Manhattan Kink: A Boxed Set

by Serafina Conti

  “Come in its fucking mouth,” Daddy said.

  Pipit whined, but it was the longing in her making the noise: not longing for a mouthful of cum but for that last spasm of shame that would complete her devastation.

  Master rushed around the stocks to her head, tearing off the condom—Daddy spun around, seized Pipit’s head, and held it for him—and he thrust in, knuckles white on the frame, body spasming, deep, deep in her, till he groaned and his cock spurted, filling her mouth up with warm, thick goo.

  Spent, he stepped away and looked at her face, waiting. She swallowed his cum. She always swallowed the cum.

  They didn’t speak to her, but left her in the stocks while they dressed. It was all right: she didn’t want them to care about her. They left the room, and Daddy came back a few minutes later and released her.

  “Come get a hug from Daddy,” she said. She led Pipit to the mat, where she sat down, held her in her arms, and rocked her.

  She said, “You did good, babycunt.”

  But Pipit pressed her face into Daddy’s big breasts and cried, and the more Daddy petted her and tried to comfort her, saying “that’s a good babycunt, Daddy’s good little girl,” the harder Pipit cried, shoulders heaving, hardly able to catch a breath.

  She tried to gasp out the words she needed to say. “I’m sor . . . I need . . . please, Daddy.”

  Daddy lifted her so she could look into her face and said, “What is it, babycunt?”

  “I’m a . . . I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry . . . I need . . .” Pipit collapsed against Daddy again.

  Daddy said “Fuck!” under her breath, wonder in her voice. She lifted Pipit up again, by her braid this time, and said, “Look at me, babycunt.” Pipit looked. Daddy’s face was blurry through the tears, but she could tell her features were hard now, and her bright red lips were grinning.

  In a low growl, Daddy said, “You’ve been a very bad babycunt, haven’t you?”

  Pipit sniffled and nodded.

  “You’re a nasty fucking butt-slut,” said Daddy. “A dirty little cunt that fucks anything that moves, if there’s money in it. Even a fat stupid asshole with a tiny dick like that pathetic fucking Jason.”

  Pipit flung herself face down into Daddy’s lap and sobbed. Yes, that was true. She’d fuck anything. She hated herself.

  “Come to the table, babycunt,” Daddy said. Towing her by the braid, she led her to the narrow table and made her lie on her back, legs spread wide. She tied her just above the knees to D-rings at the table’s edge: her legs dangled over the sides. She tied her wrists together above her head and lashed them down.

  “Wait here, slut,” she said. “Don’t fucking go anywhere.” She left and returned a couple minutes later with a sharp knife and a little plastic tub with a lid.

  Daddy teased the point of the knife with her fingertip as Pipit watched with frightened eyes.

  “Why are you a slut, babycunt?” she asked. “It isn’t that you’ve gotta have a cock in your cunt, is it? It’s not that at all.”

  Pipit’s throat felt full and she couldn’t talk. She closed her eyes tight and shook her head.

  “It’s the feeling you’re after—what you’re feeling right now. You’re an emotional masochist.”

  Pipit sobbed and turned her head away. “I’m s-s-s—”

  “You’ve never sold your cunt for money before, have you? You’ve been a good little cunt till today. I’ll bet you feel worse than you’ve ever felt before in your life. Isn’t that right, babycunt?”

  The enormity of what she’d done crashed in on her again. She wanted so much to run and hide, but she was naked, tied down, all her shame exposed to Daddy’s gaze. “I’m s-s-sorry, D-Daddy,” she whimpered.

  “And you need me to punish you for being a filthy butt-fuck whore.”

  Pipit squirmed. Her pussy was so wet, and she was crying so hard, gasping for breath, that she couldn’t force out her desperate apology.

  “Fuck,” said Daddy. “This is your thing. Not being paddled in the stocks or fucking that fat asshole, but getting punished afterwards. I should have fucking known.”

  Pipit was puddling on the table, she was so turned on.

  Daddy took the lid off the plastic tub and took out a jalapeno pepper. “I was thinking of making some Mexican,” she said, “but, well, maybe another day.” She sliced the pepper in half, opened up Pipit’s pussy with two fingers, and rubbed the cut surface of one half of the pepper over her clit and hood. She put the pepper back in the tub. Then she said, “What the fuck,” took the pepper out again, and rubbed it all around the inside of her slit. She dropped the pepper on the table and pushed the fingers she’d been handling it with into Pipit’s vagina.

