a moment the situation seemed balanced on a knife-edge. It was not unheard of for the regal, resolute countess to lose her emotional control over what Heisenberg mockingly called her ‘mother issues’, and Mother Miranda prayed that such an unpleasant scenario could be avoided. “Come now, Alcina, we’ve talked about this before, surely you remember?” she chided, marvelling at how weak the countess was to the simple act of being praised and reassured.
Alcina bit her lip nervously, looking younger than her daughters for a moment. “I know. Please tell me again?” she asked somewhat breathlessly, eyes widening a little, her gaze momentarily dropping down to Mother Miranda’s full lips. The unconscious indicator of desire was all the priestess needed to form a plan. And really, none of it was a lie.
“You’re my favourite, Alcina,” she breathed, keeping her voice low and just slightly seductive. “The only one whom I don’t regret, don’t view as a mistake. You’ve achieved things I never thought would be possible, you’ve surpassed my wildest dreams. And all while remaining elegant and refined and... beautiful.” Mother Miranda drew closer, tightening her grip on Alcina’s thighs ever so slightly. She knew that she had her completely under her control with those few words, but it wasn’t enough, she wanted to watch her fall apart. “My treasure, Alcina. Always mine, only mine. I’m so proud of you. You’re so good and obedient, no matter what I ask. Good girl.”
The reaction, as she’d predicted, was instant. Alcina’s breath hitched and she whimpered, “mother”, before she seized a handful of Mother Miranda’s cloak and pulled her into a bruising kiss. Although her goal had been manipulation, the priestess couldn’t deny that she loved it when Alcina lost control and kissed her like this. She was extraordinarily sensitive when touched in the right way.
Once, she’d managed to work Alcina up so much by calling her a good girl that the countess had grabbed her and sunk her teeth into her neck, and Mother Miranda, unprepared for the intensely contrasting sensations of pleasure and pain, not to mention the sheer eroticism of Alcina’s reaction, had come instantly. Of course, she’d had to punish her afterwards – restraining her on the bed and using a riding crop on her until Alcina’s almost-bloodless skin had finally begun to redden – but the memory of being bitten was one which frequently crept into Mother Miranda’s mind.
“Good girl,” she breathed hotly against Alcina’s lips when they parted, and once again the countess whimpered, reaching out as though intending to grab Mother Miranda and pull the smaller woman onto her lap, but she batted Alcina’s hands away. “Ah ah ah, patience, dearest. You wouldn’t allow your daughters to ravish their playthings at the dinner table, now would you?”
To her surprise, Alcina actually whined, and Mother Miranda had to force herself not to betray her arousal on her face. “Yes, Alcina? Was there something you wanted to say?” she asked, knowing exactly what it was. “No? Good. Then perhaps we ought to move this to the bedroom.”
It took only the slightest raise of one eyebrow to encourage Alcina to disrobe once they reached her chambers, and Mother Miranda couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed watching the acres of porcelain skin being revealed. “Good girl,” she murmured, just for wickedness, and Alcina whimpered and promptly dropped her dress as she tried to fold it. “Come on dear, get on the bed.”
Alcina did as she was told, lying back and letting her legs fall open invitingly, and Mother Miranda knelt between them, dragging sinfully hot, wet kisses up Alcina’s thighs. The countess moaned, trembling as she tried to stay still and let Mother Miranda keep control. “So beautiful, so elegant, so delicious,” the priestess purred, and Alcina stiffened suddenly. She looked up, frowning. “Is something the matter?” she asked irritably.
“Why do you never let me see you?” Alcina asked, in a voice made entirely of shyness and unhappiness, her gaze fixed on the priestess’ black cloak, “do you not trust me?”
Mother Miranda sat back on her heels. She could barely keep up with Alcina’s mercurial moods today. “It’s about power, dear,” she explained, although that was only half true. “How can I expect you to respect and fear me when you’ve seen me undressed?” Running her talons over Alcina’s thigh, feeling the strong muscles twitching beneath, she asked, “now, may I continue touching you?”
The way Alcina looked at her told her the answer. “I would still respect and fear you, I don’t think I know how to do anything else,” she said quietly. “You’ve touched me so many times, I want to repay the favour.”
Mother Miranda scowled, finally losing her temper. “I don’t touch you because I’m expecting you to repay me somehow, dear. I touch you because it suits me as a way to bring you further under my control.” If Alcina was shocked by her brutal honesty, she didn’t betray it on her face. Mother Miranda thought for a moment, then added, “and I do enjoy it”, because the countess deserved that honesty too.
But it was clear that regardless of what she said, her words were making no impact at all. With effort, she softened her voice. “Dear, whatever you’re expecting that touching me would be like, you’re wrong. There were some... complications in my early experiments.”
Alcina’s eyes widened, her expression longing, and it was almost – almost – comical how utterly desperate she was to touch Mother Miranda. But, the thought crossed the priestess’ mind, perhaps letting her see was the best way. She’d be horrified, and certainly lose her interest in touching her, which could only be a good thing.
“Very well, Alcina. I’ll allow you to see. Do remember that this is a privilege I’ve never afforded anyone before,” she said sharply, attempting to cover her nerves with coldness. “I’ll need you to move so I can lie back in a moment, please.” Alcina did as she was told immediately, and Mother Miranda climbed off the bed briefly to remove her cloak, then the simple black dress she wore beneath, leaving her underclothes on, grateful for the silk slip, which she could pull down and cover herself with the moment Alcina recoiled.
For now, she hitched the slip up to just above her knees, and climbed back onto the bed. “This is your last chance to change your mind, Alcina,” she muttered, and the countess shook her head immediately. “Very well, don’t say I didn’t give you ample chances to back out.” Slowly, Mother Miranda raised her slip higher, at the same time loosening the enchantment which allowed her to go about her daily life relatively unimpeded.
