Part 52
Alina
The lounge was dim and decadent, drenched in red velvet shadows and low jazz that never resolved. The air smelled faintly of latex polish and dark perfume, and above the black marble fireplace, the ever-present counters ticked silently down in glowing Abyss-red numerals.
ALINA
ICE PRINCESS. CHASTITY. 5 YEARS.
1 y, 8 m, 21 d, 03:12
She stared at it, glass in hand, but not drinking. Her throat was too tight. The number had once seemed mythic, distant, almost unreal in its scale. Five years. A whole era of denial. But now, with 40 months already spent locked, sealed, untouched - every second left on that clock screamed.
Alina sat rigid in the velvet armchair, her legs crossed tightly, clad in a sleek long black latex dress that reflected the crimson lights above her. Her posture was impeccable, but her fingers - gloved and resting on the armrest - twitched slightly. Submission had its uniform in Abyss, latex was mandatory for those under the rules of others. She wore it well, even if the belt beneath the tight latex screamed for notice.
Every inch of her skin was slick with sweat, not from heat, but from her nervousness for the negotiation she was about to enter. There had been moments - dreams mostly - where she thought she’d forgotten what it felt like to be touched, to climax. But those dreams had become tormenting now, echoing reminders of what she had lost.
She didn’t look up when Evelyn entered. She didn’t need to. The presence of the Mistress was unmistakable - an invisible hand that drew all eyes without lifting a single finger.
"Alina," Evelyn’s voice was velvet and vice. She moved with deliberate grace, hips swaying slightly in her emerald corset and thigh-high boots. She slid into the chair across from her guest, her eyes already dancing. "A negotiation, I hear? That is important. And delicious."
Alina’s voice came quiet but sharpened by restraint. "Forty months. That’s how long I’ve lasted. No relief. Not even complaints - until now."
"True," Evelyn mused. "And I commend you for it. Some have cracked far earlier. But I must warn you, endurance is not always currency."
"I’m not here to plead. I’m here to propose. I want a hearing - with Valeria."
Evelyn gave a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "She’s on her way. And you know as well as I do - any relief or adjustment to your forfeit is hers to grant."
Alina nodded stiffly. "Yes. She holds the right."
Moments later, Valeria entered like the chill that precedes a storm. She wore high-waisted black leather trousers, a fitted deep red blouse, and a long coat that glinted with matte buckles and shine. Her boots were tall and vicious. The leather wasn’t just a statement - it was status. She no longer belonged to the level of players and guests. She was ascending.
She greeted Evelyn with a graceful tilt of her chin. "Mistress."
Then, eyes flicking to Alina. "Still ticking, I see."
"Still holding," Alina replied tightly.
Valeria didn’t sit immediately. She stood by the fireplace, arms folded. Her presence was calculated. "You asked for me?"
Alina shifted in her seat. "I did. I want to request a challenge - a single opportunity to earn one release. One orgasm."
Valeria arched an eyebrow. "You think you’ve earned that?"
"I think I’ve endured more than anyone who’s worn that belt before. Forty months of obedience."
"And now you’re breaking," Valeria said flatly. "You wouldn’t be here otherwise."
Alina leaned forward, voice strained. "I’m asking. Not demanding. I know the rules. You won the duel. You have full authority over the forfeit. I'm asking you to permit a challenge."
Valeria was quiet for a moment, her gaze unreadable. Then she moved to the chair beside Evelyn, crossing one leg over the other, her leather creaking. "You made your bed, Ice Princess. And now you want to warm it."
"Better than being leathered and lifeless," Alina snapped, glaring. "You're not above me, Valeria. Just parading around in leather hoping someone calls you a dom."
Valeria’s smirk didn't falter. "If that’s how you talk to me, how would you even think I grant you a chance? And yet I'm not the one squirming after nearly four years of zero release. Sleep in your steel belt, Alina. You earned it."
Evelyn interjected, her tone airy but pointed. "Ladies. Let's focus. Valeria, as you well know, the winner retains discretion. But if she’s serious…"
She turned her head, fixing Alina with a glittering stare. "Then perhaps a challenge can be arranged."
Alina's heart jumped. She sat up straighter, her eyes focused. "What kind of challenge?"
Evelyn’s smile sharpened. "Something fitting. If you win, a single, unassisted, ceremonial release. Monitored, supervised. If you fail…"
She leaned back, fingers steepled. "Your five years start over. From zero."
Alina stiffened beside her. Valeria’s smirk faltered - but didn’t vanish. She knew the rules, and Evelyn was well within her rights to propose the offer. As the winner of the duel, Valeria held the authority to approve or deny any terms relating to the forfeit. And this one… this one was exquisitely cruel.
She didn’t want to grant Alina anything - not a touch, not a hope - but the idea of her rival risking everything, only to be dragged back to the start, was intoxicating. Five more years. Five. To see Alina crushed not by her, but by her own desperate gamble? That had a flavor all its own.
Her voice was tight when she finally responded, torn between savoring the idea and keeping her foot on Alina’s throat.
"You’re not seriously offering that," she said - but the words were slower now, deliberate. She was entertaining it. She wanted it. Not the challenge. The failure.
"If she takes it and loses…"
Valeria’s thoughts finished the sentence in silence. Then she would be bound in chastity for almost nine years in total. And it would be beautiful.
"I am suggesting it," Evelyn said, watching them both. "It’s balanced. Tempting. And terrifying. Isn’t it wonderful?"
Alina flinched, visibly. Her jaw clenched. The weight of those words settled over her like lead. "Reset… the entire sentence?"
"Yes," Evelyn said softly. "A full reset. Forty months erased. One mistake and you go back to month one. Think of it as an abyss of your own making."
Valeria leaned in, voice low and dangerous. "You're trembling. I can see it. You're not built for this, Alina. You are not cold enough to face this challenge, Ice Princess. You’re built for ruin."
Alina didn’t respond immediately. Her body screamed yes. Her pride whispered no. And in the middle, her reason wavered, trembling like her thighs under the belt. Her fingers curled against the arms of the chair, her breath short.
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed, watching. "But it must be decided here and now. We do not entertain wobbles in Abyss. You came to negotiate. Make your choice."
Alina’s chest rose and fell rapidly. The heat under her skin felt unbearable. Her temples pulsed. Forty months. Could she truly start again? Could she risk everything for one moment of relief?
She looked to Valeria - so composed, so smug in her leather regalia. Then to Evelyn - expectant, already savoring the outcome either way.
Her heart thundered. Her thighs pressed tighter. And the fear - the raw, animal fear of being reset, of having nothing to show for her torment - rose up and choked her will.
"No," she whispered, barely audible.
Evelyn’s expression didn’t flicker. "Speak clearly."
Alina swallowed, her voice shaking. "I decline. I won’t risk it."
Valeria exhaled dramatically, mock-disappointed. "Sleep in steel then. Keep dreaming. Maybe in year five you’ll start to enjoy it."
Evelyn rose gracefully, nodding once. "Then the counter remains. The sentence holds. And Abyss respects your refusal as much as your denial."
Valeria chuckled darkly. "Poor Ice Princess. Frozen over and locked tight. You'll count down every second of those last twenty months, and you’ll still beg before it ends."
Alina said nothing. Her gaze was fixed again on her counter, glowing crimson.
ALINA
ICE PRINCESS. CHASTITY. 5 YEARS.
1 y, 8 m, 21 d, 01:46
The fireplace crackled. The conversation fell quiet. And with her silence, she sealed her fate. No challenge. No mercy. Only steel. Only time. Only longing that would stretch, unbroken, for the rest of her term.
She would endure. She had no other choice.