The tone of her voice was flat and detached. She pushed her chest forward again and Tombstone released her breasts. “Stop demanding, Felicity.” She relaxed back against him, and he smiled and began caressing her again. Though she wanted pain, she would accept being touched.
“She never wanted me,” Felicity murmured. “Her bitch of a mother did, but Bethany didn’t. I hardly remember her ever coming to see me.”
Tombstone chuckled. “Well, I got my Aunt mad enough once that she admitted my dad paid Susanne fifty bucks to fuck him. Thus, the conception of Jerald Fry.” He squeezed her breasts inadvertently, and she moaned. “Pretty fucked up.”
“Yes. Pretty fucked up,” Felicity agreed. “What is Room Five?”
“Room Five was the final stop before the ally. The mannequins had the excitement and money from Room One, and slowly dropped rank as they got older. Stevie, the bastard that owned the place, made sure to point it out by changing the colors of their suits. One was blue, Two was red, Three was green, Four was Yellow, and Five was black… the color of death. The women in Five had one foot in the ally and would soon be kicked out of the club. It’s the Room Susanne was in.”
Felicity remembered the black mask she had found on the floor of the dressing room. “If Susanne was in Room Five, why did my mother shoot her? It would seem to make more sense to go after a woman in Room One. Susanne was going to be gone soon anyway.” It made no sense to her. “I never could get into any Room but number One.” She quickly added, “Except for one of the dressing rooms near the back door.”
“The Crimson Cruiser,” Tombstone whispered. His thumbs strummed her nipples.
“What?”
“The car you found. Susanne called it the Crimson Cruiser, and she said she was going to get a real one some day. The whole time we shared Aunt Gertie’s old sedan, because Susanne could never save a dime.”
Felicity stiffened a little. “I thought that you would hate me.”
“Jerald might. He adored Susanne and never saw her faults. I tend to be a little more judicious with memories of her inadequacies.”
“But… but, you are…”
Tombstone raised a finger to her lips. “No, Felicity. And don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m that insipid, fawning little boy. He sits by her grave, right where I left him. Though, I might have thought you would be more upset with Susanne’s role in things.”
“Susanne didn’t do anything. I was pissed when I was younger, but when I knew that mom never could have enough control to go to the back rooms, and probably not enough to hold onto that man… she did it to herself… and to me.”
“Yup, we’re pretty fucked up.” Tombstone squeezed her breasts again and she gasped. “Into bed. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
Felicity looked at the small box. It was completely padded and not roomy enough to move. She would be held still in relative comfort. “Can I sleep on the floor?”
“Where you can scrape against the stone and masturbate to the bruising? I don’t think so. In.”
It was worse than she imagined. He locked her wrist cuffs to the sides so she could not touch herself. Tombstone walked out of sight for a moment and Felicity began to think of the frightening confines of the casket and quivered, “I… I don’t think…”
“That’s right. You don’t think. And you don’t speak any more without permission. Our happy trails of memories are over.” He set the dials on a vibrator and stroked her pussy, separating her lips and pushing the device inside her. Tombstone leaned down and kissed her forehead, and stared into her green eyes. “It runs for two minutes and shuts off for ten. Pleasant dreams.”
Felicity stared openmouthed as he lowered the lid. A few seconds later, the vibrator turned on. It was not like any device she had ever owned. It swelled and jiggled, pumped and stroked, and drove her mad until she was on the edge… and then deflated and remained still for ten agonizing minutes. She lost count of how many times she was within seconds of climaxing, only to have the damn thing whither. She caught infrequent catnaps, only to shudder awake.
In the morning, Tombstone looked into her feverish angry eyes and he smiled. Felicity began to complain, “That was horrible…”
Tombstone put his finger on her lips. “No talking.”
“The hell with this,” she said angrily. She would piss him off and make him do something to her.
