Manhattan Kink: A Boxed Set

by Serafina Conti

  “I know what you mean, honey,” said Pipit. They were in the kitchen doing the dinner dishes—pots, pans, plate, dog bowls. Neko was washing and Pipit drying.

  “It isn’t just that, though,” said Neko. She lowered her voice and continued: “It’s Raquel, too. I never liked her as well as you did, you know. But now it’s like she doesn’t care about us at all—she doesn’t do anything with us but get off. And I’m all aches and pains from sleeping in that cage.”

  Pipit had liked whoring at first—the feeling afterwards, which Neko hated so much, was what she’d liked best. But whoring had lost a lot of its appeal. After the initial rush of exquisite self-loathing, she’d again started to miss the kind of play she’d had with Christopher’s friends. It had taken her a long time to puzzle out why the shame of the submissive whore had come to seem a lesser thing than that of the slave lent out for a fuck. Finally she’d come to understand that, while a john purchased the right to violate her body, Christopher had granted his friends that same right, and also certain rights to her soul. The purely commercial shame of the whore was a thing she could put away after a trick, like changing your clothes at the end of a workday—but the deeply personal shame of the slave had penetrated to her core.

  So Pipit agreed with Neko about whoring, though for different reasons. She agreed about Daddy, too, and she guessed that Daddy cared so little about them that, if they were to pack up and leave tonight, she’d wave them off cheerfully.

  And why shouldn’t they leave? They had an apartment to go to and nothing to tie them down here—not even a contract, since Pipit was supposed to be here only temporarily, and Neko wasn’t supposed to be here at all.

  “Let’s leave, then,” said Pipit. “Let’s tell Daddy we’re going and just move into the apartment. We’ll stop whoring, you can get some kind of job, and we’ll live on that and my income from Mistress Shigemi’s.”

  Neko brightened instantly. She took her hands out of the sink, dried them off, and hugged Pipit tightly. “You’re so wonderful, Pipit,” she said. “I love you so much.”

  “Let’s do it right now, honey,” said Pipit.

  They went to the playroom, dressed, threw some clothing and sex toys into a couple of suitcases, fetched their toiletries from the bathroom, and hauled their bags to the living room, where Daddy was sprawled on the sofa watching a “Shark Tank” rerun.

  Daddy turned to look at them and said, “If it isn’t babycunt and ratfuck, all dolled up for a night on the town.”

  Pipit said, “We’re moving out, Daddy.”

  “Leaving your kindly old Daddy? What’s gotten into you cunts?”

  “You’ve been good to us, Daddy, but we don’t want to be whores anymore.”

  “Maybe I’m not ready for you to quit,” said Daddy. She didn’t seem as happy for them to go as Pipit had expected.

  “We don’t need the money,” said Pipit. “We can live on my income from Mistress Shigemi’s, and Neko can get some kind of job. We don’t need to be whores.”

  “You might find yourself out of a job at Mistress fucking Shigemi’s,” said Daddy. “One word from me, and you’re toast.”

  Pipit said, “You can’t get me fired without getting yourself fired too.”

  “Stupid cunt,” said Daddy, “you don’t know a fucking thing—like that I’m part owner. Eighty percent Ai, ten percent Tejo, ten percent yours fucking truly. I’m your fucking boss. Now take your clothes off and kiss Daddy’s ass.”

  “You’re the stupid cunt,” said Neko hotly. Pipit turned and stared at her in astonishment. She went on, “Sure, you can fire Pipit, but if you do, everybody’s going to find out what you’ve been up to here, pimping us out. Your partnership with Mistress Ai won’t be worth shit. And we don’t give a fuck anyway. We’ll get along, even if we have to work as waitresses somewhere and find more roommates. I love Pipit, and I don’t care if life is hard, as long as I get to live with her and I don’t have to kiss your ass anymore!”

  “I’ve never met a submissive that wasn’t dumb as a rock,” said Daddy. “I’ve always known you were in love with little Miss Cutesy Cunt here. I’ve been laughing my fucking ass off watching you make cow eyes at her. And do you know how much she loves you? Just enough to get you fired from your fucking job.”