  Within a few seconds, Pipit’s pussy started to feel warm. The sensation was pleasurable, and she sighed and stirred a bit. Then her pussy got hot.

  Then she screamed.

  “No, Daddy! Make it stop, Daddy!” Pipit wailed.

  “Can’t stop it, babycunt,” said Daddy calmly.

  “Help, Daddy, I can’t stand it!”

  Pipit thrashed on the table. If only she could squirm away, maybe she could leave the horrible burning behind, but she was tied down.

  Daddy studied her with interest. “Maybe we could try some ice,” she said.

  “Please, Daddy,” Pipit begged. Cold sounded like just the thing.

  Daddy shrugged and ambled out of the room. Pipit squirmed on the table till Daddy came back with a bowl containing a few ice cubes.

  “Better make sure you can handle this,” said Daddy, and pushed an ice cube into her crack, pressing it hard against her anus.

  The ice felt good for a few seconds, but then the cold burned, and Pipit cried, “No, Daddy, please!”

  Daddy said, “But I’m having fun, babycunt, and you’ve got to have your punishment.” The ice cube had gotten slick from melting, and Daddy pushed it into Pipit’s anus.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. I won’t be a whore anymore. I promise!”

  Pipit strained and expelled the ice cube, but Daddy pushed it in again.

  “Fucking liar! Now that you’ve had a taste of whoring, you’ll always be a whore, and you fucking know it. Keep the fucking ice cube in.”

  Pipit knew it was true. The shame of fucking that man for money was bigger than the shame of fucking the man for a bed; it was way bigger than the shame of fucking Christopher’s friends. She’d never felt such intense emotions, such misery, such longing for a Dominant to wash away all her filth in a torrent of agony.

  Daddy took a half of the jalapeno from the plastic tub. Pipit thought about safewording when she saw it, even recited the word in her head (“Red! Red!”) but decided not to. She might die of the punishment, but she’d surely die of shame without it. She’d never needed pain and humiliation so much.

  So by the time Daddy was spreading her ass cheeks and rubbing her anus with the pepper, she was longing for the pain she knew was coming. And in a minute her pain was doubled, the burning in her ass and pussy nearly unbearable, and she howled and howled.

  “Daddy’s butt-fuck whore want some ice?” Daddy said, grinning, and Pipit said, “Yes, Daddy, please.”

  Daddy took an ice cube from the bowl and pressed it hard against her clit. It eased the pain for a few seconds, but then the ice burned, making it all worse, and she cried, “No, Daddy!”

  “But it’s cold, babycunt, good for the burning.”

  “No, Daddy, it burns, take it away.”

  But Daddy slid the ice up and down her slit, torturing her with cold and hot, till she was bucking on the table and her words had become meaningless syllables, “Nuh, nuh, duh, muh.”

  Finally Daddy put the ice back in the bowl, and the pain eased a little. Daddy went to the closet and came back with a vibrator. Pipit watched, wide eyed, as she rubbed it with the jalapeno.

  Daddy held the vibrator to her clit. Soon Pipit was shrieking again, louder than ever.

  “What are you?” Daddy said, jamming the v
ibrator against her clit.

  “I’m a whore!” Pipit cried.

  “Whose whore are you?”

  “I’m Daddy’s whore!”

  “Will you always be a butt-fuck whore when Daddy tells you?”

  “Yes!” Pipit wept. “I’ll always whore for Daddy!”

  “Why is that, babycunt?”

  “Because I love Daddy,” she sobbed.

  Daddy turned off the vibrator. She said, “Daddy loves babycunt, too. Daddy loves her sweet butt-fuck whore.”

  She took away the ice and the jalapeno and came back with a bowl of milk and a washcloth. She bathed Pipit’s pussy and anus with the milk and used her fingers to push it gently into her vagina. The pain began to subside.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” Pipit whispered.

