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A Field of Candles by LongDarkRoad Chapter 12 There Is No Rose Without A Thorn

A Field of Candles

By LongDarkRoad

Chapter 12 There Is No Rose Without A Thorn 

Nicole’s phone vibrated as she finished rinsing her mouth. She noted the time; seven oh one. “Hello?” she said, walking back to the table to get her bowl.

“H-hello, um, Nicole, I am sorry for calling early….”

“That’s fine, Geneva, I am just heading off to the office. What’s up (Nicole smiled at that, as if there was any doubt ‘what was up’)?”

“Well, oh my gosh, um, where to start and you’re needing to get to work….”

“Hey, I’m a multi-tasker,” Nicole laughed, carrying her bowl to the sink. “I can get my things and get going and still chat with you, sweets.”

Geneva laughed at that and started up. She had never been one to talk easily about feelings or emotions, so this was difficult. But she had always wanted a close girlfriend, someone to confide in and it had never been, so this was exciting. And of course there was…the sex. “Um, I just needed to touch base, um, about last night….”

“Yes…” Nicole encouraged, opening her car door and putting her briefcase in.

“Well, gosh, I really can’t stop, um, you know….”

“Thinking about that wonderful moment you had, how good it felt, how good you felt?”

At her house, Geneva was pacing as she talked. This was difficult; but even as she talked, hearing Nicole’s voice, that tone, that intimacy, she began to get stimulated. Last night Nicole had undressed her and fondled her to orgasm. She could not remember her last one, a sad commentary on her life. She could not even remember the last time anyone’s fingers but her own were, well, inside her. Nicole had made her say the ‘c’ word, and that had both embarrassed and aroused her. Such a nasty word.

Her sexual life with Peter, despite producing two children, was as Nicole had guessed; not much. It had always been very simple; the formula: some kissing, some touching; Peter placing her hand on his erection, she jerking him for a few minutes as he tugged her clothes off before climbing on top and stuffing his erection inside a vagina that was rarely if ever ready. Some semi—painful or at best, mundane intercourse followed; that is, if Peter hadn’t already ejaculated upon entering. And nothing for her, Geneva; ever.

Her entire sex life was, to be blunt, so unlike last night, when the climax itself, after so long, had been unbelievable. (And compared to the ones she produced on her own, standing in the shower with the attachment, ‘washing’ herself, last night was the Fourth of July.)

Afterwards, she had just stayed in place, lying there, legs spread, Nicole holding her and gently kissing her. She felt so completely at peace and satisfied. When Nicole had tried to move away, Geneva had clung to her; she didn’t want it to end.

Then this morning she had awoken at five and just lay there, remembering. She fondled herself briefly, but the old feelings of shame returned. She remembered her mother, forcing her to stand naked in the corner after catching her touching herself. She still remembered the pain as her mother strapped her hands and then spanked her between her legs.

But last night had been so unbelievable that she needed to connect with Nicole; needed to hear that voice; so she lay and waited until seven when she thought that it would be okay. And now she was speaking to her, struggling to say what she felt. Struggling to ask what she wanted.

“Yes, um, Nicole; I felt very good, I think you figured  that out.“ They both chuckled. “And I thought, maybe I could see you today, to talk. You know so much more than me about, um, these things (Nicole smiled) that I would like, um….”

“Would you like to come to my place, tonight, Gen?”

Nicole heard a small gasp, and then a pause, “Oh, yes, oh, um, could we, meet tonight. I can come over, if that’s all right?”

Nicole now paused. She didn’t have much time, soon she would be joining heavier traffic and would need to focus. “What are you wearing?”

There was a pause, “My, um, robe….”

“What else?”

“Just, my, um, panties.”

“Take off your robe and panties. Do it now.” There was a pause. “So, what do you have on now?”

“I-uh, nothing.”

“You’re naked? Say it.”

“I, oh jeez, I’m, um, n-naked.”

“Say I’m naked, Miss Nicole.”

