Today Neko sensed tension and reserve in Pipit, as if she had something on her mind. Pipit wasn’t often distracted this way: it worried Neko. She fingered Pipit’s ass and then rimmed her, a thing that usually got her attention, but still she seemed just half there. Neko was able to give her an orgasm, and that relaxed her a little, but the tension soon returned.
So when they lay together afterwards, Pipit on her back, Neko turned towards her with an arm and a leg over her and said, “You’re tense, sweetie. What is it?”
“Nothing, honey,” said Pipit. “I’m fine.”
“I know you too well, Pipit,” Neko said. “I know when there’s something going on. You were gone like half the day on Tuesday. I’ll bet you were right here, weren’t you?”
Pipit didn’t say anything.
“Who were you with? It was that Andrew, wasn’t it? I wish you wouldn’t see him alone, sweetie. He’s naive and dangerous. I’m so scared he’ll hurt you.”
Pipit turned onto her side, away from Neko, who pressed her body against her friend’s back, reached around her, and stroked her mound.
Neko whispered in her ear. “I love you, sweetie. I’ll die if anything ever happens to you.” There, she’d said what was in her heart. She didn’t know anything else to say, so she waited for her words to sink in.
It was a minute or so before Neko realized that Pipit was crying. She felt the tremor in her body and heard her soft sniffles. She pulled her onto her back, leaned over, and kissed her wet cheek. “Tell me, sweetie. What did he do to you?”
“It hurt so bad,” Pipit whispered.
“Tell me,” said Neko, allowing just a little edge to creep into her voice.
Pipit told her about barebacking with Andrew, about being restrained and gagged so she couldn’t safeword, about how she wanted to safeword but couldn’t, and how scared she was that she was going to die. Neko’s heart felt like it was freezing as she listened.
“Sweetie, why did you do that?” Neko said. “You know better—you could get killed that way!”
“I’m sorry, honey. I know it was stupid. But you wouldn’t believe the things I felt—the helplessness, the fear, the need. I’ve never felt so dependent on another person, or so turned on.”
“If you have to do that, couldn’t you at least do it with somebody that like knows what he’s doing?”
“It’s part of the thrill that he was green, and it was so dangerous.”
Neko was crying now with fear and frustration. “Promise you won’t do it again. I don’t want you to play with this Andrew at all. But if you have to, at least use a safeword. Swear you will!”
“I will,” said Pipit. “I swear it.”
“And no barebacking, sweetie. You think you can control him, but you can’t. He’s like in a frenzy: there’s no telling who else he might be barebacking with. Promise me you won’t do that again.”
“Okay,” said Pipit. “I promise.”
She turned to Neko and kissed her. Her kiss was fervent, her body hot. Neko reached for her pussy and found it wet already. Telling about her scene with Andrew had turned her on.
“Want to borrow my strap-on?” Neko whispered.
“More than anything,” said Pipit.
* * *
Another Tuesday afternoon. Pipit was ready with a plan this time—everything had become clear. She waited on the sofa, too nervous to read or watch TV. She was already naked, wearing just a cuff on each wrist and ankle and the crystal butt plug. She held the ball gag in her hand. On the coffee table there was a collection of items: several lengths of chain piled up together, a coiled up leash, a tub full of clothespins, a bottle of lubricant, and several dangerous-looking toys: a paddle, a cat, a riding crop, and a cane.
She fingered the ball gag nervously. Her pussy was hot and tingly.
The buzzer sounded. She ran to the intercom, spoke to Andrew briefly, and buzzed him in. A minute later there was a knock. She opened the door, flung herself into his arms, and kissed him fervently.
When she was done, he stepped in, smiled, and said, “Good. You’re all ready. Did you follow my command?”
“No, Master,” she said, and burst into tears. “It was an accident. I’m so sorry!”
“How did this accident happen?” he asked, an ominous calm in his voice.
“A client was fucking me,” she sobbed, “and I forgot. I’m so sorry, Master!”
“A client was fucking you,” he repeated softly. “How many clients have fucked you since last Tuesday?”
