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The Best Form of Revenge

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The annual Legacy of Education Gala is a night of celebration and elegance where the best of the best educators around the region converge to brag and boast about how extravagant one’s school — or ego — is and how bright the students are. Pippa and Hecate have attended this gala many times over many years. At first, as distant and hostile colleagues, trying their best to stay as far away from one another as possible as they shoot glares that never missed. Then as cautiously reacquainted friends, awkwardly stepping into each other’s path and fumbling over words that sound familiarly foreign. Within the last ten or so years, however, they’ve arrived hand-in-hand as life companions. And even more recently they’ve started to make little bets. 

At first, they were harmless enough: who would win the live auctions or who would be seated next to whom or who would be the award recipient of some blah category. Sometimes Pippa would win, sometimes Hecate. It made the event seem less dull and passed the time quickly and would result in the winner of said bet receiving something simple like a massage when they returned home or not having to cook dinner the next night. Then one year, Hecate of all people had upped the ante which resulted in Pippa being stripped naked and positively spent by the end of the night. 

When the gala rolls around this summer, with Pippa nominated for one of the most prestigious awards, Hecate can’t help but place a bet. The blonde, ever the humble headmistress, is convinced she won’t win and is just happy to be nominated but Hecate has more faith. 

“Hiccup, I do really appreciate your support, you know that” the blonde says. They’re sitting on the couch, well Hecate is sitting, while some random television show drones on and on. Pippa is pressed under Hecate’s arm with her legs curled and her ever cold feet tucked into the couch cushions. “It’s a big award and I just don’t want to be let down.” 

“Understandable,” the brunette says. “But you won’t be disappointed.” 

She says it with such finality that Pippa’s mouth drops open into a small “O” and she for some reason can’t find a rebuttal. 

Then the brunette adds with a confident smirk, “I’ll even bet you that you will win the award.” Which causes Pippa to turn her gaze to Hecate and squint her eyes. Darn them both for being so competitive. 

“And if I do win, what will I win?” Pippa asks, causing Hecate’s dark pink lips to curve slightly at one corner. 

Hecate hums. “Well for doubting yourself, I can’t say it’ll be entirely pleasant, but you’ll enjoy every minute of it.” 

Pippa feels her heartbeat double in time. Her cheeks begin to heat up and she clears her throat and catches Hecate’s eyes. “For how long?”

“Do you remember when I said your turn is next?” And that does it for the blonde. Of course, she remembers. She remembers making Hecate one frustrated ball of mess about two years prior. She remembers her pinched brows and relieved sighs and she really doesn’t think she can take what she dished out. Pippa silently nods and Hecate goes on. “One week. My command is my command.” 

She should have expected that. Part of her had expected it, and yet Pippa might as well be putty in Hecate’s hands already. Hecate’s command is code for Pippa being at her every whim. Usually, it’s just for a night or two. Rarely three or more. But it’s a side of Hecate that the brunette was once embarrassed of, refusing to be so dark and forceful, so.... dominant. More specifically, to be so openly controlling. To not care about Pippa’s whines and pleads unless she absolutely had to. She lets herself want but most importantly she lets herself give and take with an unbridled passion that never fails to excite the blonde and leave her satisfyingly spent. And though one week is unheard of, Pippa still agrees with a breathless yes and her anticipation already building. 

Sunday night, the LEGs arrive. Pippa stuns in a beautiful cerise pink floor length dress that flares at the hem. Hecate on the other hand is perfectly fitted into an equally long dress with a full skirt that stops just below her ankles. Black, of course. She matches Pippa’s dress with her pointed toe heels and the very noticeable but elegant tear-drop flower broach above her heart (a gift from Pippa on her birthday). They exude power couple, though Hecate isn’t nominated for any award this year. 

As usual, they make their rounds in the large ballroom. They never stray too far from one another as they chitchat and catch up with colleagues and friends and, unfortunately, those who they wish they didn’t have to even speak to. (Ursula Hallow had attempted to corner Pippa more than once, to which she skillfully talked her way out of each time.) Even from across the room, Hecate can make Pippa blush, their eyes catching repeatedly as they silently check in.  

The master of ceremonies finally announces the beginning of the awards to start in ten minutes and the crowd shuffles towards the theatre hall. Hecate and Pippa find each other in the crowd and then make their way to their seats. They’re closer to the stage this year because of Pippa’s nomination and, surprisingly, the blonde is the one who is nervous at the extra pairs of eyes on them. Her palms sweat and her leg anxiously shakes to the point where Hecate places her hand on it in stilling comfort. There will be cameras for the paper and perhaps someone will be recording. Pippa doesn’t think she’s ever been more nervous as she listens to all the other awards and recipients announced.

The moment arrives, her category is next, and Pippa holds her breath. Of course, she hopes she’ll win. She doesn’t need the recognition; the students are what matters. Truly. But goodness would it be nice to win, to be recognized for her hard work in an industry so dead set on being traditional. It’d be a nice “fuck you” to everyone who doubted her. She squeezes Hecate’s hand and notices the brunette hasn’t lost that proud look. That makes the blonde wiggle ever so slightly in her seat. She’s so sure, so convinced she’s right. That smug little smirk. The way she’s so tall in her seat. Pippa could just kiss her. 

“Pippa Pentangle,” she barely hears her name called, only realizing when Hecate’s eyes flick to the rest of the audience cheering her on and then back to her. She rises from her seat, remembering to peck her love on the cheek before she completely stands. 

She has a speech ready. She wouldn’t be with one Hecate Hardbroom if she didn’t. She thanks the awards’ association, the mentors she’s had throughout the years, the parent association, and the students she’s had the pleasure of teaching and guiding that without a doubt played a huge role in her winning. She thanks Hecate, who has always been a supporting light (even when they were estranged, though she leaves that part out). 

Then she’s taking the steps one by one at the back of the small yet momentous stage, still completely shocked by what this means — and what it means. Pippa can’t really dwell on either as she’s ushered backstage. More than one microphone is thrust into her face to comment for their multiple educational society newsletters. She’s talking to one journalist when she catches Hecate out the corner of her eye. The ceremony is almost over. They won’t stay to see who wins the last few awards. 

When she has a second to breathe, Hecate is back by her side, closer than she has been all evening. 

“Finish saying your thanks, make your goodbyes,” by Hecate’s tone the game has already begun. Truthfully, it had started the moment the night arrived. “And then we’ll take our leave.” 

Pippa nods her head, eyes glazed over in arousal. “Yes,” she breathes before adding, “sir.” 

That gets deep burgundy lips parting in a lopsided smile and Hecate walks off, hazel eyes following her path. There really are still a few people she should speak to before she leaves. She should. She will. After what feels like forever, Pippa draws her head away from the direction Hecate had just gone, plastering on a bright smile before delving headfirst back into the fray. She rushes through her thanks. Her attention is focused on the thought of Hecate, who is getting the car. Hecate who will drive them home and make good on their bet for the next seven days. 

The night is cold and soft, classical music plays as Pippa slides into the car. In an instant she feels her chin grasped between Hecate's chilled fingertips, turning her face towards the brunette. 

Hecate is still smiling that soft, lopsided grin as she hums “Congratulations,” before capturing Pippa’s lips in a bruising kiss that leaves her chasing after her partner when the brunette pulls away. 

They ride in silence, the anticipation building. The hand on her thigh is hot, burning into her skin. Hecate’s touch may as well be branding her. She’ll be marked in completely different and more pleasurable ways soon. Hecate has chanced a cocky look at her more than once and it takes everything in Pippa to not squirm in her seat.  