  Pipit felt her stomach drop through the floor and heat flood into her face. She should have seen this coming.

  Neko said, “You’re the stupidest bitch in the world if you think you’re giving me some kind of big news. I figured that out ages ago—I even know why she did it, which is more than you can say.”

  “The conniving little cunt did it to get your business,” said Daddy.

  “She did it, you dumb-ass hag, because of the way it made her feel when she was with me. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

  Pipit felt as if she’d been hit on top of the head with a sledge hammer, but she managed to nod.

  “You’ve known this how long?” asked Daddy.

  “Since that first day you had me over for tea,” said Neko. “It just came to me while we were having sex.”

  “And you still love this sack of shit?”

  Pipit was crying now—she wanted to drop through the floor into hell. Neko took her trembling hand and said, “Yes.”

  “You trust her?”

  “I understand her, and that’s better,” said Neko.

  “You think she loves you?” asked Daddy.

  “I’m not half the idiot you take me for,” said Neko.

  Daddy stared at them for a minute or more, saying nothing. Then she said, “Fuck me.” She stared a while longer and then said, “Well, shit.” She crossed her arms and tapped a foot—her gaze shifted back and forth between them. Finally she said, “Let’s go see Ai and get your fucking job back.”

  She picked up her phone from a side table, tapped the screen a few times, and held it to her ear. After a few seconds she said, “I gotta come over and talk business. You got somebody with you?” She paused a few seconds and said, “This is important. You can have your massage when we’re done. I’ll be over in a half hour.”

  Daddy stood up and said, “Now where’s my fucking bag?” Pipit ran to get it.

  A half hour later, Mistress Ai was glaring at Neko and saying, “Why did you bring her here?”

  Daddy said, “This is the best submissive that ever worked at Mistress Shigemi’s. I want to hire her back.”

  “As you know very well, Raquel, we have a no-tolerance policy concerning prostitution,” said Mistress Ai. “We drafted the rule together.”

  “You think there’s a rule against whoring, but the real rule is against getting caught. Our managers know that, and they suspect what’s going on and don’t want to actually catch anyone—they’d have to fire most of the girls, and wouldn’t that be a pain in the ass. So it turns out the rule in reality is against getting ratted out. And guess who ratted out Neko here, for weird-ass reasons it would take Sigmund fucking Freud to explain?”

  Pipit sank onto a sofa, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed, burning with shame.

  Mistress Ai sat beside her and said, “Is this true, Tosatsu?” Her gentle tone was the scariest thing Pipit had ever heard.

  She nodded into her hands, unable to look at her Mistress.

  “Can you explain why?” asked Mistress Ai.

  Pipit whispered, “It’s the feeling.” She wanted to explain more, but she couldn’t talk without sobbing.

  “She’s an emotional masochist,” said Daddy.

  “I know that,” said Mistress Ai. “But I thought it was just about sex. I didn’t know it involved harm to others. Have you done this kind of thing to anyone else?”

  Pipit nodded into her hands again. She was so ashamed and scared.

  “Who?” asked Mistress Ai.

  “Mouche,” said Pipit, stalling for time.

  “I know that story,” said Mistress Ai. “Anyone else?”

  Pipit’s shoulders shook. It was too horrible to say.

&nb
sp; “Oh my!” Neko breathed. Then she whispered, “Andrew.”

  “Tell me about Andrew,” said Mistress Ai.

  Pipit shook her head, still hiding her face, unable to speak.

  Mistress Ai ran her fingers into the thick hair on top of Pipit’s head—it felt like a caress. Then she closed her fist, pulling her hair painfully, and jerked upwards, forcing her face out of her hands.

  “Look at me,” said Mistress Ai levelly, “and tell me about Andrew.”

  Pipit opened her eyes but could hardly see Mistress for her tears. “I got him to fuck me,” she whispered.

  “What else?”

  Pipit was silent: how could she say this?

  Neko said, “She gave him strange advice—”

  “I want her to say it,” said Mistress Ai.

  Pipit said, “I made him jealous and violent. We played without safewords. I made him hate limits. I made him want to play with Emily without limits or safewords.”