He did. He grabbed the gag and shoved it back into her mouth, and then he lifted her out of the coffin. Tombstone bent her over his dining room table and eased his cock into her soaked center, plunging with painfully slow thrusts and fingering her clit until they both erupted in a gentle climax. Felicity wailed her dissatisfaction, while Tombstone considered that he could never remember fucking any woman not covered in latex.
Later that day, he introduced her to his back studio and strapped her to the chair. The frenzied excitement in her eyes was disarming, and Tombstone stroked down her cheek in a disappointingly gentle caress. The only hair he removed were the curls shadowing her pussy. The head covering was full, encasing her cropped dark locks with only the slits for her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
While he was making her black and green suit, he could hear her pulling angrily at the chain in the other room. He left her hands locked behind her and denied her the sensations she craved. Felicity did not know it yet, but once she donned the latex suit she had fantasized about, all her senses would be gone.
He made the suit pliable, but it wrapped her into a rubber cocoon. After a few hours she was crying and pleading with her eyes, Felicity thought she would go mad if she could not feel something. The only reprieve was the man’s stroking and thrusting to climax in sync with her body’s betrayal.
A week later he began making adjustments to the outfit. He cut through the rubber, leaving wide bands of wrapping at swirling angles, over and under her breasts. The neck was cut to a two-inch collar, hooking the mask to the body with straps on the sides. The arms and legs were cut in swirling striations, with the fingers cut off the gloves at the knuckle and her feet bared.
Felicity scraped her feet against the flooring and her hands searched out the walls. It had seemed to be a long time since she felt anything other than the rubber of the suit confining her body. The reality of the latex was not what she had expected, and she wondered why her mother had striven for such a situation. For Felicity, her world centered around feeling and around more painful infractions so she could feel alive.
She watched Tombstone make their dinner while she stood chained to the overhead pipe. Because of the ring gag, she could not complain about his lack of more brusque attention, though she pleaded with her eyes or stubbornly refused to follow him. His strong hand rested on the middle of her back, urging her forward without so much as a swat on her exposed bottom.
A man arrived the next day while Felicity was chained to the pipe. Her wrists had been locked together because she tried to punch the wall. The man followed Tombstone over to her. “So, this is Felicity?” Donald rubbed his cock while it thickened. The girl was untamed and there was such passionate need emanating from her partially covered body that it stirred his lust.
Tombstone caressed her breasts. “Yes. She’s borderline masochistic, so I’ve been giving her the ultimate torture by denying her any pain.”
Donald heard the girl moan and noted her welling tears. He reached between the split crotch of the rubber and stroked her wet sex. Felicity bucked into his hand, but as Tombstone had done, he moved his hand back to continue the light brushing. Two fingers spread her labia and another traveled up and down her wet path, tickling the obediently emerging clit while she wailed and tried to push into him. Her orgasm was sudden. Tombstone had kept her hands away from her pussy for a week.
Donald chuckled, and stuck his drenched fingers into her mouth. Felicity balked and shook her head, which allowed him to cleanse his hand on her thrashing tongue. In his pocket was a bottle and he handed it to Tombstone. “Samuel says to make sure, because he has no dis
solving agent for the bond.”
“I have no intention of removing it,” Tombstone replied.
Donald left, and Tombstone guided Felicity to the back room. He secured her in an X frame and pulled the brush from the bottle. Fingers lifted the top seam of the collar and Felicity felt the burn of the sticky substance when it was brushed onto the rubber and sealed to her neck. Tombstone worked silently for hours, applying the solution on the inside edges of all the swirling rubber straps surrounding her body. The meaning of the liquid was clear to her. The latex strap suit was now permanently adhered to her body, with only the mask left free to be removed.
At last she was released from the frame. There was light tugging in places that was not harsh enough to be truly pleasurable. Tombstone guided her to the table and bent her forward. She felt some lube rim her anus, and she gasped when she heard his zipper being lowered. “Spread your legs wider and use your arms to arch up off the table.”
Felicity shuddered. Yes. Yes, deeper. He entered in slow thrusts and she tried to push back.
“Be still,” he ordered.
