Manhattan Kink: A Boxed Set

by Serafina Conti

  Chapter 5. Slave for a day

  Andrew dipped into the basin and sponged the peroxide solution onto a single leather strand of the cat. Inkei had explained that this was important, since traces of skin or body fluids on the cat could harbor bacteria. So Andrew’s job this afternoon was to disinfect the leather toys with peroxide and then clean, soften, and polish them with saddle soap.

  This was boring, to say the least. Even though he’d set Emily and Amanda to all kinds of cleaning tasks, somehow it had never sunk in how much drudgery consensual slavery involved. He wondered if anyone ever safeworded while cleaning a toilet or sorting laundry.

  He’d gotten to Mistress Ai’s place at ten in the morning, as they’d agreed, so they could talk and plan.

  “Before we begin,” Ai had said, “you need to understand a bit more of what you’re getting into, and I need to get some idea of your limits. As you know, all of my slaves go naked. I require the men to shave their bodies, but I won’t ask you to do that. My slaves serve both as household servants and as objects of play for me and my friends. They also serve my sexual needs. As Shita is out of town for an academic conference, I propose that you take over his domestic duties, cleaning in the playroom and doing the laundry. I require clean sheets on all the beds every day.”

  “Okay,” said Andrew.

  “You won’t begin until noon,” said Ai, “but starting then you will address me as Mistress Ai. I believe . . . I will call you Gakusha.”

  “Yes. Okay.”

  “As to play activities, it would rather obviously be right for you to play the way Emily does. Is there anything she does that you don’t believe you can do?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Andrew.

  “We’ll see,” said Ai. “Her kind of play is not for the faint of heart. Would you like to use her safeword?”

  “Yes, Mistress,” said Andrew, already starting to think a little like a slave. Emily’s safeword was satis—Latin for “enough.” He’d given it to her when they’d been college students together.

  “Limits,” said Ai. “You probably haven’t thought about them.”

  “No, Mistress Ai.”

  “Why don’t you use Emily’s, then? She rules out scat and all kinds of edge play, right? Since I don’t favor those things anyway, it doesn’t make any difference to me.”

  “Emily’s limits will be fine, Mistress Ai,” said Andrew.

  “My family is strictly hierarchical,” said Ai. “I am at the top of the hierarchy, the slaves at the bottom. But there is a hierarchy among the slaves, too, as there is in any group of people: there are no equals. Inkei! Asoko!”

  The two slaves appeared and stood together in front of the sofa on which Ai and Andrew were sitting.

  “Only these two slaves are with me today,” said Mistress Ai. “Inkei is my head slave. He is at the top of my slave hierarchy. He has great dignity, and yet he never forgets his place. Asoko is near the bottom of the hierarchy when all the slaves are here, but today she is second after Inkei. Being new, you will be at the bottom of the hierarchy.”

  “What does the hierarchy of slaves mean in practical terms, Mistress?”

  “It shows up mostly in the way I treat them. Slaves do not give each other orders, except to convey my wishes; but I’m most likely to ask Inkei to pass on my wishes to the others and oversee their work. Inkei is my pet as well. You, on the other hand, will not be given any authority, and we may sometimes be harsh with you, to help you remember your place.”

  An invisible hand seemed to be squeezing Andrew’s stomach.

  “Remember, however,” Ai continued, “that every position in the hierarchy is an honorable one. To obey well when you’re a slave is as worthy a thing as to give good commands when you’re a Master.”

  The invisible hand relaxed its grip a little, but Andrew still suspected that the next day wasn’t going to be quite the romp he’d expected.

  It was a little after eleven when they ran out of things to talk about, and Mistress Ai ordered Asoko to bring them a light lunch and get something for herself and Inkei while about it. “That way,” she said, “you won’t have to work on lunch preparation or cleanup, but can go straight to your afternoon tasks.”

  It took only a few minutes for Asoko to bring them sandwiches, which they ate on the sofa, making light conversation. At twelve o’clock, Mistress Ai said, “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Mistress Ai,” said Andrew, wondering if he was actually ready.

  “Then take your clothes off, Gakusha.”

