Stilettos of the Languished Arches

Candle light

The pulse of the music thrummed through the floor of Club Abyss, the beat deep and slow like a steady, hungry heart. It was a Friday night and the air shimmered with heat and latex polish, every movement from the patrons radiating intensity. Lena and Mina stood near the bar, their forms clad in glistening black catsuits, the tight latex hugging every curve. They returned, of course they did. They were part of Abyss now. Their eyes gleaming with excitement as they watched the crowd, the stage, and Evelyn herself, moving like a dark queen through the sea of rubber and desire. The air buzzed with pulsing basslines and flickers of strobe light, casting silhouettes of masked dancers across the lacquered floor. Lena and Mina, draped in their latex catsuits, leaned against the bar sipping chilled cocktails, their breath still catching at the edges of the thrill that came with being recognized as full members. Patrons nodded knowingly to them, greeted them. They belonged.

They laughed together, the sound low and conspiratorial, before their attention was drawn to a pair of women arguing a few stools down the bar. The tension between them was palpable - Eastern European accents flared sharp across their biting words.

"I told you it was over when you broke the vow," spat the taller one, a statuesque brunette in shimmering dark purple latex. Her name was Ramona, sharp-jawed and rigid with fury.

"And I told you, it wasn’t a vow if you kept flirting with everyone at the gym!" snapped Daria, shorter, more sinewy, her blonde hair drawn tight into a high braid that glistened under the red lights. Her ruby suit clung to her with defiant elegance.

A crowd was beginning to form. Evelyn, ever attuned to the scent of potential spectacle, drifted toward the pair like a dark queen descending from her court. Her presence alone shifted the energy, and the arguing women grew quiet.

"Ladies," Evelyn purred, hands clasped before her. "Is this dispute one of passion, or one of endurance?"

Elena snapped first. "Endurance."

Daria, her lip curling, didn’t flinch. "Balance. Let her prove she can hold herself upright for once."

Evelyn asked. "And the forfeit?"

Elena responded first. "You decide. But it can’t exceed this evening. But make it a hot one."

Evelyn’s smile widened. "Then I propose this: An Endurance Balance Duel. One meter above the stage. Locked heels. If one of you falters…" she paused, letting the silence build, "you will receive a punishment suited to the heat of your tempers that will be indeed very hot."

"And what would that be?" Ramona asked, but Daria already looked intrigued.

"A foot candle display," Evelyn said casually. "An old classic. One hour strapped to the bench, feet bare, oiled, and a tray of open candles dancing just beneath your tender soles. The loser will face heat that matches her pride."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Lena felt Mina shift beside her. Lena grinned wickedly. "This club is a fever dream."

Mina looked into her eyes. "Even after our duel? We're practically veterans."

"You mean even after you spent the night in the needle frame?"

Mina rolled her eyes. "Of course. That was my own decision. I don’t want to go back into the frame, but I do want to go to Abyss."

"Do you both agree to these terms?" Evelyn asked, gaze shifting between the two women. With both contestants agreeing - perhaps too quickly for their own good - the stage was set. The heels were brought forth, elegant and deadly, bolted to twin podiums elevated just above the main stage. The women were helped into position, their feet locked down, a safety harnesses clipped on so they wouldn’t hurt themselves should they fall, the cruel challenge begun.

The rules were simple: remain upright, maintain posture, endure. The first to drop would face the bench and the flames.

For the first half-hour, both women held their own, although tremors already ran through their thighs and calves. Sweat pooled inside their latex outfits. Daria shifted her weight more than Ramona, her toes flexing with agitation.

But in the forty-third minute, Daria faltered. Her heel gave, her body pitched, and the harness caught her before she could tumble. The lights flared. Evelyn’s voice rang out, triumphant.

"We have a winner. And we have… soles waiting for a romantic candlelight event to begin."

The bench was brought center-stage. It looked deceptively simple - flat, padded in black, a tray of shallow candles flickering beneath the platform edge. Daria was strapped down by the wrists, her back to the bench, her feet dangling just inches above the rising flame. Her big toes were quickly tied together, robbing her of the option to spread her feet and let the rising heat escape between them.

