Intimate Moments Series:
Demona and Andrea

Written by: Madame Destine
Email: m_destine@hotmail.com

* * * * *

"Honestly, Angela… I don't know why we didn't think of this sooner." Smiling, Andrea Calhoun added another touch of paint to her latest creation and stepped back to admire with a critical eye the image that was forming on the canvas. "You're the best life model who's ever posed for me. Just don't tell your mother I said that, or she'll be so jealous."

Though she stood only a few yards away, Andrea's subject didn't reply. The late afternoon sunlight, diffused through gauzy curtains, illuminated the small conservatory that had become Andrea's studio in her new home at Destine Manor, and Angela was still lock fully in the embrace of her stone slumber. Andrea peered around the edge of her canvas, smiling at Angela's imagined reply as she took a closer look at the tiny, taloned fingers of her wing hands. "Dominique has posed for me many times, but she just hates standing still," she commented. "Don't get me wrong, I love her to death for putting up with me, but after an hour, she's just impossible." Andrea's smile turned slightly devious. "Not that I mind most of the things I have to do to placate her, of course… but I probably shouldn't be telling you about that." Andrea chuckled. Taking in the whole of the nude female's form once again, the petite blonde shook her head in mild amazement. "I still can't believe you nailed that pose on the first try, either."

Angela had only nodded and smiled as she disrobed and listened to Andrea explain the pose she was looking for. "I'll do my best," was all she had promised as she took her place in the center of the room, but once sunrise had come only a few moments later, Andrea had been left in awe. Angela had followed her artist friend's request exactly, timing her final waking motions to permit stone sleep to freeze her as if in the act of awakening from it. With her wings unfurled, her talons splayed, her back arched with her chest thrust forward, and her head tilted back with fangs bared, she was a fearsome, awe-inspiring sight indeed. Her hair, loosened from its usual braid, cascaded wildly over her shoulders, adding to the sense of motion conveyed by a pose that would have been impossible for anyone other than a gargoyle to hold.

"So maybe I should call this one Reawakening… or maybe Breaking Free? I'll have to ask Dominique what she thinks." Andrea touched brush to canvas once again, smoothing out a highlight on the bracelet worn by the lavender gargoyle reproduced there. "Mm, I knew asking you to keep that on was the right way to go. There's just something I love about a few nice pieces of jewelry on a nude gargoyle."

The telephone rang, and Andrea grinned oddly as she put down her brush and turned to answer it. "Destine Manor, Miss Calhoun speaking," she greeted absently, the way she'd been instructed to answer during the daytime.

"Hello, Andrea."

"Dominique, hello." Andrea recognized the sultry voice at the other end of the line instantly, and her odd smile broadened. "You know, I was just thinking about you."

Dominique Destine shifted against the soft cushions of her high-back leather executive's chair. "Mm, what a delightful coincidence. I was just thinking about you." She ran her free hand across the empty desktop in front of her, and glanced over at the web browser window still open on her computer screen. "Or, more specifically, what I am going to do to you tonight."

Andrea raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" she teased back. "What you are going to do to me, hmm? What about what I am going to do to you?"

"My dear, I already know what you are going to do to me," Dominique replied, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she tapped the "enter" key with a manicured fingernail and send the e-mail she had just finished on its way into cyberspace.

"And what might that be, Domi?" Andrea questioned.

"Anything and everything I ask of you, my pet," Dominique purred. "Starting right now."

Andrea leaned against the small side table that held the phone and listened, growing more and more intrigued by her mate's boldness. "What do you have in mind, Domi?"

Dominique checked her watch. "It is now 4:35. I will be leaving Nightstone in five minutes. I have one quick stop to make, but I will be home by 5:30. When I walk in the front door, you shall be waiting by the stairs. You shall be wearing nothing except for your white satin teddy, your matching garters and stockings, and your tallest pair of high heels. You shall address me as 'Madame Destine' when you greet me and assist me with my bags, and I… well, let's just go with what we have for the moment, shall we?"

Andrea smirked, sensing from her lover's tone that a very interesting evening lay ahead. "You sure know how to keep a girl in suspense," she chided.

Dominique shrugged. "It's only one talent of many I possess. You already know about some of my others… if you're a good girl, I just may reveal a few more tonight." She smiled devilishly. "So are we agreed?"

Andrea rubbed at the back of her neck, wiping at the beads of sweat that were forming as a warm flush came over her. "Yes, 'Madame Destine,'" she answered, carefully pronouncing it with a French accent as Dominique had done. "I shall see you in one hour."

A quick exchange of good-byes ended the call, and Andrea hung up the phone. "Woo… is it hot in here or is it just me?" she asked aloud, already knowing the answer. Fanning herself with her hand, the artist returned to her paints and hurriedly began cleaning up. The well-worn jeans and favorite denim shirt that had a few moments ago been perfectly comfortable now seemed unbearably warm and confining, and her mind raced with thoughts of getting out of them and into the clothes Dominique had instructed for her to wear. "I need a shower first… a cold shower," she muttered. "I wonder if Dominique gets like this." She paused, considering it for a moment. "Gee, I sure hope so."