Nicole heard another gasp, then. “Ohhh, my gosh…I’m, uh naked, M-miss Nicole.”

“Get on your knees and say it.”

“Oh, oh please; um, oh please, oh lord, mmmm. Oh. I’m naked, on my knees, M-miss Nicole. Ohhhhhhh. Jesus! I’m naked for you. Uh. Pleeeeaaase.”

Nicole waited; it sounded like Geneva was sobbing. “You are a good girl, Geneva. Be at my house at eight. Prompt.” The line went dead and Geneva stayed on her knees, her eyes closed, swaying, soft mewing noises oozing out of her. She placed both hands between her thighs and slowly went down to the carpet, and then into a fetal position, squeezing her sex for a moment. “Oh. My. God.” She whispered, then laughed at her tears.

It would be okay.


Rosalind Kane turned off her cell and smiled. There. That was done. She had booked her month long vacation; and she had booked her plane tickets and her accommodation in Bali, at least for the first week; she would decide on things once she was actually there. Then, once she was away and her month was up, she would submit her resignation and disappear. She sat back in her chair and folded her hands.

The five deals she had done with Doukas had netted her just under two million pounds, which was a lot of cash to keep under the radar, but she knew a thing or two about moving money. She had paid off her flat in London and bought a little cottage in Scotland, off the beaten path but modernized and in great shape. A hide-away.

She would leave and not look back.

At some point, when she wanted to, she would return and maybe get into estate sales, looking for art that people were getting rid of and not aware of its value. She could putter around as she wished. She smiled.

And, she promised herself, she would never, ever give another blow job in her life, whether she liked the guy or not; didn’t matter. Wasn’t going to happen. She smiled again; one more day.


Nicole’s cell vibrated again with a ‘private number’ designation. “Nicole Martin,” she answered.

“Yes, Ms. Martin,” Nicole recognized the unpleasant Ms. Sheffield as her caller. “I will be passing the phone along to your boss in a moment; we are here with van der Strom and he needs to speak with you, but I am letting you know that we will be moving Tatjana tomorrow and your help is required. Ssssh,” Sheffield interjected, sensing Nicole was about to interrupt, “She is going to stay with a woman in New York who is a psychologist; we are in agreement that there are, issues, with the girl that need looking into. Certainly something beyond you, so the cab will come for her tomorrow at ten. Peter has contacted your office to say you will be working from home tomorrow, as we have a couple of matters for you to attend to. Now, here he is.”

In a moment, the quiet and precise voice of Peter van der Strom began relating some information which Nicole had difficulty focusing on, part of her mind on Tatjana and part on Geneva. In the end she got enough out of the conversation to proceed. After the call ended, she sat, staring ahead, not really sure what she felt.


At eight o’clock precisely, the bell chimed at Susan’s/Nicole’s home. Nicole took her time answering it, wanting Geneva to wait. When she opened the door, the woman was standing and looking excited but trying desperately to appear normal.

“Come in Geneva. You are on time. That is a good girl and I am so happy to see you.” Nicole led the way to the small, intimate office/den and had Geneva throw her coat over a chair; then handed her a glass of wine. They sat, and Nicole intentionally kept the conversation on general topics as they drank; Geneva, nervous and excited, had her glass gone in a few moments. Nicole smiled and thought; time to begin.

“Ok, my sweet, now let’s see how serious you are about learning to love. And remember, the door is right there. You are free to go if you choose.” She waited, watching Geneva, who sat like a child on Christmas morning who is made to wait. Nicole smiled a warm smile, “Ok, stand and turn around. That’s it. Now slip that dress off.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, and then the garment fell to the floor, Nicole bending quickly to scoop it up. “Very nice. You have a lovely figure, Gen. You are a very attractive woman. A womanly woman.” Nicole could not see Geneva’s face redden with the praise and her growing arousal. “Ok, my sweet, now undo your bra, and let’s have those tits out.” At the word ‘tits’, Geneva started, but with her hands having difficulty due to their trembling, she still managed to unclip her bra and it too was dropped to the floor.

