Petronella Gets Schooled<br/><br/>A knock comes at your door. The Madam comes in, looking somewhat nervous. 'We... have a customer here. Petronella, I must warn you, the last three women she has slept with, well... They were very badly injured, after she finished. Well compensated, but... she is a very harsh, a very demanding mistress.' she says softly.<br/><br/>Petronella nods to this and thinks about it for a short time. Badly injured, but they were only normal whores, of course. She is fully capable of handling it, she believes, "Very demanding, you say, and harsh? It certainly would be bad for my image if I let a challenge like that go unsatisfied, after all." she isn't worried about the compensation, but she will let nobody say she's unable to satisfy even th e most demanding of lovers. She does have a reputation to keep up, after all! She has... a feeling about this as well, that there is something more to all this, that twinge in her power that sayd this is somehow involved in the fortune she sought... "I will see her" she moves to the basin to wash up a bit and make ready for this... unique client.<br/><br/>The woman who walks in is... indeed unique. Her beauty is as heartstopping as yours, and her hair is a verdant green, hanging down her back in a spray of color, her skin a similar tone, her lips the red of a pair of rose petals. The outfit she wears is simple, a monk's outfit, and she slowly sits, unwinding a long whip, studded with what appear to be thorns, sharp and jagged. 'You will not talk without first being spoken to, and given permission. You will not move without being told to, you will not orgasm without being told to, and you will not cry out without being told to. If you break any of my orders, your punishment will be swift, and brutal. Do you understand? Yes, or no."<br/><br/>Immediately she realizes that commanding tone, that powerful presence, the pure expression of that self-assurance so like her own. When the whip comes out she stiffens, having epected something like this, and the tone... th e tone so like Master's... She expells a bit of breath as though that force of personality were like a physical blow, and something within her tells her, whispers urgently to her that she dare not resist this one. She is the whore in this relationship and the satisfaction of her client is her first priority... and something more. Almost reflexively she responds. "Yes." She isn't /certain/ that this person is stronger than her, or is in any way more powerful, but she most definitely has a stronger presence. Petronella takes a deep, satisfying pride in being a whore, after all, and she will not let this client go unsatisfied. She will lead by example and give her parishoners something to admire.<br/><br/>The woman lashes the whip, and it wraps around your neck, dragging you forward, biting in, the pain blossoming out. The pain is not ordinary- You can feel something in it. Part poison, part... something more. It blossoms out like a flower unfolding in the sun, filling your body with pain, fiery pain. You can see now, the thorns drip with something. 'So many of the ones I take, they cannot stand it... Not because I damage them too far, but because I hurt them. I hurt them more than they can bear...' She leans forward, and plants a kiss on your lips, the smell of flowers around her like a goddess of nature. 'Will you disappoint me like they do?' she asks, a light tilt in her voice, seductive.<br/><br/>She manages not to cry out even through the blossoming pain, her breath catching. She would not be where she is today if she buckled so easily to pain, after all. That strange venom she feels working into her body, she doesn't know what it is, it makes her worry slightly, but with her infernal constitution s he knows she will certainly recover from even t his woman's worst. She returns the kiss then manages to gasp an answet to th e question, "I will not... disappoint" her breath is coming a bit faster now as she remembers not to move. She isn't yet quite certain of the 'permission' she needs to be given in order to speak, hoping that such is implied in the asking of the question to begin with. And that smell... that wonderful smell... almost as if she were meeting a fellow goddess, indeed, and that this were only the appropriate conditions of that meeting.<br/><br/>The woman uncoils the whip, and then suddenly it snaps out, and lashes across your buttocks. The lash cracks like the snap of a brittle twig across your ass, leaving a stripe, a little blood dripping from it, a few mild drops slowly dripping from the tiny wounds made across your neck- The lash so accurate it didn't even nick an artery or vein- and that same blossoming pain emerges, even stronger this time. It's the taste of essence, the kiss of the Whip, blossoming inside your body, stimulating pain nerves... And at the same time, making you realize just how close that which is painful and that which is pleasant can be. " Perhaps I did not explain carefully enough, but I thought it self evident that lying will not be tolerated to your mistress. No mere whore would be able to satisfy me." she hisses into your ear.<br/><br/>Petronella stiffens at the lash across her rump, closing her eyes for th e briefest of moments as her breath catches again. She will NOT cry out. She will not give this woman reason to 'punish' her, to be disappointed. And she does not respond as  no question was asked, willing to let her near-motionlessness at the blossoming pain and her silence be the answers the woman seeks. She swallows nervously, for she realizes she must play this perfectly for her client to be properly satisfied. She must master herself within, even as her body is being mastered for her without. She wants to cry out, of course, to claim that she is no mere whore, that her reputation ought to proceed her, but that would be playing into the trap... Petronella is no stranger to pain, but this... this is far different sort of pain, indeed, a pain tantalizingly close to but not quite pleasure... Will she be able to maintain her composure through all this, if she is having difficulty even now?