The ride takes too long, though she's sure her partner sped a bit the closer they got to the house. They're out of the car in an instant, hand in hand as they make their way up the few steps to the door. Pippa swears the air in her lungs is permanently trapped within her when Hecate attaches her lips to the pulsing spot on her neck. They’ve barely made it into the house when strong, sure hands are on her waist. Hecate turns her, presses her against the nearest wall and captures her lips. 

“Don’t ever doubt yourself again,” she breathes, pressing kisses to a defined jaw. It’s as if by magic that Pippa is stripped bare, Hecate’s lips following the burning path of her hands as she removes her bra and panties. She’s always been so good with her hands, so steady and strong. Long fingers circle pebbled nipples until they’re taut. Pippa sucks in a breath at the warmth of the brunette’s tongue on one, laving, and soothing it until she can’t hold back the moan Hecate had obviously been searching for, the moan that confirms that the zinging electric pleasure is shooting straight to Pippa’s core. She moves to the other, treating it the same and Pippa’s fingers move up to undo the bun at the nape of her neck. 

She doesn’t get far into taking it down, her mind and body mostly focusing on lips that press to the valley of her breasts and trail a line to her belly button, circling it as the warmth spreads to the tips of her ears. Hecate noses through pale, downy curls at the apex of Pippa’s thighs. She breathes her in and Pippa gasps, pulling her gaze to look at a kneeling Hecate. The brunette is intoxicated, drunk on her scent and that has Pippa soaking, dripping with need, subconsciously rolling her hips forward. 

Hecate worships her, kisses her curls, massages her thighs. Pippa has to be patient, but she desperately wants to take Hecate’s head between her hands and position her exactly where she wants her, where she’s slick and throbbing. Pippa is queasy with want at every touch. Finally, after what seems like a decade of waiting, Hecate’s tongue explores her needy pussy. Pippa moans, she sighs, she huffs out breath after breath as her hips roll in perfect time with Hecate’s lips and fingers and tongue. Her leg finds its way perched on a sharp shoulder. The angle of lithe digits changes, deepens. The blonde gasps at it, tensing further and further until she completely relaxes and releases with a final, drawn out moan.

Hecate takes a step back from her, slipping her arm around her waist as Pippa wobbles on unsteady legs. She pulls her up the stairs to their bedroom, kicking the door closed. 

"You're wonderful," the brunette breathes against Pippa's neck, her hands blindly caressing down her back. "You're dedicated, inspirational, awe-inspiring..." 


"Shush," she hushes her, still leading her to their bed. Pippa feels the fabric of Hecate’s own dress against her, and she shivers. The dress falls away at her feet and she steps out of it. When the back of Pippa's legs hit the bed, she sits, eyes lifting to look at Hecate's looming figure. Hands are on her face, lips against her own and she lets out the softest of moans. 

Those long, slender fingers find their way around her clit, teasing and stroking, bringing her back up to that delectable point of pleasure. The blonde’s breaths sharpen, and she expels out puff after squeaking puff. Hecate digits connect with the throbbing, sensitive bud and she pulses her fingers against it at the perfect speed. The practical vibration of her fingers is matched by the rolling of slim lips until Pippa is audibly moaning out her orgasm.

Together, Hecate and Pippa celebrate in the most intimate of ways, cresting and falling and cresting again until they are both breathless and sticking to each other by a thin layer of sweat. And goodness, this is only the beginning.


The next day, Pippa wakes to the scent of breakfast wafting through the house. She’s perfectly sore in all the memorable places, the joints where her thigh meets hip aching deliciously. She rubs at a sensitive spot on her ribs, just under her breast. There's no doubt of a purpling bruise beneath her fingers. Hecate has always been a biter, she muses. It takes everything in the blonde to stop herself from burrowing further in the scent of Hecate’s pillow, to draw herself from the still warm sheets. Then she remembers that her love has abandoned the bed and she decides to join her. Pippa throws on a thin, yellow robe that is practically see through in the sunlight and falls just above her knees and makes her way down the stairs, following the tantalizing smell of coffee.

Hecate is right where she expects her to be, standing at the island counter, reading as she does every morning. Pippa takes a moment to admire her, eyes following the line of her nose and the arch of her sharp cheeks. Whatever she’s reading isn’t to her liking by the look of her pinched brows and light red tinge. The brunette’s hair is down but pulled back, the sun’s rays on it so that it shines like wavy silk. Her dress, like always, is long but instead of her usual black, it’s a beautiful sage that compliments her fair skin beautifully.

Unrealistically, Pippa could’ve stood in place watching Hecate for hours but there’s a piece of paper next to a pen with Hecate’s somewhat scratchy but still elegant handwriting on it. A list. The list. The list that they talk about before they get deep into this game they’re playing. She slides over to the counter to read it. Pet. That’s what Pippa is for the rest of the week. Obedient to Hecate, to her sir. She’ll do whatever she asks, whatever she commands, whenever she’s told to. It’s a dangerous game, though Hecate has never gone too far (Pippa’s safe word is obsidian, Hecate’s favorite shade of black).

It’s with a few excited, bounding strides that she’s at the counter. After quickly scanning the paper, Pippa excitedly says, “I agree with everything on this piece of paper.”

“Everything?” She raises a brow, finally looking up from her reading and Pippa nods. “Even Saturday?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The glint in deep brown eyes sparkles and Hecate smiles wider than the Cheshire Cat. She rounds the island between them, her hands finding purchase to Pippa’s waist when she reaches her. “And you can always use your word. We can take a break whenever you need.” 

“I know, sir.” 

Hecate doesn’t say anything more just nods and move away, so Pippa goes about eating breakfast and pouring herself a cup of coffee.

When they’ve both finished breakfast, they settle on the couch after opening the windows to allow the summer breeze to filter in and cool the space. Pippa’s legs naturally find their place across Hecate’s lap as they both read, Hecate’s book propped up by her knees.

Another time, the austere woman would’ve continued reading her book. She would have massaged her partner’s calf between turning page after page until she tired of reading. Then, who knows what they would have done. Perhaps gone to their small garden to check on the plants. Or run a few errands. Today, however, (and for the next few days) Hecate is filled with love and lust, and that emboldens her past her normal, dominant comfort level. She just cannot focus on whatever she’s reading because they could be doing other, more pleasurable things. Instead, she turns and invades Pippa’s personal space. Her partner’s mouth drops open in a small “O” after a surprised, whispered Hecate? The brunette doesn’t say anything, simply grinning before kissing her, closing the book Pippa had been reading and blindly putting it on the coffee table.  

Her hand grasps the back of her partner’s neck as she pulls away. Their eyes catch. “On your knees,” she commands. Ever the conscious lover, Hecate puts down a fluffy pillow as Pippa drops to kneel before the brunette. Hecate appreciates her at this angle, below her and between her legs. She loves the way round, darkened eyes the color of fertile earth peer up at her, eager to deliver, to do as she commands. Already the blonde’s eyes are filled with the same hunger and desire she witnessed the night before.

Hecate runs her thumb over rosy lips, smiling as she mumbles with just as much authority in her voice, “Please me.”