“Three, Master. No, two! I’m so sorry!”
“But you only came with the one?”
“I couldn’t help it, Master! He was ass-fucking me and calling me a filthy slut, a worthless cunt, and a whore.”
“His words turned you on?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Why is that?”
“Because they’re true. Please, Master. Punish me for coming!”
He took the ball gag from her hand and put it on her. “You’re a vile cunt,” he said, “and I don’t think it’s possible to teach you the difference between right and wrong. But maybe I can teach you to obey your Master.”
She met his gaze with moist, wide eyes. He went to sit in the chair farthest from the coffee table. “Get on your hands and knees, whore,” he said, “and bring me the cane.”
She crawled to the table, picked up the cane with her teeth, and brought it to him. She dropped it in his lap.
“Now the chain,” he said. It took her several trips to bring him all the chain. He pulled her arms out from under her, making her fall onto her shoulders, and fastened her wrists together behind her back. He fastened her ankles together.
“No safe gesture today, whore?” he asked.
She shook her head as well as she could with her cheek pressed against the floor.
“Then we’d better get started on your punishment,” he said, and raised the cane.
* * *
Pipit lay trembling in his arms. She couldn’t stop crying. Her bottom and back still burned where he’d beaten her, and her ass hurt because he’d shoved in so roughly with just the little lubricant that was already there. Her nipples and labia were sore from the clothespins. The bitter and acrid taste of his urine lingered in her mouth, and she was terrified of infection because he’d pulled his cock out of her ass and shoved it right into her pussy. He’d insulted and degraded her for two hours, calling her things that were wounding because they were true; she felt she could never be given enough punishment to make her whole again.
But Andrew was radiant with belief in his near-omnipotence: Pipit could feel the happiness like a thousand starbursts inside him. Just a little more, she thought. One last step, and he’d be utterly transformed.
* * *
Late that night, Mouche sat and watched Emily sleep. Master Andrew had demanded that she and Emily let him tie them both up and gag them without giving them a safe gesture. Emily had flatly refused, and they’d had a huge fight, which had ended with Andrew storming off to the bedroom. Emily was too upset even to make love to Mouche, but had said, “I don’t know how much longer Andrew and I can stay together.”
Mouche thought her heart would break for pity. She was sure Master Andrew was going insane. She was terrified she’d be killed—he was that out of control. But though she thought of herself as far from brave, she now found that her own death was easier to think of than harm to Emily. She resolved that she’d never again allow herself to be restrained by Andrew. She’d make bondage a hard limit. She’d never allow herself to be put in a position where she couldn’t fight for her Mistress.
Mouche studied Emily’s features—her eyes and nose, chin, breasts, thighs. She’d often asked herself why she loved her Mistress so, but even though she loved every inch of her body, she found no answer to the question in her physical features. What she adored in her Mistress, what made the thought of ever being apart from her unbearable, was on the inside—it was her ability to love a thing like Mouch
e—a human housefly with the world’s most repulsive kink. Mouche had sensed this ability in her the first time she’d seen her, and she’d loved her instantly.
Mouche wanted to creep into her Mistress’s arms and feel safe there, but she knew that, for the time being anyway, she, the slave, would have to be the strong one. And she was sure she could be. She’d fight like a tigress before she’d let anything bad happen to Emily.
Mouche’s glance fell on a card lying on the nightstand, lettered in a fine calligraphic hand. She picked it up idly and read. It said:
You are cordially invited to
Ai’s fourth annual
PYL BALL
Friday, 5 October, 2012, 9:00 pm
at Mistress Shigemi’s House of Kink.
Please be prepared to pyl.
In the margin was written, “I hope all three of you can come. Yours faithfully, Ai.”
Mouche smiled as she lay down beside her Mistress. She’d never been to Ai’s PYL Ball—here, at least, was one fun thing to look forward to amid the ruin Andrew was making of their lives. In her fading consciousness she pictured gowns, coaches, and footmen—as if this were Cinderella’s ball. In her mind’s eye she entered a great ballroom with her beloved, both of them in silks and laces. Every head in the crowd turned, and they all spoke of nothing for the rest of the night but how beautiful, how noble, how good Emily was, and Mouche was so full of love and pride, she felt like she was going to burst.