  Andrew stood and undressed, folding each article of clothing neatly and laying it on the coffee table.

  When he was naked, Mistress Ai called, “Asoko!”

  The slave appeared silently.

  Mistress Ai said, “Bring me a plain black collar.”

  A minute later, Mistress Ai was fastening the collar around his neck, and even though she did so without ceremony, the moment was so erotically charged that his cock stiffened. His face was hot, and he was sure he’d turned beet red.

  Mistress Ai paid no attention to either his cock or his complexion, but instead turned him over to Inkei, who took him to the playroom and showed him how to clean the leather toys.

  And now he was disinfecting each individual strand of this cat. When he’d finished the last one, he started with the saddle soap. He had to rub the soap in well, let it stand for a few minutes, and then sponge it off.

  While he was in the middle of this task, Mistress Ai came in with Inkei and watched silently.

  After a minute she said, “You’re making a mess on the floor, Gakusha.”

  Feeling a little irritable, Andrew looked down and saw that the floor around him was spotted with dirty water.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  Mistress Ai said, “He isn’t getting off to a promising start, Inkei. He’s already forgotten how to address his Mistress.”

  Andrew flushed red again. “I’m sorry, Mistress Ai. I meant to say I’ll take care of it, Mistress Ai.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said. “But with new slaves, it is usually wise to hand out forgiveness along with an aide à la mémoire. This saves one tedious repetition. Don’t you agree, Inkei?”

  “That is what you did with me when I was a new slave, Mistress Ai.”

  “And did you profit by it?”

  “I’m sure I did, Mistress Ai.”

  “Do you remember the first occasion I punished you, Inkei?”

  “I do, Mistress Ai.”

  “What had you done, and what was the punishment?”

  “I had set the table improperly, Mistress Ai, forgetting that some people prefer chopsticks to knives and forks. The punishment was figging.”

  “Yes, I remember now. A ginger-root butt plug is painful.”

  “Yes, Mistress, it was,” said Inkei with a smile.

  It didn’t sound so dreadful to Andrew, but he made a mental note of it.

  “I think that Gakusha should have one of Emily’s favorite punishments,” said Mistress Ai, “though of course with no more intensity than she likes. Come to the cross.”

  Andrew’s legs felt a little wobbly as he walked to the cross. Yet it seemed odd, now that he thought of it, that he’d never been whipped, caned, or even spanked, and yet he’d often done those things to the woman he loved. With that thought he became eager for his punishment, and he got control of his nerves.

  Mistress Ai preferred rope to cuffs; she was in fact an expert in Shibari, the Japanese art of knot-tying. She tied him to the cross with his back to the room. As she worked, Andrew was aware of Asoko slipping in and taking a seat along the wall.

  Mistress’s voice was so soft and musical that you wouldn’t think her capable of any kind of violence. She said, “We start with light blows. These release endorphins and prepare the skin for what comes after.”

  Inkei handed her a cat of thin leather thongs, and she gave his bottom a blow as gentle as a caress. Andrew thought a caress like thi
s from Mistress Ai was more than a little sexy, and his cock stirred without quite getting hard. She continued in the same way for a few minutes, and then started to make the blows heavier, increasing the intensity so gradually that he was unaware of it at first.

  “Does this arouse you?” she asked.

  “A little, Mistress Ai,” Andrew said.

  She brought the whip up between his legs, so the strands brushed the insides of his thighs and the tips stung just behind his balls.

  “Oh!” he exclaimed, and felt a surge of arousal, which became more intense as she whipped him between the legs several more times before returning to his bottom, where she took up where she’d left off.

  The whip was beginning to sting now. The whipping between his legs, though not harsh, had reminded him how naked and vulnerable he was, and his cock was now erect.

  Mistress Ai stopped the whipping, came to Andrew, and stood excitingly close to him. She stroked his bottom with her fingers and said, “How is it so far, Gakusha? Is it painful yet?”

  “It stings a little, Mistress Ai, but I wouldn’t call it painful.”

  “Good. That was the warm-up. Soon we’ll begin the punishment.”

