by Jessica Rael
Stephanie was not alone in the box; there were other toys, too. Some stuffed animals, a pair of roller-blades that dug annoyingly into her hip, miscellaneous items of dirty laundry and several small plastic dolls. They all had names: Cindy, Crystal, Tilly and Sandy were some she could remember. Lauren had perfected her petulant child act so well it was sometimes hard to remember she was in her mid-twenties, and somehow Crystal had managed to piss her owner off, so for her punishment the little plastic doll was currently jammed up to her ankles in Stephanie’s vagina. Earlier Lauren had berated the doll as she’d pressed its nylon-haired head against the entrance to the slave’s sex, telling the toy how disappointed she was in her, and how totally gross her punishment was going to be. Then, without warning, she inserted the doll into Stephanie’s pussy, working it in with a corkscrew motion till only the little plastic toeless feet were left protruding.
‘And you can stay there till you’ve learned your lesson,’ Lauren huffed. Then she bound Stephanie’s ankles and wrists together and had her replaced in the toy box.
About twenty minutes later the little hatch at the end opened, the slave could see her owner getting undressed, then a hand pushed its way through the hatch clutching a pair of worn pink ankle socks and panties, which were unceremoniously stuffed in the slave’s mouth. ‘You can wash these as you have nothing else to do,’ came the curt command, then the hatch slammed shut.
Amber sat alone on a large, deep, black leather couch in her favorite bar, The Deadnight Teeze. Rebecca called the Cruza’s desert complex a ranch, Amber would have called it a resort, but if you saw the architectural plans and not just the fancy bars, pools, and stables, paramilitary command base would probably spring to mind. Officially there were two sites combined: one, the Hacienda de la Escorpión showed a modest profit – as far as the IRS were concerned – from desert horseback tours. It maintained a half-dozen employees, and everyone paid their taxes. The other site, the Sonora Desert Botanical Research Center, was a nonprofit research center, connected to the San Diego Botanical outfit, and as it provided the city based scientists with most of their grant money, it seemed they never felt the need to question the lack of actual research coming from the facility. Rebecca allowed the teenager to roam the base as she wished; she had been given the highest security clearance, which as far as Amber was concerned basically meant, give them enough rope… Well, Amber’s father had tried to beat her to death on numerous occasions, and a few others she’d run into in the relatively few years she’d been alive had tried to stop the redhead from seeing any more birthdays, and she’d fucked them all one way or another. The teenager had the profile of a survivor and self-destruction wasn’t an option. She’d promised total loyalty, and that’s what she gave.
Another benefit of living on the self-contained base was that Cruza law applied, and it didn’t stretch to telling senior officers they couldn’t drink alcohol when they were off duty, even when they were underage by state law. Amber took another swig of her lime margarita, and settled back into the couch. The Deadnight Teeze managed the seemingly impossible by combining relaxation with a teenager’s need to have drip-feed MTV on super widescreens twenty-four-seven, and the spiky-haired peroxide-blonde behind the bar made the sweetest margaritas anywhere. They went down like melted popsicles, and punched like Megan’s neat little stun gun.
There were only two other women in the bar, engrossed in conversation in the far corner, at the furthest point from the speakers and screens. Amber watched them idly, switching her attention between them and some purple-haired girl on MTV, dancing on the roof of a Porsche and wearing only a bikini and thick-heeled silver ankle boots. The redhead was seriously chilled, slipping further down into the black leather and waiving her empty glass at the barmaid, and at the very edge of her consciousness she became aware of another sound, a growing babble of excited voices. The sound grew steadily louder, and Amber turned lazily to watch the gang of cute little Asian teens jostling and giggling their way down the hallway. They entered the bar and headed straight for the redhead’s little refuge, not that Amber particularly minded, they seemed like fun, and she’d had their number back in El sol de la Mañana – it had taken her all of about thirty seconds. As soon as the five-thousand-year-old Japanese dude in the dark suit and the jerk-offs playing tough guy in the loud Hawaiian shirts had swaggered back to their little island, the true personalities of the toy-geishas they’d left behind came fluttering out like birds released from a cage. Amber could spot competence a mile away, it was part of the survival thing she had going; if someone was a bullshitting bitch then you had better work that out before it got too late to do anything about it, and when it came to playing, the little geisha sluts knew their stuff.
