Manhattan Kink: A Boxed Set

by Serafina Conti

  Pipit tried hard to get herself under control and managed to say, “I’ve been a bad girl.”

  “What did you do that was bad?”

  “I was a slut,” Pipit whispered.

  “And you think that’s a bad thing?”

  “Yes, Emily. Punish me?”

  “Go find me a vibrator. A big one.”

  Pipit jumped up, ran to a cabinet, and got a wand vibrator. She brought it to Emily, who looked around the room. “That frame over there is free,” she said. She led Pipit to the frame and cuffed her to its corners, facing the room. She attached the nipple clamps, not too tight, and plugged the vibrator into a nearby outlet—its buzzing was ominous. People were turning to stare at Pipit’s exposed body. She was very scared, and very wet.

  Emily said, “I’m not going to punish you for being a slut.”

  Pipit cried, “Please, Emily, you promised—”

  Emily held the vibrator against the inside of one thigh. “I didn’t tell you what I’d punish you for,” she said. “If you want to be punished, you’ll have to come up with something better than that. You’re a good slut, you know. You just made Andrew and me really happy.” She stroked Pipit’s thighs with the vibrator, from the knee almost to her pussy, one side and then the other.

  Pipit needed pain and humiliation so bad. “Please, Emily,” she said, tugging at her cuffs, straining towards the vibrator.

  Emily drew circles around Pipit’s pussy and said, “You could try insulting me again, like you did New Year’s Eve.”

  People were gathering round to watch the scene—Christopher was among them. Pipit needed him to see her shamed and tortured. “Oh, please—skank! whore!”

  Emily stroked her mound with the vibrator and said, “Your heart’s not in it. You’ll have to try harder.”

  “Bitch,” Pipit sobbed, “cunt.” Not words for Emily, but for herself.

  Emily traced a semicircle around a clamped nipple with the vibrator and said, “This isn’t working. What else could I punish you for?”

  Again Pipit felt the urge to confess everything—but she couldn’t, the time wasn’t right to say all of it.

  “What I did to you,” she whispered. “And Mouche. . . . Christopher. Frederick.”

  “It’s pretty old stuff, but I guess it’ll have to do,” said Emily, and pressed the vibrator hard against Pipit’s clit.

  The sensation blasted through stimulation straight up to pain. Pipit shrieked and tried to squirm away. “I’m sorry!” she cried.

  “Tell me what you’re sorry for,” said Emily, moving the vibrator up and down Pipit’s slit.

  “I called you names,” Pipit choked. “I stole your Master. Please, please!”

  “Okay,” said Emily. The vibrator was like a grotesque cock: she thumped Pipit’s clit with its head. “Any more?”

  Oh, Pipit was worse than bad. She’d drunk piss and eaten shit. Her whole body was septic. No one was fouler than she was. “I’m filthy!” she cried.

  “That one won’t do,” said Emily, and took the vibrator away.

  “I was mean to Mouche! I drove her away! I was a bad slave!”

  “That’s more like it,” said Emily, and jammed the vibrator between her legs again. She took Pipit’s chain in her free hand and tugged a little, increasing the pain and stimulation of her nipples.

  Sensation was blasting through Pipit’s body, lightning leaping between her pussy and nipples. She wept, “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

  “Is that all?” Emily asked. “There’s nothing more?”

  There was lots more. Pipit was bad, hateful. She was doing every bad thing she could think of, trying to destroy everyone in her life.

  “Ohh,” she whined. “I can’t think!”

  “Try,” said Emily, and twisted the vibrator.

  “Please,” Pipit sobbed. “Take it away!”

  “When you’re done,” said Emily. “Is there more, baby?” She pressed the vibrator squarely against her clit.

  Emily’s rose vines seemed to be waving about, stretching towards Pipit like tentacles. They’d wind around her and pull her under . . .

  Oh, fuck, her breasts. “I’m sorry!” Pipit screamed.

  “Is there more? Say it!” said Emily.

  Pipit shrieked, “No more!”

  Emily snapped the vibrator off and removed the clamps. She cupped Pipit’s pussy in one hand, letting her middle finger rest over her slit. “It’s okay now,” said Emily. “Punishment’s done. You’re forgiven.”