Pippa’s hands slide against the soft fabric of her dress, bunching it up and up to reveal long, toned legs. Her lips connect to the flesh of her calf, kissing and nipping at whatever she could reach. Hecate isn’t wearing underwear, so the sweet and musky scent of her Sir hits her senses and makes her mouth water. She kisses the smooth skin of her inner thighs, but she doesn’t dawdle. She’s been told to please Hecate and she will do just that. With one hand, she parts her lips and swipes up with her tongue until she can kiss at the protruding bundle of nerves. Her touch is light and teasing as she builds Hecate up. Gentle kisses turn to just as soft sucking just the way her Sir likes. When Hecate is slick and ready, Pippa completely connects to her clit, tongue fully circling and her mouth confidently sucking.

“Touch yourself, pet,” Hecate strangles out when Pippa raises a hand to add to her pleasure. Soft brown eyes gaze up at her, but she doesn’t stop her ministrations. Instead, she dips into her own underwear where she finds herself just as ready, just as soaked. Her tongue matches her own fingers against her clit, and she moans against Hecate’s core.

Then a hand is on the back of her neck, persuasive to keep her in place. Hecate’s hips roll and circle, her breath deepens. Her legs clench and unclench until she’s pitching forward with a silent gasp, coming undone under the press of her lover’s mouth. Hecate pushes Pippa away, a little sensitive, but carefully draws her up into her lap.

“Keep going,” the brunette encourages.

Of course, she had faltered in the transition into Hecate’s lap, but it’s easy to get back to it. Pippa dips her fingers inside of herself, rocking until she finds the perfect pace. Hecate watches her, whispering encouraging words, sexual words, explicit words until Pippa is pitching forward in her own release. The brunette’s essence still glistens against Pippa’s chin when she looks back into her love’s eyes. She reaches up to wipe it away, but Hecate stops her, cups her chin, and pulls her up and forward so she can taste herself on coitus-bruised lips.

“So pretty,” the brunette whispers as she leans a breath away from her. “You’ve always been so pretty, Pet.”

Pippa moans something soft and desperate which only makes her lover grin even wider. Her teeth capture her bottom lip, and her eyes are dazed and soft as she stares back at Hecate. Then she drops her head to Hecate’s shoulder, who lets her sit and catch her breath. Pippa focuses on the certain hands on her body as her hips slowly rock forward in her neediness. That melodious chuckle reaches her ears, and she leans back to look at her lover. She sees it in her eyes. That devilish glint that lets her know Hecate is far from finished.


It is completely sweltering by the middle of Tuesday. Though Hecate is known for her stiff and secure bun, she normally wears her hair down when she's home. The heat of the day prevents that. Her skirt is also shorter, flowing around her calves instead of her ankles and the blouse she chose that morning is looser. Pippa is fairing no better, her skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. She’s never been one for the heat, though she shines like the sun in every sense of the word. The large fan is on maximum speed and two tall glasses of ice cold water have been poured and refilled more than once.

Perhaps it would be completely ridiculous to play their little game in this heat, but Hecate desperately wants to take her mind off of the blazing temperature. She realizes, as she sips from a tall glass of ice-cold water, she can make Pippa sweat for an entirely different reason if only for a brief moment. A smile forms on bare lips and her eyes sparkle in silent mischief.  

The brunette captures Pippa’s attention by tapping her fingers against the bone of her ankle that has been perched on her lap. She looks up, confused and questioning as she watches those same digits pluck and ice cube from the clear liquid. Then Hecate is leaning over her, that sly smile still excitedly playing on her features.

“Pay close attention or I’ll have to start over.” 

Pippa nods just before the frigid chill of the ice cubes makes contact with her collarbone and starkly contrasts with the heat of her skin. With the hand not holding the ice cube, Hecate plucks the buttons of Pippa’s dress open, pleased that there’s nothing underneath. The frozen block follows her hand and deep onyx eyes watch as goosebumps pebble in the trail that flows from nipples to belly button. The simultaneous stimulation of the chill of the ice and Hecate’s hands on her shocks her system. Pippa forces herself to stay still, to not distract herself from the sensation, to feel the ice seep through her skin and the sensation shoot to her core. Then there’s warmth following that same path, shocking her system in its contrasting heat. Under Hecate’s tongue the faint taste of the salt of her love’s skin is sweet and savory, she hums at the flavor.

The ice cube is half its original size as it settles in the dip of Pippa’s belly button. She can’t stop the shivers that zap through her as it melts and melts, puddling to the point where enough water has collected, and it spills over and down her sides. The chill spreads through her in waves, the stare in Hecate’s eyes as she watches her closely aiding in this strange and new but sensual moment between them. Hecate plucks another ice cube from her glass, the one on her stomach still melting as lithe fingers drag the frozen block along the inside of her thighs. The blonde outright shudders through a moan, her body unable to fully process the touch. Her head clouds when drip after drip lands on her swelling and sensitive lips.

At some point the ice cube on her stomach is completely melted, the water left behind still cold against her. The repetitive droplet against her core reinforces it and then, there’s nothing but heat. It’s all she can comprehend as Hecate’s tongue strokes her, slow and sure. Pippa burns as she squirms against the couch, under Hecate’s touch.

She completely forgets how the ice burned when Hecate’s suddenly cold mouth touches her heated center, an ice cube in the brunette’s mouth. The blonde squirms, audibly moaning that it feels good, cold but good. Hecate hums. She moves from her partner for a second to place another ice cube on her tongue. Pippa’s eyes darken, her hands clutching at the sofa’s cushions as if she’s trying to restrain herself. Hecate cranes back down to her lower lips, her breath cold against her. Pippa aches in response. Hecate’s tongue is as cold as the ice cube when she strokes against her lower lips. Pippa bucks against her mouth.

Needy whimpers leave Pippa’s lips and that alone makes the brunette stop her teasing, capturing her clit completely, focusing on her partner’s pleasure fully. She teases her entrance with her tongue, pushes farther in, farther and farther to feel her inner walls as much as she can. Again, and again until Pippa is nothing more than a squirming mass. She shifts her attention to her most sensitive spot, her tongue flicking across her clit until the blonde sounds as though she’s close to coming undone, all high pitched moans and shaky breaths. Two lithe fingers enter Pippa and the blonde sings with pleasure. Her smooth, tanned legs clenching around Hecate’s shoulders, and she sounds like an animal as she moans and huffs and writhes against the sensation. Her eyes get that glassy look Hecate loves so much. The blonde needs one little push, one extra finger and she’s over the edge, her back arching, her hand clutching at the long strands of dark hair of her love. Hecate gives it to her, stretches her and draws from her an intense orgasm that ripples through the blonde. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Pippa blushes when she returns to herself, stretching out her body with a yawn.

Hecate grins, that sly and cocky grin. She feigns ignorance as she laughs, “How am I looking at you?”

“.... like a cat who got the cream.”

Hecate raises a brow then looks between them at slick, almost prune-like digits as she holds herself up. When she looks back up, there’s a soft, smug smile as she says, “Well I did.” 

The brunette makes a motion to move, only stopped because

Pippa reaches out and grabs at Hecate’s wrist, a small pout on her face. “Stay.”

“But Pippa, we should really -”

The blonde tugs at her again, leaving her no choice but to settle against her again. Pippa wraps her arms and legs around Hecate, and she settles her head against Pippa’s slightly sweaty chest. “We will shower, and you’ll ravish me again and I’ll return the favor. Just relax for a moment.” 

Hecate, knowing that is exactly the order of events she will take, indulges in their closeness.