Felicity froze. He plunged with an excruciating slowly tempered invasion, and his hand reached around to play with her clit. “Be still,” he murmured into her neck.
Felicity could already feel the tears of her failure again. “I’m displaying you at the club tomorrow night… as a true ‘Closet Mannequin’. You will not move, Felicity.”
Oh, god. She tried to force her thoughts away from her building climax. His thrusts became harder, faster… his finger moving with more of an urgent frenzy than the easy stroking. Oh, god. She climaxed with him, pushing back and forth with the strength of her arms, into his cock and into his hand while she shrieked.
Tombstone left her lying over the table, sobbing at her failure. He walked into the other room and sat in the chair, staring blankly into the fireplace. A few minutes later, she walked quietly out of the room, her tears shining her masked cheeks. She knelt in front of him and reached trembling fingers towards his zipper, only to have his hands grip her wrists and pull them away. Tombstone pulled her head onto his thigh and stroked her head. She could feel the dulled sensation of comfort through the plastic, and she cried quietly. “Perhaps I was wrong about you.”
No. Oh, no. No, you’re not. She quivered and tried to force her head up. The sullen man left her kneeling by his chair while he prepared their dinner. Felicity choked down her dinner, panicking that he would turn her back to the despair of the streets.
After supper, Tombstone rose and looked into her eyes. “Remain silent and still.”
Felicity was bent back over the table, and she tried to control her quivering while he brushed her nipples and fucked her pussy. Although her pussy clenched tightly against him, she managed to control her urge to push into him and only a small gasp escaped her lips. After Tombstone erupted, he left her needy and leaking, with her swollen clit begging for his touch.
“Keep your legs spread,” he ordered.
He walked to the fireplace and returned with a stiff reed. Before Felicity could prepare herself, he swiped it down on her reddened nub. She shrieked and convulsed into orgasm. Oh…oh god. Marcus had never brought her so much pain. It was incredible, and after the initial shock of the blow wore off, she spread her legs again.
“No, girl. I already told you, this must be earned. You do not demand with me.”
Felicity knelt on the floor by the sawhorses, grinding her bruised pussy against her thighs and trying to relive the painful lash. Tombstone wrestled the pine box off the stanchions, and a few moments later he returned from the other room, rolling another casket on a dolly. On the side, it read Room Four, and Felicity smiled around her gag.
This casket was slightly larger, though it did not contain any padding. The hard surface was embedded with little chains and clamps. One reached up between her legs, and Felicity felt the wonderful agony of the chain pinched to her clit. Two more cinched onto her nipples, secured to the sides of the box. The torture was delicious, and Felicity thanked him with her emerald eyes before he closed the lid and sealed her into darkness.
She awoke to the cool air of the lid opened, and she was unclipped causing an extremely painful rush when blood seeped into the trapped tissue. Felicity was beginning to understand what a true Master was. This man tortured her with denial as well as tormenting games.
In the afternoon, she was placed back in her coffin. Tombstone sealed her eyes into darkness with the patches. She felt the box being lifted and rolled on the gurney. When the bottom made an abrasive, sliding sound, she envisioned the hearse. The drive seemed to take a while, and then she felt the box scraping back out of the car onto the dolly and rolled once more. She felt the fresh air of the lid opened, and her arms were gripped while she was lifted out of the casket. There were hands guiding her steps and she heard a door close.
When Tombstone removed her blindfold, Felicity stared at a duplicate room from the ‘Mannequin Closet’ stages at the old club. He steered her in front of the sign on the wall. ‘Mannequins expect to be tipped proportionately to the act you wish them to portray. Room Four Prices: Upper body configurations are two lashes, facial configurations are four, and lower body configurations are six. Mannequins will remain fixed in the position you place them in.’
Tombstone’s deep steady voice informed her, “The clients will place the appropriate chit in the box. They will be instructed to tell me if you move or make a sound. If you move, four lashings will be deducted. If you speak, two will be deducted. If you do not earn at least ten lashes, you will be demoted to Room Five.” Tombstone laid her on the stage and left the room.