Trixie, Pixie, Flopsy and… Amber grinned, carefully slipping a small piece of card from her pocket and scanning the names: Kichi, Mayu, Nyoko and Yoshi. As they flounced into the bar she realized there was no practical way to ever remember which was which, as they all seemed to have been pre-cast from the same cutesy Asian mold: pretty faces, tiny, perfectly proportioned bodies, and a shy little-girl act that the redhead had to admit, was kinda sexy.
The four babbling teens flopped gracelessly into the vacant chairs around Amber’s table, showing the natural ability that most teenage girls had of being able to slouch around like a drunken truck driver, and still manage to look hot enough to scorch asbestos. An image of the chairs branded like cattle with tight little butt marks flashed through the redhead’s mind. The spiky-haired waitress reappeared and shoved another margarita into Amber’s hand.
‘Cool hair!’ exclaimed one of the girls.
‘What can I get you ladies?’ Spiky said, happy to take the compliment.
‘What’s the boss lady chugging?’
‘Lime margarita, with a few psycho additions I made up as I went along,’ spiky announced proudly, and Amber raised her glass in endorsement of the highly toxic product, spilling a little down her wrist. The Japanese girl perched on the arm of the couch closest to her leaned forward and licked the green liquid dribbling down Amber’s arm. It was slow and deliberate, the little tongue catching the flow then moving up like a salmon following a river, till the tongue slid up the chilled stem of the glass to the rim. The cutesy geisha slut smacked her lips.
‘Yep, get me one of those.’ She winked at Amber. ‘Delicious, huh? Or maybe it was just your skin, boss lady…’
‘Yeah,’ said one of the others, ‘how’s she meant to tell, missy? Your skin looks kinda yummy to me.’ The teen licked her lips teasingly.
Amber smiled at her. ‘What happened to the crappy, we don’t speeky no much Eenglish?’
‘Fuck, give us a break, boss lady, I’ve been living in New York since I was six, so has Kichi. Mayu and Nyoko have been in Chicago about as long. It keeps the old man happy, and he pays for our toys and playtimes. Why, you want fuckky suckky wiv us, lady?’ The Japanese girls laughed at the joke, so Amber took back the advantage.
‘Yeah, why not.’ The redhead put her glass on the table, pulled down her zipper, slid her jeans and panties down past her knees, then picked up the margarita again. There was silence for a few minutes; the only sound the incessant beat from the widescreen. Then one of the girls grinned broadly and got down on her knees, disappearing from view. Seconds later her head squirmed its way up between the redhead’s thighs.
‘Hi,’ said the pretty little face, which caused Amber to giggle, nearly spilling her drink again. The jeans were holding her legs together, so the geisha slut had been forced to do some serious pushing and wriggling to get in there.
‘Well get on with it,’ Amber said, playfully pushing the head lower, ‘everyone else in here thinks I’ve just fucking given birth.’ The girl’s soft cheeks slid erotically down the inside of the redhead’s thighs as she submerged, then she pressed her face into Amber’s shaven mound and shoved her tongue into the waiting slit. The redhead was up for a game, and she ha
d regained the advantage, so now she settled back for a leisurely pussy-licking while she sipped her glass of green mind-melt juice.
But leisurely wasn’t what she got. The girl went for it heart and soul, and a little way beyond even that, sucking Amber’s pussy lips, twirling her tongue inside the redhead’s vagina like a cheerleader’s baton, shaking her head from side to side, then up and down, and pressing her face in so hard that Amber thought she might actually have to give birth to the girl before the evening was out. Round one to the baby-geisha sex dolls.
The redhead sunk further back into the couch, dropping her guard and deciding this was worth losing a few points for. She knocked back the margarita in one gulp until there was less than a quarter-inch left, then placed the lip of the glass against her pussy mound, tipping it until the green liquid trickled down her labia, dripping onto the frantic tongue, at which point the girl went wild. Amber was sure the tiny tike was going to eat her from the cunt up, which she had to admit seemed like a perfectly wonderful way to go. ‘Hey,’ the redhead spoke to the unoccupied trio, ‘you bitches like to gamble?’