  “I’m sorry, Emily,” Pipit sighed.

  Emily took her down from the cross and lowered her to the floor, where she lay trembling. Emily sat with her and held her head in her lap. “How many orgasms have you had tonight, baby?” she asked.

  “None, Emily,” said Pipit.

  “Do you want one, baby?”

  “Yes, please,” said Pipit.

  Emily laid her on the floor and crawled on top of her. Pipit was so happy she could lick her friend’s pussy while Emily’s gentle tongue soothed her sore and swollen clit. She put her hands on Emily’s bottom and pulled her down to her, wanting to drown in her wetness.

  After Emily had given Pipit her orgasm, she petted her head and said, “Is that better, baby?”

  “Thank you, Emily,” said Pipit.

  “Why don’t you come sit with me a while?” said Emily. “We could both use some rest.”

  Pipit turned onto her side and curled up. “You go, Emily,” she said. “I just want to lie here for a while.”

  “Okay,” said Emily, kissed her cheek, and left.

  Pipit lay thinking about the way Emily had humiliated and punished her. It had felt so good—painful and healing. She’d been so strong, so relentless, so close to the truth, the true horror of Pipit, who wanted Emily in her life always—ruling her, fucking her, punishing her. Even after she’d finished with Andrew and torn all their lives apart, Pipit would yearn for her.

  A pair of brown shoes appeared by her head, khaki pants above them. She turned to look up: it was Christopher, fully clothed but holding his erect cock in his hand.

  “On your knees, fuck toy,” he said.

  * * *

  Home again, Emily lay in bed with her Master, feeling happy. She was curious, though.

  “Master?” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “That girl I was playing with—Tosatsu, my bitch. Did you ever meet her before, besides the once at Mistress Ai’s?”

  “No. Just that one time. I think I’d remember meeting that one, you know.”

  “Yeah, she’s a beauty. I just thought I saw something in your eyes, like you recognized her, and something else.”

  “People are always imagining they see things in people’s eyes. But eyes are just eyes.”

  They lay quietly. Emily decided not to tell him Tosatsu was Pipit, the girl who’d made so much trouble in her life. That was all water under the bridge, and Tosatsu didn’t even want to be Pipit anymore. She was different now: Emily really liked her.

  If she’d been less sleepy, it might have struck her as odd that Master hadn’t asked how Tosatsu had become Emily’s bitch tonight. Instead, she fell asleep with the thought that, though she and Master had gone through a rough patch, things were getting better between them. Whatever the crisis had been about, it was done. Everything was going to be all right.

  Chapter 10. Boys and girls together

  “Karen was practically on her knees, right here in our kitchen, begging for a visit from Amanda,” said Emily. “I think she’s really been suffering without a toilet slave.”

  Pipit sipped her tea and studied Emily’s face, struggling to conceal her need, which was still at fever pitch three days after Mistress Ai’s PYL Ball. “So you let her go for five whole days?” she said. “Aren’t you worried she won’t come back?”

  “A little worried, I guess,” said Emily. “But there’s real love between them, you know, in spite of everything, and Karen’s really into the toilet kink in a way that I
’m not—so that’s a thing Karen can give her that I can’t.”

  “I can see that,” said Pipit, wondering how to steer the conversation towards what she wanted.

  “And then,” Emily continued, “even if Amanda doesn’t go on living with me, we’re still going to have a relationship. I’m not worried about ever losing that. I think we’ll always be best friends.”

  “And lovers?” asked Pipit, starting to see a way to get where she wanted to go.

  Emily smiled. “Oh, we’ll definitely be lovers.”

  “If you can be both friends and lovers, that’s the most beautiful kind of relationship,” said Pipit, feeling warm inside.

  “I think so,” said Emily. “Mistress Ai once told me I needed to keep sex, play, and relationships separate in my mind. I think she meant they don’t always have to go together, though they’re better when they do.”

  “We did all three the other night,” said Pipit, feeling shy. “I really liked it.”

  “So did I,” said Emily, smiling.

  Pipit almost blurted it out, but the time wasn’t right, so she said, “Tell me more about your tattoos. Why did you get roses?”