Alcina’s mouth fell open, all the breath leaving her at once. Between the priestess’ legs was a mass of tentacles, most small, no more than the length of her hand, but among them were several much thicker, longer ones. She watched, mesmerised, as the longer ones began to move and uncurl, slowly, as though they were just waking up. Acting purely on instinct, too dazed to recognise the unwiseness of her actions, she reached out, wanting to see what they felt like beneath her fingertips, and gasped as Mother Miranda gripped her wrist, talons digging in.
“Don’t,” she growled firmly. She couldn’t predict how she’d react to her tentacles being touched, but if it was anything like the way she was reacting to Alcina’s awed, hungry expression, she’d be lost in a matter of minutes.
Alcina flexed her fingers, and the priestess realised one of her talons was probably pressing uncomfortably against a nerve, so she let go. “They’re beautiful,” Alcina murmured, “you’re beautiful. Please mother, let me show you? I’ll be so good.”
Without her noticing, one of the tentacles had unfurled enough that it could brush up against Alcina’s thigh, and the simple pleasure of feeling the countess’ soft skin was enough to undo her. “If you’re sure that’s really what you w- oh!!” Her words broke off into a high cry as Alcina’s fingers stroked her slowly, barely using any pressure, and suddenly Mother Miranda was acutely aware of how long it was since she’d been touched. “Oh, Alcina, darling!”
If she’d thought Alcina looked hungry and desirous before, it was nothing compared to her expression when she realised she was doing something right. She stroked again, a little more firmly, and Mother Miranda closed her eyes, sinking back against the pillows, stuttering noises of pleasure escaping her parted lips.
Alcina was surprised to see the longer tentacles moving slowly towards her across the bed. She didn’t know whether Mother Miranda had as much control over them as she did over her own limbs, or whether they had some sentience, but it really didn’t matter. If she could pleasure the priestess by touching them, that was exactly what she’d do. One look at Mother Miranda – eyes closed, panting, biting her lip, soft blonde hair in disarray – told her that she had plenty of time to try something without being told to stop first. Alcina lightly gripped the tentacle she’d been stroking, pulling it up to her lips and taking it in her mouth.
“Fuck!” Mother Miranda sobbed, opening her eyes immediately as she felt the warm wetness of Alcina’s mouth surrounding her. After a few awkward moments early on when she’d become inappropriately aroused by her own accidental, brushing touches, she’d devised the enchantment which kept the tentacles restrained, meaning they’d been almost untouched for decades, and her need was overwhelming. Alcina’s tongue swirled firmly around the tip, before she gripped it harder and took it deeper into her mouth. Mother Miranda’s hand curled on the bed, her talons tearing through the sheets.
The tentacle was surprisingly pleasant to have in her mouth. It was smooth and slick, soft at the tip but firm everywhere else. While she was distracted, two more began to creep over her thighs, and these felt different, rougher. Reluctantly, Alcina removed the tentacle from her mouth, reaching down and picking up another, running her fingers over it. It mostly felt the same, but when she reached the underside, she gasped, thumbing at the suckers she found there until Mother Miranda let out a low groan, writhing on the bed. “Are you sensitive there?” Alcina asked breathlessly, tracing the shape with the tip of one finger, even though the uncomposed noises coming from the priestess were already telling her everything she needed to know.
“Yes!” Mother Miranda ground out, looking half-ruined. Alcina smirked, holding eye contact as she brought the tentacle to her mouth, tracing the shape of the suckers with her tongue before pressing firmly into the centre of one, shivering as Mother Miranda almost howled. Another tentacle curled around the back of her head, holding her in place. “Oh, good girl,” the priestess whispered raggedly as Alcina lavished her with attention, “yes, yes!”
Alcina whimpered instantly, licking and sucking with more fervour, wanting only to be called a good girl again. Mother Miranda was shaking on the bed, sweat glistening on her forehead. “Can you… just from this...?” Alcina asked shyly.
“I- I don’t know, I’ve never allowed anyone to- oh, fuck, Alcina. Yes, good girl, don’t stop, you’re doing so well,” Mother Miranda panted, “please, please.” She didn’t know what she needed Alcina to do to make her come, just that she needed it, desperately.
Alcina briefly pulled back from the tentacle in her mouth to encouragingly murmur, “that’s it, that’s it”, reaching down to find another and wrapping her hand around it. Without prompting, the tentacle pushed back into her mouth, and she mimicked the movement of her tongue with her thumb. She felt the tentacles swelling, Mother Miranda’s gasps and moans reaching a fever pitch, and pointed her tongue, licking firmly at every inch she could reach.
She both felt and heard the moment that Mother Miranda lost control. “Good girl, Alcina, fuck!” the priestess cried, writhing on the bed, her hips jerking wildly as she came. Alcina groaned in arousal, not stopping until the tentacles pulled away from her, leaving her feeling oddly empty. It was only then, watching the tentacles retracting and wondering how they’d feel pounding into her, that she realised just how uncomfortably wet and aroused she was. She reached between her own legs, fingers instantly slicked in her desire, moaning as she imagined the tentacles probing her sex, suckers caressing her clit.
“Did I give you... permission... to do that?” Mother Miranda asked raggedly, still panting, and a tentacle grabbed Alcina’s wrist, forcing her to stop touching herself. “I thought you wanted to be a good girl, dear. Is that not what you want?” Alcina nodded desperately, and Mother Miranda smirked. Even half-naked and well-fucked, there was no doubt that she was in control. “I thought so. Now let me recover, and if you can manage to keep still and quiet until then, I suppose I could think about giving you a reward for being a good girl...”