[There was a year and a half before her arrival in Rubilykskoye where Ianthe had nothing but her own hand to keep her satisfied. And upon being here... no woman has gone at her with a toy or been given a fleshy phallus to fuck her with. So it had been over two years if not longer. Most people here in this place tended to see Ianthe and assumed she naturally took to a dominant role because of her confidence and demeanor. It didn't help that her romantic relationships were both incredibly submissive.
But Ianthe liked this. She liked Yennefer's gentle dominance as much as she craved some hardcore bondage. The image, little play, filtered over the psychic connection and the thrust of hips, had Ianthe moaning again, throaty and lustful.]
Fuck, Yen. Perfect... so good, so... fuck, you could even choke me while dicking me.
[Like with slapping her face, breath control was something she liked and allowed only when her partner was inside her.]
So many. Come so many times. Fuck, Yen, I wish you were inside me now.
[Fucking belts, but Ianthe asked for this, so she'd suffer.]
[ it's rare that yennefer allows herself to be truly unguarded in front of anyone, rarer still that she presents herself as someone to be dominated when the opposite role is one that she'll reach for instead. perhaps it works to mutual advantage, then, that ianthe wants this from her, and doesn't seem at all bothered by the notion of yennefer stepping into this position, since she'd asked for it in the first place.
yennefer's not going to dwell too long about what it means that ianthe seeks this from her in particular, or that she's content to wield a more dominant hand against the younger woman, especially since doing so would impact the power of the moment itself. ]
Seems you have more than one idea on your own. You barely even need me to feed them to you.
[ the fingers in ianthe's hair tighten for another grip that pulls the other woman's head back again, even while the strength of hips keeps her lower half pinned tight to the wall. ]
I could still touch you. Just not with my hands. [ the real question is whether the belt is so snug that not even a flow of chaos-controlled air could slip beneath it, funneled between ianthe's thighs for some desired pressure. ]
[Ianthe had high standing in the Rubean community; her chastity belt was comfortably fitted and not torturous to wear, unlike some other void-touched. But Ianthe was trying to be a good girl.
The press of Yennefer at her back... such skill to hold her there with just her hips. Ianthe groaned with the renewed grip on her hair, allowing her hardened nipples to frame the wall again. She was flushed and worked up.]
[ after all, yennefer's entirely aware of the reason for her being here, the request ianthe had made — but what's proven more of a surprise is what yennefer derives from this herself, what stokes satisfaction in her while they're only initiating so much direct contact.
the sensation of yennefer's magic replaces the pinning pressure of her hips, flows of air keeping the other woman pinned to the wall, leaving one of her hands available to stroke down ianthe's side, over the flare of a hip until her fingers find the confines of the belt. ]
[The wetness was already slipping free of its confines, dampening her inner thighs, but Iathe wasn't going to tell Yennefer that. The sorceress knew exactly what she was doing to Ianthe. It was exactly what she'd wanted, the distraction she needed, with promises for future fun when these belts weren't necessary.]
Trying to be a good girl. Need to be one. Fuck.
[Did Yennefer know how easily she held Ianthe in the palm of her hand? She wanted to be touched, wanted to come, wanted to be denied it.]
[ her voice is low, and could almost be mistaken for nonchalant, but there's a subtle quickness to her breathing that betrays the fact that yennefer is more affected by this too, more than she might fully be willing to let on. she's meant to be taking up a role of authority, of taking ianthe out of her own head, of inflicting torment and promise in the same breath. the last thing she can afford is to indulge too greatly.
in the end, she wills herself back from that urge, fingers gripping a bit harder at ianthe's hip above the belt's confines, tipping her head forward until it playfully butts into one of ianthe's defined shoulderblades. ]
[Ianthe could hear Yennefer's heart thudding in her chest, practically taste her arousal on her tongue through the contact via her necromancy. She ached to have more of Yennefer, but her breath hitched. Ianthe had issues with men treating her like this, but women, especially a woman like Yennefer...
One hand dropped from the wall to reach back for Yennefer, unbidden and unconsciously. She wasn't supposed to touch. Trying to be a good girl, didn't mean she was capable of it.]
