Draught of Denial

"How did you find me?"

"I am very, very smart, my dear." She stroked Beyza's shoulder, causing the younger woman to shudder. "I did make the right decision, didn't I? This is what you wanted. What you needed."

"Yes," said Beyza.

"What you wanted but not in a way you expected."

"Yes."

The woman placed her lips very close to Beyza's ear.

"Better, though, than you could have dreamed, no?"

Beyza shuddered and felt a moan escape her.

"Yes," she said.

"How wonderful," said the woman. "In that case, I want to share something even more wonderful with you. I have a salve, here." She drew somewhere within her cloak a tiny pot. With the lid removed, Beyza saw inside a slippery ointment, faintly green and sweet smelling.

"I'd very much like to apply it to you," said the woman. Beyza's skin tingled and she felt her cunt throb at even the possibility hinted. She nodded. She had to fight to stop herself from begging.

The woman scooped the salve onto her fingers and reached around Beyza to ease her thighs further apart. Then she began to smooth the substance onto her lips.

Beyza whimpered at this touch, so different from her own, so experienced and delicate. The woman stroked and massaged the ointment across her swollen lips, around her burning entrance, across and around her clit. As she did so Beyza felt a peculiar tingling on the surface of her sensitive skin. It seemed to penetrate her to her core, like some menthol massage oil but without the pain.

The woman caught one of Beyza's hands with her own and drew it down, pressing it against her tingling flesh. She urged her to move her own fingers up and down. Beyza moaned again. Touching herself felt different. Better. Familiar.

"Keep touching yourself, my dear," she said. Beyza needed no encouragement. The salve lubricated her, mixed with her own wetness, and made her slippery and pliant. Further the tingle she had felt earlier had increased, making every touch exquisite.

"This ointment counteracts the substance I slipped into your drink, dear. It enhances physical pleasure but that's just a side-effect. The real benefit is that you will, finally, be able to climax."

A dreadful shudder passed through Beyza's body. After so long, after months of agony, she would be able to come.

"The effects last an hour or so before wearing off. I'm sure that's enough time for you to come. To come many times, I think, no?"

Beyza nodded weakly, even as the delightful pleasure rose in her core. She was greedy for her long, long awaited pleasure to finally be fulfilled. She could come again and again, feasting after so long a famine. She felt the first orgasm building even now.

"Just one thing you should know. I have to leave now. And you're very welcome to accompany me. Obviously you'd have to stop touching yourself as we walk out of here. Or you're welcome to stay and finish yourself off. Of course, I can't be sure when we'd meet again, dear. Or even if we will. And I'm the only one with the slave."

"With... the..?" whispered Beyza, half-hearing the woman, so focused on the delightful pleasure she was approaching.

"With the salve, dear. Anyway, the choice is yours."

Out of the corner of her eye, Beyza saw the woman slip out of the alcove and move through the dimly lit crowd. Leaving. She was leaving. But Beyza was so close.

It had been so long, so frustrating. It had been months without release. And now she felt it right there. The maze had evaporated. All that remained was a single, tree-lined path leading directly to profound orgasm, hers for the taking.

The dark-haired woman had made her way over to the other side of the crowded room, now. In the dim ambience, a splash of light illuminated her face. She had paused. She was leaning against the wall, staring at Beyza with an expectant expression, watching her.

She was so close, so hot, so near, so desperate. A few seconds more and she would explode. Didn't she deserve that flood of release after so long?

And yet... this balm would wear off. And what if Beyza never saw the woman again? What if this were a test and she were failing it? If her punishment would be for the woman simply to vanish and leave her frustrated forever more?

The woman had moved off again. Her fingers flicking faster, Beyza saw her at the door. Someone was entering the room and politely held it open for her. The woman nodded her thanks and slipped through.

If she stopped now, she still had time to scramble from the alcove, to hurry between the crowds, to chase through the door and find the woman. Time was running out.

But just a few touches more and she would come. Oh God, she wanted to come. She needed to come. And then she could chase after the woman, satisfied.

But she imagined the woman nearing the exit, at her even pace, nodding to the door staff, heading out into the cool night air. She could still catch her up... could she still catch her up?

But just a few touches more...

But...