  “Clever manipulative twat,” said Raquel.

  “She told me he’d asked to play without limits or safewords,” said Mistress Ai, “but she hadn’t let him do it.”

  “He will,” said Pipit, looking down again. “Tonight. He’s going to tie her up, gag her so she can’t safeword, and scare her with a razor. He did it with me this afternoon.”

  “Fuck me,” said Raquel.

  “We’ve got to stop him!” Neko cried.

  Pipit was numb. She couldn’t think of anything but how fucked she was. She was going to lose everything now—her job, Mistress Ai, Neko. And she’d never see Emily again either. She put her face back into her hands, doubled herself up, and keened.

  Mistress Ai jumped up and said, “I’ll call.” She ran out of the room and came back a few seconds later tapping the screen of a phone. She held it to her ear and waited.

  Mistress Ai lowered the phone, looking worried. “No answer. We’d better go over there. They’re apartment-sitting for a friend of mine, and I have a spare key.”

  A few minutes later, the four of them were in a taxi for the short ride to Perry Street. Pipit hadn’t wanted to go, but Raquel had hauled her out of the apartment by the ear.

  “Chances are everything is all right,” said Mistress Ai. “In that case, we’ll just let Emily know what’s been going on and give Andrew a talking to about safewords and limits.”

  Pipit didn’t think everything was going to be all right. She’d seen Andrew’s eyes as he held the razor. She wanted to die.

  They let themselves into the building and rode the elevator to the third floor. Pipit’s feet got heavier the closer they got to the apartment. She wished Mistress had just fired her and sent her away so she wouldn’t have to be here. Mistress Ai knocked on the door. No one answered, though she knocked several times, louder each time.

  “They’re probably out,” said Mistress Ai, “or having sex. We may end up having to apologize for interrupting their coitus.”

  She took out a key and opened the door, and all four of them ventured in. Once they were inside, Pipit could hear moans from the direction of the bedrooms.

  “No!” Pipit cried. It was Emily’s voice, and it tore at her soul. Fear surged inside her—exactly what she’d felt this afternoon, what Emily was feeling now. Pipit had shot Andrew at her friend like an arrow—how could she have done it? She loved Emily! She had to stop it—she was the only one who could. All her numbness vanished in a rush of energy. She ran to the master bedroom, where they’d played just two days before, and stopped in the doorway. Emily was naked and tied, spreadeagled, to the bed. Andrew was standing on the far side of the bed, bending over her, holding the razor, and she was screaming behind her gag, eyes wide. The terror was unbearable—Pipit’s heart pounded and she gulped for air.

  Mistress Ai, Neko, and Raquel crowded into the doorway behind her. Raquel put a hand on Pipit’s shoulder and said, “Fucking idiot—”

  Mistress Ai whispered, “Wait,” and Raquel took her hand away.

  Andrew looked up at Pipit, seeming not to notice the others. Emily fell silent.

  “No, Master,” she gasped. “Stop.”

  “You said this kind of play would build trust,” said Andrew. “You said she’d love it. I think she does.”

  “No, Master,” said Pipit, taking a step into the room. “I was wrong. It’s the wrong thing to do.”

  “But it feels good,” said Andrew. “I think she wants me to cut her. You know, just enough to make a nice scar. It’ll go well with the tattoos.”

  “No, Master,” said Pipit, taking another step. “She doesn’t want you to do that. And I don’t think you want to do it either. Why don’t you put the razor down? We can all discuss it and figure out what’s best.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Andrew. “You were right about everything. The important thing is a Master’s power. She’s been resisting my power, she and Amanda. We’ll all be happier when I’ve put a stop to it.”

  Pipit edged slowly around the bed. She fought the urge to run—something was keeping her body calm and her voice steady. “Then we should all talk it over,” she said. “You, me, and Emily.”

  “I’ve decided to throw Amanda out,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard. “She’s been a problem in our relationship: Emily doesn’t submit to me where Amanda’s concerned. But after this,” he said, nodding towards the razor, “she’ll submit to me completely.”

  “No, Master,” said Pipit. She was just three feet from him now. He’d turned to face her. She took one more step.

