Mentioned: Demonica, Seraph
Appearances By: Demonica


All Business Part Two
We’ll Let The Court Decide


Demonica, Necron and I had taken a plane. I’d managed to get my nausea under wraps and knocked myself out with Gravol. I was given a few hours to sleep off both jet-lag and the affects of the drugs. I got dressed in my other suit. Yes, I have another suit. A real woman knows when to dress casual, skanky or classy. It was a dark violet colour and made out of a shiny, micro fibre-type fabric that felt almost satin-like, but a hell of a lot cheaper.

On the bottom was a skirt that cut off about four inches from the top of my knee. My shirt had a sloping neckline and long arms that cut off at my first knuckles, which were still battered and scabbed from my match against White Phoenix. My hair was actually styled for once: at the insistence of my lawyer, of course. Most of the mass of my hair was pinned at the back of my head with bobby pins and little elastics, giving it almost the sense that it was spiked. About one inch of bangs hung forward around my face, curling beneath my chin before falling down to brush against my partially exposed upper chest. Okay, so there was still an element of skank. So what?

As I sat in the courtroom in the box, I felt déjà vu from my previous courtroom appearance. Please, do not let either of the lawyers ask me to give my story ‘in my own words’. I was so fucking sick of hearing those four words. During the informal interview with my lawyer, he had asked me in my own words. My response was just showing him the tape. That was in-my-own-words enough, I thought.

My back rested against the uncomfortable, wooden chair, the bright lights from the video cameras around the courtroom and from high above making the back of my neck moist. I was called up second. Great. Damage control. I cast a glance to Demonica who sat in a rather listless fashion at me, the judge and the jury before my gaze locked with the D.A., staring in complete condescension. I shrugged him off and turned to look at my own lawyer.

My lawyer paced around the courtroom, obviously not entirely sure where to begin. I couldn’t completely blame him. He hated Demonica and I. Or was at least disgusted by us. Either or.

“All right, Gwenivere, on the night of March sixteenth, what were you doing before the incident occurred?”

“I was brooding in my locker room. My father had just died so I just wanted to be alone,” I replied. I saw Demonica shift faintly in her seat. Uncomfortable? Yeah, I didn’t blame her.

“From what I understand, you were the ringleader in the whole event. Were you the one that chose the ‘safety word’? And if so, can you explain the use and meaning of the word to the court?”

“Yes I was. In a situation such as the one that Monica, Francine and I were in, it’s often that the ‘bottom’ will ask for it to stop or say that it hurts. If they truly want the fun to stop, they have to say the word. Bluebird was just a word that was completely out of there that would not make any sense if said in a sexual act.”

“Did Francine ever ask you to stop using the safety word?”

“Never. She begged for everything we did to her.” I saw Francine flush deeply, bowing her head in shame though her lawyer hit her leg and she perked up again. The audience had gasped a few times, but that was to be expected.

“Why did you ask if Miss Fern would submit to you of mind, body and soul?” I sighed faintly, in thought.

“It’s like… an unwritten code of B.D.S.M. If you don’t ask, then it is rape. It is assault. It’s asking permission for there to be no holds barred, as it were.” I explaining, hoping that I was making sense. My lawyer nodded as he paced around, settling against the banister in front of the jury.

“So you don’t think what you did was rape or assault? Why?”

“No, it wasn’t rape or assault. Like I said, Miss Fern begged us to beat her. She gave herself to us, mind, body and soul. We asked for permission. She was given a safety word. At no point would she have felt discomfort that she did not want in the first place.” I really didn’t want to deal. I did not want to be here. Idly, I wanted to be in Caleb’s arms… or maybe Seraph’s. It was one of those days where you just wanted a male security blanket and their protective arms.

“Why did you use the foreign objects to have intercourse with her? The crowbar, the dagger and the aluminium bar?”

