by KT McColl
And so it continued to ply its trade.
The Lozen guard unlocked the back of the transport and ushered us out.
"Welcome to The Sisters," she said.
While the Sisters made ready for Rabbit's atonement, he and I stood on the stage and looked out over the club through a small gap between the curtains. The Sisters had changed little since I'd last been here over fifteen years ago. This was Rabbit's first time and his eyes were wide.
Then as now, it was a monochromatic sea, ebbing and flowing with the gray of the Lozen and the white of the Sisters. Against the walls were tables and chairs, lit by trembling haloes of candlelight. The area in front of the stage was left open, occupied by small groups of women who drank and chatted. They swayed to the flashing lights and to music that I didn't recognize.
A cheer drew my eye to some activity on the floor to the right of the stage. It took me a moment to make out what was going on. A masked dancer stood with her feet set on two small platforms raised about three feet in the air. She wore nothing but a black shelf bra and garters and stockings. In her hand, she held a thick ribbed staff perhaps nine inches long, poised at the apex of her legs, She looked almost bored as she idly rubbed its rounded tip through the furrows of her cleanly shaven sex. She swayed vaguely to the music and gave the assembled women a haughty look. I appreciated the bravado. She might be naked and vulnerable, but she wasn't about to reveal weakness. Like all of us from outside the city, she was a survivor and I respected that. As a dancer, she held a certain charm as well. Even from this distance, I could tell that she was well put together -- proud breasts, narrow waist, and full hips. I didn't recognize her from Lowville.
Three chains extended from the base of the staff, holding a metal disk about the size of a dinner plate. The assembled members of the Sorority feigned disinterest, but snuck peeks at the dancer as she toyed with herself.
An old Sister raised her hands and brought the onlookers to attention. "Are we ready, ladies?"
The women gathered around, forming a loose circle around the dancer. There were no Mothers in the crowd, only Sisters and a few Lozen.
There was an expectant hush as the dancer inserted the rod into her cunt, inch after slow inch until only the chains remained visible. The plate swayed between her legs like a pendulum. The image evoked a flash of arousal which annoyed me. I thought I was past that kind of thing. Evidently not.
The dancer set her hands behind her head and laced her fingers together. Her hips described slow, lazy circles while she waited.
The old Sister nodded and announced, "Ten weights for ten credits. Ten credit minimum."
Ten credits seemed pretty steep to me, but what did I know?
As the players paid the Sister for their weights, the dancer swayed on the platform and the disk swept back and forth between her legs. The players clutched their weights in their hands. Conversation around the platform ceased; all attention was on the dancer. She stilled.
"I think we're ready to begin," said the matron. "Ante up."
Hands shot out and placed the tiny weights onto the disk. If the dancer felt the increased weight that now pulled at the rod within her, she didn't show it.
The Sister nodded to the woman in front of her. "Please begin."
The woman set a weight on the plate, and the assembled players chanted one-two-three, whereupon the next woman in the circle placed a weight, followed by another chant.
After completing a circuit, perhaps two dozen little weights adorned the plate. The dancer whimpered unconvincingly, suggesting to those assembled that she was struggling to keep the rod within her.
The next woman in line laughed and placed a weight alongside the others. More women followed suit.
The number of weights that the dancer held aloft grew. I observed her face. Though it remained impassive, a sheen of sweat had appeared on her forehead.
"I believe," said the Sister, "that things are about to get interesting. Who's next?"
A Lozen raised her hand and the Sister nodded. The woman set the weight. The Sister counted to three as the players had grown hushed, observing the plate and the dancer with interest. The Sister then nodded to next woman.
More weights were added, each followed by a count of three, sung by the assembled crowd, gamblers and casual onlookers alike.
The glow on the dancer's forehead had coalesced into droplets, and I noticed the quivering of her leg muscles and the strain in her face. She wasn't faking it now. She would get a small percentage of the take and so was encouraged to hold out as long as possible.
More weights were added and the rod within the dancer slipped out an inch, peeking out from between her labia. The dancer moaned with the effort and a roar of excitement erupted from the onlookers. Eager hands shot out to add their bets.
The matron held up a hand. "We must be orderly now." She nodded to a woman and then another after an excited count of three.
The rod slipped out another inch and then held fast. The chain and plate now quivered with the tremors of exertion.
Another weight was added. The rod remained embedded within the dancer for a second and then slid out on the count of three, landing on the floor with a crash.
The woman who had placed the last weight let out a giddy cheer while the others moaned and cursed.
The old Sister gathered up the weights, counted them, and then divided them between the winner, herself, and the dancer.
The crowd dispersed and the dancer stepped down from the platform. If she felt happy with her windfall, she didn't show it.
Rabbit turned to me, eyes wide. "What the fuck was that?"
He'd never been to the city, had never seen how the other half lived. "Entertainment."
At that moment, a Sister approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you ready for your big debut?"
Rabbit pulled out from under her hand. "I might be ready if you told me what I'm expected to do."
"Follow nature," she said.
He turned to me and I shrugged. "Like she said. Just go with it."
"Some help you are," he muttered.