Nicole stood, sipping her wine, enjoying this moment, like a conductor stands and admires the scene before the arrival of the audience. “I’m glad you have no nylons, just your panties on, and we’re going to get you some sexier ones. It will be our little secret. Okay, slowly, and I mean slowly, take your panties down.”

Shaking and with her breath coming rapidly along with a touch of light-headedness, Geneva tugged her panties down, pausing twice, before finally removing them and standing, still with her back to Nicole, who now came up behind the naked woman and gripped her shoulders, kissing her neck before reaching around and massaging the modest breasts. Geneva moaned and rubbed her buttocks against Nicole. Nicole’s hand moved slowly down until it found the wild bush between Geneva’s legs.

“We need to deal with this, my sweet,” Nicole whispered into Geneva’s ear as she tugged on the tangle of brown/blonde hair. “I’m going to enjoy shaving my pet.” Geneva cried out now as Nicole had found her clitoris and was rotating her thumb against it in her skillful way. “Arch your back for me, Gen. That’s it, tell me how much you want me.”

Geneva now was just moaning, bits of words mixed in among the sighs, gasps, ooohs and ahhhs. Suddenly, as the left-hand fingers worked Geneva’s pleasure center, Nicole drove two fingers of her right hand, from behind, deep into Geneva’s dripping wet hole.

Geneva’s knees buckled and she mashed Nicole’s hand into her sex, humping the hand like a bitch in heat, until her orgasm gradually receded. Nicole let her slowly calm down, before laying her on the leather couch; kissing her mouth, sucking her tongue, her hand all the while nestled in Geneva’s warm, wet vagina.

Then, slowly, Nicole extricated her hand and Geneva opened her eyes, looking like she had been drugged, smiling a crooked smile like a child coming out of a dream. Nicole now brought Geneva to the floor and had her kneel. She then walked over to the desk and took something from it, returning to stand in front of the

naked woman.

Nicole held up what was in her hand; a brown, leather dog collar, about two inches wide, with the words ‘My Bitch’ written in black marker. Nicole looked kindly down on Geneva, who was now focused and waiting. “I have a gift for my pet.” She murmured. “What does it say, Gen?”

Geneva looked at the collar and up at Nicole, “M-my, um bitch.” She said softly.

“Yes,” Nicole said, fastening the collar around Geneva’s slim neck.

“There, that looks perfect.” Nicole commented, kissing Geneva’s forehead. “What does my pet say?” Nicole asked quietly.

Geneva knelt still for a moment, then she smiled. “Thank you, Miss Nicole.”


Rosalind Kane put the last few papers into her briefcase, and marched to the door. She looked around; she hadn’t left anything personal. She smiled, and turned off the light. Heading out the back door, she checked it after it closed and was satisfied it was locked. She then walked down the alley way to her  waiting Mini Cooper. She noticed the van parked just down the way, but she didn’t notice the movement behind her, not until it was too late.

She felt the stab of the needle just as she sensed a form beside her; once the needle found its mark, she was able to turn, in her last moment of consciousness, and look into the smiling face of Olivia Sheffield.

Olivia watched as the woman was bundled into the van. She picked up Kane’s handbag as it had fallen; found the keys beside it and climbed awkwardly into the small car; started it, put it in gear and drove off.


Tatjana was gone; Doukas’s efficient helper, a mild-looking woman in her early thirties (what’s her story, Nicole wondered) having bustled her off to a waiting cab and giving her a new device to play with. At the last moment, Tatjana had turned and looked back at Nicole, smiling and waving. And then she was gone.

Nicole stood silently for a moment and went back into her house; as they had planned, she would be working from home today. She poured herself a coffee and walked leisurely back into her bedroom, standing beside her bed and looking down at the naked form of Geneva van der Strom, tied spread-eagle and face down there.

Nicole had inserted the smallest of the butt plugs she had into Geneva’s very tight anus. She now ran her hand up the slim, muscular legs; she must be a runner, too, she thought.