“Ah. Because Monica and I don’t have penises to speak of.” I said, trying to hold back a fit of giggles. No matter how old, how mature or how whoreish I got, the word ‘penis’ still made me laugh and blush. It was such a silly word.

“Could you not have used something more conventional like a strap-on?” I couldn’t have answered seriously. There was no possible way. He had originally coached me to say that a few of my fingers were broken and that oral gratification just wouldn’t cut it. I couldn’t let this chance slide…

“No, I couldn’t have. I had left my strap-on in North Carolina.” My lawyer stared at me, stunned. So much for damage control.

“No further questions, your honour.”

Did I mention that I hate lawyers?

It was a staring contest. I lay my hands calmly on my lap like I had done a few days before while sitting at the defence table. My knees were locked, unconsciously implying that I could have never done such a thing. Body language could speak numerous volumes when done correctly. Yay for grade twelve psychology and crazy Madame Fietté with her loony ideas that the whole world was a conspiracy. Now that I think about it, it kind of made sense…

“Now, Miss Jordan… on the night of the sixteenth of March, how were you feeling before Monica brought Francine into the room?” I winced faintly at the question, a whole new realm of pain developing in the back of my throat. I wrung my hands faintly, idly chewing on the inside of my cheek. “Gwen?” He asked again. I cast a glare at him.

“Give me a minute, I’m French. If I don’t think I’ll start spouting off in a language you don’t understand.” I said flatly, sort of annoyed that he was so impatient. I let out a little sigh, pressing my back a bit more against the chair.

“All right. I was feeling very… miserable. My father had just passed away.” I explained, biting down on my tongue to draw away from the emotional pain. Yeah, my dad and I didn’t get along well, nor did we have a lot of time to reconcile, but it still hurt. The lawyer paced around in front of me, idly tapping his index finger to his bottom lip.

“Interesting. And when Monica brought my client to your dressing room, how did you feel?” I frowned faintly, not entirely sure where all these touchy-feely questions were going.

“At first? I didn’t know what she was there for. After De… Monica explained it to me, I was a bit happier.”

“Miss Jordan, are you a sadist?”

“Objection. Question is irrelevant.” My lawyer spoke up, standing at the table. Demonica stared at him curiously. To me, it was sort of in line, but whatever. I looked over to the judge who looked to be in thought.

“Sustained. Try again, Mister Clements.” The judge said rather monotonously. The D.A. nodded. Obviously, he had made a point. It was blatantly obviously that Demonica and I were sadists. Why else would we have beaten her senseless?

“All right. Miss Jordan. After Miss Fern was drawn into the room, was she given anything that you saw?”

“No. The video tape is almost the entire time Francine was in the dressing room with us.” I replied quietly, shifting in the seat to cross one leg over the other at the knee. Seduction. I glanced idly at the jury who seemed to be staring at me intently: the men at my legs, the women distastefully at my face. I bowed my head faintly, turning my gaze away before looking at Mister Clements again. Bashfulness. It was a technique to suck in the audience. The sadist… shy but sexy all in one breath. Scandalous.

“Speaking of the video tape, was it not you that kept Demonica from killing Francine?” I glanced to Demonica faintly who just gave me a little shrug in response. I tilted my head upwards, setting my jaw as I thought up a smart-assed reply. So far, nothing. This guy was just not leaving anything open.

“If you listened to the soundtrack of tape like you were supposed to, Monica asked if Francine wanted more and she said yes, whilst moaning if you paid attention. And since when, Mister Clements have you heard a moan that is not out of pleasure?” I inquired. Gasps of horror spread through the people watching, a few covering their mouths, then their ears. I smiled faintly, never breaking my gaze from the D.A. The judge banged his gavel, commanding silence from everyone in the courtroom.

“In your little ménage-a-trois,” I winced at his very, very poor vocalization of my native language. “Did you ever feel at all bad for any of the actions taken by you or Miss Macon?”