Elena looked on with smug satisfaction. Mina gripped Lena’s arm as they stood stage-side, their eyes riveted.

At first, Daria remained stoic. The heat licked her soles like warm breath, and the oil on her skin shimmered in the stage light. But as the minutes passed, so too did the illusion of endurance. The heat intensified.

Her toes curled. Her ankles strained against the leather cuffs. Ten minutes in, sweat was pouring from her temples, her mouth tightening with every new lick of fire beneath her.

By the twentieth minute, Daria’s composure was visibly unraveling. Her knees jerked slightly in her bondage as her soles twitched and spasmed above the candlelight. The oil on her skin was beginning to glisten from more with added sweat - it was a conduit now, amplifying the heat.

At the half-hour mark, her breath came in high, audible gasps. "Ahh - nnh - fuck!" she hissed, her feet flexing, toes clawing at air, trying to escape the rising burn.

Evelyn approached calmly, her presence chilling in contrast to the heat below. "How does it feel, Daria?"

"Hot - please, it’s - it’s too much!" Daria gasped, squirming on the bench.

The crowd murmured in fascination, some leaning forward, some biting their lips. Mina’s nails dug into Lena’s arm. "This is insane. It’s beautiful."

By the forty-minute mark, Daria was wailing in ragged bursts, each cry more desperate than the last. Her legs strained against the cuffs, her feet arching away from the flame only to sink back down from exhaustion. The air around the candles shimmered, visible waves of heat distorting the view.

On the darkened stage, Daria’s reddened bare oily soles were illuminated by the dancing flames beneath. Not touching, not burning, but sending their heat upwards, kissing the tender underside of her feet. A fascinating display, Evelyn observing the dancing toes and waving soles mesmerized as if getting lost in the display of a lava lamp.

"Please! Please take them away! It burns - it hurts!" she sobbed.

"No safe word here, darling," Evelyn said, almost kindly. "You agreed. One hour."

Mina looked at Lena. "No backing out of an agreed upon forfeit." Lena nodded slowly.

As time dragged toward midnight, Daria’s resistance gave way to raw vocal agony. Her screams grew shrill, her back arched, sweat streaming from every pore in her latex suit.

And through it all, the flames danced, just out of reach - but never far enough. When she was released, Evelyn caressed her oily soles with a vampire-like smile. No blisters nor burn marks were to be seen. Abyss thrived on pain but not on injury.

Lena watched with fascination and unease as Daria lay strapped to the candle bench, her feet hovering just inches above the flickering flames. The soles of her feet were slick with oil, glistening in the amber light. The air smelled faintly of wax and tension. Daria's breathing was steady for now, interrupted by occasional small cries when she tried to jerk her feet away. Lena could see the tremble in her thighs, the way her toes clenched each time the heat licked upward.

"It’s hard to watch," Lena murmured.

Mina stood beside her, arms crossed, eyes focused but unreadable. "It’s supposed to be. That’s the point. Not just pain. Ritual. A decision between Ramona and Daria."

Lena nodded slowly. "You said something like that back then. When you talked about the frame. About it stripping everything away."

Mina didn’t look at her, but her voice softened. "Because it does. You don’t leave those kinds of ordeals the same. Daria won’t, either."

They stood in silence for a while, watching as Daria tensed, biting back a groan. Her soles hovered desperately, her arches trembling with restraint.

Then Mina leaned in, her voice low but tinged with dry humor. "Maybe next time you start an argument with me, maybe I’ll suggest the candle bench for a duel. Imagine what a second hour on it would feel."

Lena gave her a sidelong glance. "You’re joking now? After everything?"

Mina smiled faintly. "A little. But I meant it, too. This kind of ordeal… it’s intense, but nowhere near the needle frame. I could live with it. Could you?"

Lena exhaled, the candlelight casting soft shadows across her face. "I still see your eyes. That night. When they took you to the basement. I didn’t know what the Needle Frame meant, but I saw the fear. I still carry that."

"So do I," Mina replied. "But not as blame. It happened. And it brought us here."