Chapter 9. Mistress Ai’s PYL Ball
Of course no one really wore gowns to the ball. They stopped in the sex shop at the front of Mistress Shigemi’s, where Inkei was checking invitations. Inkei smiled warmly at Emily, Andrew, and Mouche—who felt a little fluttery, remembering the great quantities of Inkei’s semen she’d consumed during her stay with Mistress Ai. She smiled and licked her lips.
“At the PYL Ball,” Inkei said, “you can pick any label you want, and be that thing. If you’re a slave but want to be a Mistress for the evening, just label yourself and you’ll be a Mistress tonight. Maybe some Mistress will want to be your slave. You can switch genders, change your age, become an animal—just write what you want on your body and become that. It’s a little like a costume ball, though costumes are entirely optional. Since this is a private, closed party,” he said, twinkling at Amanda, “sex is permitted, even encouraged. Mistress Ai asks that everyone play safely.”
“It sounds like fun,” said Emily brightly.
“Do you get to play, too, Inkei?” asked Mouche, feeling bold.
“I can a little later,” he said, “though I’m not going to be anything interesting. Just a fuck-toy. That’s how you label yourself when you just want to be available for sex. Asoko, Shita, and I are all fuck-toys tonight.”
“I’m a boy,” said Mouche shyly.
“That’s excellent,” said Inkei, smiling warmly. “Did I ever mention that I’m bi?”
“Me too,” said Mouche, feeling sort of warm and runny inside.
Inkei said, “There are acrylic markers in the employees’ lounge. You can change there, or in the restrooms if you want more privacy. I’ll see you soon.”
They found their way to the lounge, where Emily and Mouche undressed. They’d decided, with much giggling, that they’d both be men tonight, naked except for strap-on dildos. Emily’s harness worked in the usual way, fitting around her hips, while Mouche’s was a facial harness with a double dildo, a little one for her mouth and a bigger one outside. It would have been impractical to wear the facial harness all night, so Mouche carried it. She and Emily both wrote “MAN” in large blue letters above their breasts.
Andrew had been quiet about his plans for the ball. He’d been well behaved lately, retreating from the unreasonable demands he’d been making. He’d been playing nicely with Emily and Mouche, and had even been more or less gracious about Mouche’s unexpected declaration that bondage was now a hard limit—but he’d been reserved and sometimes not in the mood for play. Now he kept on the slacks and short-sleeved shirt he’d come in, and didn’t use the markers.
Mistress Ai had closed Mistress Shigemi’s for the evening, both so the Dominants and submissives could attend and so the party could take up all five playrooms. Andrew wandered off while Emily and Mouche, holding hands, toured the playrooms, which they’d never seen before. The rooms weren’t crowded yet. They worked their way through the dungeon, the velvet lounge, and the pet shop (where Mouche found herself strangely excited by the sight of the cages) without seeing anyone they knew well enough to talk to. In the examination room they saw Mistress Karen, resplendent in a colorful dress, chatting with Master Daniel and a young blond woman wearing a skimpy white fishnet dress.
Mistress Karen looked up, saw them, and said, “Oh, look! It’s Mouche and Famula!” She rushed over, seized both of Mouche’s hands in hers, and said, “My dear Mouche! I’ve been praying you’ll forgive an old lady’s foolishness—can you forgive me?”
Mouche looked down, feeling confused. She’d been sad when Mistress Karen had turned her out, but somehow it hadn’t occurred to her to be angry. Being asked for forgiveness was very strange. But she decided it was all right to say, “Yes, Mistress Karen.”
“Let me look at you, dear.” Mistress Karen held Mouche at arm’s length and gazed into her face. “Still as lovely as ever. Have you been well, dear? Have you been happy?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“How I’ve missed you! Come say hello to Daniel!”
She shepherded Mouche and Emily over to where Daniel was still talking to the blond girl, who looked familiar now that they were closer.