“Never. Like I said before, Fern never said she wanted to stop.” I said, squeezing my hands together agitatedly. More gasps went through the audience. I tuned them out as I flashed out of reality for a second, staring down towards the floor in front of the defence table.

I jumped over the banister around the testifying box. My fingers curled around the lapels of the D.A.’s jacket to draw him down to my height. My lips found his, teeth burrowing into his bottom lip. I felt the warm gush of blood wash into my mouth and down my neck as I drew away, drawing part of his lip with my teeth…

Reality slapped me in the face when Clements began to talk again. My gaze lifted to watch him pace around the courtroom, fingers idly drawing across the table and the banisters behind him. It was in that moment that I realized he was gay. Cool. Something to exploit. I’m such a hypocrite. Where would mentioning that he’s a queer get me? That’s right. In jail for deprivation of character and harassment.

“During the video,” Ugh, he was obviously pointing out that he had watched the thing. Okay, I get it, move on. “Miss Macon asked what the two of you should do with my client. And your reply was ‘U.A.D.’. Would you care to tell the court just what that means?” I licked my lips slowly. Biting him was a real valid option right about now.

“Use, Abuse and Dump.”

“In the video it was obvious that Miss Macon knew what you meant. Have there been other women?” He came towards me, leaning against the banister and getting right in my face. His nose was nearly pressed against my own. Slowly, my top row of teeth bit down on my bottom lip. “Or men? Is this a line of sadism that you can’t stop?” He continued. His breath was hot and I smelled the overwhelming stench of cigarettes. I glanced over and saw Demonica slap our lawyer in the back of the head and I could have sworn I heard her say ‘Object you ass hole! Learn your fucking job’. Of course, I have really good hearing. My lawyer stood up as the questions kept coming. “Have you killed?!”

“Objection! Prosecution is berating the witness and asking irrelevant questions!” My lawyer finally shouted. About time, ass hole. The judge pounded his gavel as the uproar continued within his courtroom.

“Silence or I’ll hold everyone in contempt of court and throw out the press and audience. Understood?” His rich voice washed over the courtroom like a wave, calming everyone and ordering them to in silence. He turned to look down at me along the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll ask you to answer the questions, Miss Jordan. Calmly, please. And I remind you that you’re under oath.” I stared at him in disbelief, before looking up to the D.A. Apparently, I was being charged as the ringleader. Great.

“Can you ask your questions again please, one by one?” I asked, making my French accent weigh heavily upon my voice. It was partially fake since I had developed the American voice better, but I wouldn’t be thought of as a moron if they knew English wasn’t my first language.

“Miss Jacks, will you please read the transcript?” Mister Clements said as he gazed over at the leggy blonde who was seated at a very small table to the right of the judge’s desk. She reached forward to grasp a long but thin piece of paper from the back of her computer and drew it forward, scanning it quickly. She cleared her throat and licked her lips to moisten them.

“In the video,” her voice was soft and nasally, but tolerable at least. “It was obvious that Miss Macon knew what you meant. reference U.A.D. line four-hundred and twenty-six. Have there been other women?”

“No.”

“Or men?”

“One. My lawyer has the tape. It was a demonstration for a press release and nothing became of it after he was put into submission.”

“Is this a line of sadism you can’t stop?” My lawyer stood up to object but before he could, the judge said it was sustained due to irrelevancy and to have the question stricken from the record.

“Have you killed?” She asked, a lot more boringly than the D.A. had.

“No.” I said calmly, my hands lying quietly in my lap. All was the truth except the question about there being other men.

“You said there were other men. Who?”

“His name is Caleb Inverness and he lives in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.”

“And what happened that day?” I glanced up at the judge, questionably.

“I have a tape from one of the news stations that was there if you would like to view it.” I stated, running a hand slowly through my hair to push the locks of black and red behind my shoulders. The judge nodded and the bailiff went over to the defence table. He grasped the tape that my attorney had and moved to the television and VCR that were on a rolling platform. He slid in the tape and the video feed started. A man was standing in the view of the camera: it was Dan McCloud, dressed in black slacks, a white shirt and a blue, striped tie.