She smiled, giddy with the thought that Dominique Destine, CEO of Nightstone Unlimited, was at this moment experiencing the same warmth of anticipation. Andrea pictured her lover shedding the jacket of her impeccable, tailor-made business suit as she hurried from her office to the elevator. She imagined her loosening the collar of her expensive silk blouse as she rode down to her waiting limousine, and unpinning her flame-red hair as she ordered Gregory to get her home as fast as possible. Just what was Dominique planning, she wondered… and what would she be wearing by the time she got home?

Distracted by these thoughts as she cleaned up her workspace, Andrea did not realize until it was too late that, in her rush, she had accidentally nudged the largest of her water-filled rinse containers to the edge of the table. "Oh no!" she gasped, clicking back to reality and grabbing for the metal can as it began to topple. She succeeded only in sending it tumbling further; dirty water splattered everywhere as the can slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. Andrea flinched, expecting to be caught in the spray, but as the can finished bouncing and rolled to a stop at Angela's stone feet, she opened her eyes to find she had escaped unscathed.

"Jeez, Andrea, could you be any more a klutz?" she chastised herself. Grabbing a rag, she moved to begin sopping up the major part of the puddle. Luckily, the floor of the conservatory was tiled in slate, and not finished in wood as many of Destine Manor's other rooms, so the damage would be minimal. "All I've got to do is mop the floor before Dominique gets home and she'll never even… oh no!" Andrea dropped the rag and grabbed the garment that hung on the back of a nearby chair, staring at it in horror. Dark, muddy-looking splotches covered the front of Angela's newest tunic. Andrea's hands trembled as she recalled Angela proudly telling her not more than a month before how it had been a "hatching day" gift from her human foster parents, who wanted her to look her best if she was going to keep speaking at P.I.T. meetings.

"Okay, Andrea… calm down. There's still a few hours before sunset and the stains haven't set yet… you can fix this." Quickly, Andrea scrambled to her feet. Out of habit, she checked the garment for labels, remembering its origins again only as an afterthought. "Not even a 'Made in Avalon.'" She sighed. "I just hope this fabric is wash and wear." Casting an apologetic glance at the ferociously posed, sleeping female gargoyle, Andrea hurried off to the laundry room, tunic in hand and all other thoughts completely forgotten.

* * * * *

It was a half-hour later when Andrea finally returned to the conservatory, bearing a mop and bucket to finish cleaning up the mess. She had been too anxious to leave the laundry room while the machine ran. After carefully removing the laces, she had pre-rinsed the tunic by hand and then put it in a cold water wash on the "delicate" setting. While it ran, she had hand-washed the laces in cold water to make sure everything would be clean. When the machine had finished cycling, she had removed the garment and breathed a large sigh of relief to find no trace of any staining on it. Not wanting to take any further chances, she had hung the tunic up on a hanger to dry.

"I am so sorry, Angela," she apologized again to the stone gargoyle as she picked up the now empty metal can that lay at her taloned feet. "I promise next time you pose for me we'll store your things in a safer place." Andrea finished with the mop and regarded the slumbering female fondly. The circumstances of the Angela's upbringing had been just one part of a bewildering and often bizarre series of facts she had learned about the large extended family she had acquired upon becoming Dominique's lifemate. It hadn't even occurred to her that she was acquiring a gargoyle stepdaughter until the night of her and Dominique's mating ceremony, when Angela had approached afterwards and reintroduced herself. Despite that rather awkward beginning, though, she and Angela had become fast friends, to where she now looked forward to Angela's evening visits almost as much as Dominique did.

It was the keen interest Angela had taken in Andrea's artwork that had led to the opportunity for Andrea to work with a model who could hold a pose for twelve hours at a time. Angela had been skeptical at first that she would be any good at it, but a little prodding from Dominique was all it had taken to get her to sit for her first daytime session. After waking that evening and viewing the results, Angela was hooked. As a result, Andrea was on track to finish her latest series of paintings in record time, with Angela posing for her by day and Dominique posing by night.

Andrea moved the mop and bucket safely into the corner and returned to her canvas, unable to shake the sudden feeling that she was forgetting something important. Her paints and brushes still lay scattered on her worktable nearby. Hesitantly, she picked up her paintbrush and examined the image she had painted, her eyes flicking back and forth between the colorful painting and the gray stone gargoyle. "It's the tail," she decided at last, dabbing her brush into paint once again. "This tail is just not right at all."

* * * * *

Dominique Destine checked her watch while she waited impatiently for the limousine to depart the grounds. "Five thirty-five… five minutes late… good… the anticipation has had some time to build." Smiling, she shifted her briefcase and the red and white department store bags she carried to her left hand and unlocked the door. "I'm home, my pet…" she called as she entered, but her smile turned quickly to a frown as she found the foyer dark, quiet, and empty. "Andrea?" she called again. Her hand went to the wall, flicking on the light switch as the heavy oaken door fell closed behind her. The chandelier overhead illuminated only an empty space at the bottom of the stairs where her mate should have been waiting. "Damn it all," Dominique cursed miserably. "Not again."