There was nothing much I could do.
A pair of Sisters wheeled a St. Andrew's cross from the backstage area.
"As the second, you may intervene."
It was a formality. I knew it. Rabbit didn't. For his sake, I had to make it good. "On behalf of my friend, I beg for Mother's clemency. My friend vows never again to commit the sin of which he was accused. He was misguided in his desire to capture the beauty of the Mother's form but has now learned. As this is his first offense, I urge you to consider mercy over atonement."
The Sister appeared to consider it for a moment. "Your request is noted. The Mother has decided to be merciful and to offer freely that which the accused appears to lust after."
Atonement it was then. "The Mother's mercy is great," I said. It was expected.
"What's happening?" asked Rabbit.
I'd tried, but the outcome of the negotiation, such as it was, was never in doubt.
A pair of guards approached Rabbit. "Give us your wrists."
"Jude?"
"Better do as they ask. It will go worse for you if you don't."
It made me feel sick. Rabbit had faith in me. When this was all over, he would feel that I'd aided and abetted the Sorority. There was nothing for it of course, but he didn't understand that.
The guards fastened thick leather cuffs around his wrists and then his ankles.
The Sister offered Rabbit a cup. "Drink this."
"What is it?"
"Something to make things easier. Spare you some embarrassment."
Rabbit looked frantic. He looked at me and I nodded. He tipped the cup back.
"You may now undress," said the Sister.
"No!" As much I admired this token resistance, it was too late and ultimately futile.
Two Lozen grasped his wrists and fastened them to a cross. When they did the same with his ankles, he attempted a half-hearted
kick which earned him a touch of the prod.
"After what you've done, I'd have hoped for some contrition," said the Sister. "I suggest you stop moving."
She nodded to a Lozen who brandished a long knife. At the sight of it, Rabbit quailed and strained against the bonds.
"The blade is very sharp and I wouldn't want you to be nicked."
Wisely, he stilled. Soon his clothing was reduced to rags at the base of the cross. He sent a wounded look of accusation my way. I took it.
"Half an hour," said the Sister.
Rabbit didn't want me near him and I couldn't blame him. I was bad as company and useless as a friend. I retreated to the opposite wing, which allowed me to keep an eye on Rabbit and sneak peeks at the crowd. I was surprised at how full The Sisters had become. There was a multitude of Lozen and Sisters, though I suspected that many of the latter were disguised as Lozen to better protect their anonymity. There was no one openly dressed as a Mother, but then I wouldn't have expected it. If there were Mothers within the crowd, and I had no reason to believe that there weren't, they were probably disguised as well.
Apart from the Lozen and the Sisters, countless pleasure maidens plied their trade for those of the Sorority who favored the company of women. There were a few freemen about as well, all tethered to their mistresses by collars and leads. The pleasure maidens were either among the lowest orders of the Sorority or particularly gifted recruits from the outskirts. They circulated among the guests, carrying trays of refreshment. Some were naked but for garters and stockings and impossibly high heels; some wore the ancient clothing of men long since gone.
I noticed a girl dressed in a man's suit as she approached a Sister, carrying a tray of fluted glasses. Her suit had been modified -- the trousers clung to her shapely hips and the lapels of the jacket had been tailored so that they framed full, firm breasts that sat high on her chest. But what caught my attention was the large latex organ that jutted out of her trousers. It swayed as she walked as though she were dowsing or something. I found it unnerving and grotesque.
I couldn't hear what the Sister said to her, but the girl blushed and looked uncomfortable. The Sister glanced at the large erection that sprouted from the girl's loins. The girl's eyes widened in hope. There was little to be gained in serving drinks, but there was potentially a lot of money or favor to be won in doing more with her dildo than merely showing it.
Music thumped and on platforms affixed to the room's supports, pleasure maidens danced, swaying in time with the beat, moving in a suggestive pantomime of sex. The audience hooted and called to the girls. Drink had loosened inhibition as it was wont to do. Off in dim corners, pleasure maidens sat on laps, nuzzling with Lozen and Sister alike. Hands explored and teased breasts, or buried themselves beneath skirts and between splayed legs.
A spotlight blinked on and lit the curtains, nearly blinding me. The volume of the music dropped. I looked over to where the Sister and the suited girl had been, but they were gone.
A hush spread across the assembled crowd. Into the circle of light stepped a Mother. Applause and gasps of surprise erupted at her appearance. I didn't recognize her, but then, there was little reason I would have. She seemed far too old for this venue. Her face looked like a topographic map of a tortured landscape. Besides the red bonnet of a Mother, she wore a necklace with a large circular pendant that glinted in the spotlight. I wondered whether she was a senior functionary. Judging by the reaction of the onlookers, she must have been. She smiled and held up her hands, nodding as waves of adulation engulfed the stage.
When the applause finally abated, she spoke. "Dear friends and colleagues, I welcome you. I trust you are enjoying yourselves?"
The assembled women roared and clapped. The Mother smiled and held up her hands again to silence the crowd.
"It is my pleasure to be with you tonight. It isn't often that my duties allow me to partake in such festivities, although now that I'm here, I think I might carve out some time for it."