[ the initiated touch between them isn't something yennefer will immediately bat ianthe's hand away for, nor does she have any intention of feigning a light scolding about it. that completed circuit of touch between them eases something in her, even if it doesn't entirely dissolve the most persistent and obvious ache.
quietly, she drops a series of kisses against ianthe's back, soft presses of her lips to bared skin as she hums aloud, as if she's musing about potential ideas. the truth is she already has a fairly firm sense of what could follow. ]
Being fucked until their thighs are wet and shaking. Until they've come on tongue, or fingers, or cock, or some combination of all three. Until they've tasted themselves afterward, still hungry for more. Until they're so wrung out they think they can't possibly come anymore, and then they do, one more time, just for good measure.
[Her knees went weak, forehead thunking against the painted wall, and her skin burned in the wake of each little kiss. She went to speak, but the whimper that came from Ianthe's lips instead wrapped around them both, body trembling, before she swallowed hard. Her fingers curled into Yennefer to keep her hand from shaking.
Fuck, she needed to be careful to not come just from this. Not give into her impulse to turn and pull Yennefer into an embarrassingly needy, desperate kiss. She tried for words again.]
[ yennefer's voice sounds a little strained from her position standing behind. perhaps she'd been foolish to expect that she could completely resist temptation here, that she could be the stronger one, but ianthe's whimper threatens to unravel her too, even as she braces one hand against the wall alongside the younger woman's ribs, close enough for her wrist to nudge against skin. ]
Because I'm having a hard enough time not ripping that belt off and fucking you myself.
[ at least she still has the benefit of wearing her clothes; if they were pressed skin-to-skin, it would be even more difficult to ignore the sensitive budding of her nipples, the pulsing between her legs. is she desperate enough to rub herself against ianthe's thigh, to use the friction there to get herself off? could she bring ianthe's hand to her cunt, ride slender fingers until she comes shaking? she can feed those thoughts to ianthe in the meantime, though, let those images drift across their telepathic connection, everything she's dwelling on but can't actually indulge in. ]
[Another whimper, fully needy and unashamed, rose up as Yennefer filled her thoughts with the delicious filthy of using Ianthe to get herself off. It wasn't like with the boot at the yuleorgy as that had been a very different scenario, but this where she was at Yennefer's mercy, being used like that? Only with someone like Yennefer, that was allowed and had earned that kind of latitude.
Forehead and torso only against the wall now, Ianthe brought the other arm back to grab onto Yennefer. Holding her close, feeling her curves through her clothing, the heat of her body... the buzz of her arousal. She almost invited Yen to grind against her, hump her like kind of animal, but she didn't think she could hold back herself if she did.
She certainly couldn't regulate her panting breath.]
[ they’re reaching for one another now, clutching on harder because the alternative would encourage hands to wander into other places. case in point: yennefer’s fingers, which skim up to cup and knead over ianthe’s breasts, and have no qualms about roughly pinching the nipples while she’s already there. ]
If you came with the belt still on, what could they possibly do about it?
[ but it isn’t about that; it’s about the desire to remain in control, to not fall prey to wants as strong as they might be, and yennefer’s hands ease their touch, as she presses her mouth to the nape of ianthe’s neck. ]
But you want to be taken right to the edge like this, don’t you? Hauled here and left wanting?
[A vicious attack on her tits. Ianthe hissed at the rough treatment, delicious as it was, and turned her head so her cheek was against the wall.
What could they do? Nothing. Not with the two of them alone in the house as long as they kept their voices down. Ianthe also had a key to her belt, created from bone after handling the real key at the fitting; she could just unlock it. Free her from it so Yennefer could bury her tongue deep inside her cunt.]
Y-yes. Skate that edge so sharply it cuts. Make me think of nothing but you rest of the day.
Is that what you think I need? To be the only one you think of when you’re lying in bed and squirming later?