  “It’s okay,” Daddy answered in a softer voice than Pipit had ever heard her use. “Daddy’s here. Daddy’ll take care of her babycunt.” Pipit believed her absolutely at that moment, and knew what she herself was—she was Daddy’s whore, Daddy’s butt-slut, Daddy’s babycunt. Everything she was belonged to Daddy, and she was nothing without Daddy.

  Daddy was still wearing her leather top. She took it off, climbed on top of babycunt, and offered her one of her big nipples. Babycunt sucked greedily, like an infant, and Daddy’s nipple swelled, making babycunt happy and proud. Then Daddy let her suck the other nipple. Such heaven! Daddy’s breasts made babycunt feel safe and loved.

  When both her nipples were hard, Daddy mounted babycunt’s head, facing her feet, and scrubbed her wet cunt on her mouth. Babycunt was so happy Daddy’s cunt was wet, labia and clit puffy—her suffering and humiliation had aroused Daddy and made her want to fuck her little girl.

  Daddy leaned back and let babycunt lick her ass. Babycunt loved her brown asshole, the smooth pale skin of her crack. Her mouth watered with love for Daddy and she bathed it all with her tongue, and when Daddy made her asshole gape, babycunt was so happy to kiss her and wet her inside, making her sigh, “Oh, fuck!”

  And when Daddy’s ass was all wet, crack and anus, she leaned forward, far forward, so her big breasts pressed into babycunt’s belly, and gave babycunt another special kiss. Daddy didn’t tease her this time, but covered her cunt with her mouth and softly ran her tongue up and down her slit while babycunt bathed her mouth and chin in Daddy’s vast wetness, wanting to give her an orgasm, wanting to make it good for Daddy.

  Babycunt strained at her bonds, wishing she could fling her arms around Daddy’s waist. Oh, if she could, she’d never let Daddy go; she’d always be here, face sunk in Daddy’s wide cunt, smelling and tasting her, Daddy’s mouth warming her, tongue stimulating her, Daddy taking care of her.

  Daddy humped babycunt’s face and cried “Ah! Ah! Ah!” into her cunt, and when her orgasm had passed, Daddy still was licking babycunt, licking her clit harder, then sucking. Babycunt’s flesh was still raw, Daddy was loving, it was painful, and she cried with her joy of Daddy, her cunt still there, her mouth . . . and finally babycunt came with Daddy’s kiss, Daddy’s special gift. She came and came, helpless under Daddy’s hot body, and knew Daddy loved her.

  Daddy untied babycunt and led her to the bathroom, where she sat with her while she took a bath. Pipit studied Daddy—lined face, long nose, red lipstick a little smeared, dark eyes, generous body. Daddy was so beautiful. She understood her babycunt’s needs so well, and her punishment had been so what she needed.

  That night at Mistress Shigemi’s, Pipit had the man with the wax and one of Neko’s regulars, who made her bottom very pink and arranged with Daddy to pay a call on them the very next afternoon so he could fuck Pipit.

  When they got home that night and Pipit closed the apartment door behind them, Daddy hauled her to her bedroom and flung her on the bed.

  “Babycunt got another fucking date,” Daddy hissed in her face. “Dirty skank gonna get fucked again. Why’re you gonna do that?”

  “For Daddy,” Pipit whispered, and Daddy fucked her there on her very own bed—let her babycunt eat her pussy and ass, and then tribbed with her. Daddy didn’t let Pipit come, but she did give her another treat that night.

  Daddy dragged the pet cage into her own room and let Pipit sleep there, cuffed and locked up. It made Pipit feel safe, being so close to Daddy and locked into her cage. She wondered what her fuck would be like tomorrow and how Daddy would punish her. She wished she could touch herself, but tried not to dwell on it. Daddy knew what was best for her.

  She lay awake for a long time listening to Daddy’s breathing, which soon became regular and heavy, and then snoring.

  * * *

  Andrew, too, lay awake. Emily slept peacefully beside him and Amanda on a pallet on the floor. They had tried to get Amanda to sleep in the other bedroom, but she didn’t sleep well so far from Emily. Besides, the bed didn’t agree with her: she preferred the floor.

  Andrew knew that one of Emily’s Masters had made her sleep on the floor while with the last one she’d slept in a cage. He wanted to buy a cage for her and Amanda, but only for play. He liked having Emily in his bed. Sometimes he sensed that she and Amanda wanted to sleep together, and then he sent them off to the other bedroom; but he preferred to have Emily with him.