  “I’ve always been a pushover for roses,” said Emily. “If a guy sent me roses, I’d be like advance one base. Frederick used to give me roses, and it sent me over the moon. I wanted to give him roses, and the tattoo was how I did it.”

  “It’s sad you’re not with him,” said Pipit. “I guess that’s my fault.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Emily. “And I still love the roses, and so does Master.”

  “Could I . . . could you show them to me again?”

  “Sure,” said Emily. She stood and peeled off her tee shirt.

  Pipit drew a deep breath. Emily’s colorful rose vine filled her with love and envy. “Not everybody has thorns on their rose tattoos,” she said.

  “It’s perfect for a masochist,” said Emily.

  Pipit put her hands on Emily’s hips and turned her so she could see her back. The rose vine disappeared into her gray sweatpants.

  “Do you mind?” said Pipit, letting her fingers curve over the elastic waistband.

  “Not at all,” said Emily.

  Pipit drew down the sweats. “Jesus,” she said.

  On Saturday the vine had stopped just below Emily’s waistline. Now it extended down over her perfect ass, on the right. The skin was a little swollen under the design, and pink and raw all around it.

  “Do you like it?” said Emily. “I had it done yesterday.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Pipit breathed. “Can I touch it?”

  “Yeah, just don’t rub,” she said.

  Pipit gingerly touched the raised skin. Emily flinched a little, and Pipit said, “It must hurt a lot.”

  “Not too bad,” said Emily. “Play with Master hurts more.”

  Pipit shivered, remembering how Andrew had taken a belt to her pussy. She wondered if he’d ever done that to Emily. Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed the fresh tattoo.

  Emily gave a little scream and turned around: her sweats fell down around her feet. Before she could bend down to retrieve them, Pipit jumped up, threw her arms around Emily, and kissed her.

  “I’m sorry, Emily,” said Pipit. “It’s just . . . your tattoo turned me on so much.”

  “It’s okay,” said Pipit. “Only you’re supposed to keep them super clean for a few days, and mouths are full of bacteria.”

  Pipit felt a little deflated. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “No, no, baby,” said Emily, “no harm done, really,” and kissed her. Pipit returned her kiss avidly, feeling more revved up every second.

  Pipit reached down and touched Emily’s mound, lightly and tentatively.

  “Emily?” she said.

  “Mmm?”

  “Can we go to bed?”

  “Mmm.”

  Emily stepped out of her puddled up pants and led Pipit to the Master bedroom, which had a bed with posts, a great convenience for kinky people. She turned inside the door, laced her fingers behind Pipit’s head, and said, “Now what are two submissives supposed to do in the bedroom?”

  “You’re a switch,” said Pipit, resting her hands on Emily’s hips.

  “I think maybe you are too,” said Emily. “What do you do with Neko?”

  “We’re neither of us switches, but we take turns topping.”

  “It’s your turn,” said Emily, and kissed her.

  “Got any cuffs?” said Pipit.

  Emily rummaged in a drawer and brought her four leather cuffs and some soft cord.

  “Face down, honey,” said Pipit. “Don’t worry: I’ll be careful about the tattoo. But I want to see it.”

  Emily lay face down on the bed. Pipit fastened her, spread-eagled, to the bedposts, and then undressed herself. She knelt beside Emily, reached between her legs, and put a hand on her pussy. Emily sighed and stirred.

  Pipit brushed Emily’s hair aside and kissed her neck. She said, “Now that I have you tied up, I can do anything I want with you. Do you have a safeword of your own?”

  “Satis,” said Emily. “It’s Latin for ‘enough.’”

  “What horrible things would make you safeword?”

  “Scat,” said Emily. “Hitting too hard. Cutting. Things you wouldn’t do.”

  “Don’t be too sure. I’m a really bad person,” said Pipit. She imagined giving Emily’s new tattoo a spank. How she’d scream!

  “Don’t scare me,” said Emily.

  “You didn’t let Andrew play without a safeword, did you?” said Pipit.

  “No. But he never asked again.”

  Pipit suppressed her wicked thought and said, “Don’t worry—I’ll be good. But do you have a vibrator?”

  “Top dresser drawer. There are three different kinds.”