[ she’s not being entirely serious, mostly affecting that stern tone that ianthe seems to like from her. and the notion of trying to discover exactly what they could get away with has increasing appeal.
but she also knows they both have greater resolve than this, are capable of withstanding so much more. even if she briefly scrapes gentle bites over the blades of ianthe’s shoulder before soothing them over with her tongue. ]
[Ianthe decided to test her limits in this, pushing the boundaries set, as her fingers slowly started gathering up the fabric of Yennefer's skirt, seeking to take phalanges to the bare skin of her thigh.
[ it’s not as if ianthe’s bone hand is a particularly subtle appendage otherwise, and neither is it the case here when yennefer feels it slowly drawing up her skirt. she hums, lightly, as if she’s only just discovered something, worrying another bite into ianthe’s skin before lifting her head. ]
What is it you think you’re doing? [ she knows she won’t be able to create any lasting bruises, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t finding something to enjoy. ]
[That's what she said, though across the psychic link, Ianthe sent fleeting images of Yennefer firmly pinning her hands to the wall, denying her any contact beyond what the older gave her. Of red lines drawn across her pale skin, of fresh crimson sliding slowly down her back... lapped by that talented tongue the sorceress possessed.]
[ it's magic, in the end, that returns ianthe's hands right where they need to be — yennefer's chaos, tapping into the air that she can wield to grab hold of the necromancer's wrists like transparent bindings and pin them to the wall. ]
But you've also told me you need to be good, and for that reason alone, I have to deny both of us what we want.
[ she steps back, asserting more distance between them again, using her chaos to keep ianthe held fast there, even as her expression briefly signals something like regret. ]
[She struggled briefly against the magic holding her wrists to the wall, but it wasn't any real resistance. Her heart pounded in her chest, abd Ianthe turned her head to rest her cheek against the wall. She acutely felt Yennefer's absence, the loss of warmth.]
Good. Yeah... I'll be good. Must be good.
[She closed her eyes, nodding, and tried to control her breathing. Every nerve was alive with the torture they put themselves through. It was amazing. Swallowing, Ianthe spoke in a thickened voice.]
[ she makes a point to school her voice into something more controlled, almost unaffected, but one skim over the surface of her thoughts would be enough to inform ianthe that she's anything but at the moment.
still, if she knows anything about maintaining control, about curbing certain impulses, these are lessons that go all the way back to when she was a novice at aretuza, and she won't let herself be so easily cowed now — no matter how appealing ianthe might look.
what might make her soften a little more, in the end, is the name ianthe uses for her — the name that no one else has called her here, at least since her arrival. ]
Mm. [ a pause, and then: ] Anyone ever told you you're a bad influence?
[ she does breathe a sigh though, through her nose, as ianthe drops a kiss to the top of her head, her own hands coming up to gently clutch within the crook of the younger woman's arms and hold.
it's a choice, to bask in a moment like this one, instead of immediately pulling away. it's a choice yennefer makes specifically where ianthe is concerned. ]
[Ianthe took advantage of the half foot of height she had on Yennefer to rub her cheek against the sorceress' temple - something like an affectionate nuzzle.]
Mm. Alright. Sometimes. It was today.
[An indulgent pause, lingering in the contact, before:] Wine?
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no subject
But Ianthe liked this. She liked Yennefer's gentle dominance as much as she craved some hardcore bondage. The image, little play, filtered over the psychic connection and the thrust of hips, had Ianthe moaning again, throaty and lustful.]
Fuck, Yen. Perfect... so good, so... fuck, you could even choke me while dicking me.
[Like with slapping her face, breath control was something she liked and allowed only when her partner was inside her.]
So many. Come so many times. Fuck, Yen, I wish you were inside me now.
[Fucking belts, but Ianthe asked for this, so she'd suffer.]
no subject
yennefer's not going to dwell too long about what it means that ianthe seeks this from her in particular, or that she's content to wield a more dominant hand against the younger woman, especially since doing so would impact the power of the moment itself. ]
Seems you have more than one idea on your own. You barely even need me to feed them to you.
