She took the pen Khim was offering her and tried not to show her panic. What could she be signing? An agreement to get pierced again? Permission to have the ring removed? She didn’t do this last time she was here! Could she―should she!―even sign anything without her owner present? If she were not truly owned, this would be the time when she called her safeword. Or, just said, “No way!” and refused.
But they knew who and what she was.
I was trained to obey, she reminded herself. I trust them.
She signed carefully and dated the sheet.
“Thank you,” Khim said taking it back and unclipping the brochure. “Nicky said to use examining room one.”
Robin went to the room in silence and sat at the edge of the table. Just a few days again, she would have scooted up there gingerly, careful of the pressure over her clit. Now, she could just sit down, like a normal person. It made her dizzy to think that she might have to be stuck with the same discomfort again!
But―maybe it would be nipple piercings, she thought suddenly. Monica said that she might like those, too! That would be nice! A good surprise!
She looked up as the door opened, and Nicky walked in, with a little bag in her hand. She grinned and said, “You didn’t have to wait for me! Take the pants off again, and if you want to give yourself a quick wipe, use the bathroom through that door.”
Robin swallowed hard and stripped her sneakers and jeans off. She prayed that it wouldn’t hurt quite as much this time, even as she suspected that it would hurt even more.
There was a knock on the door, and Nicky called out, “Come on in!” and Khim and Judy came into the room, also grinning. They were holding hands. Nicky pointed out space near Robin’s head. “Just stay out of my light and way,” she cautioned. “And we’ll be done in no time.”
To Robin’s dazed expression, she held up a little plastic bag that had inside of it two bright steel rings. They were thicker than the one that had been her triangle.
“This is what you wanted, right?” she asked idly.
Robin glanced to one side, to a wickedly grinning Khim and found her voice. “Oh, yes,” Robin said. “That’s it.”
Judy giggled hysterically and bent her head into her lover’s shoulder.
“OK, then. Thanks for shaving, that always makes the job so easier for me! Let’s see where you like them.” Gently, Nicky ran her fingers down Robin’s outer labia and pinched the sides. “Here? Higher?”
Robin looked to the side again, and this time Khim’s expression was perfectly clear. From this moment, it was up to Robin.
“Lower a little?” she said.
Nicky slid her fingers down, and when she reached the spot Robin thought felt wonderful, she said so. And from then on, the actions seemed to blur into one another―cleaning the area with a chilling wipe down of antiseptic, marking, clamping... and all accompanied by gloves being changed and chucked away. Nicky apologized for the harshness of the clamp, but when it went on and she secured it with a rubber band, Robin almost sighed. Yes, it hurt―but it wasn’t that stomach-tightening scary hurt that the clamp under her clit made. There wasn’t even that frightening clicking sound.
And the needle going through her this time was less of a shock―and much less painful! Her eyes closed in reaction to the split second of almost hot pain. But it was very fast, and when it was done, she couldn’t feel anything really very different!
“Wow, the steel looks great against your skin,” Nicky said in appreciation. “I’m putting its sister a little lower, since you like the sensation lower. That way, they won’t hit each other too much.”
Robin nodded, and endured the entire little operation again, and then Nicky finished by closing the rings around the little balls. She tossed off one last set of gloves and dug a mirror out of the drawer at the base of the table and held it up. Robin had barely noticed that Judy and Khim had come closer, their bodies next to her on both sides. She looked down the end of the table, into the mirror and saw her shaved crotch once again decorated. Through her outer labia were those two beautiful steel rings, lying on the pale skin. They were breathtaking―perhaps not as pretty as the ring with the delicate little ball over her clit―but astoundingly attractive themselves.
“Thank you,” Robin said, barely able to breathe. “Oh yes, they are wonderful, thank you!”
“My pleasure. And I think these will heal up much faster than your triangle. You know, I asked around, and no one who works here as a professional has heard of the girl you told me about. It’s a shame―I mean no one wants the government poking their heads into our business and all, but piercing is serious shit. You shouldn’t do it at home with a stranger, you know? Take my card. In a couple months, couple years, you want to try a different one, maybe a clit hood piercing, call me.” Nicky gathered her tools and left the room with a wave.
