Count 10

For two weeks, she had been preparing for that blasted fae to arrive. Calypso had arranged the meeting to be held during one of the social gatherings the Clan hosted among the underbelly of the supernatural in they city and told her to win him and his knowledge of fae drugs and aphrodisiacs over. According to what Venus was able to get the Vines to find out, Tarathiel Ianra had a type - tall, bottom-heavy women in expensive clothing. It was not a question that she fit his preferences, she had seen the sketches of the women the Vines had seen him with, only a matter of discovering if he liked them demure or to take command. In fact, it was because of Venus being his type, that she was sure this job had been handed over to the Orchids, rather than having one of the Lilies foster the new relationship.
 
Either way, Calypso had “gifted” Venus with appropriate attire for the occasion. The thick diamond choker and matching bracelet that hid her Clan tattoos were heavy, but merely a loan that she knew would return to their cushioned safe after the social dinner and show. The dress, on the other hand, she knew would come from her next paycheck… if it even covered the cost of the dress, let alone the tailoring to have it hug her body and fit her height.
 
It was going so well too, Tarathiel unable to take his eyes off of her as Calypso greeted him in the lounge of the Clan’s exclusive club before guiding the nervous fae to their private alcove still in view of the rest of the club. She was silent, pouring drinks for them with steady hands, catching Tarathiel’s eyes caressing her pushed up breasts before landing on the swathe of blue patchwork on her thigh exposed by the dangerously-high slit of her dress. It was only a matter of time before they had moved on to the next phase of their plan, Calypso offering Venus’s “services” to Tarathiel while he was in the club and discussing their business arrangements. Then she slid in next to him on his side of the leather couch, mind blank of thought beyond the need to win him over.
 
She had seduced plenty of people for the Clan, making her codename apt, and so it was as easy as sliding onto his lap, making sure her bottom sat firmly where he could feel it most, and batting her eyes while asking him if he minded she drank with them. Oh, the rush of power Venus felt watching the fae crumble into her palm was exhilarating, better than any of the drugs she had tried. It was almost cute how shyly his hand grabbed onto her thigh while he slammed his drink down, Venus contemplating if she might actually let him have what he so desperately was trying not to think about.
 
Catching Calypso’s eye, Venus knew things were going expediently well, and she barely had to pay attention to their talk and negotiation as she focused on the subtle changes in Tarathiel’s body, like the dilation of his pupils and his breathing speeding up. All the while, she merely sat there on him. She hardly said anything, just lightly running her fingernails over his hand and arm on her thigh, thinking of all the information they had accumulated about this elusive fae. All the time she had wasted trying to memorize those little details when all it took was sitting in his lap to have him practically drooling on her while whispering dirty things into her ear…
 
Of course, those thoughts had flown out the window when her partner appeared at Calypso’s shoulder, eyes carefully avoiding her sprawled form as he bent and whispered into their ear. If it was not in Venus’s best interests to memorize every microexpression on her boss’s face, she might have missed the split second of their eyebrows pressing down that usually expressed anger at whatever he had whispered in their ear. Venus decided that was the best moment to squirm slightly in Tarathiel’s lap, distracting him as she moved his hand to her inner thigh and sighing up into his ear.
 
Then Calypso had called her name, and the game was over, them apologizing as there was an urgent matter she had to attend to. Venus had merely sighed, running a hand along Tarathiel’s jaw and watching him swallow as she moved to her hooves, purposely ignoring the burning sensation of her partner’s eyes on the open back of the dress. She pushed all thoughts of his pale hands on her dark skin, bending to press a kiss to Tarathiel’s cheek and murmuring sweet words into his sharply pointed ear. At least he smelled good.
 
Following her partner from the club’s open floor, there was a wicked part of her that delighted in the stares that followed her, a smirk curling on her lips at the open envy on people’s faces and the lingering looks that followed in the wake of her swaying hips and black silk. Even some of the other warlocks cast looks at her, some she had already slept with and others she hadn’t decided on yet. She didn’t miss the irritated flick of her partner’s tail as he hurried them through, barely stifling a chuckle as he glared at her while holding the door for her.
 
The hot shit act dropped as soon as the door closed though, Venus sighing as she ran her tongue over her fangs, “What the fuck is going on that is more important than sweet talking that fae bastard?”
 
He snorted, but there was tension still in his eyes as he motioned in a direction, “One of your recruits… it appears he cannot keep his hands to himself.”
 
The words were an icy shock, washing away any hint of desire in her blood or swagger in her pace. “How so?”
 
“One of the dancers,” he grimaced, shaking his head, “She wouldn’t talk to me beyond his name, but it was obvious what Brassia had attempted.”
 
Venus liked to think she had a steady, calm head on her shoulders, but in that moment she did not care as the ice in her veins turned to hellfire. “I’ll skin him alive, starting with his fucking dick and balls.” She took down the hall, gown flaring behind her, “I assume someone has him?”
 