The small bundle of packages Dominique carried was unceremoniously dropped, along with her purse and briefcase. Quietly, Dominique slipped out of her heels – scarlet red matching her skirt and suit jacket – and picked them up. A quick glance up the stairs was the only consideration she gave to the master bedroom. "No, I know you too well, Andrea," she muttered. Silently, she set off in stocking feet for the room where she knew she would find her missing mate.

Dominique tiptoed through the downstairs halls, feeling her way by instinct through the unlit corridors to the set of French doors that led into the conservatory. One peek inside was all it took to confirm her suspicions. Andrea was hard at work behind her canvas, coming up for air only to check her progress against the stone form of Angela. Dominique ducked back out of view and pressed herself against the wall. Crossing her arms, she rubbed her chin with her hand as she considered her options. She wasn't as upset at Andrea as she was simply frustrated, and she certainly didn't want to do anything to perturb the young woman and ruin any remaining chance of pursuing the romantic interlude she had planned. Especially when she herself had also been guilty on many occasions of allowing her work to preoccupy her to the point of neglecting her mate. "So storming into the room is out," she decided. "So much for the direct approach."

Dominique hazarded another quick peek as she pondered the matter further. "Andrea, Andrea, Andrea," she wondered to herself. "What must I do to capture your attention, my dear?" The gargoyle-turned-human paused, a wicked grin appearing on her face as an idea began to form. "Capture your attention… yes, that may work quite well, actually," she whispered, her green eyes sparkling as the elements of a new plan fell into place. "Mm, I'll see you shortly, my love."

* * * * *

Shopping bags, purse, and briefcase landed in a heap on the bed as Dominique bounded into the master suite. "Oh yes, this will be too perfect. I just hope I still have everything I need." Throwing open the closet, she tossed her sensible red heels to the floor with the rest of her large collection of everyday shoes and pushed aside an entire rack of red business suits with one sweeping motion of her arm. "Yes!" she cried, finding the item she was looking for still hidden in the very back of the closet. Dominique unzipped the plain black garment bag and peered inside to examine the contents, noting with a pleased grin that everything was still present and accounted for.

"I'm still not sure where I got this costume," the redheaded executive said wryly as she extracted the hanger from the bag and tipped the rest of the contents out on the bed, "but I've been looking for a good excuse to wear it that won't get me arrested." Dominique placed the policeman's cap jauntily upon her head, then held the standard issue NYPD blue shirt and black pants up to herself and examined her reflection in the mirror. "Best dressed female officer, for sure," she said, chuckling. "Eat your heart out, Detective Maza."

* * * * *

"There, that's much better." Andrea added a final touch of paint to the canvas. "Now that's a tail," she congratulated herself. "I don't know what I was thinking the first time." She smiled as she looked over at the stone gargoyle. "I think this is almost done, Angela… and I think you're going to love it."

"Ms. Andrea Leigh Calhoun?"

Andrea jumped, startled, and turned toward the source of the oddly familiar voice that had just called her full name. She blinked. Standing the doorway with a scowl on her face was a tall, redheaded policewoman in full NYPD blues. She blinked again, and giggled at recognizing her lover and mate. "Now that's a new look for you, Dominique," she teased. "Considering a career change, are you?"

"I am Lieutenant Dominique Destine of the NYPD, 23rd Precinct, Ms. Calhoun," Dominique replied, doing her best to play up her new persona of the no-nonsense policewoman, "but you may address me simply as Officer Destine if you wish."

Andrea giggled again, earning another mock-scowl from the policewoman, but decided to play along and see where this went. "Well, I am Andrea Calhoun of Destine Manor," she replied, still grinning. "What can I help you with, Officer."

Dominique flipped open a notepad and glanced over it as she stepped into the room. "Ms. Calhoun, I've had a report that you've been a very bad girl this evening. Specifically, the complaint alleges that you have neglected your mate by forgetting explicit, agreed upon instructions to be dressed and present for her inspection at 17:30 hours." She paused, looking Andrea up and down critically, and closed her notepad. "These accusations are quite serious, Ms. Calhoun. I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me for... questioning."

Andrea blushed hotly as the earlier phone conversation with her mate finally came back to her. Oh no, she thought, not again! The water… Angela's tunic… how can you be so easily distracted, Andrea? Mentally, she slapped herself on the forehead. Chagrined, she stepped toward her mate and began to apologize. "Dominique, I'm so sorry. I…" she hesitated as she caught the odd glimmer in the other woman's green eyes. She doesn't want you to apologize, silly, the voice in her head chided again. She wants you to play along! Don't screw this up again!

An odd smile returned to Andrea's lips. Quickly, she switched gears. "What I mean is… yes, Officer, I have been a bad girl. I've been a very, very bad girl." She placed her hands on her hips, and ran them slowly up to her chest, smiling suggestively. "But surely we can work out some kind of… arrangement, yes?"

Dominique raised an eyebrow, but stood her ground as Andrea approached. "And just what kind of arrangement are you proposing, Ms. Calhoun?"

