Six months later.

"I feel like a show dog," Valentina says, squinting her eyes in pain as Mell picks the brush through a tangle in her hair. After this will come a conditioning treatment, washing, and styling, so she can look her best for some stupid science gala Mell was invited to.

Mell laughs in a jingling way that Valentina recognizes, after several months of doubt, as genuine. Barbed, like everything she does, but genuine.

"And you're going to be so pretty for the judges, aren't you," she says as she waves the brush like a magic wand. Valentina can see her do it (but backwards) from the bathroom mirror.

"Pretty for you, forget any judges. I don't want to pose for them."

"Mm, don't make me put a shock collar on you."

At Mell's words, Valentina is reminded of the weight of the black leather collar around her neck. True to her expectations, it hasn't come off since Mell put it there--metaphorically speaking. Mell has taken it off so Valentina can wash and moisturize the skin underneath, and she doesn't always wear the same collar, but its presence never leaves her.

Not that she minds much. Most days, she revels in the attention it wins her. True, that feeling is irrevocably tainted by Mell's control over her, but what can she do? How is she supposed to resist the warmth that flutters inside her stomach like a moth caught in a jar?

"I'm better behaved than that," Valentina says.Though she might enjoy a shock collar if Mell put it on her. Why the fuck not. The flogger probably hurts worse after a few strikes, and she likes that plenty.

"You are sometimes. I have to plan for when you act up." Mell snakes a hand around Valentina's torso and squeezes one of her breasts possessively. Valentina accepts it as a matter of course, only gasping when Mell's fingers bump one of her silver nipple rings.

"They're not fully healed yet, come on," she grumbles. "If they get infected and fall off before you can play with them, you'll be sorry."

Mell chuckles but readjusts her hand to cup more carefully. "The nipple or the whole thing?"

"The whole thing, so watch out."

"Pff. I'll keep that in mind."

Valentina catches herself smiling at that, but quickly purses her lips to cover it. It's no good to encourage Mell, and maintaining her grumpy nature in the face of subjugation is her greatest act of defiance.

Unfortunately, it has its downsides.

"Ooh pouty pug face, so cute," Mell sing-songs, poking at Valentina's freckled cheek with the end of the hair brush.

Valentina's scowl deepens, which only encourages Mell to start singing a made-up song about a pouty purple pug who was the pride of the puppy pound. She doesn't run out of words that start with a hard "p" for longer than Valentina expects.

Mell is weird.

Valentina finds it hard to believe she's a real person, most days. They don't warn you about the part where your intimidating, manipulative dom will sing silly songs while brushing your hair, or that this will be sort of endearing. She doesn't know who "they" is in this instance. The people who were supposed to warn her, she supposes.

After her hair is tended to, Valentina submits to further indignities: eyebrow styling, false eyelashes, a stinging lipstick to make her lips swell a little that Mell insists is perfectly safe, and an exchange of her chunky collar for a delicate silver choker with a real diamond in the center.

"Gross," Valentina says as she touches it. "Bet it's a blood diamond."

"It's lab grown, if you must know."

"What, did you grow it yourself?"

Considering all the weird shit Mell cooks up in her home lab, or the larger one she owns--Valentina will never forget joking about wanting to take MDMA and Mell cheerfully making some in response--Valentina would not be surprised.

"Not my area, really. I paid for it with real money." Mell cups Valentina's face with both hands, careful not to smear the layers of contour she's applied. "Maybe some of yours."

Valentina swallows. That shouldn't be hot, but Mell knows it is. She's such a terror.

Ultimately, Mell lets go of her, and Valentina tells her body to quiet down. She can make it through a single gala without begging for sex. Prior data suggests this is not actually the case, but she's not a scientist, so she sticks to magical thinking with the tenacity of a cult member.

"All right, I have to go work on myself. Don't mess your makeup or hair up," Mell instructs firmly, before leaning down and giving her a kiss.

Valentina closes her eyes and accepts the gesture, hardly daring to breathe, lest she face punishment for misaligning some important detail of her lipstick.