Raising a smooth brow, he followed after her, dress shoes loud on the marble but nowhere near as thundering as her hooves, “I know where he is, but I assumed you would want to handle the dancer. She may respond better to a more,” he paused, glancing down, “Well, someone less manly.”
 
“Don’t let your ‘manliness’ rip your shirt again, boss,” she was barely unable to keep herself from rolling her eyes, “And I’ll comfort her with the knowledge that Brassia will no longer have fingers to touch anyone ever again.”
 
If she had not been staring straight ahead, Venus may have seen the smile on her partner’s face. “Then I have some good news for you. Calypso has already authorized his preparation to be a deathlock. Determined that he is too much of a loose cannon between this and that time he nearly gave our one cartel ring to a fucking undercover cop.”
 
“Nine fucking hells, I almost forgot about that,” Venus sneered, fingers reflexively forming a fist at the memory of her disbelief that one man could be so insanely stupid. Never mind that she had once thought the ex-drug lord would be a good fit for their Clan. If you could call being the distributor of at most three city blocks being a “drug lord.” The stupidity of people never failed to astound her though. “Good, means I won’t have to deal with his whining once I am through.”
 
He led her back through the building and to one of the training rooms, barely sparing her the warning that Brassia was in the room and giving her time to settle herself with half of a cigarette. Crossing his arms in the hall across from her, Venus felt his eyes on her as she summoned her pact dagger, the ornate hilt and blade flipping in between her fingers. Only after she hissed for him to say what was on his mind did he meet her eyes, a grimace passing over his handsome face before he asked, “Were you ever..?”
 
The underlying concern in his voice made her pause, taken aback by the worry for her wellbeing. “I believe some would call me…” another flip of the dagger, bringing the blade up to examine her reflection in the shining metal, “prone to stabbing those who might even dare.” She refused to mention the countless names and whistles and comments anyone with a pair of pair of tits received on the city streets. The times where she couldn’t just pull a dagger when a stranger moved to grab in a store or stood too close on the subway. A blue eye ringed in glittering gold eyeliner blinked back at her, before sliding away to look at the tiefling across the hall. “And you?”
 
A second’s hesitation had her putting the dagger down, swallowing to ask the uncomfortable question, when he finally responded, “Is there a difference between the Clan forcing you to… and just a single individual forcing you?”
 
For the second time in a handful of minutes, Venus’s thoughts froze in their tracks. “I enjoy it… most of the time.”
 
A muscle worked in his jaw, “Well then, there’s your answer, Venus.”
 
He always had the uncanny ability to get under her skin, and she under his. She gritted her teeth, crushing the remainder of her cigarette in her palm. The sting of the heat of the lit end didn’t stop the confusing thoughts in her brain though. So she focused instead on what she had set out to do, summoning a more controlled rage while sending her dagger to wherever it when not summoned.
 
The slam of the door hitting the wall of the training room made the pale orange tiefling jump, spinning to see Venus and she strode into the room. Brassia grinned seeing her, not even hiding as he checked her out and blatantly stared at the way her breasts looked in the dress, “Damn, Venus. Guess that fae prick finished fast - not that you could blame him when you look like that, huh? Come here to ask me to finish what he started?”
 
He seemed to not even acknowledge her partner slipping in after her, or the bloody nose he was clearly trying to stop from bleeding all over the damn padded flooring of the training room. Well, the cleaning crew were already going to have a time when she was through with him.
 
Raising an eyebrow at the pathetic scene Brassia painted, Venus stopped only a few feet from him, “What the fuck happened to your face?” She knew, of course, briefed by her partner on the way over that the dancer Chloe had headbutted him and ran when she thought she broke his nose.
 
“Just some bitch who couldn’t make up her mind,” he tossed aside, eyes still glued to her as she stood nearly a foot taller than him. “Too afraid to admit she wanted me.”
 
Venus lashed out, gripping his hair and yanking his face back to meet her eyes. With a saccharine smile and syrupy sweet voice, she said, “If you are going to lie to me, grow some balls and look me in the fucking eye and not my tits.”
 
Under other circumstances, the sound he made might have made her laugh, but the squeak only made her smile sharp. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
 
“Come now,” Venus managed to keep her temper leashed, tightly controlling her facial expression and tone. “What is the one sin our Mistress forbids?”
 
“Betraying her?” Brassia tried to move away, body and face going still as he felt something poke at his side, “Is that your fucking dagger?”
 
She didn’t respond to his incredulity, “Try again, or do you really not remember a single thing, Brassia?”
 
“What? What the fuck are you talking about?” To his credit, he knew better than to try and make a move against her, hands up in the air and allowing the blood from his nose to drip down his cheek and neck, into his rumpled white shirt collar. “Is this some weird sex thing?”
 
“Rape,” she spat the word out, watching the way he flinched from her and the dagger at his side. “I am speaking of rape, Brassia. Which you attempted to do on Clan grounds, of all places. Did you truly think you could get away with such a thing?”
 