Andrea smiled. "Why don't you tell me, Officer," she replied. Her hands fell suggestively on Dominique's shoulders, and she stared into Dominique's eyes, licking her lips hungrily. "Or better yet, we could just start with a kiss." Rising up on her tiptoes, Andrea captured Dominique's lips with her own. To her delight and mild surprise, Dominique didn't resist, but returned the kiss with doubled intensity. Their tongues dueled as their hands wandered, fondling each other awkwardly through their clothes.

Dominique moaned softly. Breaking off the kiss, her glistening red lips curled into a devilish smile as she encouraged Andrea to continue. Gently, she guided Andrea around until she stood behind the smaller woman, her hands on Andrea's hips as the artist tilted her head back and nuzzled the top of her head against the hollow of Dominique's neck. Slowly, Dominique's hands traveled up the length of Andrea's torso. With little prompting, Andrea raised her arms. As Dominique rubbed against her, urging her on, Andrea undid the top few buttons of her shirt, exposing a glimpse of the bra beneath. Dominique pushed her hands away, fondling her gently. Andrea gasped as Dominique's fingers slipped beneath the fabric, and pressed herself tighter against her lover's body. She turned her head, her eyes meeting Dominique's once again, and was rewarded with the second fiery kiss that she was so desperately seeking. Andrea accepted her lover's lips eagerly with her own, barely paying any notice as Dominique's hands trailed up her arms, gently guiding them upward until they were stretched high overhead. As her fingers at last closed firmly about Andrea's wrists, the policewoman broke the kiss and chuckled softly.

"A very nice try, my dear Ms. Calhoun," she breathed. In one quick but gentle motion, she brought Andrea's arms down behind her, and pinned her wrists with her left hand as her right went to one of the pouches on her belt. Andrea gasped. The move took but seconds; she only realized what had happened as she heard the clicks and felt the cold steel of the handcuffs as they closed about her wrists. Her expression turned questioning as Dominique's eyes danced with amusement. "Attempting to bribe a law enforcement officer… I believe the punishment for that offense can be quite severe, Ms. Calhoun."

Dominique's tone was playful and sensual, and the brief moment of unease Andrea had felt evaporated without a second thought. Her cheeks warmed as she blushed, embarrassed at having unwittingly played right into her lover's hands. "You tricked me… that's entrapment, you know," she teased back, squirming playfully as Dominique finished adjusting and double-locking the handcuffs. "That charge will never stand up in court."

"You're assuming you get a trial?" Dominique chuckled again. "How cheeky. Now quiet down so that I can at least read you your rights before I pronounce sentence." All trace of mock seriousness was gone from Dominique's voice, and Andrea could only bring herself to giggle and comply obediently as the pretend policewoman bade her to spread her legs for a thorough pat down. "You have the right to remain silent," Dominique continued. "Anything you say can and will be used against you."

Andrea closed her eyes, helpless to do anything except enjoy the experience as Dominique's hands roamed slowly over her body. Several times, she sucked in a sharp breath or gasped as probing fingers focussed their attention on a sensitive area. Each time, the handcuffs she wore reminded her of her role in this latest game. Andrea shivered as Dominique's fingertips gently caressed her chin and trailed over the ridges of her ears. Whether the chill was from nervousness or because her shirt had been pulled down over her shoulders and she had somehow been stripped of her shoes, socks, and jeans in the process of being "searched," she wasn't sure. She opened her eyes to find Dominique had removed her policewoman's cap and was examining her carefully, a gentle smile on her face.

"Most importantly, Ms. Calhoun, as always, you do have the right to end tonight's… activities at any point you choose."

Andrea nodded in understanding. It had been an agreement the two of them had shared since making their home together that neither would ever push the other beyond her comfort level when it came to experimenting with new things, both in the bedroom and otherwise. Right now, though, Andrea hardly saw it fit to complain. After all, the handcuffs she was wearing were her own… and she had suspected before she had even finished moving in that it was only a matter of time before one of them ended up wearing them…

* * *

"And just what do you have need of this lovely trinket for, hmm?"

Andrea looked over to find her lover dangling a pair of handcuffs she had just pulled from one of the half-packed boxes that littered the floor of her apartment. "Dominique! Stop it! That box has my… personal things." She realized in an instant how weird the admonition sounded. "They were just a gag birthday gift from one of my friends, that's all," she added quickly.

The amended answer came too late; Demona was already ginning like the Cheshire Cat, tail twitching oddly and her fanged smile extending from ear to pointed ear. "Of course," she replied. "That's not my bag, baby," she said, affecting a bad British accent. "Honest!"

With a smirk, Andrea snatched the handcuffs away and dropped them back in the box, then pulled it quickly from the azure gargoyle's grasp. "Don't make me have to spank you before the honeymoon, Domi," she teased.

"Hey, you are the one who made me sit and watch that horrid film," Demona replied. Grinning, she curled her tail playfully about Andrea's waist and, with a quick, fluid motion, spun her lover around and into her waiting embrace. "Besides, my dear," she said, closing her wings about their bodies. "It's not as if I don't hope to find out about for everything in that box eventually."

