Na’amah stumbles into the Black Rose body ridged with pain. She pauses in the doorway to catch her breath, letting the door close and latch behind her. She reached out with her senses and nods, the place was empty.
She giggles, then gasps and arches as the pain flares inside her. She staggers forward, leaning heavily on the railing leading to her office.
Leigh, in her twisted haze of grief, had cast a spell on her. She had cursed her to feel pain with joy, and the thought made her giggle again, which had her legs going weak under her. She moans loudly, the pleasure, as always, racing behind the pain to wash over her. Her body responding to the pain as it always does, as she was created to respond.
She hisses, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to push away the amusement the whole thing caused to bubble up inside her. “Let’s just go up to bed, rest a bit. That nice witch’s counter spell has helped…it shouldn’t be long now before the effects are gone completely.” She mumbles to herself, straightening slowly. Her heart sparks with anger as she thinks of the audacity of the woman, and the pain subsides. “Oh…That helps…”
Focusing on the anger she pushes away from the railing, stepping slowly over to the stairs, only two flights and she can collapse in her bed to ride the spell out.
She makes it as far as the first landing, sinking to her knees she rests her head on the stairs. Why was she fighting this? She wonders as the pain and pleasure race through her body in a vicious cycle, the one feeding the other like an snake eating it’s own tail.
Her thighs are soaked as she raises her head shakily. She wraps her arms around her torso and rocks as if to protect herself from her body’s response to that astonishing pain. She snorts a short laugh, gasping with the sensations that quickly assault her. She writhes under the press of the magic, each movement calling more pain, more pleasure. She feels herself spiraling ever upward, panting on the carpeted steps of the Black Rose.
“Oooohhhh.” She breathes, then arches up off the floor as her orgasm rolls over her, wave after wave, the pain feeding it sustaining it. How long she writhes and pants on the hard floor of the Black Rose, she doesn’t know.
She must have passed out for she jolts awake, her hair mussed and her dress wrinkled. She slowly stretches the kinks from her muscles, rubbing the ache on her side where the stairs had pressed against her ribs.
She takes a deep breath, wincing at anticipated pain as her amusement spikes once more. She releases her held breath, pleased as she notes the absence of pain. The witches spell worked, it just took time. She stands, smoothing her skirts down with almost steady hands. She steps up the flight of stairs and opens the door to her room. Undressing carefully, she hangs her dress in the walk-in closet before sliding under the soft covers of her bed. Her pale skin glows in the firelight as she settles in, sleep already overtaking her as she curls up under the downy quilt.
She will have to thank Leigh for her spell later. What a delicious way to spend one’s evening.