There were three rooms in the hacienda’s casino, and the dark wood doors carried descriptive names etched onto brass nameplates. The Loaded Deck, The Straight Cut and The Dread Zone. Amber and the geisha crazies sauntered into door three, catching the slightly acrid taste of dry ice that hung in the air like the heavy mist of a San Francisco summer morning. Electric-blue lasers cut through the swirling fog and stabbed into the gloomy corners of the room, illuminating dark, cruel acts; perpetrators and their victims both caught in the flashes of synthetic lightening. Techno music pulsed from somewhere in the ceiling, the throbbing, hypnotic bass thudding through the silver-tiled floor.
Amber led her tribe through the weird flickering light, towards a shadowy roulette table that loomed out of the fog ahead of them like the Marie Celeste, the varnished shine of the dark wood reflecting occasional splashes of color. At the table’s head lay the roulette wheel. It was massive, at least six feet across, its enormous bulk sunk into the floor so it could be seen from the stools at the normal sized table.
As if summoned magically by their presence, a tall blonde in a short tight silver dress and bright-blue wig emerged from the darkness to loom over the apparatus like a sacrificial priestess. As they drew closer Amber could see a young woman strapped to the colossal black and red colored wheel, spread-eagled and naked. There were translucent baby-blue domes over each breast, a plastic tube trailed from each tit vase, fiber optic cable twisted round the tubes like vines round a tree trunk, a pulsating colored lightshow following the rhythm of the thumping techno beat. Between her spread legs the tips of two baby-blue dildos kissed the entrance to her vagina and anus, their bases clamped to elaborate, lacquered-silver pistons.
‘You here to play?’ The tall woman winked at Amber and the Japanese girls.
‘Sure,’ Amber replied, ‘if we knew how.’ She looked at the, for once, silent geisha sluts, their blank faces telling her they didn’t have a clue either.
‘Take a seat,’ the blonde waved theatrically to the stools beside the table, and the girls sat, gazing down upon the woman spread out below them.
‘That one of your slaves, boss lady?’ Mayu asked, leaning over the wheel to get a better look. ‘She don’t look like a Latina.’
The priestess laughed. ‘No, honey, she’s a client, and believe me there’s a queue to ride-the-wheel. Costs a bundle, so you girls play well for her, huh?’
‘I don’t have any money,’ Mayu said, gazing hungrily down at the centerpiece of the game. ‘Well, I mean, I do have money, I have a shit-load, but just not with me.’
The priestess waved away the girl’s comment with a manicured hand, silver nails flashing momentarily in a laser trail. ‘It’s not about money, my dear, just a little competition between the five of you… and her, of course.’ The priestess looked down at the naked woman. ‘But her prize is already worked out. Why don’t you decide what the winner gets.’
‘Winner gets tongued off all night by the others,’ Kichi giggled.
‘Which hole?’ Amber grinned at her.
‘Both, dummy. I didn’t mean taking turns. Fuck, what kind of prize would that be? If I win I want one little tongue in my pussy, one coming in through the back door, and the other two can suck a nipple each. And…’ the pretty Asian teen ran the scenario through her imagination once more to check the details, ‘yeah, and you can switch round every hour. How’s that?’ The girls looked at each other for a moment. Yoshi shrugged, while Mayu and Nyoko just giggled.
‘Okay,’ Amber slapped her palm against the dark oak, ‘I’ll take that bet, but it’s gonna be your tongue in my ass, Tinkerbelle.’ Kichi stuck her tongue out, also slapping her hand on the table in exact time with the other Japanese teenagers. ‘Quit doing that,’ Amber laughed. ‘You’re like a bunch of fucking clones.’
‘Well, Caucasian boss-bitch, it might interest you to know you all look the fucking same to us, too.’ Yoshi blew the redhead a kiss. ‘Okay, so how do we play?’
The tall blue-haired priestess straightened and launched into a rehearsed preamble. ‘See the pretty cylinders on her breasts? They’re vacuum pumps, basically. Max speed for extraction and release is sixty times a minute, which is one hell of a tit-sucking, girlies.’ She leaned over the woman’s spread body and jiggled the cylinder on her left breast. ‘There’s a few that’ll orgasm on that alone. How about you, sweetie?’ The woman shook her head, mumbling something into her strange gag.
‘What’s that for?’ Amber nodded at it. The mouthpiece was roughly oval in shape, following the curve of the woman’s lips and wedged tightly into her mouth by a black strap. There were six small metal studs sticking up from the outer surface.