It’s not hard to get Hecate out of the house. Contrary to popular belief, she is very well versed in many unique places to go, restaurants to try, and things to do in the area. Their date nights have ranged from pottery to jazz clubs. They’ve attended multiple trivia nights to tickle both of their competitive sides. They’ve tasted fine cuisines, brewed their own cider, sailed down rivers under the pinks and reds and purples of the setting sun. Most who hear this believe it’s Pippa’s doing but in reality, Hecate plans most of their dates. Hecate likes to make memories, likes to leave lasting impressions. 

They do have their favorite things to do, however. Attending jazz clubs is higher on the list than perhaps indoor sky diving (though they have done it twice). It’s actually a top ten date night the couple likes to have, so it is absolutely no surprise when Hecate suggests they take a little trip to Vespertilio’s on Wednesday evening.

Hecate has always been close to the Bats, having been taught (and nurtured) by Gwen when she was a child and then when she began teaching. Gwen, who had retired from teaching years ago, had been (and continues to be) a highly regarded jazz singer. In her youth, she had traveled around the country and throughout the world, spreading mirth and comfort even in her eccentricities. Evelyn Bat, her sister, stuck to the family jazz club when Gwen decided to stop singing. She is a master of the instruments, from saxophone to triangle and everything in between. 

Gwen and Evelyn have probably been Hecate’s closest friends besides Pippa and Ada (and Dimity, though Hecate will never admit it). They’re her mentors, older sisters even. All it takes is one call and their normal table is reserved, Evelyn excited to hear from the couple after a few months.

Pippa, already dressed from head to toe, looks positively gorgeous in a comfortable and flowy dress that sweeps against her ankles. But Hecate has other, more devious plans for the evening. 

“Wear the black one,” Hecate says. 

Pippa looks towards her then back down at her close, a frown falling into place. “What? But Hecate I already-” 

“The strappy one,” Hecate goes on as if Pippa hadn’t spoken, raising a brow as she appraises her partner like a rare antique. “With the high slit on the left and the low back.” 

Hecate in this form leaves no room for questioning. It’s almost as if Pippa is one of her students, being commanded, ordered to do something. It’s a fantasy Pippa doesn’t think she should dwell on at this very moment. They do have plans after all. So, she changes, but not without a bratty huff. It doesn't take long for her to find the exact black dress Hecate had been referring to (their closet is ridiculously organized, not that she ever complains. It definitely cuts down both of their get ready times). She slips into it with ease, a scowl still on her face as she racks her brain in why Hecate wanted her to wear this particular dress. There’s nothing overtly special about it. It’s one of her shorter dresses, perfect for the warmth of the summer. She does look amazing in it, but it’s a bit… explicit for a simple date to the club. She mentally notes to get a thin shawl to cover up until they’re seated.

Hecate approaches Pippa just as she’s putting last minute touches on in the mirror. A hand presses to her waist and turns her. Hecate smiles and takes the opportunity to capture Pippa’s unpainted lips in a slow, euphoria-inducing kiss. She nuzzles Pippa’s nose with her own, distracting (and thus surprising) Pippa with two fingers gently rolling her nipple through the fabric of her dress until it’s stiff and perky. Hecate lifts her eyes to catch her lover’s.

Then Hecate does the unexpected and raises a piece of black string about two feet long into her line of vision. Deep pools of swirling browns lock in confusion and intrigue and delight. And then she surprises Pippa even more when those skillful fingers draw the dress down and she wraps the string around her nipple, tightening it enough so that it stays taught enough for Hecate to tug at it without it slipping off. The zing from said tug spreads all the way to her toes. Pippa gasps, brows still furrowed in excited confusion.

Hecate smirks and nods. The black thread matches perfectly to the dress. No one will see it. She smooths it against Pippa’s side, her hand running along her hips. Realization hits Pippa like a brick to the face. This is how her lover is going to torture her tonight. She doesn’t think she’s ever been this excited.

Then Hecate’s fingers are pressing past the high slit of her dress and under the fabric of her panties. Pippa is already a little slick from the attention her nipple received, and she rolls her hips forward when her partner’s solitary finger slips between her folds. Hecate finds her bundle of nerves quickly, working Pippa up with talented, well-practiced ease. The blonde hangs an arm off Hecate’s shoulders for stability, her breaths building up to airy pants. She chases after the sensations, delicious tingles that only Hecate can give her.

She’s just about to dip her teeth into Hecate’s collarbone, so close to the edge of her orgasm when the brunette pulls away, reminding the blonde that the orgasms she gets are Hecate’s to give.

“Next time,” Hecate rasps. “Do what I ask without the fussing.” When Pippa silently nods and says yes sir, the brunette leaves her to finish preparing.

They’re out the door within the next ten minutes and at Vespertilio’s soon enough after that. She and Pippa find their reserved booth at the back. As usual, the lighting is low, candles glowing on each table. The air smells of orchids and incense, sweet and sultry. They sit closer together as the band begins playing. The soft melodies fill the room and surrounds them. She turns her gaze to fall to Pippa, whose attention is coveted by the smooth saxophones and melodic trills of the piano. Though Hecate isn’t one for public displays of affection, she nuzzles her nose against flushed pink cheeks, barely noticeable in the low light of the club. Hecate begins pulling at the string again and again and again in time to the beat. The zinging pleasure shoots through Pippa. Her breathing stutters in time with the tugs.

Hecate’s pulling becomes relentless, the steady rhythm in time with the beat of the drums causing her immense bliss. The music of the band filters around them. Pippa is a contrabass being plucked with every pull of string. Her lover strums at her pleasure, picks away at her resolve, tests her resistance as she watches golden features darken and slacken in euphoria. Pleasure induced sweat creeps against her blonde hairline. Pearly white teeth clinch against painted lips.

She wants Hecate. Wants her to touch her. It would be so tempting to lean closer to her lover and to tell her to take her right there, in the club they’ve been regulars at for years. The music picks up, and so does the string. Pippa wiggles and shifts in her spot, leaning impossibly closer to Hecate. How easy it would be to capture her lips and press against her, to tell her to take her home and release this knot of pleasure that threatens to burst with each tug of string.

It’s because they’re here, in public, in their usual spot where no one could even think that anything would be amiss. In plain sight with Hecate boldly teasing Pippa in such a way has the blonde hotter than she would’ve been any other night. She should be fearful of discovery, they both should. But Hecate seems just as confident as if it were just the two of them. That does something to the blonde, heightens her already skyscraper high arousal.

“Sir,” she breaths. Hecate catches her eye, and she sees it. The yearning, the agony, the passion that plays on her face.

“Follow me,” Hecate whispers in her ear. They’ve never gone too far in public. As confident and cocky as Hecate can be, she rarely tempts public rendezvous. She enjoys her privacy, not caring much for others peeking in on her lifestyle. She’ll chance risqué kisses when she thinks no one is watching. She’ll tease with shoulder kisses and a well-placed hand. But very rarely anything more than that. Sure, if Pippa were in charge, that wouldn’t be the case.

She follows the brunette to the front of the building, which is equally as dark. Off to the side is a single restroom for customers waiting for a table. To Hecate’s disguised relief, it’s unoccupied. Brown eyes scan around. Seeing no one, she slips inside the room, pulling Pippa in. With a swiftness that only Hecate possesses, the door is locked, and Pippa is pinned against it, lips already captured in a heated lock.

Hecate has no intentions of being gentle. It’s apparent in the intense gaze of darkened eyes, the way she presses against Pippa’s back, the slow lick of her lips. Her hand twirls into blonde locks, and she tugs Pippa’s head back, exposing her neck. She won’t mark her, but she’s tempted to. Instead, her teeth teasingly scrape against her heated skin. Pippa mewls. With another tug and a push of her hips, Hecate moves Pippa turns her and then them so that they’re facing the large mirror.