Khim and Judy looked at the rings from the other side of the table and nodded. “Yeah, I think Monica will forgive you,” Khim said.
“And us,” Judy added. “These look much better than the triangle! And they’re much more useful!”
“I―I can’t thank you enough,” Robin said. “But―do you really think Monica will be OK with this?
“Don’t you worry about it,” Khim said. “We’ll take care of everything. Hey―we’re Marketplace. We take care of our own.”
* * * *
Monica loved them.
“Oh my fucking God, they’re gorgeous! One on each side?” Apparently, Khim and Judy had explained something that Robin’s owner accepted, and although she did a little teasing about punishing her, it was all in fun, and if Monica was really disappointed by the lack of a triangle to play with, she didn’t say so.
The new rings seemed to be as little trouble as the triangle had been great trouble. They turned easily in their holes when Robin cleaned them with Provon, a cleanser Nicky had supplied her with, and stopped aching before two weeks were up. The first time that Monica gently tugged at them, Robin’s eyes almost went to the back of her head, it felt so good! And they were just as fun to play with on her own, too―their gentle, thick weight a different feeling under her fingers when she showered or played with herself. The weird feeling of having metal rings attached to her never completely vanished.
But that was fun, too.
Robin never knew exactly what Khim and Judy had said to Monica, other than admitting what they had done. But much later on, she was lying in Monica’s arms one night, and Monica said, suddenly, “I saw Khim and Judy at that party I went to last night.”
“How are they?” Robin asked.
“Great, just great! They have some new chick hanging with them. Well behaved kid, too, reminds me of you. Except that she’s a tough little butch number.” Monica chuckled. “I think they might be considering taking on a housegirl. You know, I almost wanted to take them aside and tell them about the Marketplace. From what you told me about how they treated you, I think they’d be good owners, if they could afford it.”
“What―what an extraordinary thought,” Robin said, grateful that she was turned away from her owner. “Yes, I think they’d be good owners, too.”
“Well, if this new thing doesn’t work out, maybe I will.” Monica yawned. “OK, scoot. Back to your room, I’ll see you in the morning.”
Robin rolled off the edge and turned back to kiss her owner a gentle good night. As she closed the door behind her, she let out the breath she had been holding and broke out in a grin. Wouldn’t that be a funny conversation to listen in on! But as she walked down the hall to her own room, she wondered about the new girl in the hands of Khim and Judy. The well behaved one.
Have fun, she thought, a wish sent out into the night. All of you. As much fun as I do.
Before she fell asleep, she touched the rings one more time. I’m really pierced, she thought. A pierced, owned slave.
Perfection.
That's Harsh!
An all-new bonus story for the Circlet Press ebook edition of The Slave.<
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“Just send her into the city for the weekend, I think she won’t mind a day or two off,” Jimmy said dismissively, as he checked off names on the invite list.
“Hmm.” Eric didn’t comment beyond that abbreviated sound, and that alone made Jimmy look up to check on his lover. Raul, smooth as ever, pretended not to see the silent communication between his owners. He set down fresh glasses of iced ginger tea for them, condensation already thick from the walk to the back deck from the kitchen.
“Yeah, well,” Jimmy offered with a slight shrug. Of course, she’d already had a day or two off, hadn’t she, and not so long ago that everyone had forgotten it, either. “We’ve never had a girl here for one of these parties, and it’s been ages. You know some of the guys would just die if there was actual pussy around.”
“Still, it’s extra help. And if we kept her, like, behind the scenes? Made her support staff... production crew? It’s not like we’ll have her prancing around in that tacky lingerie. And she’s hardly some big-titted cow, either―put enough clothing on her and she’ll just vanish.” Eric sketched the vanishing act with one hand in the air and snapped his fingers at their house manager. “What do you think, Raul? Can you do something with her and make her useful for the party without being the conspicuous cunt in a pack of pricks?” He grinned at his own alliteration and Raul smiled appreciatively.