Daniel kissed both of them on the cheek and said, “You’re both looking well. Have you met our friend Anna?”
Emily smiled at Anna and said, “We met a couple of times at your parties, but I never learned her name.”
Anna said, “I had a Dominant then who called me babydoll, but we split up last summer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Emily.
Mistress Karen said, “We tried to make a match with Frederick, but they didn’t hit it off.”
“I don’t think he liked me,” said Anna.
“We think he’s still pining for you, Famula,” said Mistress Karen.
“A number of men are pining for Famula, and some women too,” said Daniel.
Anna was looking at Emily with soft and dreamy eyes. “So you’re a man tonight,” she said.
“Yeah, Amanda and I thought it would be fun to be men and bring strap-ons. What are you?”
“Just a blond bimbo,” said Anna, and showed Emily her arm, where she’d written that in hot pink. “In case you couldn’t tell from my outfit,” she added.
“Anna was wearing panties,” said Mistress Karen, “but I persuaded her that going without promotes vaginal health.”
“Not to mention a more interesting love life,” interjected Daniel.
“Anna is anything but a bimbo,” Karen continued. “She’s a very accomplished young woman—a Julliard graduate who plays violin for the New York Philharmonic.”
“Second violin,” she murmured.
“I like blond bimbos,” said Emily, smiling warmly. “And I love your dress.”
“I like men,” said Anna shyly, glancing at Emily’s dildo.
“Why don’t the two of you run along and play. Mouche, Daniel and I will do some catching up.”
“Will you be okay, baby?” asked Emily.
“Okay, Emily,” said Mouche, though she was in fact a little scared of Mistress Karen.
Emily and Anna left the room. The moment Emily was out of sight, Mistress Karen seemed an overwhelming presence. She said, “Come talk to me, dear. It’s been so long!” Daniel gave her a warm smile as Mistress Karen led her towards one of the examination tables.
“Why don’t you hop right up on the table, dear, and put your feet in the stirrups,” said Mistress Karen.
Mouche wasn’t sure she wanted this, but couldn’t think how to refuse. As she
got onto the table, Mistress went to a white cabinet and came back with two plastic specula and a tube of lubricant.
“Let’s have a look at that lovely cunt,” said Mistress, lubricated and inserted a speculum, squeezed the handles together, and locked it open. Excitement started up inside Mouche. Mistress had often played with her this way, and though she didn’t love the speculum, she knew where the play always ended up.
Mistress peered into Mouche’s vagina and said, “Lovely.” She spat into the speculum. “Is Famula taking care of your needs, dear?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” said Mouche.
“Is she looking out for your health? You must practice proper hygiene, take your medicine—”
“Yes, Mistress,” said Mouche. “We’re both grateful to you for showing me how to take care of myself.”
“You can’t be too careful,” said Mistress. “Some strains of e. coli are resistant to antibiotics.” She bent closer to the speculum.
“We’re very careful, Mistress,” said Mouche. She said this with some difficulty: she was starting to hyperventilate.
“And your diet?” said Mistress. “Plenty of green vegetables? They’re very good for the bowels.” She withdrew the speculum and put it aside.
“Yes, Mistress.”
Mistress raised the stirrups, lubricated the other speculum, and inserted it in Mouche’s ass. She massaged Mouche’s clit with a thumb as she bent to inspect her anal canal.
“Regular enemas?”
“A few, Mistress,” Mouche panted, and instantly felt bad about the lie. She hadn’t had a single enema since leaving Mistress Karen.
“I’ll speak to Famula about it,” said Mistress. “Enemas are essential for anal health.” She closed and withdrew the speculum and said, “I’ve always loved that sweet cunt and ass. Come, dear, let’s put on that exciting dildo.” She took the facial harness from Mouche and made her sit up.
“I love these dildos,” Mistress said as she inserted the small end into Mouche’s mouth and fastened the harness behind her head. “Daniel and I both have one. We use them with each other and with special friends. There we are! Now lie on the floor, dear. If I fell off this table at my age, it’d be the end of me.”
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