"I can do it," Valentina says in a quiet voice when Mell has pulled her warmth away.

"Counting on you." Mell waves with just the tips of her fingers and returns to her apartment through the door she had added to Valentina's bedroom. If she keeps passing her cleaning inspections, Mell says they can maybe share an apartment one day.

"Like it's some kind of privilege," Valentina mutters as she starts putting on the panties and bra laid out for her.

The door basically turned their apartments into a two-bedroom suite anyway. When Mell said she'd ask the property manager about adding one, Valentina had rolled her eyes and thought, No way. It was ridiculous, right? Then, it turned out the guy was her damn brother.

That piece of information made Mell's influence over the entire apartment complex make a lot more sense. She had access to all the apartment keys, the employees and their personnel files, surveillance tapes, and authority over who moved in and where. It might as well be her property, the amount of control her brother gives her.

"He does everything I ask," Mell had said in a very casual way.

Just like me, Valentina thinks with a shudder.

As she wriggles into her main attire, an off-the-shoulder blue dress with a stiff bodice that puts her cleavage on full display, she can't help but wonder what Mell will wear. Black will be the main shade, of course, but will she go with something slinky that shows off her muscular arms, or a get-up full of leather, lace, and drama that stays truer to her vampiric style?

On that note, how many hapless, socially awkward nerds will fall over themselves to talk to the elegant goth with dommy mommy vibes? As a socially awkward nerd herself, Valentina can only imagine it will be a lot of them.

Jealousy prickles at the back of her neck. It would be better if she didn't know Mell's type is "cringey dweebs she can fix." She grits her teeth as she zips the side of her dress. If Mell talks too long to anyone, she'll cause a fucking scene. Throw a drink or something. Mell will punish her, but then all her attention will be back where it belongs.

Valentina clenches her thighs at the thought, knowing that it's dangerous she's already this wet. She should ask Mell to get her off before they go, or she could go knock at one of the neighbor's doors and beg for some of their hospitality. If she just pulled her dress up around her hips and bent over, she wouldn't mess up her hair or makeup. They would understand what she needs. Everyone in the apartment complex does, thanks to Mell's intervention.

It's a good thing the effect she causes requires the other person to have their own modifications, otherwise going to the store (or this gala) would be a lot more challenging.

Would be fun, though, she thinks. That would keep Mell from getting all the attention, that's for sure.

They could keep the ceremony going. I could just get fucked on one of the tables or in the corner of something. Bet I'm better entertainment than whatever speaker they have scheduled.

Valentina sits heavily on the edge of her bed, momentarily overwhelmed by her fantasy.

Momentarily, she repeats to herself, even as she lies back and hikes the slit in her dress up high enough that she can push her hand inside her panties.

"Nngh, yeah," she mumbles, lost in the image of a line forming to get a piece of her. "You like nerd girls, right? The g-glasses stay on."

Needing more pressure with her stimulation, she rolls onto her stomach and rubs against her palm. It just feels better when she can really get her hips into it.

"So smart, so award-winning, but, bet you..." She bites back a moan as she pictures phantom hands grabbing hold of her. "Bet you can't even code binary search!"

"Can't say I know that one, no," she hears Mell say from behind her.

Valentina gasps, immediately rolling onto her back like an injured bug. She hadn't meant to get that carried away, but she's caught now, hand in the cookie jar. A hand that she doesn't want to remove, so she leaves it inside her panties, fingers rubbing at her clit.

"It's your fault," she says.

"True," Mell agrees.

She moves toward Valentina with the quiet swish of draped, velveteen fabric. Glittering clear stones criss-cross in thin lines over her chest and torso, draping like dewy spiderwebs, and a warm velvet black stole is wrapped around her to protect her shoulders from the cold. Long black gloves end above her elbows.

She went slinky, then, Valentina thinks through a full-body shiver.

Mell's velvety fingers trace up Valentina's leg, reach her thigh, and, maddeningly, pause.

"I told you I was counting on you," Mell says.

"I got the fucking dress on, come on." Valentina increases the pace of her hand. If Mell won't help, she can--

"Stop."