“I’m sure we can do something, Master,” he said. There was a slight gleam in his eye.
* * * *
“Tighter,” he said, and Carl grunted as he adjusted the bandages.
“Ow!” Robin complained. “Now I can’t breathe!”
“You’re not required to,” Raul said. “Now let’s try the shirt.”
Robin slipped the T-shirt over her head and smoothed it down over her tightly bandaged breasts. Sure enough, she looked flat―but also bandaged. The cotton bunched up over the layers of bandages and just didn’t look natural or right in any way. Raul sighed.
“Know what she needs? Compression vest.” Steve, aka Muscledog, was the latest addition to the household and ostensibly the reason for the upcoming party.
“What’s that?” Carl asked.
“Guys wear ’em after surgery―you know, liposuction, tit sculpting. They kinda press you in, but smoothly.” He ran his large hands down his own well sculpted body. “Dude might be slightly out of shape, gets one to look better built, you know? So, get her a vest, and it’ll be nice and smooth.”
Raul nodded and slapped Robin on the ass. “Get one of those. Oh, and while you’re at it, figure out a way to get a dick in your pants that doesn’t look like a dildo. Try some balled up socks or something, and let me see my choices. And remember―you’re tiny. Your dick should be, too.”
“She’s gonna look like she’s fourteen years old,” Carl commented as he watched Robin head off to find a place to purchase the garment.
Raul nodded. “Some of the guests will like that, though.”
“Maybe too much. How are you gonna make sure no one grabs her as a party favor?”
“Not my job. The Masters will make it clear the new boy is off limits. I mean, the other new boy.” He winked at Muscledog who grinned happily. “This one will have them lined up.”
“Life is harsh!” the bodybuilding slave exclaimed.
* * * *
Preparation for the party was more than costuming, though. All together, there would be thirty-two guests for most of a day and far into the night. There were no scheduled meals, nothing to break up the potential for sex, play, or leisure time. Instead, Raul planned an ever-changing buffet of finger foods and barbecue. There would be four additional slaves borrowed from two of Jimmy’s friends, just for non-sexual service. All of them would be assisting Raul with cooking and bar tending, and covering those times when Raul would be conscripted for his masters’ pleasure. “And that’s another reason why I want you here,” he’d said to Robin as she struggled with the number of things she had to learn in order to be acceptable. “For all this time, I worked these parties and never got to play!”
“Well... I’m not going to get to play,” Robin said with a grin.
“Not my problem, sugar!”
Play was the whole point of the party. Bowls of condoms and piles of gloves and dental dams were procured, in both latex and nitrile along with bottles of several different types of lubricant and tubs of Crisco. Extra cushioned outdoor furniture was brought in, and hammocks slung from frames around the edges of the spacious acre behind the house. A sturdy steel frame was erected on one side of the pool, with bondage points, and another one mirrored it on the other side, supporting a sling of black nylon. Every whip, flogger, paddle and crop was brought out, examined for flaws, and cleaned or restored as needed. Electrical toys, cupping sets, a pirate’s hoard of silvery or bronze-colored clips and clamps, and all the strange or rarely used implements of pain and pleasure were dragged out and placed into Carl’s hands.
He was the one who went through the house, back deck, yard, and garden and found every space where bondage points could be made. He rearranged the furniture, and oversaw the placement of spanking benches, kneeling frames, and oddly shaped cages. Then he erected smaller racks for the toys, so no one would have to go far to grab something for impact, torture, pleasure, or penetration. Extra video screens were rented to show non-stop porn in almost every room.
The side effects from all of this preparation were laughably predictable. The tight swimsuits favored by Eric and Jimmy as the preferred uniform for their male house slaves did not hide the steady stream of erections. Robin couldn’t hide her stiff nipples against the thin Lycra of her running tops, either, but she did slip a panty liner into her shorts after finding herself far too wet for her own comfort. Then the Masters made things worse by commanding the slaves to torment each other.