  She didn’t start right away, but continued to stroke his bottom for a few more minutes. Her fingers felt cool, but he was getting hotter and more aroused. It was embarrassing that he couldn’t control his almost painfully stiff cock, which strained uselessly towards the wall.

  She stepped back then, and whipped him just a little harder than she’d done before, but that little increment made the difference between a mild, pleasurable sting and real pain. Andrew’s body tensed, his heart beat faster and harder, and it was suddenly hard to get enough air. He recognized the sensations: adrenalin was flooding into his bloodstream, energy pouring into his body. But he’d committed to this, let himself be tied to the cross—and anyway, as his pain grew his arousal became greater, huge really. What he felt wasn’t quite pleasure, but a promise of pleasure so enormous that the fulfillment of it could tear him apart.

  Mistress Ai paused to flog him lightly between the legs again and pet his bottom. After a few minutes Inkei handed her a different whip. She backed up, and when she swung the whip again it was like a hard kick to his backside—aimed higher, it would have knocked the wind out of him.

  Andrew was losing track of the room around him. His mind seemed to be floating in a bright fog of pleasure and arousal, and yet his body thrummed with panicky energy, yearning to escape this beating Mistress was giving him.

  She shifted her stance, and now the whip stung again, slashing, burning stripes of pain like hot irons, or sitting on a stove; it brought him out of his trance, but soon he was slipping away again. The pain seemed a space he inhabited, a warm, loving place where he could live forever. . . .

  “That’s enough,” said Mistress Ai, and handed the whip to Inkei. She came to Andrew and untied him. He wasn’t sure he could stand, but Inkei helped him down from the cross and walked him to a mat where Mistress Ai was kneeling, holding a bottle—some kind of lotion, he thought. Inkei lay him there on his stomach, and Mistress gently applied the lotion to his sore bottom.

  “How do you feel, Gakusha?” she asked.

  “Strange, Mistress Ai.”

  “Floaty? You were at peace, and yet your body was humming with energy? You wanted more, and yet you wanted to escape too?”

  “Yes, Mistress Ai.”

  “You had a little taste of subspace. Perhaps you have the makings of a good submissive. Inkei, help him turn over.”

  Inkei turned him onto his back so his head was in Mistress’s lap. She combed his hair with her fingers: he thought nothing could ever feel so good.

  She lay him on the floor, bent over him, and kissed him—not a passionate kiss, but long and generous—a gift. She reached for his cock and stroked it—she seemed to be pleasing herself with her possession of it, and his pleasure was incidental. His cock was uncomfortably hard, his body too aroused. Somehow he knew she wasn’t going to let him come this way.

  She stopped kissing him. Still bent over him and stroking his cock, she said, “That’s what Emily wants and needs. I wonder what you want.”

  Andrew couldn’t answer that; he thought she probably didn’t want an answer. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensations she was giving him: her soft hand, her warmth, the faint fragrance of her, which he didn’t recognize despite all the time he’d spent working in the Saks perfume department.

  “Come here, Asoko,” said Mistress Ai. Asoko came and knelt by Andrew, opposite her mistress.

  “Give Gakusha pleasure,” said Mistress Ai.

  “Yes, Mistress Ai,” said Asoko, and went down on him, simply and without ceremony, a slave doing her duty. From her behavior before, he suspected that she felt something for him—not love, necessarily, but simple physical desire—and knowing that made her practical manner all the more compelling.

  “Asoko is an excellent fellatrix,” said Mistress Ai.

  She was right: The sensations Asoko was giving Andrew were miraculous.

  “She’s not the slightest bit masochistic,” said Mistress Ai. “She’ll accept a whipping if she has to, but she’s a sex slave: her great ambition is to belong to a Master or Mistress who will tax both her strength and her sexual abilities to their limits. Don’t come till I give you permission.”

  Andrew had felt himself approaching the edge, and now he got his body under control with difficulty by silently reciting the Aeneid. He’d gotten as far as Tantaene animis caelestibus irae when Mistress Ai spoke again.