“Watch, Pet,” Hecate breathes into her ear. Her hand slides along the expanse of thigh that has been exposed by the slit of the dress. It delves underneath the black cloth, along lace panties. Everything in Hecate wants to slow down, to savor this, but there’s something so delicious in having Pippa this way, rough and filled with unbridled lust.

They lock eyes in the mirror and Pippa bites down on her lip to stop the growl that threatens to expose them. The hand that had been in her hair moves to close around her neck as Hecate’s other traces along her lower lips, above the lace. Pippa rocks and writhes in anticipation, growing needier by the second.

“If you take your eyes off me for even a second,” Hecate says against her cheek. “I stop. Be a good pet.”

“Yes, sir,” she nods her head and moans when lithe fingers slide beneath the lace and press against her engorged clit.

Looking into Hecate’s deep onyx eyes is too much. The pleasure is too much. The radiating waves of pure bliss roll against her skin long before they pinpoint to her center. Because she can’t take her eyes off of them in the mirror, she sees the mischievous glint that sparkles. Pippa audibly inhales. The hand that had been around her waist lifts to press against her mouth.

Hecate shushes her, tells her to pinch her arm three times if it’s too much for her and then whispers in her ear, “Take a deep breath.”

Pippa can barely think, but she follows the command. Just as her lungs fill, Hecate pinches her nose closed with the hand still covering her mouth. The blonde stays as calm as possible, focuses on the pleasure between her legs, the pulsing of slim digits. The angle is a bit awkward, but the palm of Hecate’s hand brushes against her clit again and again and again. She’s getting lightheaded but rocks against the pressure.

“Chase it, Pet. Chase the way I make you feel.” Hecate watches in amusement as her lover grinds against her palm. She attempts to huff and puff though she is restricted from doing so. She does exactly as she’s told, chasing the feeling. It’s wonderful, delicious, intoxicating. It intensifies with the blood rushing from her head to her core. The tension builds until it snaps and Pippa orgasms with a roll of her eyes. The hand against her mouth falls away and she draws in a deep, audible breath. Her knees weaken and she leans against the tall pilar that is Hecate.

The spots in her vision feel like they take forever to clear. When they’re gone, she stands on still wobbly knees, making out how disheveled she looks in the mirror. Hecate still has an arm around her, holding her up and that amused smile from before is still heavily in place.

“Clean up, Pet,” Hecate rasps as she kisses Pippa’s temple and comforts her until she’s able to stand on her own. “And let’s get you home.”


They try their hardest to come home at reasonable times. It’s a commitment they made to each other years and years ago and for the most part they do a good job at it. Sometimes an odd amount of work needs to be submitted or a meeting runs dangerously long, or a student needs to be tended to and it keeps the two educators out later than normal. And when they do get held up, a phone call is always placed, and schedules are shifted around, and reassurance is given. Even in the summer something pulls them away. Thursday afternoon, long after classes have ended for the day, the ringing of her cellphone causes Pippa to finally pull her tired eyes away from the computer screen. She didn’t have to be at the school but occasionally it was better for her ability to focus, so she had been there since noon. 

“Hello, darling.” 

“Hello, Pippa,” and there’s something in Hecate’s voice, it’s a timbre lower and Pippa closes her eyes to listen. “I was wondering when you’d be home.”

She opens her eyes again and bites her lip. There’s still an entire stack of papers she has to get through. And she really has to check a few of the classrooms before she leaves. 

“Late then?”

Hecate doesn’t sound annoyed or mad, but it still cracks at Pippa’s resolve. She hates to disappoint the brunette. “I’m sorry, darling. It really is important for me to get this done.” 

“Of course.” A pause. “Perhaps I could distract you for a moment? You do need a break, don’t you?” 

“I could spare a few minutes and take a break.” She leans back from the desk, relaxing against her chair. 

Though she can’t see it, Pippa can hear the sly smile in Hecate’s voice. “Perfect, there’s something I put in your purse before you left. In the little inside pocket.” 

Putting the phone between her shoulder and her ear, Pippa leans over to grab her purse. She rifles around in it, taking a moment to swipe on some lip balm before her hand touches something foreign. It’s a little bullet, silver and cool to the touch. Her heartbeat picks up. They’ve played in Pippa’s office more than once. Especially in the summer when there’s little chance of being caught. Hecate has had her love spread out across her desk, a vision of unadulterated ecstasy and passion many a time. Pippa suddenly wishes she were here. Truthfully, she now craves it.

“Have you found it?”

Hecate’s voice draws her out of her thoughts, and she nods though she can’t be seen. “Y-yes,” Pippa clears her throat. 

“Go over to your sofa. Sit down.” Even from miles and miles away Hecate’s authoritative voice makes Pippa weak. The blonde wills her legs to do as she's told though she’s already weak in the knee, going to sit on the plush crème couch, grateful she took the time to pick such a comfortable one.  

"From what I remember," that beautifully rich voice filters to her ears. "You have on that tiny grey and white striped skirt. No tights or leggings. You wore those comfy, white shoes. And that pink blouse with the buttons. How many did you leave unbutton?" 

Pippa looks down at her top. "Two." 

"Unbutton another." 

Just as she’s trailing a hand to the button, her eyes catch something amiss. Curse Pippa’s peripheral. The door is unlocked. There might be no one here. It’s well past operation hours so of course everyone will have gone home right? She bites her lip. 

“May I lock the door, sir.” 

Hecate’s pause seems just as long as Pippa’s a few moments ago. Then the brunette chuckles and softly she speaks a low, “No” into the phone before ordering her to, “Unbutton another, pet.” 

Pippa does as she’s told, unbuttoning another. The lace of her bra peeks through between golden skin and the pink blouse. Her gaze keeps flicking to the unlocked door. She tells herself that there’s no way anyone will come in, though she must admit the prospect sends a spark of excited arousal throughout her being.

“Close your eyes and imagine I’m there.” And she does. Closing brown eyes, Pippa sits against plush pillows, the image of long, flowing brown locks against fair skin filtering to her mind’s eye. She thinks of Hecate and her looming presence and can practically feel the heat of her against her side, as if she’s right there.

Hecate continues and begins guiding her through the motions she needs to take to relax. She breathes deeply, letting her imagination follow her lover’s words. Hecate’s voice slides around her neck, down her chest. It heats her from the inside out, making her heart beat a bit faster. The brunette tells her to imagine her lips against her skin, the warmth of her kisses ghosting along the usual path she would take. Her love tells her to gently stroke herself between the valley of her breasts, down the planes of her stomach, along her thighs. She tells her to gently squeeze her thigh, to dig her nails gently into the supple flesh to build herself up like she would if she were there. Pippa’s successful, letting her mind’s eye paint the brunette and the erotic scene.

“Open your legs,” she says directly into Pippa’s ear. The headmistress is sure she can feel the heat of her breath against her ear though Hecate is miles and miles away. 

Her legs part as Hecate tells her to guide her hand to the apex of her thighs, to stroke along the fabric of her underwear. For what seems like hours, though is actually a few minutes, Pippa teases herself.

It’s a relief when the brunette finally tells her to slip her hand underneath the fabric. Goodness, she finds herself drenched. Hecate must know because then she’s asking how wet she is and Pippa gulps before she can answer. The brunette keeps it up, telling her to circle her clit and it’s not the same as if Hecate were there but it’s still delicious in its own way.