[ the fingers in ianthe's hair tighten for another grip that pulls the other woman's head back again, even while the strength of hips keeps her lower half pinned tight to the wall. ]
I could still touch you. Just not with my hands. [ the real question is whether the belt is so snug that not even a flow of chaos-controlled air could slip beneath it, funneled between ianthe's thighs for some desired pressure. ]
no subject
The press of Yennefer at her back... such skill to hold her there with just her hips. Ianthe groaned with the renewed grip on her hair, allowing her hardened nipples to frame the wall again. She was flushed and worked up.]
Whatever you want, Yen. This sweet torture.
no subject
[ after all, yennefer's entirely aware of the reason for her being here, the request ianthe had made — but what's proven more of a surprise is what yennefer derives from this herself, what stokes satisfaction in her while they're only initiating so much direct contact.
the sensation of yennefer's magic replaces the pinning pressure of her hips, flows of air keeping the other woman pinned to the wall, leaving one of her hands available to stroke down ianthe's side, over the flare of a hip until her fingers find the confines of the belt. ]
Leaving you dripping beneath this thing?
no subject
Trying to be a good girl. Need to be one. Fuck.
[Did Yennefer know how easily she held Ianthe in the palm of her hand? She wanted to be touched, wanted to come, wanted to be denied it.]
no subject
[ her voice is low, and could almost be mistaken for nonchalant, but there's a subtle quickness to her breathing that betrays the fact that yennefer is more affected by this too, more than she might fully be willing to let on. she's meant to be taking up a role of authority, of taking ianthe out of her own head, of inflicting torment and promise in the same breath. the last thing she can afford is to indulge too greatly.
in the end, she wills herself back from that urge, fingers gripping a bit harder at ianthe's hip above the belt's confines, tipping her head forward until it playfully butts into one of ianthe's defined shoulderblades. ]
Well, you know what good girls get, eventually.
no subject
One hand dropped from the wall to reach back for Yennefer, unbidden and unconsciously. She wasn't supposed to touch. Trying to be a good girl, didn't mean she was capable of it.]
Tell me?
no subject
quietly, she drops a series of kisses against ianthe's back, soft presses of her lips to bared skin as she hums aloud, as if she's musing about potential ideas. the truth is she already has a fairly firm sense of what could follow. ]
Being fucked until their thighs are wet and shaking. Until they've come on tongue, or fingers, or cock, or some combination of all three. Until they've tasted themselves afterward, still hungry for more. Until they're so wrung out they think they can't possibly come anymore, and then they do, one more time, just for good measure.
no subject
Fuck, she needed to be careful to not come just from this. Not give into her impulse to turn and pull Yennefer into an embarrassingly needy, desperate kiss. She tried for words again.]
I'll be a good girl.
no subject
[ yennefer's voice sounds a little strained from her position standing behind. perhaps she'd been foolish to expect that she could completely resist temptation here, that she could be the stronger one, but ianthe's whimper threatens to unravel her too, even as she braces one hand against the wall alongside the younger woman's ribs, close enough for her wrist to nudge against skin. ]
Because I'm having a hard enough time not ripping that belt off and fucking you myself.
[ at least she still has the benefit of wearing her clothes; if they were pressed skin-to-skin, it would be even more difficult to ignore the sensitive budding of her nipples, the pulsing between her legs. is she desperate enough to rub herself against ianthe's thigh, to use the friction there to get herself off? could she bring ianthe's hand to her cunt, ride slender fingers until she comes shaking? she can feed those thoughts to ianthe in the meantime, though, let those images drift across their telepathic connection, everything she's dwelling on but can't actually indulge in. ]
no subject
Forehead and torso only against the wall now, Ianthe brought the other arm back to grab onto Yennefer. Holding her close, feeling her curves through her clothing, the heat of her body... the buzz of her arousal. She almost invited Yen to grind against her, hump her like kind of animal, but she didn't think she could hold back herself if she did.
She certainly couldn't regulate her panting breath.]
no subject
If you came with the belt still on, what could they possibly do about it?