Felicity was terrified… not of the display that Tombstone had ordered, but at the thought of her ultimate failure. She lay shivering on the stage, and felt the rubber bands of her suit digging into the skin under her breasts while she panted. Nipples, pebbled hard and jutting towards the blue muted light in the ceiling, were not the only indication of her building arousal. Her pussy was leaking down onto the hard wood beneath her.
Felicity forced herself to continue to stare at the ceiling when she heard the door open and close. This was it. This was the debut that her mother was never called to audition for. A sheen of nervous perspiration rose on her creamy flesh, wilting the curls under her mask and leaking through the pores in the latex.
The first man was older, with a slightly saddened expression on his face. He leaned down and brushed her rubber coated cheeks in an abject, gentle stroke. Felicity heard more than felt the sensation, as the insulation from the plastic still kept covered areas numb to external touch.
Jonathan stared at the pretty green eyes fixed on some distant point above her. This was Tombstone’s prize. Word had spread quickly through the upper ranks of the private membership, and he was honored when the gravedigger approached him to be her first customer. It was curious that the very treatment suffered by Twin Pain was what this girl would crave. He thought of the constant struggle his Stanley had through life, and he felt sorry for the young woman before him whose very breath betrayed her excitement. What sad upbringing could lead her to find such erotic pleasure in torture?
In the time the twins had been sequestered at his estate, Jonathan had managed a quick sexual release with Pleasure. He continued to avoid Pain, and even Michael had changed his tortures for her to more exotic lines rather than harsh whippings. Jonathan had an interesting discussion with his son over drinks, when Michael admitted he had come to the conclusion that Pain had given something to Stanley that the family never had. Without knowledge of his sickly brother’s limitations, she had regarded Stanley as if he were normal instead of coddling him. For the only time in his short life, Stanley had been treated like a man.
Felicity watched the man’s eyes with wary anticipation. Why isn’t he doing something? He must know I’m not allowed to move. Felicity pressed her fingertips into the plank flooring, hoping the man would not notice her tendons constricting. What if he thinks I’m r
epulsive? What if he doesn’t want me? She was relieved to hear a zipper being lowered, and she exhaled a held breath.
Jonathan turned her head to the side and slid his half erect cock into the ring gag. He lifted one of her arms and formed her fingers into a cup around his sack. While she slicked his shaft with her tongue, her fingers squeezed and touched gently around his wrinkled bag. She fervently hoped he would not report her movement, but she doubted even her oral skills could achieve the task without the additional caress. He must have been pleased, because he began massaging her breasts. Gently at first, and as his rod thickened, his fingers became urgently fierce. Before long, he was thrusting full staff into her mouth and squeezing her nipples, causing her excruciating pleasure.
It took all her concentration to keep her hips still while the man pounded deep into her mouth, until he grabbed the back of her mask and buried himself just past the gagging reflex at the back of her throat. Faster he thrust, and his breath became rasping and wheezing. Felicity recognized the sound of a failing heart and her mind was in turmoil.
She would forego the four lashes her body cried out for. Felicity shifted position onto her stomach, facing him and placing her hands on his ass to hold his hips still. She worked her head back and forth, taking him deeper into her mouth than she could facing sideways. When Jonathan realized her intention, he stopped fighting the movement of his pelvis and let her control the motion. His wheezing breaths had become raspy, and he appreciated the girl’s sensitivity to provide the physical motion. She moved one hand back to his sack, pulling and coaxing while tentatively squeezing the small elusive marbles. She sensed his hands caressing her and felt his trembling fingers run over the bared flesh of her shoulder blades.
At last he came in small jerking squirts, groaning in a mixture of disbelief and satisfaction. Jonathan zipped up while the girl stared up at him. His hand cupped her desensitized rubber chin and he smiled. As Pain had done for Stanley, this girl had let him be a man one last time. He dropped the chit into the box and never mentioned to Tombstone that the girl had moved.
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