‘Extra inducement,’ the priestess giggled, ‘but that’s up to her… well, and you, I guess. How about it, bitch?’ The priestess looked down at the woman on the wheel, who looked quickly at each of the five teenagers, then nodded quickly at the games mistress. The priestess laughed again. ‘Guess she likes you. See the black grips on the side of the table, the ones that look like foosball handles with tubes coming off them? Pull one out.’ Mayu did and found a soft black rubber dildo on the other end.
‘Okay, honey,’ said the priestess, ‘the players wear that end, and a gentle suction pump will deliver anything those cute little cunts of yours have to offer to our wheel-whore here.’ The priestess was leaning over the roulette wheel plugging five blue light-pulsing plastic tubes into the silver studs on the woman’s gag. ‘It’s harder to hold back an orgasm when your mouth’s filling up with teenage cum-juice. I guess she’s feeling strong willed tonight. You girls are gonna have a hell of a game going here.’
‘Ooh,’ squealed Kichi as she unzipped her jeans, pushed them down past her knees and slid the thin black dildo into her tiny Asian pussy, the smooth bumps on the surface exciting the tender flesh of her vagina as the device slotted into position. The rest of the girls inserted theirs, feeling the rush of sexual passion as they became intimately connected to the female on the wheel, the electric-blue tubes connecting pussy to mouth in a deliciously mechanical tongue-fuck.
The priestess resumed her position, poised over the sunken wheel. ‘Okay, rules are simple, each time you get the bitch to cum you get five-hundred points. No significance,’ the priestess added, ‘big numbers are just sexy, right? We have sensors on her body so we’ll know the instant she cums, and this…’ the priestess pointed to a strobe light above the woman’s head, ‘will flash when she does.
‘Now to the betting procedure. An inside bet, that’s one number, direct hit, then she gets the whole works, both breast massagers at sixty sucks a minute, plus both anal and vaginal dildos, both working at thirty-five penetrations a minute. Difficult to fight off that kinda stimulation. You could get a multiple orgasm, and that pays five-hundred points for each one. Split the bet she gets everythin
g at a lower rate, twenty tit sucks a minute, and ten on the two dildos. Street bet…’ The priestess looked at the confused faces gathered round the table, and sighed. ‘Let’s just say you can lay bets in a line, and if you get a hit on any of those she still gets the works, but the per minute level is low, and as it only lasts two minutes your chance of getting her to cum is pretty slim, but hey, who knows? Still with me, girls?’ The priestess perked up at the sight of the eager nods and devilish grins on the faces of the eighteen-year-olds.
‘You can also play an outside bet. That means you choose black or red, or odds or evens. Better chance of scoring so lower return, and the computer does a random thing so she’ll get the medium hit on either the tit suck, or one of the dildos, good for warming her up, but I doubt you’re going to get her squirting juice like that. You get seven tokens each. Okay, let’s play.’
Excitement getting the better of their judgment, the girls all went for a single number inside bet, and lost. The roulette girl spun giddily as the priestess leaned over and set the near frictionless mechanism that moved the great wheel in motion. The silver ball dropped into black four, all bets lost. The girl’s head had been positioned directly under the zero, her hands held at red twenty-one, and seven, her legs spread obscenely wide at black thirteen and thirty-one. The enthralled onlookers had reflexively gone for the numbers that lay beneath the female’s genitals, where the two torpedoes waited like a couple of nukes on full tactical alert. The priestess smiled.
‘C’mon, girls, think a little. We all want to see the bitch squirt, but how about we work our way up to the grand slam?’
This time it was a sure thing, so the five teens went red, black, odds, evens. The wheel spun and the ball dropped into black seventeen, a hit for Mayu and Amber. A monitor at the foot of the table showed the computer doing its random thing, the screen displayed a picture of a naked female, blue circles flashed on the figure’s breasts while two long cylinders flashed between the cartoon-woman’s legs. The blue patches flashed faster and faster, and then suddenly stopped, blue circles illuminating the breasts. The brat pack stared at the girl as the tubes on the breast pumps glowed brighter, suddenly there was a hissing sound, like a flat tire, and the young woman’s breasts were sucked into the cylinders, filling them with pink flesh, then just as quickly they flopped back to her chest, then sucked back into the clear domes again. The woman moaned behind her gag and the players’ insertions began to vibrate.