  Andrew said, “Don’t come any closer.”

  “Master,” she said, raised her arms, and closed the distance between them. If she could embrace him and make him want her one more time, she was sure she could control him.

  But he pushed her away roughly and shouted, “No!”

  She stepped towards him again and reached out with one hand, saying “Please, Master,” just as he was raising his left hand, fingers spread as if to ward off an attack, and holding the razor in his right, down at his side. He flinched at her touch, stepped backwards, and stumbled over a shoe. His left hand flew upwards as he fought to regain his balance; his right wheeled in front of him—left, up, right. The razor flashed.

  Pipit twisted to the left—too slowly. The right side of her face seemed to burst into flame, and the world turned red. Andrew screamed, and she passed out.

  * * *

  Pipit drifted partway out of sleep. An unfamiliar voice was saying, as if from a great distance, “She’d be better off in the emergency room.” Mistress Ai’s voice was saying, “You know very well that a hospital is a hotbed of infection. And we don’t need . . .”

  * * *

  Half conscious again, she heard Andrew say, “. . . you forgive me?” Emily said, “I forgive you, but I can’t live with you anymore. You’ll . . .”

  * * *

  Emily again, saying “. . . trust your judgment. . . .” Doors, elevators, taxis, arms holding Pipit up—she was so sleepy. “Wanna lie down,” she slurred.

  * * *

  “. . . about a year. There will still be a visible scar, but since it was a clean cut, and not too deep, it’ll be thin and colorless, if she treats it well and stays out of the sun. It’s a long cut, though. It’ll always be noticeable. A good plastic surgeon would know some specialized techniques for minimizing the scarring—”

  Pipit opened her eyes and said, “No plastic surgeon.” She was groggy and it was hard to speak. She had to mumble because moving her mouth made the right side of her face catch fire again. It was hard to move her jaw because of a big tight bandage around her face.

  She recognized the room she was in—a bedroom in Mistress Ai’s apartment. The sun shone in through the window. The doctor was a lean, blond man, around forty, with close-cropped hair. Mistress Ai, Neko, and Emily were sitting on chairs, talking to him. Neko rushed over to her, sat on the bed, and held her hand.

  “Tosatsu, meet Dr. Nystrom,” said Mistress Ai. “He’s a first-rate phy
sician. He spent last year as my slave, and he’s been known to patch up the odd BDSM mishap.”

  “Why no plastic surgeon, Tosatsu?” asked Dr. Nystrom.

  “I want the scar,” she muttered.

  Dr. Nystrom smiled, and said, “Well, a lot of people love a nice scar, and yours will be an elegant curve, from your right cheekbone down to your jawline.”

  “You’ll be more beautiful than ever,” said Neko dreamily.

  Mistress Ai said, “You and Neko will stay here with me for a while. Neko’s an excellent nurse, as it turns out. When you feel ready, the two of you can go back to work at Mistress Shigemi’s. It will be very important, though, that no one strike you on the face for several months.”

  “You won’t need me for a while,” said the doctor. “I’ll come back when it’s time to remove the sutures.”

  “You’ll come and play sometime soon, Ishi?”

  He executed a perfect Japanese bow and said, “It’s always an honor and a pleasure to play with Mistress Ai.”

  Pipit closed her eyes, and the world faded again.

  When she woke up, she was alone in the room with Emily. She was more awake now, and her face ached.

  “I’m sorry, Emily,” she said, and meant it, but for some reason didn’t feel the urgent misery she usually did when she apologized.

  Emily smiled. “Who knows?” she said. “You may have done me a huge favor. I think Andrew is going to need a lot more seasoning before he makes anyone a good Master.”

  “I did a horrible thing. Why are you here? You ought to hate me.”

  “I don’t know, baby. We’re all thinking you’ve been hiding some scraps of decency inside you somewhere. You tipped your hand last night.”

  “I’m the same as I ever was, but maybe it’ll be harder to take advantage of people now that I have this,” Pipit said, touching the bandage.

  Emily said, “Amanda wants to pay for you to see a plastic surgeon. She’s got a lot of money, you know.”