"Careful," Aislin whispered in a slightly pained tone, her eyes scrunching up as if it would help her resist the pain, "You're hurting," In response, Velvet let up considerably on her pressure. Being too harsh would be just as bad as being too light with her touch. Thankfully, the other woman wasn't the sort to become angry with someone for their mistakes. She seemed patient. It was a trait that Velvet thought was necessary; after all, being a whore probably required more than a little waiting.
"The last bit was better than before," Aislin answered the slave's question as her eyes opened. They stared into Velvet's own with a sort of intensity that only a whore's could, "But you forget many things. First, what part of the body you work on. The hands are smaller, slighter. You need not apply as much pressure on them as you would on the calves, the back, one's shoulders perhaps." Aislin licked her lips as she paused, looking around the room once before returning her gaze to Velvet. Velvet took that brief instant to look Aislin over again; she wasn't thin or scrawny like the street whores. Obviously, she was well cared for. Still, no amount of pampering could be worth allowing a man--or woman, for that matter--to do disgusting things to one's body.
"You should mind how you stretch the skin as well. You tend to grind your fingers in, before pulling it to the side a time, until it is forced to snap back." Again the woman gave Velvet a soft smile, her eyes catching the light in the large room. "And your nails have a tendency to dig. Not too deeply, for they have failed to split the skin, and shed crimson tears. But still, they ought to be watched."
Velvet returned the smile, grateful for the advice offered her, "Thank you. I'm sorry about the pain... I've never done this before." Aislin was hardly the lust-driven animal that Velvet had once imagined those in her profession to be. She seemed somewhat cultured; intelligent, even. Like someone who knew enough about herself and others not to let the career she was in destroy her. Aislin might notice the subtle shift in Velvet's behavior that signified a change in opinion. To Velvet, the woman was someone who was to be treated with some respect. Someone who deserved that treatment. She was unlike most free women that Velvet had met, and the slave was grateful for it. The woman had assumed that, once her ineptitude showed, she would be shooed from the whorehouse with threats of a whipping following her on her way out.
Aislin switched her free hand with the one that had held up her bodice, the garment loosing itself for a moment while the switch occurred. As the fabric resettled on Aislin's torso, her other hand rested on the slave's shoulder, gently circling her shoulder blade with a featherlike touch. Velvet decided to allow that; the woman was a whore, after all. Being physical was probably second nature to her by now. "Now try again, but on this hand," Aislin instructed, tracing Velvet's shoulder one last time before leveling her hand in front of the slave. "Surely, you can manage," She said, her lips curling ever so slightly deeper. The look in the woman's eyes was a bit unusual, as Velvet met them. They held something that the slave was altogether unfamiliar with, and it disconcerted her.
Velvet gave the whore an odd look before pulling her eyes away from Aislin's and back to her hand. The light pressure that had been on her shoulder remained, a phantom reminder of the other woman's skillful grace. She began massaging again, this time taking Aislin's advice. She gently caressed the whore's hand, finding it easier, this time. She was growing more accustomed to dealing with the woman's touch, and it helped her focus on the task at hand instead of on the touch itself. The slave imagined that massaging was similar to a slave's steps; silent, unassuming, and nigh-unnoticeable. Until they were needed, anyway. Only being seen when needed was a trick that any house slave had to master in order to survive. Likewise, Velvet tried to imitate that by only allowing her touch to become heavier in places where there was often tension.
Due to her years using her hands in harsh ways, the slave knew the right places to press, even if she had difficulty easing the tension from those spots. She focused on keeping her touch as light as Aislin's had been on her shoulder when her hands were in places that needed no release, yet heavier in the spots that would suffer the most during a long day's work. Velvet continued on in this, occasionally glancing up at Aislin to see her reaction to her ministrations. Occasionally, the slave's mind would drift to Aislin's expression. It seemed strange...darker than it normally was, somehow. It baffled Velvet, for she prided herself on her knowledge of the moods of those around her. This was something she hadn't seen before, or at least something masked far better than Velvet was used to. |
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by Cassidy Finch on November 26th, 2012, 9:19 pm 