“No orgasms,” Eric commanded. “But Muscledog, I want you sucking Raul and Carl hard, three, four times a day. Raul, I want you working on their tits, I want ’em sensitive and fucking huge by the party. Carl, every morning, everyone gets twenty-five lashes, and every night before bed, everyone gets ten on the ass with the leather paddle.”
“Lashes anywhere, sir?”
“Yeah, anywhere. And you’ll work on Raul’s tits. Jimmy will beat you whenever he feels like it, as usual.”
Carl grinned at Raul who rolled his eyes. “What about Robin, sir?”
Eric thought about that, staring at her. Robin blushed at the thought of this pre-party regimen and didn’t know whether to hope she was included or hope she was left out.
“OK, leave her tits alone, last thing we need is her nipples getting bigger. But she gets beat on, too, every day. And she can suck Muscledog hard three times a day, too. Every morning, I want to inspect you all―I want you sore and fucking horny, not bruised or battered. Got it, fuckers?”
“Yes, master! Yes, sir!” They chorused.
* * * *
Yet another addition to the list of things that are hotter in books than in real life, Robin thought as she bent over for the second evening paddling. True, she didn’t even feel anything from the morning flogging on her shoulders and back; Carl didn’t thump her as hard as he did the male slaves, and she had rather enjoyed the feeling of the expensive moose-hide tresses. But the paddle, long and stiffened by something sewn between two layers of glossy black leather, stung as well as thumped. And she suspected that as with Chris’s strap, the build-up of these evening beatings would be considerable.
“Don’t know why they’re bothering with you,” Raul mused, as he tugged on Muscledog’s clamped nipples. “It’s not like anyone is going to see your little ass.”
“Yeah, but she’s got such a cute ass, I bet some of ’em will at least grab it or give her a spank over the jeans,” Carl grunted as he swung.
Raul nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. OK, Dog, up here and get me hard... again.”
Steve the Muscledog grinned and licked his lips. “Harsh!” he barked, before diving in.
> Robin groaned as the leather paddle struck; she was right. It hurt more than it had the previous night. Her hips twitched involuntarily and she lifted one foot in the exquisite agony of arousal. Carl laughed in a good-natured way. “Could be worse, sweetheart,” he said. “You could have Raul working on your titties, too, and no way to come!” He swatted her again, with enthusiasm, and she yelped.
* * * *
In addition to the clothing, and how to lower her voice, and how to walk, and how to hide her hands, and other tips on how to pass, somehow, as a very young man, Robin had one more thing to learn as well.
“But I know how to polish boots,” she protested to Raul.
“Sure, but you don’t know shit about bootblacking. You think of it as getting the boots clean―I’m talking about a sex thing here. Every morning, start with Carl, for at least two pairs of shoes or boots. And in the evening, work with the Dog and let him show you how to make it sexy. I doubt he’ll be allowed to bootblack for more than a few guys here and there, and it’s the perfect way to keep you busy and dressed.”
It took all of five minutes for Robin to realize Raul had been right. Of course, she’d seen bootblacks working in leather bars―it seemed something that went with the masculine atmosphere of beer, leather, cigars, and testosterone. And although she had some sense of the fetishism involved―leather, feet, service, kneeling in front of someone―she’d never thought of it as a particularly sexual or even sensual act before.
“No, no, don’t wear gloves, that just gets in the way,” Muscledog insisted.
“In the way of what?” she asked plaintively, imagining the horrors of the deep black polish getting under her fingernails.
“You gotta really feel what you’re doing,” he said patiently, digging his fingers into a can of saddle soap. “OK, so, you got the surface dust and dirt off with the first brushing, right? Now, we’ll clean the leather. Take this stuff and just a little water, like this, and work it up to lather. Lots of guys won’t need this; their leather is gonna be sharp. And really, if you have to clean ’em first, sometimes it’s real hard to get a shine after. But if they’re dirty, then first you cleanse... “
The Slave Page 41