[ but it isn’t about that; it’s about the desire to remain in control, to not fall prey to wants as strong as they might be, and yennefer’s hands ease their touch, as she presses her mouth to the nape of ianthe’s neck. ]
But you want to be taken right to the edge like this, don’t you? Hauled here and left wanting?
no subject
What could they do? Nothing. Not with the two of them alone in the house as long as they kept their voices down. Ianthe also had a key to her belt, created from bone after handling the real key at the fitting; she could just unlock it. Free her from it so Yennefer could bury her tongue deep inside her cunt.]
Y-yes. Skate that edge so sharply it cuts. Make me think of nothing but you rest of the day.
Gotta be good...
no subject
[ she’s not being entirely serious, mostly affecting that stern tone that ianthe seems to like from her. and the notion of trying to discover exactly what they could get away with has increasing appeal.
but she also knows they both have greater resolve than this, are capable of withstanding so much more. even if she briefly scrapes gentle bites over the blades of ianthe’s shoulder before soothing them over with her tongue. ]
no subject
[Ianthe decided to test her limits in this, pushing the boundaries set, as her fingers slowly started gathering up the fabric of Yennefer's skirt, seeking to take phalanges to the bare skin of her thigh.
And maybe she wanted to provoke a harder bite.]
no subject
[ it’s not as if ianthe’s bone hand is a particularly subtle appendage otherwise, and neither is it the case here when yennefer feels it slowly drawing up her skirt. she hums, lightly, as if she’s only just discovered something, worrying another bite into ianthe’s skin before lifting her head. ]
What is it you think you’re doing? [ she knows she won’t be able to create any lasting bruises, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t finding something to enjoy. ]
no subject
[That's what she said, though across the psychic link, Ianthe sent fleeting images of Yennefer firmly pinning her hands to the wall, denying her any contact beyond what the older gave her. Of red lines drawn across her pale skin, of fresh crimson sliding slowly down her back... lapped by that talented tongue the sorceress possessed.]
no subject
[ it's magic, in the end, that returns ianthe's hands right where they need to be — yennefer's chaos, tapping into the air that she can wield to grab hold of the necromancer's wrists like transparent bindings and pin them to the wall. ]
But you've also told me you need to be good, and for that reason alone, I have to deny both of us what we want.
[ she steps back, asserting more distance between them again, using her chaos to keep ianthe held fast there, even as her expression briefly signals something like regret. ]
no subject
Good. Yeah... I'll be good. Must be good.
[She closed her eyes, nodding, and tried to control her breathing. Every nerve was alive with the torture they put themselves through. It was amazing. Swallowing, Ianthe spoke in a thickened voice.]
Thank you, Yen.
no subject
[ she makes a point to school her voice into something more controlled, almost unaffected, but one skim over the surface of her thoughts would be enough to inform ianthe that she's anything but at the moment.
still, if she knows anything about maintaining control, about curbing certain impulses, these are lessons that go all the way back to when she was a novice at aretuza, and she won't let herself be so easily cowed now — no matter how appealing ianthe might look.
what might make her soften a little more, in the end, is the name ianthe uses for her — the name that no one else has called her here, at least since her arrival. ]
Mm. [ a pause, and then: ] Anyone ever told you you're a bad influence?
no subject
[Ianthe chuckled a little before testing to see if she could pull herself away from the wall.]
How am I a bad influence on you?
no subject
[ tempted into succumbing. tempted to use her power to simply break the chastity device and give them both what they wanted.
another moment passes before yennefer's fingers twitch at her sides and the flows of air holding ianthe to the wall suddenly dissipate. ]
no subject
But isn't it so good to stop just short? To push to the very edge just to say 'No'?
[Tying the sash, Ianthe drew close to Yennefer so she could press a kiss to the top of her head.]
no subject
[ she does breathe a sigh though, through her nose, as ianthe drops a kiss to the top of her head, her own hands coming up to gently clutch within the crook of the younger woman's arms and hold.
it's a choice, to bask in a moment like this one, instead of immediately pulling away. it's a choice yennefer makes specifically where ianthe is concerned. ]
Not always.
/end?
Mm. Alright. Sometimes. It was today.
[An indulgent pause, lingering in the contact, before:] Wine?
🎀 !