Hecate’s doesn’t want to hold her too long, so she tells her to grab the vibrator, to set it to her favorite setting, slow and steady. It’s torture. That’s the only way Pippa can describe the constant buzzing. But it builds her up and up in the steadiest of lines and Hecate can follow how close she is just by listening to the way her moans and breathing changes. Pippa is almost at the tip of this pleasurable rollercoaster, unable to reach that peak without permission. She’s going to burst if she doesn’t get any release soon. She’s going to burst when she gets her release.

“Fuck yourself for me, pet.” 

The blonde maneuvers the phone, pressing it between her ear and shoulder while her fingers slide into her, the vibrator at her clit and lithe digits stroking within her in irregular patterns. And that almost does it. The rasp in Hecate’s voice sends her just to the brink of the edge and the blonde stumbles over her words as she quickly asks if she can cum. It’s rushed and whiney and at first she thinks Hecate is only going to laugh at her as she tries to stave off the orgasm. She makes her say please, lets the way Pippa huffs it out so desperately wash over her before giving permission. The tension snaps like tectonic plates, her body quaking in her release.

With another soft chuckle as Pippa comes down from her euphoric high, Hecate says, “Hurry home. I’ll be here.” And click goes the line, leaving a heavy-panting Pippa to clean herself up and return to her tasks albeit very distracted.


Sometimes Hecate doesn’t say anything. Sometimes Pippa walks into their home after a going for a run or returning from errands to a perfectly timed dinner, a glass of wine, and Hecate, who just exudes dominance. 

Pippa had cut her run short Friday morning, the motivation to just be home outweighing her normal exercise routine. She’s been thoroughly fucked for the past five days, and she tells herself she shouldn’t still want Hecate so desperately. She should even be too sore to function (though perhaps that’s one reason why she chose to cut her run short). But she wants to be close to her partner, wants to indulge completely, entirely. 

Hecate has breakfast already prepared, hearty and healthy. They eat in mostly silence, her deep brown eyes boring holes into Pippa, into her lips, her neck, her chest. If the blonde was honest with herself, it has her shifting in her seat as she floods with arousal. 

The blonde mentally reminds herself she has to shower and not succumb to the soundless seduction of one Hecate Hardbroom. Shower. Go shower! She skips off, away from the deep onyx eyes that silently burn into her skin. But the look stays with her while the bathroom fills with the sweet scent of roses and vanilla. How is it that even after all these years it takes one glance, one commanding gaze to have Pippa weak at the knees. Her shower is longer than usual, what with Pippa finding herself staring distractedly into the steamy space in front of her, thinking about Hecate and her lips and her tongue and her arms and everything about the woman heats her more than the steaming water ever could. 

She’s tempted to reach down and get the job done. But she stops herself. Just as Hecate was obedient when she tortured her, Pippa will be the same. Her orgasms belong to Hecate, to her passionate lover. She’s tempted, though, as her mind drifts and her imagination thrives. Her eyes close, images of the things Hecate has done to her the past few days drifting to the forefront. Hecate’s lips against hers, against her neck. Down between the valley of her breasts, around her nipples. Hecate’s hands on her waist, around her body to hold her steady. Hecate practically fused to her, her mouth, her arms, her ass. Pippa’s arms are stiff to her side because she can’t possibly touch herself without going too far. 

The door creaks open, startling the blonde. She inhales sharply, her gaze landing on Hecate, who holds a plush towel across one arm and Pippa’s clothes between her fingers with a smirk as though she knows exactly where her lover’s mind had been. Pippa, flush from the heat of the shower and the contents of her imagination, huffs out a giggle as she turns off the water and steps out. 

Hecate, who still hasn’t said a word, moves towards her. Silently, she wraps the towel around Pippa’s torso and the blonde is suddenly aware of everything. She notices the droplets of water that slide across her skin, down her back, through the curls at her core. With Hecate so close, she’s suffocated by her presence, by the humidity in the bathroom. 

Hecate’s lips press to her shoulder, tongue poking out to swipe up the warm droplets. Pippa shivers and feels the brunette smirk against her skin. She slides her palm up from where it’s placed on Pippa’s covered hip, rests it between Pippa’s breasts before continuing the trail until her fingers find their way to her neck. With a pulse of her fingers, Pippa’s head is tilted, and they’re nose to nose, eye to eye and Hecate has the audacity to smile like the Cheshire Cat. 

She holds her by her neck as she steps backwards, giving the head teacher no other choice but to follow. A moment of confusion flashes through Pippa’s eyes and Hecate chuckles. The devious brunette blindly leads Pippa into the bedroom. The bed hits the back of her knees, and the blonde reflexively sits, her gaze steady and still connected with her partner’s. She holds her breath as she watches her sink to her knees.

Pippa is putty in strong hands that trace her body. Every line of Pippa is delicate, soft, and pliable, heated from her shower and the desire that pools at her core as lithe fingers slip under the towel still wrapped around her body. She’s told to remove the towel and lay back and when her back hits the bed, Hecate’s lips press against her inner thigh, trailing a line of kisses up and down, behind her knee. She never comes closer to where her love is throbbing and it takes everything in Pippa to stay patient, to not buck her hips in anticipation, to not dig her fingers into silky hair and pull her forward and take and take and take.

Hecate knows her too well because she mumbles against her skin, “Oh, Pet, you’re not getting off that easily,” 

She’s not going to dress her. She’s barely going to touch her. She’s going to leave her completely naked, on full display. Hecate moves above her, settles Pippa against her thigh and the blonde has to resist the urge to grind against it. She hasn't been told she can’t. But she hasn’t been told she can either, so her clit twitches and her breathing deepens for no reason other than her own building desire. All Pippa wants is for Hecate to reach her fingers down and press against where she’s absolutely throbbing, quivering. She begs softly, lip protruding outward in the hopes of a more rapid relief. 

“Keep whining and you’ll be punished.” Her words drip with seduction and consequences. Pippa bites her lip to keep quiet, squeezes her eyes shut. 

The heat of one of her lover’s hands presses to her hip, keeping her still as Hecate’s lips press to the bridge of her nose, the apple of her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Her ghostly kisses trail along her jawline and down the column of her neck. No one has her like Hecate has her, perpetually on the edge of pure and total bliss. It would be so easy to disobey, to wrap her arms around her slim figure, press and rock and roll her hips forward. Pippa clutches at Hecate’s clothes, pulls at them enough to draw knowing chuckles from the brunette but not enough to bring her body towards her own. And just when she thinks Hecate is simply going to continue to torture her with her firmly placed thigh and her barely there touch, the hand on her hip rocks her forward with such power she gasps.

“Oh my,” Pippa pants. She huffs and breathes and grinds against Hecate’s thigh. Sweat collects at her temples. Her stomach twitches and tightens. Hecate’s hands are on her breasts, circling around her peaked nipples. They travel down to her waist, assisting in the pace of her rocking hips. She helps build Pippa’s orgasm, pressing her pale thigh against her hot center. It’s delicious and the angle is perfect, and Pippa thinks she could come just like this and enjoy it. 

Then Hecate stops her hips and Pippa curses. She blinks a few times to clear the sparks of bright light, teeth dipping dangerously into her lip while she makes out Hecate’s husky words, “Tell me how you want me to touch you.” 

“Touch me...” she whimpers. “Touch me everywhere, Sir, please...” 

