The Weapon - Passion - part 4
By Diana the Valkyrie
Domination with Miss Hardlash


Next day was Wendy's first day of domination training. She'd added a long
black leather cape to her ensemble, which I have to admit looked scary and
dramatic. In the morning, we checked the newspaper, just in case there was
something of interest to a Weapon in need of exercise. I didn't think there
was anything, but Wendy latched on to a piece about an orphanage in Ruthenia
that was closing down, and suggested that it might be worth investigating. I
couldn't really see how we could help in that sort of situation, but Wendy can
pull rabbits from hats, so I said we might go have a little recce after she'd
gotten back from Miss Hardlash.

She gave me her "sun is rising" smile, and shot out of the window. I spent the
next couple of hours surfing the web, munching my luncheon sandwich as I
surfed, wondering how much suffering I'd be put through as Wendy practiced her
domme skills on me, and looking for something that I could put on the window
frame that would keep the weather out, but allow flying bodies through. I had
in mind some sort of giant cat-flap. I found a hot air curtain that was
designed for doors, but I couldn't see why it wouldn't work on a window, so I
ordered one. They said it would arrive in a few days. I also got some
background on Ruthenia, there seemed to be a vicious civil war going on, but I
couldn't understand who was who or what they were fighting about.

When Wendy got back, she had Milly with her. "I wanted you to see her new
dominatrix outfit," said Wendy. Milly stood and posed for me. "You're a couple
of inches taller," I said. She was wearing a dark blue velvet catsuit, leaving
her arms and legs completely bare. The blonde of her hair contrasted nicely
with the blue velvet, and she had a gold belt round her waist. "Very nice,
Milly, but apart from the height, you don't look particularly dominant in
that." She smiled, and brought her arms up to her hair, piling it up on her
head. This had the effect of showing off her biceps. "Great Rao and Skietra,
Milly, where'd you get those?" She smiled. "Dominant enough for you?" "Ngh," I
gulped, "urghh" and looked at Wendy. "You too?" She shook her head. "I think
you're used to me the way I am, I don't plan to change." "Has George seen
this?" I asked Milly. "Not yet," she laughed. "Wow, I'd like to see his face
when he see this." "And this," said Milly, pointing one leg forward, and
revealing a massive thigh, with presumably another one where that came from. I
swallowed again. "How big is that thing?" I asked. "Big enough," said Milly.
"She can get a picture of him, if you like," said Wendy. "You have a camera,
Milly?" "She doesn't need one, Duncan, it's just photons and bytes."

Milly flew off to show George those immense biceps and massive thighs, and
Wendy turned to me, and said "Fancy a quick trip to Ruthenia?" I glanced at
the clock, it was only two in the afternoon. "Sure, will I need a toothbrush?"
"No, I was thinking, twenty minutes there, twenty back, a few hours poking
around and back in time for supper." "That's a thousand miles, you can't do
that in 20 minutes? That's an average speed of Mach six!" "I can do Mach six,
you're the one who can't take the stress. But I wasn't planning to go the
direct route. I was planning the up-and down route." "Suborbital? For such a
short hop?" "Sometimes the quickest route isn't the shortest. Come here,
lover." "You're in black-on-black, shouldn't you be wearing white-and-gold?"
"Oops. OK, how's that?"

She hugged me to her bosom, wrapped her cape round us, and I felt the familiar
three Gs of acceleration as she headed up for near earth orbit. Several
minutes later, the acceleration stopped, we had a couple of minutes in free
fall, then we headed back down again. It did seem like a long way round, but
it certainly beat the Great Circle route for speed. On the way, I asked her
about what she'd learned today. "It was mostly theory," she said, "there's a
thing called the Double Triangle of Domination. Today we covered the first
triangle; pain, fear and humiliation." "What's that about?" "Well, in essence,
I hurt you, that makes you fear me, I can then humiliate you. After I've done
it enough, you lose all self-respect, and you do whatever I tell you. I'll
show you this evening, my little one." "You'll hurt me?" I said, not
believing. "I'll tickle you," she said, "Sally said that you can get the same
effect with tickling, but you have to ignore the victim's pleas for mercy."
"Well, I guess you might turn me inside out that way, but you think that will
make me afraid of you?" "I hope not. But we can pretend, can't we?" "Mmm. And
what about this humiliation?" "Duncan, there's some things you're better off
not knowing. I do my first practical, day after tomorrow, that should be fun."
Fun. Terrorising and humiliating some poor bloke who thought he was in for a
little light spanking, maybe a swish of the cane, at worst.