  Pipit found a little pink bullet vibrator, came back to Emily, kissed her cheek, and turned the vibrator on. She pressed it against the back of Emily’s neck, and slowly moved it over her shoulders, back to her neck, and down her spine. Emily sighed.

  Pipit used the vibrator all over Emily’s body—feet, ankles, calves, thighs, sides, armpits. She explored her body minutely, wanting to see every inch of it and find the most sensitive places. Finally she reached under her and pressed the vibrator against her mound, avoiding the clit.

  “Oh,” said Emily, and squirmed.

  Pipit bent down and kissed Emily’s bottom—the side that wasn’t freshly tattooed and raw. “I’m going to worship your ass,” she whispered.

  Emily said “Oh!” more insistently this time.

  Pipit held the vibrator against Emily’s spine again and slid it down into the top of her crack. She pressed it into the sensitive skin there, making her wiggle. She bit the soft flesh of her bottom, just enough to make her gasp, not enough to leave marks. She held the vibrator against her taint and ran her tongue up and down her tightly closed crack.

  “Oh!” cried Emily, “you’re teasing me!”

  “Okay, sweetie,” said Pipit, slid the vibrator into her slit, and held it there as she dredged into her crack with her tongue.

  Emily wriggled and moaned.

  “You like your ass licked, honey?” said Pipit.

  “Please,” Emily pleaded.

  Pipit slid the vibrator into Emily’s vagina, parted her ass cheeks with two hands, and gave her anus a little flick with the tip of her tongue. It was lovely—not dirty or smelly, but pink and a little spicy. She closed her lips over it and kissed it, wetting it with her tongue. It felt deliciously submissive to kiss Emily’s ass, even with her cuffed to the bed. Pipit enjoyed the warmth of her deep crack on her face, the faint scent of sweat, the beauty of her white skin, and, at the edge of her vision, the fabulous sore tattoo. Pipit was in a reverie: she wanted to stay here, in Emily’s ass, forever.

  But Emily was squirming, impatient, wanting to get on to the next thing. Reluctantly, Pipit raised her head and pulled the vibrator out of Emily’s pussy.

&n
bsp; “Turn you over, honey,” said Pipit. She uncuffed Emily, turned her over, and cuffed her again. She knelt between Emily’s legs and gazed into her green eyes as she licked the vibrator, enjoying the taste and sensation on her tongue.

  She put a hand on Emily’s pussy and gently massaged her, making her sigh and move her hips. She softly pinched her hood: “Yes!” Emily whined. She pressed the vibrator against her outer labia, moving up and down on either side, over her mound, and under her slit.

  Emily groaned and said, “Please, baby!”

  Pipit whispered “Pretty pussy,” and lay between Emily’s legs. She parted her outer labia and ran her tongue up and down her pink folds, all the while teasing the very top of her hood with one finger.

  “Ooh!” Emily cried, and Pipit licked upwards inside her slit, from the very bottom not quite to her clit, meanwhile massaging her mound and the top of her labia with one hand and massaging her wet anus with a finger.

  “Put your finger in my ass!” Emily pleaded, and Pipit worked one slender finger into her, careful not to scratch.

  She closed her mouth over Emily’s pussy and sucked, drawing her clit into her and licking circles around it.

  “Eeee!” Emily shrilled, and arched her back. Pipit just barely flicked her clit with the tip of her tongue, reveling in the wetness of her and her clean smell and taste, and aching to please her.

  She made her tongue a little harder and massaged closer to the clit with her finger, and Emily writhed under her mouth and sobbed, so close to orgasm.

  But it wasn’t time for an orgasm yet. Pipit got up, released Emily from the cuffs, and said, “Do you like scissoring?”

  “Yeah,” Emily breathed, and they pressed their pussies together, stimulating each other with their hands too. It was beautiful, and it felt so good, and Pipit was already so turned on even though she’d hardly touched herself, that it didn’t take long for them to come.

  Pipit and Emily lay on the bed in each other’s arms, legs tangled up. Pipit’s emotions were running riot: her feelings for Emily and the horror of what she was doing with Andrew—doing to him—and making him do to her. She fought to keep herself under control.

  She said, “That was beautiful, Emily.”

  “Yeah,” said Emily. “You’re really good with your mouth.”