<br/><br/>The woman studies her. 'Have you no pride? Are you nothing more than a thing? Scream!" she says, and the lash runs across your belly, a series of droplets of blood beading across your fair skin. It will heal, but the pain grows with each lash, burning your mind. A lesser being would not be able to stand at this point. 'Are you perhaps less than some mere mortal whore? Tell me, then, if you can still speak, what you are...' she says, eyes studying you.<br/><br/>She grits her teeth as the lash and words sting her body and pride. She has pride, an d s he would scream... then realizes through the haze that she is being told to... letting out a cry, a wail of pain as she lets herself double forward slightly, releasing all the pent-up utterance she's been withholding in that cry. She pants deeply and slowly opens her eyes, panting, the scream having let out much of the tension in her body as that pain continues to burn in her mind. "I... am a goddess of whores..." she manages to choke out, then smiles thinly, putting every ounce of her own presence she can behind those words such that this woman would be unable to doubt their veracity or her belief in them. This will probably bring some reaction from the 'mistress', of course, but she reasons with what limited thought she can muster than anything she could say at this point would encourage the lash even more. And yet she is indeed still standing, though shivering with the effort of doing so.<br/><br/>The woman pauses for a moment. The lash wraps around your waist. 'You just may be, at that... Tell me, then, my goddess... Would you like to learn my ways? To learn the ways of pain mastered, pain commanded, pain loved, and pain given?' she asks, whispering in your ear, as she forces you against her body, eyes locking with yours as she runs a hand along your side slowly, ending between your legs, across your ass, stroking your sex from behind, those thorns filling you with that pain as you start to realize the joy behind it...<br/><br/>She cringes at the lash wrapping around her waist, the thorns digging in, more pain blossoming through her body as more of that strange venom seeps into her body, a single tear coming to her eye though she does not cry out again. Her body is pulled forward so easily against that of this mistress as those eyes lock with hers... and that hand... that soft, almost tender hand running along her body and teasing her, unlocking for her the pleasure hidden within the pain slowly, as though some weighty door were being opened within her mind. She knows now without a doubt that the answer to her self-prayer has come, that her power has made itself manifest in this woman, and that everything she can learn here will be worth the pain sh e will endure... and through it all she will be made only greater in the eyes of her people for it. Her eyes light at the offer as it permeates through her mind and she can only let out a soft moan in the shape of "Yes... my Mistress." as it is only proper for the student to address the teacher with respect.<br/><br/>The woman smiles. 'Then let the pain sink into you, until you can take no more.' Her hand comes across, a lightning fast blow that knocks the wind out of you, leaving your side bruised, as she knocks you to the floor, the slap delivering more of that essence into your body. The pain is almost unbearable now. 'I will beat you down so that you may move past the pain. If you are as formidable as you suggest, you won't die...' she says, seizing you, pulling you to your feet again, a fist striking your belly. She's strong, extremely strong, stronger than her delicate frame would suggest... But the experience is a teaching one. The pain begins to transcend itself, your mind practically screaming with the pain, until it begins to take a form, falling into place like a symphony, and you feel a sudden gasp of pleasure as she strikes you again, your body drawing energy from the pain inflicted on it... The sensation is orgasmic.<br/><br/>The battering takes its toll on her body all right, sending her to the floor only to be pulled back up, then beat down again... Up... down... the spreading pain bruising her body, flooding every sense she has with that blinding agony... and then, as she feels she can take no more, it sings... the next strike not knocking her down in pain, but making her suddenly moan in pleasure, a sound altogether different from her uncontrolled cries of pain before. It surprises her, flood  her body with passion, wets her loins with need in a way that even Master's touch doesn't...<br/><br/>The woman slowly licks her lips. 'You are a quick study... I shall return to continue our lessons another time.' she says, reaching down, lifting you by the throat, lips pressing against yours, as she drags the lash out of your body slowly, leaving rakes across your skin, stinging, yet little rays of pleasure across you, as you experience an entirely new way of studying life... The weak, by exploiting their weakness, can become the strong, the caged can become the free... It sings with your soul, this new idea.<br/><br/>Petronella can only groan in pleasure as her mind is opened, as the lash sings with her... she returns the kiss needily and then falls back to her knees as the woman leaves her naked, bleeding body on the floor of her room, droplets of her life essence scattered against the sheets, on the floor... she lowers her head and... once the woman is gone, proceeds to reach down to touch herself while remembering the pain and that wonderful moment when pain became pleasure, that moment burned into her mind fully as she finally comes and lays back on the floor in ecstasy, a smile spread across her face. The madam would likely come up to check on her after the hard woman had left, to find her broken and battered on the floor, still very alive and in bliss...<br/><br/>Petronella's Reward: 8 Experience Points, Sifu 1