  Now he listened to Emily’s breathing and remembered his afternoon with Ai and Asoko. He’d never had sex with a woman as old as Asoko: he’d found her fascinating and had explored her body minutely, intrigued and excited by the effects of time and gravity on her face, breasts, belly, and ass. He and Ai had played with her together, making her service them both: on elbows and knees, she’d performed cunnilingus on Ai while Andrew fucked her behind, enjoying the look of her plump back and dimpled ass.

  He wondered if it was wrong, his desiring Asoko the way he had that afternoon though he didn’t really care for her. And was he bad, feeling driven to fuck other women when this one beside him was all he really wanted?

  He thought about Mistress Ai, her beautiful body with the dragon tattoo, her generosity, the ease with which she commanded everyone around her. Tomorrow he’d report to her at ten, and at noon he’d become her slave. He wondered what tasks she’d set him.

  * * *

  Neko lay on her stomach, her client fucking her hard from behind, one hand on the small of her back, the other in her hair. She usually liked the way her clients fucked her, standing up or pounding down into her, using their hands to control her body: she could pretend she was entirely at their mercy and had no choice but to submit to them.

  But tonight she didn’t pay a lot of attention to what was happening: her mind kept going back to the things she’d lost. Who could have hated her so much that they wanted to get her fired that way? She let her body go through the motions. Her client couldn’t tell she wasn’t paying attention, but responded to her with his usual enthusiasm.

  When he’d done the things he liked to do with her body, Neko pulled on a bathrobe and saw him to the door, where she let him kiss her. She went to the bathroom and drew a deep bath, throwing some bath salts into the stream of water. She lit a candle, turned off the light, and soaked, letting the warm water soothe the welts where her client had caned her. Every now and then she reached between her legs and gave her clitoris a little tap or rub to keep herself in a pleasant state of near-arousal.

  Neko was a shy girl, a classic wallflower with looks and a manner that had always made it easy for her to become almost invisible to the people around her. Other women paid little attention to her. The only men who ever seemed to notice her were dominant types who could sense in her the will to submit—to be taken, managed, controlled, fucked, and hurt—above all, hurt.

  In high school and college she’d gotten into a series of abusive relationships. Then she’d discovered BDSM, which she’d instantly loved for its emphasis on safety. BDSM gave her a space in which she could get what she needed from a relationship without the abuse. Domineering men and women who lost their tempers and beat up their submissives weren’t Dominants at all in the world of kink
: they were just shitheads. Even a primitive like that crazy Mistress Raquel respected limits and safewords and played by the rules, more or less.

  What BDSM hadn’t given Neko was a relationship—at least, not a long-term one. But she’d been surprised how much happiness she’d found working at Mistress Shigemi’s. The relationships she’d formed there were short-term and businesslike, but her clients had loved her, after a fashion—and with the favored few she’d allowed to visit her at home, she liked to think that her relationships had been deeper somehow, and more satisfying, if still businesslike.

  She’d been friendly with the other women who worked at Mistress Shigemi’s, but she didn’t have any friends—not the kind you go out with for walks, coffee, and meals. She’d really liked Pipit, though, and had been sure they were going to become good friends. She’d liked sex with her, too. She’d only had sex with a few women before—casual flings with Dommes. Pipit couldn’t meet her deeper, darker needs, of course, but something about her had drawn Neko strongly. Perhaps it was Neko’s sense that, even though Pipit didn’t call herself a masochist, her need for pain—not physical pain, maybe, but something else—was as profound as Neko’s own. She could feel the need in Pipit when she kissed her, and a certainty that they were kindred souls. Neko knew she could trust Pipit completely.

  Well, she wouldn’t let go of her new friend, not without a fight. She knew a couple of the girls at Mistress Shigemi’s well enough to have their numbers in her phone: she’d call one of them, find out where Pipit had gone, and get in touch with her.

  The water in the tub was starting to get cool. Neko stood up, got the hand-held shower head, and sat down again. She turned it on and held it under the water just an inch or two from her pussy. She closed her eyes, and memories came to her of Pipit’s kind face and the clean and good taste of her mouth and pussy.

  It didn’t take long for the warm spray to give Neko a gentle orgasm.