Hecate chuckles as Pippa feels nails scrape into her hair then tug her head to the side and Hecate sits up straighter. Pippa hadn’t even noticed that she had been leaning forward, watching her writhe against her thigh. Her free hand pulls Pippa to her, connects them so fully, so boldly. Her lips attach to that vein in her golden, freckled neck that pumps just beneath the surface of her skin. Pippa moans, rolls her hips forward again and blearily tries to find that splendid pace again. She nods, unable to describe the things she’s feeling, the rush of arousal to her clit and the tingling in her toes clouding her brain.

She aches. She grinds. She huffs and puffs and chases after the pleasure only Hecate can give. That she’s only ever wanted from Hecate. “Fucking touch me, Hecate.” 

And dammit, she chuckles deeply and Pippa groans. “Patience, Pet.” 

Pippa wishes she could pour herself into Hecate, wishes they could fuse together until they are one. One soul, one being, one sensation. She feels Hecate’s lithe and long fingers dip between their bodies, between her lower lips, opening her up. The scent is alluring, intoxicating, fills their noses. And she strokes. Hecate circles her clit, slowly, methodically, says something about how the blonde has soaked her thigh like the obedient, desperate pet she loves so much.

Her fingers enter Pippa’s warm, fleshy core. Pippa’s walls clench around her. Hecate purrs into Pippa’s ear, feeling her begin to crumble around her. Sparks fly from tingling toes to her cloudy head. Hecate adds a finger, stretching her to a minuscule point of pain that aids in her pleasure. Pippa pleads, asks in repetition if she can come, only to receive a playful “not yet”.

Long, rose painted nails dig into Hecate’s shoulders as she tries to keep her pleasure at bay, leaving red crescents that she’ll soothe with soft kisses. The pads of her fingers clutch at the brunette’s biceps to anchor herself steady, to rock her hips when she feels her partners curl her own three digits just so. Pippa sees stars burst in her line of vision. She pleads again, receives a nip at where her neck and shoulder meet and an affirmation that she can come.

Her eyes had fluttered closed long ago, when Hecate’s thumb had stroked her clit with such quickness it tingled up her spine and sent her over the edge. She rides out her climax, moaning and stuttering, the sparks behind her eyes flaring. Had she not been so safely secured under Hecate she would have completely shot from the bed like a firework. It is almost the afternoon, but Pippa knows they’re not finished yet, far from it. 


Pippa loves to dress Hecate. A good chunk of Hecate’s clothing that hangs so orderly in their large wardrobe have been hand selected by one Pippa Pentangle after hours and hours of shopping. Surprisingly, Hecate rarely hates what she’s forced to try on and never what she decides to bring home. Hecate’s catalog of clothing is just that, growing from just the basics to a special outfit for every occasion. 

When the wedding of one Piper Pentangle approaches on Saturday, Pippa begs and begs to choose the outfit the brunette would wear because while black is absolutely appropriate for a wedding, the way Hecate wears it can sometimes be more akin to a funeral. 

“I am not a child, you know. I can pick my clothes myself,” Hecate grumbles, though there is no real annoyance in her voice. They’re both still in their robes with their makeup just about finished and their hair styled to perfection. The room smells of jasmine and bergamot notes and the soft, dulcet tunes of jazz filters around them, a normal occurrence whenever they ready for important events.

“I think you’ll like what I’ll pick for you,” Pippa calls, head already buried in search. Her partner skeptically hums but continues swiping on her lipstick. It takes a few minutes but then Pippa gets her attention, holding up the outfit she’s picked out.

A perfectly arched brow raises in questioning, "Slacks?" 

“And something else...” Pippa blushes, her eyes glancing to the bathroom with a blush before placing the garments in Hecate’s hands and turning away to finish her makeup. Hecate squints skeptical eyes at her, turning in the most dramatic way she can manage. What she finds in the bathroom, almost adorably hidden, is enough to make her smirk. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Well, she could. Should she? 

Hecate walks back out, harness dangling from between her fingertips, “I’m not wearing this,” 

“A girl can try,” Pippa sighs as she stands taking a few steps towards Hecate, eyes on the prize dangling from slender fingers. 

“I won’t wear it but,” she grasps Pippa’s chin with her free hand, tilting her head upward so that their lips meet in the faintest of kisses. Hecate slowly speaks against her lips, “I promise to use it until you can’t remember how many times you’ve come undone.” 

“Oh goodness,” Pippa gasps. In return, Hecate chuckles and moves to finally get dressed, leaving Pippa distracted and out of breath while she finishes her makeup. 

It about fifteen minutes later when the blonde hears, “How do I look?”

Pippa turns and takes in the view. “Like you’re trying to kill me.”

“You picked this out. You’ve ordered your own death.” 

“But what a way to go,” she grins, turning as she silently asks to be zipped into her dress. The cool piece of metal slides up and up and up and she feels the press of warm lips to her neck and arms around her waist. Hecate hesitates for the briefest of moments, contemplating whether they should be late or not. Ultimately, she has more manners and respect than that and they’re out of the door and at the ornate cathedral within the hour.

The wedding is beautiful and serene, an event so spectacular it must be for a Pentangle. The reception is even grander, semi-outside, under gigantic creme tents that let the cool summer breeze filter through just enough so that it’s not scorching hot. 

The sun starts to set, the twinkling of fairy lights mingling with that of the stars above. Champagne and wine and cake have been indulged in; the guests are all loose in celebration. There’s a lull in the music and Hecate figures she’ll dance one more time before they leave. Pippa has been on the floor more than once and almost nonstop, dancing around with Piper and life-long friends, but Hecate has never been the one to bump and grind to fast, up-tempo music. She finds herself to be too awkward to do so outside of the comfort of Pippa and their living room. Still, when the song changes and the tempo slows, she finds her hands on her partner’s waist, pulling her appropriately close.

Weddings have always added a particular look to the blonde. She’s touchier than normal (though that’s not saying much) and she’s softer. Her eyes sparkle differently, brighter perhaps. And she glows with a serenity that is so unique and beautiful to her.

“Do you wish we had done this?” Hecate asks as they sway in time with the music, cheek pressed against cheek. 

Pippa thinks for a moment. Technically, she and Hecate aren’t married. They had had a nice little ceremony in front of their friends and family, but it was very intimate moment and more of a spiritually binding commitment instead of a legally binding one. A compromise after Hecate had seen woman after woman try to steal the little wealth her father had after her mother’s passing. (Not that Hecate thought Pippa would do such a thing. Still, legal marriage made her uneasy.)  

“I did once.” Hecate frowns just so before Pippa continues. “But then I figured I’d tempt you into renewing our vows one day and then I’d get the party I deserve.” 

That gets a deep chuckle from the brunette. “You fancy yourself a temptress?” 

“I do.” 

“I have to agree.” An even slower song begins to play, and Hecate draws Pippa impossibly closer. “I must say I’m pretty tempted right now.” 

She shifts them just so that they’re as close as they can be, her leg pressed between Pippa’s and oh. Realization hits Pippa like a freight train. She wore it. She said she wouldn’t and somehow she had concealed it enough to where no one would know of the added appendage. 

Pippa takes Hecate’s hand and pulls her from the dance floor. The brunette attempts to stop or to at least slow her down, but Pippa persists. She finds her mother and father, bidding them quick goodbyes. They look confused and Hecate blushes and shrugs her shoulders, apologizes for their sudden need to leave. Pippa barely finds Piper, who’s thoroughly drunk and giggly. The younger blonde plants excited kisses to her sister’s cheeks in goodbye, a wink and a knowing look exchanged between the two of them. Hecate finds the time to blush as her love pulls her away and they make their way back to the car, back home.