"Mm, I'm looking forward to learning more about you, too, Dominique. A lot more."

* * *

Andrea's thoughts returned to the present as Dominique placed the cap back on her head and took her new captive firmly by the arm. "All right, then. With that out of the way, Ms. Andrea Leigh Calhoun, I find you guilty on all charges. So by all the authority vested in me by virtue of this uniform and the fact that only I know where the handcuff key is, you are hereby sentenced to a full weekend of complete and total obedience to the mate whose instructions you have previously neglected. Sentence to commence… immediately."

The handcuffed woman smirked as Dominique led her from the room. "An entire weekend? Isn't there any way I could get off with just a warning, Officer?" she asked wryly.

Dominique simply smiled as she urged her prisoner onward. "Oh, I'd say there's a definite possibility of you getting off several times, my pet… just not with anything as easy as a warning."

* * * * *

A short, barefoot trek through the dim corridors of Destine Manor ended in the master bedroom, where Andrea found herself hustled into a place at the foot of the bed and made to stand in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the wall. Absently, she noticed the rug that usually sat there was missing, leaving the hardwood floor cold beneath her feet. The chill that rushed up her bare legs was brief; the blonde woman blushed hotly at catching sight of her reflection in the mirror. "Officer" Dominique had left her wearing little more than her bra and panties, her unbuttoned shirt having fallen so far down off her shoulders that it was by now serving as little more than additional restraint for her arms. She tested the snugness of the steel cuffs about her wrists. Dominique had cinched them tight enough that she wouldn't be able to slip free, but not so tight that they were any more uncomfortable than necessary.

Dominique removed her cap and cast it casually onto the dresser, then pulled the clip from her hair and shook her head, freeing her wild red tresses. "I hope you're enjoying your new bracelets, my dear," she purred, her breath warm against Andrea's cheek as she slid up behind her. Dominique's hands fell gently on her bared shoulders, and Andrea's cheeks reddened a shade more as she realized her lover's keen eyes had picked up on her slight motions. "I can assure you they are quite inescapable, so please don't trouble yourself attempting."

Andrea tensed briefly, a chill running down her back as Dominique's fingers traced along the straps of her bra. "Now why would I let you catch me only to try to escape, hmm?" she questioned, relaxing into her lover's arms as Dominique's hands drifted lower.

The redhead chuckled as the younger woman's eyes fluttered shut under her caress. "I do have one more surprise gift for you, my pet. Something I had originally intended to reveal to you when I arrived home." Andrea opened her eyes as her tormentor abruptly stepped away, a questioning look turning to a grin as Dominique slipped off her shoes and began to undo her belt. Slowly, Dominique undressed, keeping her back to Andrea as she undid the buttons of her blue uniform shirt one by one, then unfastened the waistband of her slacks. With a coy glance back over her shoulder, she shrugged the shirt from her shoulders, paused for a brief moment, then let both it and the slacks drop to the floor together.

Andrea blinked, not quite believing her eyes, but as Dominique stepped away from the discarded uniform and back fully into the light, a delighted smile spread across her face. A black satin teddy trimmed in lace clung to Dominique's ample curves, while black fishnet stockings hugged her legs, secured by slender garters that disappeared beneath the teddy's skirt. "I hope you like it," Dominique stated. Her right foot, then the left slipped into tall, black patent leather heels that waited nearby, completing the look. "I've only been wearing this under my clothes since lunchtime, Andrea. I was out shopping, saw it on a mannequin, and just couldn't resist." She swayed her hips suggestively as she approached, the five-inch stilettos clicking lightly on the wood floor. "It looks much better on me if I do say so myself."

"You look absolutely beautiful, Domi." Andrea's voice faded to a whisper. She lifted her head and met the other woman's eyes as Dominique's hand softly touched her chin.

"That's 'Madame Destine' to you for tonight, my pet," Dominique admonished gently. Gazing into her mate's brown eyes, she smiled at the eager anticipation that danced behind them.

Andrea grinned, recalling again the instructions she had received earlier. "Yes, Madame Destine," she breathed, dropping her eyes contritely. "My apologies."

Dominique smiled. "Mm, that's much better. Now we are ready to begin tonight's lessons. But first, my dear Andrea," she said, making eye contact with her mate once again, "let's see about getting you cleaned up and into some proper clothing." She tugged disdainfully at the well-worn denim shirt that hung loosely about the younger woman's arms. "This, my dear… this just won't do at all."

* * * * *

It was nearly a full hour later when Andrea finally emerged from the master bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy pink towel and hands still cuffed behind her. Dominique, still clad in her ensemble of black satin and lace, guided her smoothly back to the same place in front of the mirror, smiled, then wordlessly stepped away to retrieve some items from the dresser and the closet. Andrea stared at her reflection again, unable to keep herself from grinning and blushing once more. Dominique had applied her makeup for her, using a bit more blush, a lot more eye shadow, and a much redder shade of lipstick than she would ordinarily have used on herself. It had been the final touch to an extended session of pampering, all of which had left her a bit overwhelmed.