"Rrgh!" Valentina clenches her muscles and grits her teeth, then the fight goes out of her. Boneless obedience overtakes her, and she drops both her arms to her side. Her legs remain apart.

"What were you fantasizing about?"

"Nothing. Stupid shit." Mell raises an eyebrow at her response. Valentina gulps and tries again. It is agony not to touch herself. "I mean, getting fucked at the gala, obviously."

"I assumed, but it's cute when you admit to it," Mell says. Her perfectly stenciled eyebrow returns to its resting position, like someone returning a gun to a holster.

"Can you just fuck me before we go already?" When Mell doesn't budge, Valentina lifts her hips off the bed. "Please? I need it. I really, really need it. You know how bad it gets."

"Well, I do like it when you beg." Mell bites the end of one of her gloves and pulls it down her arm. A promising sign, if Valentina ever saw one.

But Mell doesn't touch her yet.

"What?" Valentina asks, too desperate for bravado.

"Oh, you're taking the dress off first. I don't trust you not to gush."

A growl of annoyance leaves Valentina's throat, but she knows better than to defy Mell at this point, unless she's in the mood for a whipping. Sometimes she is, but not today. She stands up on foal-like legs and fumbles to unzip the side of the dress. To her surprise, Mell reaches out to support her.

"Oh, how kind," Valentina says under her breath.

She leans against Mell's steady body as the dress slips around her ankles and pools there, leaving her standing in a deep puddle of fabric. Once she steps out of it, Mell takes the satiny garment and drapes it over a chair (that used to keep Valentina's clothes that were not dirty enough to wash, before Mell bullied her out of that proclivity).

"It's only right to help my useless little slut, since she can't help herself," Mell says as she turns back to her.

Valentina breathes out. "Yeah."

The next few moments feel almost choreographed, not hazy but still dreamlike in how easily their movements flow together. Valentina drops onto the bed on her knees, Mell closes the distance between them, taking position behind her as Valentina clumsily yanks her panties down her hips. Mell's hands are as brassbound as a general's, and her invading fingers find their way inside Valentina's walls without much effort. Her pussy tightens.

"That's right. Squeeze them." Valentina can hear the smirk in her voice. She doesn't reply, just moans as Mell starts fucking her with her two fingers.

The slick sound of her body and Mell's fingers, punctuated by her heavy breathing, is everything for a few minutes. Her hips rock steadily with the motion of Mell's hand.

What does she even get out of this? Valentina wonders.

Mell's demanding sometimes, ordering Valentina to worship her body any number of ways, but just as often she's touching her without asking for more, or watching from the sidelines.

Is playing with me really that fun?

She could just ask, but Mell loves to laugh and change the subject, so she doubts she'd get an answer. Nevertheless, she wants to know, to learn so many of Mell's secrets, and then keep them in a little box in her heart where no one else will ever find them. It's not about storing her weaknesses or attempting to escape from her. She just... needs them. Like she needs Mell to focus on her, even when she hardly stands out in a crowd.

"You looked very pretty in your dress, you know," Mell says, interrupting her thoughts. More like hearing them, maybe.

"Wh...what? Shut up," Valentina says between gasps.

"I'm sure you could find someone to fuck you tonight without my help, if that's what you really want."

Valentina shakes her head, but they both know how hard her pussy quivered at that, how much faster she's moving her hips.

For now, beyond fantasies already filling her head, the thrusts of Mell's fingers are enough. Before long, Valentina gushes, liquid dripping down her bare legs, exactly like Mell predicted.

"Nrrgh, just, just watch me, then," Valentina says. After a few final twitches, her orgasm frees her from its grip--not that she's ever free for long. "Watch... me."

Mell's shadow darkens the white sheets beneath Valentina's hands. Mell's velvet-gloved hand grabs a hold of her updo, then she yanks her head back, tugging her neck into an uncomfortable arc, until their eyes meet. Valentina sees stars even as she perceives Mell as a panther, ready to rip out her throat.

"I always do," Mell says, and Valentina can't help but close her eyes and whimper.