The world stops spinning as they enter their home. Tunnel vision ensues and they are the only two in existence. Hecate is the first to move, locking their lips together in the warmest of embraces, soft yet assertive. She’s in charge tonight. She’s been in charge the past week, but this time is different, more intense. This time, she looms over Pippa in more than just height. She’s sir, but she’s also mistress. Tonight, Hecate and Pippa will run a marathon of pleasure, of ecstasy, of pure unadulterated, untethered, undeniable passion.

She turns the blonde, pressing against her back as she walks them forward. Her long fingers of one hand trail up the plunging neckline of Pippa’s dress, until her hand can clasp around her neck. She tilts her lover’s head, presses her lips to her neck. Hecate revels in how reactive Pippa can be, how her nipple stiffens under her thumb, how her stomach twitches under the press of her hand. She draws her dress up and up and up until she can stroke against the fabric of her underwear. Pippa purrs against her ear and its perhaps the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard, but she needs to hear her to roar. She slides her fingers under the lace, finds her soaking wet. With her coated thumb, Hecate circles her clit, watching as the flush creeps up her lover’s neck. Normally it wouldn’t be enough. Normally she would need more than just the rapid succession of a well-timed thumb, but she knows Hecate has more for her. Pippa rocks her hips in time, feeling to digit stroke and circle. It takes longer than usual, with Pippa chasing the sensations and it isn’t the strongest release ever, but it’s delicious and intense just the same. Hecate draws the orgasm out of her slowly, makes her legs go so weak she has to lean fully against Hecate’s body.

“God,” Pippa breathes out.

“Goddess,” Hecate smirks, leading her love to the bedroom. “You’ve been taking from me so well, Pet. Do it again.”

Within seconds, Pippa is splayed against duvet of their bed, Hecate’s tongue and lips pressing against the dip between her thigh and hip. There’s no way to know which Hecate is her favorite version, but the one who gives and gives is definitely on her top ten list. The brunette is powerful and commanding in the intensity of every suction of her lips, yet gentle and calming with every stroke of her tongue. Her fingers join in the sensations, one and then another, pulsing inside of her. She’s slow to start but builds the pace perfectly. Together, they find a pleasurable rhythm that send electric shocks through Pippa’s entire being.

“Beg for it, beautiful,” Hecate murmurs against her heated flesh, knowing she’s close once again.

“P-Please, Hecate,” she huffs, hips tilting for more friction, for more stimulation. “Please, s-sir.” 

Hecate guides Pippa closer to the edge, clit engorged against her tongue, her lower lips puffy and soaked. She’d roll her hips forward in time with Hecate’s ministrations if she could, but the fairer woman’s arm is draped across her waist, keeping her in place to feel every lick and thrust of her fingers. It’s almost too much to bear, but too good to stop her. When she feels Hecate’s fingers twist within her, curl upward and press against that sweet spot within her, Pippa sees stars. Her eyes flutter closed, and she can do nothing except feel and breathe and tense and contract as her orgasm washes over her, stronger than the first but still as sweet and wonderful.

“Call me sir again.” She hears when she begins to come back to herself.

The brunette is over her now, hovering and watching with her deep brown eyes that have darkened inexplicably. Her hand is pressed against Pippa’s pussy, unmoving and simply feeling the warm pool of wanting between Pippa’s thighs as the blonde does as she’s told, letting the name stumble from her lips.

“Fuck me, sir.”

Hecate growls, surges forward to capture already kiss-bruised lips. They kiss until they’re both starry eyed and breathless. The blonde’s own dark eyes focus on the woman above her, realizing for the first time that Hecate is still completely clothed besides the jacket she had discarded by the bedroom door and that just won’t do. Her hands, shaky but sure, reach for the buttons of Hecate’s top, plucking each one to reveal inch after inch of beautifully flushed skin. It’s Pippa’s turn to press her lips against her collarbone, between the valley between her breast, her nose nudging against her covered nipples.

Hecate doesn’t stop her, doesn’t take control of the situation. She shifts and titles as her lover strips her, until she’s left in nothing but the harness, the toy between them. Blindly, Pippa’s eyes stuck on Hecate’s, she reaches for the lube in the side table. Still, with their gaze skills locked, she moves to slather the cool liquid on the toy before Hecate orders her on her stomach.

For a moment, the brunette just slides her hands across smooth, tanned skin, revels in the anticipation of her next steps. She slips a finger through Pippa’s still soaked center, grins at the moan that filters through the room. Then, when Pippa thinks all she’ll receive is a teasing finger, Hecate slips it out in favor of the toy. The blonde lets out the most gorgeous sound Hecate thinks she’ll ever hear. Sweeter than the most saccharine of melodies, more beautiful than a symphony. She inches her way in, press by press, until she’s fully within her. Hecate chances a look down, sees her love clenched around the toy and she lets out a groan of her own. When she knows Pippa’s ready, when she’s adjusted, Hecate starts a slow, long pace that sets them both on fire, the repetitive motion causing the brunette just enough friction to really feel it.

Pippa’s fingers dig into the covers, and she returns every thrust and stroke. It’s too much and not enough but building each time their hips meet. The room fills with breathy moans and deeper grunts and they’re perfectly in sync as they begin rushing to their mutual peaks.

The brunette needs her closer, needs to feel her entire body against hers as she comes undone for her. Pippa groans when Hecate withdraws from her but is relieved when she’s pulled onto her knees, her back firmly against the brunette’s front. In a move that Hecate has done few times, she presses her hand under Pippa’s thigh, shifting he blonde until she’s squatting against her on both feet. With one hand, Hecate guides the toy back to her slick folds. Gravity pushes her down further on the toy, the pressure deepening as it fills her. Pippa whines. Hecate’s hands find their way back to her waist and she returns to that slow, steady motion. Up and down. In and out. Pippa’s head lolls back to rest against Hecate’s shoulder, the brunette the only thing supporting Pippa from falling over.

“Sir, I’m going –”, whatever she says dies as she tries her hardest to not come undone without permission (though she hasn’t needed to beg all night). The new position mixed with the deep, slow thrusts draws whine after whine. Hecate barely catches the breathy, “Please, sir.”

“Do it,” the brunette huffs, fingers fluttering to rub against her clit. “Come.”

Kiss-bruised lips find their way to the golden, freckled slope of neck that is now on full display as Pippa groans. Her core clenches and relaxes and cinches and releases around the toy over and over. She’s a mess as she makes a bit of one as well, her cum dripping down the toy and soaking the harness. Hecate’s teeth dig into her skin and their synchronized climax rushes over the both of them like an ocean wave during high tide. And then Pippa is falling to the bed, worn out and pleasantly sore. Hecate grins, removes the appendage from between her legs and places it in the drawer of the side table to be cleaned and put away later. Then she’s wrapping her arms around her partner, hands sliding and soothing as she presses comforting kisses to her shoulder.

“I don’t need a party,” Pippa breathes out some time after they have both calmed and slowed their breaths. She nuzzles her nose into Hecate’s neck, her eyes drifting closed. 

Hecate smirks, presses a kiss to exhausted lips as she readjusts their positions. “And yet, you’ll have one.” She lets out a long sigh before pressing a kiss to a still sweaty forehead, yawning as her eyes flutter their way into a deep, exhausted sleep.