Lena looked at her. "I missed this. Being beside you, feeling like we’re… not at war with each other."

Mina finally turned to her, expression softer. "We are not. Let’s just be here. Together."

She took Lena’s hand. On the stage in from of them, Daria whimpered as the candles flared slightly higher, her body reacting with tiny, involuntary jerks, accompanied by another scream. The scent of hot wax thickened.

Lena shook her head slowly. "Abyss doesn’t stop."

"No," Mina said. "But neither do we."

They stood shoulder to shoulder, their hands touching, fingers intertwined, close enough that they could feel the warmth of each other. The candles kept burning. So did they.

---

Lena had turned the lights down low in her apartment, the kind of dimness that swaddled guilt and unwanted thoughts in a gentle haze. Outside her window, the skyline burned with neon and a thousand lies. The world beyond the glass was alive with oblivious motion, but inside, everything was still. Still and sharp. The couch beneath her barely creaked as she shifted her weight for the third time in as many minutes. She had not left it for hours. The tea she had made had gone cold. The steam, like her resolve, had long since dissipated. Mina’s voice kept returning to her. Not the soft ones from their shared nights, or the clever barbs she was so quick to throw when flirting. No. It was that joking tone, barely masking real pain.

She kept hearing Mina’s voice. Not in anger, not in pain. But from that last moment at Abyss, watching Daria on the candle bench together.

"Maybe next time you start an argument with me, maybe I’ll suggest the candle bench for a duel."

Lena had dismissed it as a joke. But she knew, Mina was at least half serious about it. Lena hadn’t laughed. Not quite.

The duel still haunted her. Not in the same way. Not as a wound. More like an old scar she’d finally come to trace without flinching.

Evelyn had staged it like a performance, wrapped in elegance and menace. But the choice? That had been theirs. Mina had made hers. And Lena… Lena had made hers too.

What lingered wasn’t just guilt anymore. It was the memory of Mina’s eyes as they led her toward the basement. Wide, searching. Not pleading. Just aware.

Back then, Lena hadn't known what the Needle Frame truly was. She hadn’t asked. She’d only imagined it, feared it abstractly. That mystery had made it worse. Made her fill in the blanks with nightmares. And Mina’s silence afterward had only deepened that fear - until they finally talked. Until Mina told her the truth. Not just about the pain, but about the choice behind it.

Lena let her head fall back against the couch. She had been trying to protect Mina without asking if Mina even wanted that. She had wrapped her care in control. That wasn’t fair to either of them.

Now? Things were different. Mina had made it clear: she wanted a partner, not a guardian. And Lena - she wanted to stand beside her. Share the risks. Share the burn.

What Evelyn had seen between them hadn’t been weakness. It had been potential. Emotional leverage, yes - but also something powerful. Something real.

Lena smiled faintly. She remembered the spike-lined dress, the Languished Arches, and the humiliation that followed each loss. Evelyn had always orchestrated suffering like a composer. But Lena wasn’t afraid of that anymore.

Evelyn.

Evelyn had smiled the whole time.

The decision came as a tremor. Then a quake. She would return to Abyss. She had to speak to Evelyn. Not to plead. Not even to accuse. But to challenge. Not with rage in her chest or guilt in her gut, but with clarity. Not to demand answers, but to confront Evelyn on equal footing. She didn’t want vengeance, she wanted justice.

Evelyn.

Evelyn had no right to play on their emotions, even if now Mina was much closer to her than ever before. She could not let Evelyn’s manipulation slide, setting them up to duel against each other for the needle frame.

She knew what that meant. Knew what would happen. But the festering guilt would not recede until something changed. This could ruin everything. Evelyn was not an enemy to provoke lightly. She ruled Abyss with elegance and cruelty, with mystery and mirth. She never gave anything away. Not unless it could be used to draw out something deeper in return.

She wanted truth.

And if that truth came with new challenges, new trials, even pain - so be it. This time, she wouldn’t be manipulated into guilt or silence. She would step onto the stage of Abyss with open eyes.

Not for Mina. Not even just for herself.

But for them. Whatever they were becoming.

Together.