We landed about 20 kilometers outside the capital city Hrvysklwr in the
district of Khzhykjsk, at a small country town called Grbzhynsky. What the
country of Ruthenia (or Rhyffnwyr as the indigenes call it) desperately needed
was industrial investment and more vowels. "Remember, Wendy, we're just here
to reconnoitre, not to take action." It's rarely a good idea to jump in and
fix a problem before you've found out what the problem actually is. Trouble
is, Wendy sees a nail and wants to use a hammer. As we walked towards the
orphanage, I raised a thought I'd had about hammers and nails. "Wendy, suppose
the Mazdas, or the Ahrimans, start an invasion. How do we enforce our
neutrality?" "Search me," she said, "I'm just the Weapon, you have to tell me
what to break." Oh, great. Like I would know. "Wendy, I think we'd better
start thinking about this, rather than wait till we see the whites of their
eyes." "They don't have ... oh, I see." "In particular, if you're still
suffering from this thing about killing people, we have to decide alternative
tactics. I doubt if tickling them will work." "Duncan, thoughts like that
confirm to me that I made a good choice of Wielder." Sarcasm, if her biggest
weapon is sarcasm then we're certainly in for a resounding defeat. Maybe she
could tell jokes that embarrass them so much they'd flee? Or maybe not.

We arrived at the orphanage. It was a large brick building, with bars on the
windows. "It looks like a prison," I said, and rang the bell. "BONG," said the
bell, "DONG BONG." The door opened a crack. "We'd like to talk to you," I said
to the crack. "Go away," said the crack in a deep male voice. "We're here to
help," I explained. The crack started to close, but Wendy put her hand into
it, and blocked the door from closing. "Please open the door," she said, "or I
will." Something heavy slammed against the door from the inside, trying to cut
Wendy's hand in half. "That's not nice," I said, "open the door, Wendy." Wendy
leaned against the door, and it sprang open, breaking the safety chain that
was supposed to stop that happening. There was a meaty thud as the guy trying
to close it was smashed against a wall, and I followed Wendy in. In this sort
of situation, I think it's best for the woman to go first, just in case
there's something nasty waiting just inside. At least, that's right when
you're talking about my indestructible little Wendy.

Nothing terrible happened.

Then the guy who'd been splattered against the wall started to fall; Wendy
caught him before he hurt himself hitting the floor, and looked at me. I
shrugged. She held him up, and said softly "You know who I am, don't you." He
nodded. "You want more pain, or are you going to be nice to me?" He nodded.
"More pain, can do," and she drew back a fist. "I have to be careful here,"
she said, conversationally, "because if I hit too hard, my fist goes straight
through your face, out the back of your head, and makes a nasty dent in the
wall." "Nice, nice," he said, "no more pain, please." Wendy continued to hold
him, her fist cocked, and turned to me. "What Sally recommends at this point,
is that I drop him on the floor, face up, and urinate on his head." Yeuch.
"What does that do?" I asked. "It makes him ... helpful. Of course, if he's
already helpful ... " "I'm helpful, I'm helpful, what do you want?" "Or I
could just hurt him some more. Break a few bones, couple of ribs, an arm or
two, then we could sit and listen to him whimper." "I'm helpful, I'm helpful,
I'm very very helpful." "I like hurting people," she continued in a calm,
conversational tone of voice, "it's like a kind of hobby with me. There's so
many different ways to inflict pain on the human body, and with a rubber ball
jammed in your mouth you won't even annoy me with your screaming."