For a moment, she had thought she was getting released, but the handcuffs had come off just one wrist only long enough to remove her shirt and bra, after which Dominique had carefully re-secured them. It had been a very odd feeling, being completely helpless as her lover drew a warm bubble bath, guided her gently into the tub, and proceeded to bathe her. Andrea's skin prickled with the remembered sensation of Dominique's soap-slick fingers massaging her. Several times she had made to speak, only to be shushed, until at last Dominique had decided she was clean, stood her up to rinse away the last of the soapy bubbles, and wrapped her warmly in one of her biggest and most luxurious bath towels. Then it had been onto a stool by the vanity, where the redheaded woman had dried and styled her honey blonde hair, restoring it to a neat pageboy before declaring it perfection and moving on to the makeup.

Andrea could only wonder what might be in store for her next. She glanced over to see what was taking Dominique so long, and her curiosity level rose as she spotted the items her captor had just finished setting out on the bed. The redheaded executive smiled as she returned to Andrea's side. "You've been very good so far, my dear, and these are just going to be in the way in a moment anyway," she stated. Andrea heard the locks click, and a second later the handcuffs loosened and fell away.

"Thank you, Domi… um, I mean, Madame Destine," Andrea said. Out of the corner of her eye, she made careful note of the exact place on the nightstand where her lover set down the shiny pair of steel restraints, just in case it might come in handy later.

Dominique smiled. "You're welcome, my pet." Gently, she massaged Andrea's wrists for a moment, then let her hands fall back to her sides and turned her around to face the bed. "Now it's your turn to get dressed up for me. So to begin, please go ahead and put these on," she instructed, handing her a pair of lace-trimmed white satin panties.

Andrea accepted the tiny garment gingerly and looked at Dominique once again in her sexy black ensemble. "As you wish, Madame Destine," she replied, grinning.

Dominique simply smiled as she retrieved the next item from the bed while Andrea obediently slipped the panties on and pulled them up beneath the towel that still covered her. "Now, if you would, my dear, please turn around so that I may help you with this next part."

Andrea's pulse quickened, knowing what was coming next. She turned, her body tingling with anticipation as the towel that covered her was loosened and pulled away. Andrea lifted her arms as the corset was wrapped about her, and sucked in her stomach as Dominique gave the first few initial tugs on the laces. Andrea took hold of the bedpost and, turning her head to the side, watched in the mirror as Dominique did up the laces with practiced precision.

She could still remember the strange, erotic thrill that had coursed through her the first time Dominique had laced her into the corset for her Halloween costume. Many times since, she had fantasized about wearing it again, but it had only been a few short months before, on another Friday evening like this one, that she had finally dared confess her secret desire to her new lifemate. That night, she had found out what it felt like to be wrapped all at once in an antique, Renaissance vintage corset, several yards of rich fifteenth century velvet, and a gargoyle's winged embrace. A week later, Dominique had surprised her with a present in the form of a white, lightly boned, stain and lace Victorian-style corset suitable for more frequent wear. "For your box of… personal things," she had teased.

"Hold still, please," Dominique admonished, snapping Andrea back from her revelry. Gripping the bedpost tight, she braced herself as Dominique gave a final strong tug and cinched the garment firmly about her. Andrea held her breath, waiting for the okay to come from Dominique that all was secure. "There," the other woman said at last, tucking the loose ends of the laces into place. "Comfy?"

Andrea released the bedpost and stepped back to the mirror, grinning as she examined herself from various angles. "Perfect," she declared.

"Good," Dominique replied, smirking. "Now for the finishing touches…"

A few minutes later, Andrea found herself before the mirror again, Dominique at her side. Sheer white stockings, secured to the corset by detachable garters, and a brand new pair of white heels completed her ensemble from the waist down, while about her neck, a one-inch choker of black velvet with a dangling gold heart medallion added the final accent. "Quite a transformation from an hour and a half ago, don't you think, ma cherie?" the redheaded woman asked.

"Oh yes," Andrea replied. "Most definitely." She turned, her hands falling on Dominique's hips as she licked her lips hungrily. "So how shall I repay your kindness, Madame?"

"Hmm," Dominique purred, considering the possibilities, "why don't you surprise me, my pet?"

* * * * *

Angela growled and stretched, lashing her tail and flexing her wings to shed the last fragments of her stone skin. Shaking her head, she ran a taloned hand through her loose mane of sable hair and turned to the chair where she'd hung her tunic hours before. The lavender female paused mid-stride. "Now that's odd. I could've sworn I left it there." She looked about the room, scratching her head. Her clothing was nowhere to be seen.

Angela perked up her ears at the sound of approaching footsteps, and drew her wings about her nude form as she turned to the doorway. "Mother," she greeted as Demona, dressed in her usual attire, stepped into view. "Good evening."

"Good evening, my daughter." Demona replied. "Did you have a good sleep?"

The younger female nodded. "Yes, I did. I just, well…." She scanned the room again, frowning, confusion apparent on her face.