The body tensed and shifted, muffled sounds coming from the mouth, filled with Nicole’s panties. Geneva was also blindfolded, as Nicole wanted her to be completely at her mercy today. As she was standing, her cell shook and she answered; it was her boss. “Hello, Peter.” Nicole said in a business-like manner, while inserting a finger into Geneva’s moistened pussy as she talked. This was so delicious, Nicole thought to herself, chatting with her boss as his wife was humping herself on her hand.



“Hello, Tatjana, I’m Marie Prescott.” Tatjana smiled and nodded, “This is your room; I really hope you’ll like it.” Tatjana looked around and smiled again. Then she looked at Dr. Prescott and Ms. Watkins, one of Sheffield’s many hired hands who did whatever jobs needed doing.

“Miss Nicole?” Tatjana asked, her head to one side, her lovely face showing confusion.

Prescott and Watkins exchanged a glance, then Prescott spoke in the soothing manner she was known for, “Miss Nicole is not here now. Maybe some day she will come; but this is your home now.” The room became silent for

a moment; and then Tatjana seemed to remember her new device, and she started playing some game on it.

Prescott and Watkins exchanged a quick smile.

**** ****

Rosalind Kane tied off the bag, weighed it again, and passed it to the naked girl beside her. There were four women in the room; all were naked and all were currently weighing bags of drugs (right now it was cocaine) and packaging them ready for delivery.

Kane and the other three women were part of a larger group of eight, who slept and stayed in the back room of Sammi Choo’s Bar; a sketchy hang out, with the bar acting as a front for card games, including some high stakes poker. There was also a roulette wheel and a Baccarat table.

By day the girls, working in two shifts, bagged drugs; by night they worked the bar. So far, Kane had not been used sexually; this bar did not provide prostitution; the Imperial, three shops down, did. Both were owned by Castle Imports, but neither resembled anything close to a castle. They were seedy and nondescript, but the poker attracted high rollers and the booze was of a superior quality. And the girls were a bonus.

In the one poker room, the servers could be touched, and Kane, despite being the oldest woman on site, had the ass and breasts the mainly Asian clientele preferred, so she was mauled daily; she was; however, never fucked; and, so far, not even asked for a blow job.

After Sheffield had abducted the woman, Kane was transported directly to this bar in Bangkok and had been here since. She had tried to keep track of the days, for whatever reason, and she was reasonably sure it had been almost a month.

Her vacation, as it turned out; the thought made her sick.


The spinning wheel, Nicole thought, looking down at Geneva’s blonde head as the woman licked her feet. If her slave did well with the feet, then she was allowed the thighs and ultimately, the prize; the dark, fleshy folds and creases of Nicole’s labia and then into her vagina. Susan was gone, Tatjana was gone; Geneva was in, and the wheel continued to spin.

Nicole could feel her arousal coming slowly; it had been a couple of days since her last ‘service’ and she was feeling a teensy bit horny. She reached down and grabbed a handful of the blonde hair, lifting the face up, then spitting on it, “What are you?” She asked Geneva.

“A whore,” the response, now after a few weeks of ‘training’, came promptly. Feeling good, Nicole spread her legs so both her pussy and anus were near Geneva’s face. “Would you like to eat my ass, whore?”

Geneva moaned; it was always amazing to her, what Nicole’s voice, her words, could do to her. ”Yes, please Mistress.” There was a time, not long ago at all, basically the month, when she thought vaginas and everything ‘down there’ was smelly and disgusting. She had discovered that she really didn’t believe that after all; especially with Miss Nicole. Geneva loved licking the woman’s genitals and would lie contentedly, performing this act until her mistress told her to stop.

She leaned forward now, inserting her tongue into the puckered brown hole, gently, lovingly rimming it before lapping it like one would an ice cream cone.   

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Nicole sighed, “that is so, so good. Put your tongue as far in as you can, you fucking filthy ass-slut.” Nicole ground herself on Geneva’s mouth, thinking how well things had worked out.