There was an acrid smell as he lost control of his bladder. Wendy looked at
me, her nose wrinkled. "I think he might be ready to be helpful, Wendy." "You
speak English?" she asked. "Yes, everyone here does, it's the first language
you learn at school" "Well, let's start off with you taking me to see whoever
is in charge of this place. I really am here to help, you know." "That's me",
said the guy. Wendy lowered her fist. "Oh! Why didn't you say before. I'm The
Weapon, Defender of Humanity, nice to meet you." She held out a hand. He shook
it, and said "I'm Vlydfrl Dlstwymyr, call me Vlyd." He gave Wendy a nice
smile, she smiled back. After a few seconds, his smile turned to a grimace of
pain. "Oh, sorry," said Wendy, "sometimes I just don't know my own ... shall
we sit down and talk? I'll try not to hurt you any more."

We went into Vlyd's office, and sat on some very grotty-looking chairs. Well,
Vlyd sat and so did I, but Wendy stood, her feet a few inches from the floor.
Another one of her dominance ploys. "We read you had to close the orphange,
what's the problem," asked Wendy. Vlyd held out both his hands, palms up.
"Money," he said, simply. "Rent, heating, electricity, food, staff ... we
don't have the dough." "So what will happen to the children?" He shrugged. "I
don't know." "And you don't care," accused Wendy. "I care, I care," he said,
"but what can I do? Listen, there's twenty-three of them, some of them will be
OK, they're fourteen, fifteen, but some are just babies, and everything in
between." "You can't just throw them into the street,!" she said, frowning,
"that's inhuman!"

Vlyd put his hands over his face. "Listen, White Lady, Weapon, whatever you
are. The country is falling apart, they're spending money on guns, not bread,
and bullets, not butter. All the time, fighting, shooting, you don't even know
what side you're on. They kill us, we kill them, no-one cares about a few
orphans caught in the middle." "Who's us, who's them? Which group are in the
right on this?" asked Wendy. Vlyd put his hands on the desk. "There's two
groups, the Rhythyns and the Thrynyns. In 1023 AD ... " "That's a thousand
years ago!" said Wendy. Vald looked at her, and waited. Wendy nodded, "Go on."

"In 1023 AD, the Rhythyns attacked the Thrynyns and drove them out of the
country. Twenty years later, the Thrynyns, allied to the Holgars, invaded,
deposed King Ghrythryn, and threw the Rhythyns out, killing a great many of
them. In 1054, at the battle of Scythrni, ..." "Hang on," said Wendy, "how
much history is there? We don't have all day." "You want to understand the
situation here, you have to know the history." "And when I know the history,
I'll understand?" "No." "Then what's the point of knowing the history?" "No
point whatsoever. No bloody point whatsobloodyever. The history means whatever
you want it to mean, whatever serves your propaganda." And he put his hands
over his face again.

"Wait a minute," said Wendy. "So what are you, Rhythyn or Thrynyn?" He
interlaced his fingers, and rested his chin on them. "It doesn't. Fucking.
Matter." he said, "and I don't know what the children are, either. Look. I
haven't been paid for five months. I can't pay the rent on the flat that my
wife and kids live in, I can't feed my own children! I'll have to go get a job
somewhere, a job that actually pays me. We can't heat this building, the
electricity is out, they're screaming at us for the rent, which I can ignore,
but the one thing that I can't ignore is that a week from now we run out of
food for the kids, and what's your suggestion?" He started crying.

Wendy looked at me. "Duncan, what can we do?" I thought for a moment. "Wendy,
we only came her to find out what was up, now we've found out, what we do is
go back to England, and work out a plan. I don't know what the plan is just
yet, but we'll think of something." Wendy nodded, and went around the desk,
kneeling by Vlyd's side. "Vlyd," she said. His face was back in his hands,
hiding his tears, crying quietly to himself. She reached out to him, and
gently pulled his head to her breast. "Vlyd, don't cry." She put her arms
round him. He stopped crying quietly, and howled instead. She stroked his
head. "Vlyd, you know who I am. I'm telling you this now, I will fix this, I
will deal with this problem." He looked up at her face. "You will?" She kissed
his forehead, wiped away his tears and whispered "yes. I promise. Now, take me
to see the children."

"Um. Wendy. I don't think that's a good idea." She turned and looked at me.
"Whyever not? We came here to find out the situation, how can we leave without
seeing the kids?" I didn't have a good reason, I just had a bad feeling about
what might happen when she saw them. She can be a bit impulsive. "Stand up,
Vlyd, and show me where they are," she ordered. He mopped his face with a
grubby handkerchief, and stood up. "This way," he said.