"What is it, my child?"

"I can't seem to find my clothes," Angela admitted at last. "I know I left my tunic right here," she continued, pointing at the empty chair back. "Have you seen it anywhere?"

Demona stepped into the room as Angela began to search in earnest. "No, I haven't. Perhaps Andrea moved it… I'll have to ask her."

Angela was barely paying attention. Absently, she picked up the pair of jeans that lay draped haphazardly over the back of another chair, checking to see if her tunic was underneath. Disappointed, her eyes were drawn next to the nearby table, still covered with scattered art supplies. "So where is Andrea tonight, anyway mother?" she asked, "It's not usually like her to leave without cleaning up first."

"Andrea is fine, my dear. She's just a little... tied up at the moment." Quickly, Demona closed the rest of the distance between herself and her daughter before Angela could snoop around any more, and placed her hand on the girl's shoulder. "She did say to tell you that she'll call you tomorrow evening to schedule your next modeling session."

"Tomorrow evening? But I thought she wanted me back here first thing in the morning." Angela's brow furrowed in confusion.

Demona smiled and gently began guiding Angela from the room. "No, my child... Andrea and I have a very full day together planned for tomorrow. She must have simply forgotten to double-check her schedule." Angela nodded, and Demona pressed ahead, escorting her out of the conservatory and discreetly using her tail to bring the doors closed behind them. "Now then, I promise I will find your missing tunic, even if I have to search this house top to bottom, but in the meanwhile, I'm sure I can find you something else to wear home. In fact, I know I've got something that would look great on you…"

* * * * *

Angela had waited patiently in the foyer for several long minutes before she began to wonder what was taking her mother so long. "Would it help if I came up?" she called, peering up the stairs into the darkness.

"There's no need for that, my child," Demona replied, reappearing at last. Angela raised a brow ridge at noticing her mother had changed into a black silk lounging robe. Demona descended the stairs, smiling, a bundle of iridescent fabric slung over her arm. "I've only worn this once," she stated, handing the item she had taken so long to fetch to her daughter, "but you and I are about the same size so I think it should work."

Angela held the garment up. It was a halter-style gown with a very low-cut back – perfectly tailored for wearing with wings and a tail – and a long flowing skirt. And while the slick, shimmery fabric at first appeared to be a shade of off-white, upon closer inspection she found was actually a very pale baby blue. Angela regarded her mother oddly. "You've worn this for Andrea?" she asked.

"Yes," Demona answered. "Just once, at her insistence… and not for very long." She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the knowing smirk that was growing on Angela's face, even as she grinned herself. "She said she wouldn't mind if I gave it to you, so just be quiet and try it on."

"Yes, mother." The younger female turned away, uncaping her wings to dress, and Demona looked away for a moment to allow her a modicum of modesty.

"Here, let me help you." As the gown fell into place and Angela fussed with the skirt, the elder female again stepped to her daughter's side. Pushing the girl's nervous hands away, she guided the waist into the proper position and aligned the high back slit of the skirt so that the material fell evenly to either side of her tail. "There," she said, steering Angela over to a small mirror. "Perfect."

Angela regarded her reflection carefully for a long moment. "I don't know, mother… do you think this is really me?" She turned to check herself in the mirror from a different angle and gasped. "Oh my… I can see my… oh my!" She turned back to Demona. "Mother, I can't glide home in this."

The elder female chuckled. "It's supposed to do that, Angela. Trust me, Broadway will love it. But the light has to hit you just right. There's a full moon tonight and no one looking from below is going to be seeing anything except a beautiful young female gargoyle in a beautiful dress." The girl still looked skeptical, but Demona didn't give her the chance to protest further. "Now come along. I'll escort you outside, and then I have some matters to attend to upstairs."

Angela hesitated. "But what about my hair? Andrea had promised she'd redo my braid…"

"It looks lovely the way it is," Demona answered as she opened the door. "You should really wear it down more often, if you want my opinion."

"Really?" Self-consciously, Angela ran a talon through her dark, wavy locks as they stepped out onto the front stoop.

"Yes." Demona brushed her knuckles gently across her daughter's brow ridge. "Now run along home, my child." She smiled slyly. "I know when you get back to the castle, you'll be anxious to show your mate your new dress, but be sure to save some time to study those scrolls I gave you, as well. I want to start you on some new enchantments when you come for your next lesson."

Angela smiled as she returned the gesture of affection. "Of course, mother."

Demona continued to smile as Angela scaled the perimeter wall, spread her wings, and launched herself into the air currents. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, my daughter," she called after her. Once she was finally out of sight, Demona stepped back into the house and shut the door, her smile turning to a sensual grin. "And now it's time for me to go enjoy the rest of mine…"

* * * * *

Andrea wriggled impatiently against the quilted bedspread, the chain of the handcuffs jingling lightly as she sought a more comfortable position against the pillows. Had her timing been slightly better, and her reflexes a bit quicker, it might have been Dominique lying there instead of her, arms pulled over her head and secured inescapably to the headboard. The triumphant grin on her lover's face as she had pinned her to the bed and retook possession of the cuffs had been deviously wicked. "Andrea, Andrea, Andrea," she had chided sensuously. "You'll have to do better than that."