Peter had been asked (was he given much choice, Nicole wondered) to open a London office for van der Strom Law, but Doukas wanted him running it personally. He had only been back for two days in the month since; allowing Nicole’s new, incredibly enthusiastic slave,

to stay with her (much to Hailey’s amusement, but also annoyance).

Both van der Strom children: Josh, twenty-two and Sophie, twenty-one, were away at colleges, so the arrangement worked without issue. As far as the wheel spinning, the only noticeable change from Susan to Geneva, was that Geneva turned out to be a masochist as well as a submissive; she got off on punishment, which really wasn’t Susan’s, or Nicole’s, thing. But Nicole had worked with it, and developed a routine where she spanked or abused Geneva at least once a day, without thinking much on it.

“That’s good, you worthless whore.” Nicole grunted, swinging her leg over Geneva’s head and standing.  “Your owner wants to watch you now, so crawl over here.” Geneva crawled to the chair Nicole indicated and sat on it. Nicole then tied the woman’s legs wide apart to the arms of the chair. She then pushed a vibrating egg deep into Geneva’s now almost always wet hole and turned it to medium. She finished by tying her slave’s hands behind her back.

Directly in front of Geneva was a large television, and Nicole now inserted a custom CD into the blue-ray. She had only skimmed through this and wanted now to watch it in full; and to have Geneva-slave watch it with her. Geneva was, after all, the star.

As their month together had evolved, Nicole quickly realized that Geneva was ready and willing for anything and after three weeks Nicole had begun thinking ‘outside the box’ or at least, outside her ‘box’, for different ways to use her slave.

In her past, with her various other submissives, Nicole had always kept it girl-on-girl. She sometimes had used her girls with other women, but had also fantasized about having them service men, under Nicole’s direction and for her amusement. She had just never gotten around to trying it.

This past Thursday, she had put her plan to work; with Geneva. Nicole had hired three black men, had rented a motel room and the adjacent room; and had set up hidden cameras (four) in the one room and the players and monitors in the other; she had actually had Geneva pay the rent for the room. She also had the woman dress like a street hooker and be there, awaiting her three ‘johns’. Nicole’s buddy Marnie had worked the camera feeds and had then helped with the editing.

The edited CD ended up being twenty-two minutes of Geneva being gang-fucked by the three blacks; in all the possible variations, including double penetration, after all three had fucked her anally to ‘get the party going’. In the end, as the three men dressed and left, Geneva lay on the bed, cum was dripping visibly from her anus and vagina, and spattered on her mouth and nose; the final man had ejaculated on her face.

Now Nicole was going to sit and enjoy this in full; her slave would be watching as well, prepared as she was. Nicole took her thin, leather belt, and lashed it across Geneva’s spread vagina, eliciting a sharp cry. “What are you?”

“Ohhh, ummmm, uhhh. I’m your filthy whore, your cunt, Mistress Nicole.” Words that at one time, not long ago, would have choked in Geneva’s throat, now came flowing out easily, her hips moving to the vibrations of her egg. “Please,” Geneva begged. “Please.”


As Rosalind Kane made her rounds with her drink tray, she dropped off four local beers to one table and two tall cocktails to another and then noticed the single shot of vodka sitting there; a feeling of dread spreading through her. She was to take the drink to the man in the corner; the man sitting in the darkened end of the room. As she approached the table her heart began to pound and she almost felt like she should sit; but she carried on.

In a moment, as she got closer, the man in the shadows emerged until Kane finally stood, looking down at the calm face, of Louis Doukas. “Hello, Ms. Kane, busy I see.” Doukas murmured as Kane, with trembling hands, placed the drink before him. Kane was unable to respond; she just stood, trying desperately not to scream. “How has the…vacation been? Actually, Miss (he looked at his cell) Durham has enjoyed Bali in your place; thank you for that. But now it’s time to be heading back to England, no?” He swallowed his drink and smiled up at her.

Kane dropped her tray with a clatter, and sank to her knees by his feet.

(End of Chapter 12)

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