The orange tiefling sputtered, face turning red, “What, that thing with the dancer? She was making eyes at me and asking for it, I fucking swear!”
 
Eyes narrowing, Venus finally dropped the smile from her face, a gentle purr in her voice, “She did no such thing, Brassia. You put your filthy hands on a woman without her consent, tried to pull her into a secluded spot to have your way with her, and she fought back. What about any of that tells you that she wanted anything your pathetic, sad excuse for a cock could give her?”
 
“Bitch,” he gasped out, finally starting to squirm against her hold on his hair. “What does it matter if I fuck her, it’s no different from offing someone or roughing them up.”
 
Venus was barely stronger than the average man, but she had the element of surprise and speed on her side as she punched his face, the hilt of her dagger scratching his cheek as he was sent to the floor. To make sure he second guessed getting up, Venus leisurely strode over to him, pressing a hoof on his hip and dangerously close to his genitals before leaning over him. She didn’t give a shit if it bared more of her legs to him; left her more vulnerable to attack. Part of her wanted him to try, to see it would take more than a fucking stab from a dagger or an eldritch blast to take her down.
 
“No restraint,” Venus sneered, pushing an errant strand of black hair out of her face, “We are criminals, not pigs. If all you are going to do is act like a stupid pig, then you will be treated like a pig. Slaughtered and used for other means.”
 
Her partner had stayed silent until that moment, only to make the simple comment of, “I believe that would be an insult to pigs to compare him to them. They’re highly intelligent creatures.”
 
Brassia looked about five seconds away from shitting himself, which really, she hadn’t even started for him to look so afraid. “Bro, she’s gone nuts, you gotta stop her!!”
 
“It’s a little too late for that, Brassia. You know the rules, and your performance for the last year has been abyssal.” He stated simply, hands in his pockets. If it weren’t for the tight lines of anger in his shoulders and eyes, anyone may have thought he looked bored. His eyes softened when looking up at Venus, reminding her, “He will need most of his fingers and tongue as a deathlock, so please try to keep that in mind.”
 
“Come now, sugar,” Venus looked up from the terror on Brassia’s thin and ratlike face, “you know how good I am at restraint. I’m just going to trim… the unnecessary bits.”
 
The smoldering look she received from him was all the answer she needed, especially as Brassia started to babble pleas. Wordlessly he moved into position to hold Brassia down, his own dagger appearing in his hand to persuade him against unnecessary movement.
 
“A shame you were not closer to one of the basements, this would be much easier on all of us if I could just tie you down,” Venus stepped off of him, towering over him and watching the wet patch growing in his trousers. She tsked, towering over him, satisfied by how terrified the piece of shit was with only a few words and threats. “No restraint at all. Try not to thrash too much, I would hate for this to take longer than necessary or for you to accidentally bleed out too quickly.”
 
It turned out that the being formerly known as Brassia had some measure of restraint, managing to only start screaming after realizing her dagger would not stop at a finger or toe. It had taken some work and makeshift restraints to keep him still then. Venus was hardly impressed though, and he still died like a pig, squealing and bleeding out from his wounds. She took the time to wash the blood from her skin, surprised she managed to avoid getting it on the expensive silk gown.
 
Finally, Venus sought out the dancer Chloe, finding her and the warlock guarding her and kneeling before the shaking elf. Her partner had stayed behind to help make sure the clean up crew transported the body to the right chamber for the Mistress to have her fun with. So she knelt before Chloe, taking in her tear stained face and far away eyes, thankful she had been able to get away from him. She apologized on behalf of the Clan, before informing her that Brassia was no more and that the Clan would take care of any expenses from the night.
 
The words that the pig was dead brought clarity back into Chloe’s eyes, slowly looking up to meet hers. “Good,” was all she said in a small voice, before clearing her throat. “How… did he die?”
 
Venus blinked, but refused to look away from her eyes as she replied, “I castrated him and let him bleed out.”
 
Her eyes widened and she flinched slightly, before she started shaking again, “Good. Good.”
 
Taking in her face and body, Venus reached into her dress, pulling out her business card. “If you ever need anything done, no matter the legality of it, give me a call. I would be happy to lend you my services.”
 
To her credit, Chloe did not hesitate to take the card, eyes looking at her name and just a phone number under. “Thank you, Venus.”
 
“Of course,” she nodded, before standing and smoothing her dress and hair back into place, “We business women need to look after each other. And again, our apologies that one of our employees behaved in such a disgusting manner.” Venus glanced at the other warlock, nodding at them, “Please continue to look after her, Vanda.”
 
With that, she returned to the club, where Tarathiel welcomed her back into his lap without a second thought, more emboldened by the alcohol consumed. He paused briefly at the smell of blood on her, but rather than deter him, Venus was able to tell he was quite… encouraged by it. Sharing a smile with Calypso, she raised her glass to her lips and drank deep.
 
Perhaps it would be a good night after all.