"You said to surprise you," she had protested feebly, to no avail. Within seconds, Dominique had closed one cuff snugly about her left wrist, looped the chain around the headboard's center rung, and closed the other cuff about her right wrist. Dominique had gone next to the drawer on the nightstand, and a moment later Andrea had found herself squirming in exquisite torment.

"A little something to keep you amused, my love," she had explained. "It's nearly sunset and I'm afraid I must step away for a short while before we proceed with the evening's activities." Andrea hadn't had the breath to respond, and had barely noticed as Dominique slipped away, locking the door behind her.

By the time the lock clicked and the door opened again, Andrea wasn't even sure how much time had passed, but she'd at least recovered her voice. "Dominique… Madame Destine… please…" she managed as the azure gargoyle approached the bed, smirking.

Demona sat down on the edge of the bed and laid a taloned hand on Andrea's leg. "Had enough, have you, my pet?" she asked. "Very well."

Andrea gasped one last time, then sighed in relief as the erotic torture ended at last. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths as the tingling faded and her pulse rate began to return to normal. Demona slid her legs up onto the bed and reclined beside her corseted, handcuffed lover, placing her lips to Andrea's as the artist reopened her eyes. Andrea lifted her head as Dominique's talons caressed her hair, and moaned softly as their tongues dueled hungrily.

Demona's hands went to Andrea's handcuffed wrists as she broke off the kiss. "I bet you're getting tired of these silly things," she said. She fumbled for a moment with the too-small key before discarding it in favor of her pinky talon. "I know I am," she added, letting them fall behind the bed with a noisy clatter as she scooped Andrea into her embrace and kissed her again.

Andrea trailed her fingers gently through Dominique's flame-red tresses as the gargoyle pulled her up to a sitting position. "So does this mean my weekend sentence has been commuted?" she inquired.

Demona regarded her mate wryly. "Hmm," she replied, "I suppose that would depend on whether or not you think you've learned your lesson."

"Well, Domi…." Andrea ducked her head, blushing. "Actually, I do kind of think I could use a few more… lessons from 'Madame Destine'… just to be on the safe side."

Demona chuckled. "Then it looks like it's a good thing I've already cleared both of our schedules for tomorrow. We may be up quite late tonight."

Andrea grinned as the gargoyle took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. "It wouldn't be the first time you've kept me up all night, Dominique," she giggled.

"I could say the same thing about you, my dear Andrea," Demona replied. With a single tug, she undid the loose knot of the belt on her lounging robe. "Very well, then," she replied, shrugging it off to reveal the tight bustier of black leather that she wore underneath. "You shall receive your lessons, Miss Calhoun, but first you must be dressed in the proper uniform." Andrea continued to smirk as Demona opened the doors to her side of the walk-in closet and pushed aside the jeans, shirts, and conservative dress suits that hung in front. The azure gargoyle reached automatically for a hanger on the back rod, where Andrea kept her small but growing collection of costume attire. "This should be adequate," she stated, handing the outfit she had selected to Andrea.

The young artist accepted it eagerly. A white blouse, a short pleated plaid skirt, and a pair of white knee-high stockings – the basic elements of the classic schoolgirl ensemble. "Lesson number one will cover manners and etiquette. I should warn you that Madame Destine can be a very strict teacher, and you will find that she believes in taking a very hands-on, one-on-one approach with her pupils. She rarely assigns homework, but there will be frequent oral examinations and other such… tests as she sees fit." Demona's tail twitched and a fanged grin spread across her face. "If you still wish to proceed, Miss Calhoun, class will begin as soon as you have changed into your school clothes."

Andrea grinned, struggling to keep the butterflies rising in her stomach at bay as she slipped out of her heels, sat down on the edge of the bed, and began to undo the garters from her stockings. "I hope Madame Destine offers the chance to earn extra credit, as well," she commented. The blonde woman batted her eyes innocently. "I don't mind being kept after class if necessary." Andrea felt the surface of her skin warming again as the leather-clad gargoyle slid in beside her and began to assist her with removing her stockings.

"Mm, I'm sure a little bit of extra tutoring can be arranged." Demona slipped the first stocking off Andrea's foot and cast it aside before handing her one of the knee-highs. "Now how about a little less talk, and a little more dressing. And take your time… I love to watch and we do have all night."

Andrea finished rolling the knee-high stocking into place and smoothed the lacy, elasticized cuff delicately with her fingers. "Shall I leave the corset on, Madame?" she asked demurely.

Demona smiled and ran her talons up the sides of Andrea's satin-sheathed torso. "My dear, I would not dream of insisting otherwise."

Andrea smiled and started on the second knee-high stocking as Dominique caressed the small of her back and played idly with the small heart pendant on the velvet choker. Friday evening had taken several interesting turns already, and as Dominique began nibbling delicately at her ear, Andrea shivered in anticipation of what adventures the rest of the weekend would bring.