“Thanks, Linda. I’m here in Edmonton, Alberta where big-time franchise, New Era Wrestling’s Gwenivere Jordan is staying.” The camera panned out to show the name of my hotel, being The Fairmont Hotel Macdonald. “A video tape was released on Friday of last week of the wrestling pair and their accuser, Francine Fern. Miss Fern insists that, despite her willingness in the video, she was drugged by Macon and given as a present to Jordan. When asked why she was a present, Fern is quoted as saying that Jordan was ‘distraught about the death of her father, and I was there to cheer her up’.” He continued. The camera went to a split screen, showing Dan and the blonde Linda sitting in the studio.

“We’ll be right with you Dan, we’re just having a live report from Alaska at the Darkstar estate. Roger?” The screen flashed.

“Thanks, Linda. We're a week away from the trial now and as you can see things are already tense outside one of the defendants' homes. The crowd formed earlier today and it appears they don't intend to go anywhere for awhile.” He paused briefly, as if he had to catch his breath and think of something else to say.

“Demonica isn't the owner of the home but she is one of the residents. This secluded palace is owned by former Meaningless Violence Wrestler, and ex-convict, Darkstar. It's obvious this building is a--”

The lawyer pressed the fast forward button, watching the tape eagerly. He pressed play again a few minutes later.

“--bunch aren't they?” Demonica asked.

“I’m sorry Demonica, we’re going to have to cut the feed. We’re exceeding our allotted time and will cut into the next seg--”

Again, he pressed the fast forward button, shifting impatiently. I rubbed my hands together in my lap, leaning forward against the banister to watch. I had to tell him when to press play again. I signalled for him to do so and the video slowed to real-time.

“A submissive loves their dominant: one-night stand or not. After their broken, they’re obsessed and extremely jealous. Let me put it this way,” I turned around faintly and grabbed a man from the audience. “On your knees.” I had ordered. We stared at each other for a long while, perhaps a minute. Without a word, he was on his knees beside me, holding my hand in his. I pet his red hair softly, gazing at Dan.

“It’s all a game, you see. Every person in existence struggles to find a dominant. It’s a very hard task, since most are submissive. I am a rarity if you will. Miss Fern is a submissive: a masochistic one at that. Demonica and I broke her, yes, but she wanted it. It’s not about sex, like many people thing.” I paused briefly. “It’s not all sex. Hell, sometimes there is no sex involved whatsoever. For the Sub., it’s all about being cared for or desired. For the Dom., it’s all about control and sadism.”

“Do you have any regrets--”

The D.A. turned off the tape and turned to gaze at me.

“Is that all that happened after the press release?” The D.A. asked curiously. I chewed on my bottom lip softly, gazing at my lawyer, then at Demonica. Might as well be truthful.

“I slept with him.” I said frankly. A few gasps ran through the audience, but obviously I had worn off my shock value. Fine by me. I didn’t want to hear anymore gasps or cries of displeasure from the audience. I would have been perfectly happy if the judge had thrown out the audience and the press. It sure as hell would have let the muscles in my back relax.

“Is he one of your pets?” I chewed on my bottom lip in thought.

“No.” I replied quietly. Shit, he was putting me into the box that my lawyer had warned me about. I smelled doom and it wasn’t a nice smell.

“So you just… up and slept with him for no reason.”

“Objection! The state is leading the witness.”

“Withdrawn. No further questions.” God damn it! I couldn’t even explain why I had slept with Caleb. I suddenly felt the urge to cry. I HATE LAWYERS! I gritted my teeth softly, squeezing my hands hard in my lap. My dull nails pressed hard into the tops of my hands, no doubt leaving white, crescent-moon shaped markings. The judge turned to look at me.

“You may step down now, Miss Jordan,”


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