Some in the crowd laughed.
With some difficulty, the Mother removed the microphone from the stand and stepped to the edge of the stage. You could hear a pin drop. I observed the expectant faces. Who was this woman? On the opposite wing stood Aisha. I detected admiration and love on her face as she watched the elderly Mother.
"I'm afraid we have become complacent. It's true. We must be ever vigilant. Thoughtcrimes are becoming more common, as are sins against the Mother. As you know, after the Ultimate Sin, by dint of determination and righteousness, we established a beachhead against those who would demean and disrespect us, but the protections we enjoy are never to be taken for granted. The tides that swirl around us may seem gentle but are no less insidious, and over time may erode that which we have built. So even as you enjoy yourselves this evening, I urge you to redouble your vigilance and vows to protect the Sorority."
After replacing the microphone on the stand, the Mother placed her hands together and bowed. She then left the stage, brushing by me, flanked by a squad of Lozen.
Aisha then stepped up to the microphone. "Words of inspiration," she intoned. "And now, without further ado, I invite you to enjoy tonight's scheduled atonement."
The crowd roared as a Lozen guard wheeled the St. Andrew's cross onto the stage and turned it in a circle, revealing Rabbit to the crowd and the extent of his naked vulnerability.
"Here is a man guilty of representing and objectifying the Mother," said Aisha.
I heard some hisses, a little nervous laughter, and the occasional exclamation of dismay. Above all was a sense of barely restrained anticipation. I imagined this was what ancient Romans might have felt like in the Coliseum, wanting to be part of the experience but harboring some misgivings about what was about to unfold.
The Lozen left Rabbit alone on the stage and invited the revelers to have a closer look at the sinner. Most of the women here would have had little contact with anyone beyond the city limits. Rendered harmless by the restraints, he posed no threat and the women filed up to the stage. Some merely studied him, commenting on his muscular physique with both wonder and fear. Others were more hands-on, pressing hands against his flesh, measuring his upper arms against their slender hands. The more brazen inspected his genitalia, weighing his balls, touching his cock. Against his will, Rabbit soon responded to their nervous touches, assisted no doubt by the drink that he'd been given earlier. He had grown aroused and the shame of it was etched on his face.
Some of the Sisters who touched his erect penis jumped back with little shrieks when it twitched, as though it might bite them. The more adventurous grabbed or tugged on it. One even stroked it tentatively for a few seconds and giggled when Rabbit moaned. By and large the Lozen hung back. They would have their chance later with a different brand of pleasure.
When the more daring of the crowd had satisfied their curiosity and the stage stood empty again, a white screen descended from the rafters, concealing Rabbit from the audience. The house lights dimmed and the assembled crowd fell silent. Behind Rabbit, a battery of floodlights erupted in light, casting his shadow on the screen.
Rabbit was turned so that he was positioned perpendicular to the screen. What the onlookers saw was his bound form and an impressive erection. Unfortunately, he was facing me. I could read the resignation on his face. I shook my head. It killed me not to be able to do anything.
It was part humiliation, part lesson. He had sinned. The Sorority had a grievance, particularly considering what had gone on before. Whether it was justified was not for me to judge. I was sad that the target had to be Rabbit, sadder still that the victim was the least equipped to appreciate the subtlety of this ritual vengeance.
The first to approach was a Sister. She was either the most adventurous of the bunch or the most angry. She reached down and grasped Rabbit's erection in her fist. The crowd on the other side of the screen registered that there was intent in the touch and cheered and clapped as the Sister stroked.
"Are you ready, fuck
puppet?"
She must have been wearing a microphone, for her voice echoed through the space. There were some nervous titters from the assembled throng. The Sister continued to stroke.
"You like that, don't you?"
Rabbit didn't respond.
"Don't you?"
"Yes..."
"Is it humiliating, being an object?"
"Yes."
"We'll see."
The Sister unbuttoned her dress. With a subtle movement of her shoulders, she allowed it to slip to the floor.
The crowd on the other side of the screen was rapt and silent as the Sister approached Rabbit again and then turned her back to him. She spread her legs and bent at the waist.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd as they saw the shadows join. It might have been a trick, some play of light and shadow, but it wasn't. Rabbit's moan needed no amplification as it rolled off the stage.
The Sister rocked back and forth upon Rabbit's cock. Whether she derived any pleasure from it, I couldn't tell. Maybe the exercise of power bestowed a different kind of pleasure.
Soon he was thrusting as much as his restraints allowed. It was awkward. For so intimate an act, it was brutally impersonal, and maybe that was the point.
Rabbit's thrusts became erratic and the Sister disengaged, finishing him off with her hand. He moaned as his release splattered the floor.
He slumped against the restraints. The Sister wordlessly collected her dress and left the stage.
After the first one, several others, emboldened, approached Rabbit. He found no release after the first time, nor did he find relief from the use he was put to. He'd closed his eyes, resigned, humiliated. The crowd beyond the screen soon lost interest and conversation resumed, soon followed by music. What was happening on stage was now incidental and familiar, not worth more than a passing glance.