  “It is a noble desire,” she said, “to live only for the pleasure of others. The Dominant’s ambition is not so different, though, being based on a recognition that, just as one confers power by accepting the power that a submissive surrenders, so one can give pleasure by accepting it. The person who simply takes pleasure from others is no Dominant: rather, the Dominant accepts pleasure with a generous spirit. Give Asoko the gift of enjoying the pleasure she’s offering you.”

  Andrew let himself pay attention to Asoko’s cocksucking, the astonishing things she was doing to his nervous system, but soon he was in danger of coming again. Urbs antiqua fuit, Tyrii tenuere coloni, he thought to himself, and when he felt some control return to him, he let himself feel what Asoko was doing to him again. In this way he edged himself for a long time, until his balls ached and his exhausted body felt near collapse.

  Finally Mistress Ai said, “You may come now, Gakusha,” and he stopped his recitation (Aeneas and his crew were setting out from Sicily) and gave his attention entirely to Asoko. He raised his head and looked at her, bent to her task with a look of great concentration on her pleasant round face, her pretty lips closed sensuously around the head of him, which disappeared into her so slowly, followed by—Oh!—the rest of him, down to the pubic hair. She raised her eyes to him, and he could see there her calm desire—a generous desire that he should accept the pleasure she was offering, accept her as pleasure-giver. As longing to give her that acceptance swept through him, lifting his spirit, energy surged into his body and he came, a long, intense orgasm that left him trembling and weak.

  Asoko sat up and smiled at him, and Andrew smiled back. He glanced at a clock on the wall: it was almost four-thirty. They’d begun his punishment a few minutes after two.

  “I think you should have a nap,” said Mistress Ai. “Inkei will show you where you can sleep.”

  Inkei led Andrew to a small room where several thin futons were laid out on the floor. “This is the slave quarters,” he said. He pointed to one of the futons and said, “You may use that one.” It had a pillow, and a folded sheet lay on top of it. Andrew shook out the sheet, lay down under it, and soon fell asleep.

  Inkei came to get him an hour later. “Come,” he said, “we have a lot to do.” He let him brush his teeth and then took him to the kitchen. “Mistress is having a guest for dinner tonight,” he said. “We will cook and serve the dinner, and afterwards they�
�ll play with us if they want.”

  Inkei was chef for the dinner and barked orders at Asoko and Andrew, who fetched things for him, cut up vegetables, set the table, and scurried around the apartment on errands. As they worked, Andrew learned from Inkei and Asoko that Mistress Ai entertained several times a week. She planned only about half of her dinners and luncheons more than a day in advance; the other half she gave impulsively, taking both her guests and her slaves by surprise. The slaves had learned that they had to be prepared for anything, and they kept the kitchen well stocked and the good china in readiness.

  On this occasion, Mistress Ai had informed Inkei about the dinner while Andrew was napping. The table would be set for two, the guest would arrive at six, and dinner would be served at seven.

  When the bell rang at six, Andrew was sent to the door. He felt a little nervous answering the door naked—wasn’t there a risk it was someone else?—but he did what he had to do.

  There were two people instead of one at the door. Standing in front was a strongly built middle-aged woman with black hair and heavy makeup. She wore a red sleeveless dress that revealed, on her right arm, a tattoo of a skull with flesh hanging off it in tatters, and she carried a gym bag. Behind her stood a breathtakingly beautiful woman of about Andrew’s age. She gave him a strange look—was it astonishment?—and then looked at the floor.

  He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say something, but it turned out not to matter, because the older woman pushed past him with an impatient air, and the young woman followed, giving him an apologetic smile. If something about him (his nakedness?) had surprised her, she was over it now.

  Andrew followed them into the living room, where the mystery of the extra woman was quickly cleared up. Mistress Ai hugged the older woman and said, “Thanks for coming on such short notice, Raquel. I didn’t know you were bringing your roommate.”

  “Thought you wouldn’t mind,” said Raquel. “She says she’s your slave when she’s here.”

  Mistress Ai said, “That’s true. Take your clothes off, Tosatsu.”

  She called for Inkei and Asoko. When they presented themselves in the doorway, she said, “Tosatsu will resume her position as household slave for the evening. Her rank will be below Gakusha. Employ her as you see fit, Inkei.”