by Anneke Jacob
‘We’d better get the rules straight. She’ll be messing you about like wind in a hoversail.’
‘No, she won’t.’ Therin stretched, gave a deep, satisfied smile, and tucked himself away. ‘You’ve got her too well-trained for that.’
‘Damned right. Long straps in the forward bin.’
Therin prodded the little figure with his foot, and she knelt up and faced away from him, clasping her hands together behind her back. He linked her wrist cuffs, and then pulled a long, neatly folded strap from the bin. This he wound from her wrists up above her elbows and back again, pulling them tightly together. He tied the strap from her wrists firmly around her waist, forcing her elbows out at an angle, increasing the strain on her shoulders. She whimpered a little.
‘Vizay?’
‘Slave – sorry, masters,’ she whispered in her broken Henthen, still facing away from them, barely audible over the quiet drone of the aircar.
‘You’ll remember to obey the rules next time, right Vizay?’ said Therin, smoothing the straps and squeezing her arms tighter together in the process. Her breath caught and she agreed. Her hands, little and pale under the black straps, squirmed slightly where they were forced against her back, and she tried to flex her shoulders, but otherwise she stayed put while the two men talked.
Miseko said, ‘I don’t know that there’s anything that says we each have to keep her to the same rules. She’s capable of learning to please us both. But you have to have some, or she’ll have you wound and tangled like an old piece of string.’
‘Am I a stray hoversail or old string?’ Therin laughed. ‘How many metaphors do you have for spineless?’ Miseko smiled and said nothing. Therin’s eyes followed the contours of the figure in the shadows at his feet. ‘It’s not easy to punish her for giving me that much pleasure. But I did it. And Vizay knows what my real punishments feel like, don’t you, girl?’ Vizay, still facing away, nodded emphatically. Therin considered. ‘I’ll start with your rules and see later if I want to modify anything. Do you want to go over them?’
Miseko stared out the screen. ‘It all seems so obvious now I hardly think about it. For one thing I don’t let her get up off the floor without permission, or speak without being spoken to. You already knew that. She gets her meals from my hand mostly, on a tray on the floor if I’m busy.’
‘Using her hands?’
‘If I’m busy she probably uses her hands to eat, yes. I’m not bothered. It’s not as if she gets to use a fork.’ The image of a woman wielding utensils was incongruous; they laughed. ‘Let’s see, can’t use the furniture at all, unless I’m using it to fasten her, and that’s me using it on her, isn’t it?’
‘When you punish her you like to make it fit the crime, right?’
‘That’s right. That’s an example, there.’ He nodded toward the tightly bound arms. ‘Also hobbling for unauthorized moving about. If she speaks without being spoken to, I have a pretty uncomfortable gag I use on her.’
‘I’ve never seen that.’
‘I haven’t had to use it in a long time, come to think of it.’ He smiled over at the patient figure facing into the dark below the windscreen. She couldn’t see the smile, but raised her head slightly at the warmth of his tone. He went on. ‘And then there are blindfolds for any impudent glances. I find I need to do that for long periods, half a day at least, to have any effect. A hood is even better, when she’s feeling too full of herself.’
They discussed a typical day’s routine. Vizay was allowed to wash herself each morning and use a toilet, but was allowed no privacy, and Miseko strongly discouraged Therin from allowing any. ‘She’ll think she owns her body if she gets to look after it without anyone watching.’
‘Oh, I’ll watch, don’t worry!’
‘She has to be exercised every day, of course.’ Therin nodded. He was almost as expert as Miseko now at keeping the woman balanced and sweating, working at her limit without over-straining herself. His spent penis stirred at the thought.
‘I chain her to the bed at night; don’t want her to have free run of the place while I’m sleeping.’ Miseko glanced at the little figure again, and his eyes had a brief look of loss about them. His bed would be empty that night.
An hour later they were in Miseko’s living room, looking down at their mutual possession, on her knees in front of them. They had released her arms, which were covered with horizontal red lines from the pressure of the straps.
‘How does it feel to be half owner of this little toy?’ asked Miseko.
‘Hmmm.’ Therin considered the smooth flesh before him. He pulled Vizay to her feet and squeezed both breasts, looking from one to the other. Then he turned to Miseko, one hand still firmly around her left breast. ‘I like this half.’ He glinted at his friend, pulled out a marking instrument and began making dotted lines down Vizay’s chest.
Miseko laughed. But when Therin’s lines descended to her belly Miseko said, ‘No, I like that navel! And how do we divide up her cunt? The best part’s in the middle!’
Vizay was giggling at the tickling of the pen. Miseko found a little marker and began distinguishing areas for himself, and soon they had her covered with dotted lines, like the diagrams dividing a cow for butchering. They tugged her back and forth by breast and buttock, laid claim to tongue and toes, then finally had her by cunt and asshole, pulling them apart just enough to make her gasp. The mock battle dissolved in urgent and indiscriminate use of all the identified areas by both men simultaneously.
After they recovered, Miseko looked up from Vizay’s smeared skin, which he was wiping. ‘You really ought to take her home, you know.’
‘But?’
‘I can live without her, it’s all right. And we’ve done this before.’ He washed off the circle someone had drawn around Vizay’s nipple. ‘Well, not this exactly, but close enough. If you want her to understand that things have changed, you’ll have to spend time with her on your own.’
‘You don’t think she understands?’
‘Up here.’ Miseko touched her between her dark eyes. ‘Not here yet.’ He rubbed his hand across her damp belly.
‘I’m not set up like you are,’ Therin hesitated. ‘No equipment, nothing.’
‘I’ll lend you a few things – some cuffs, a whip. What more do you need? You’ve got an imagination; I’m sure you’ll think of something.’
‘I have a whip. I’ve been saving it up.’ Therin’s eyes glinted. ‘What about her pony training?’ he asked, serious again. ‘They’re coming to race next week.’
‘Exercise her indoors, an hour a day, just like you have here. Or in your yard. We’ll work her on the track here the last few days.’ Miseko turned the woman over and wiped the last lines off her backside. ‘Here you’re just a guest, taking advantage of my hospitality. Go home, and take your creature with you.’
He scooped up the damp woman and dumped her into Therin’s lap. The momentum sent her sprawling, and then she pulled in her limbs so as to curl up. Therin looked down at her, nonplussed, and she looked back. He wondered if he saw a little challenge in her eyes. Slowly he put his arms around her, then his hold tightened and he jumped up, buoyant.
‘All right! Home we go! She’ll just have to get used to the fact that one of her owners is a poor man with four rooms and no pony track. Better lend me a good gag; the neighbors are close.’
‘Keep her for a few days,’ said Miseko. ‘Don’t spoil her.’
Therin loaded his new woman and a small bag of toys into his aircar. It was dark now. Vizay went into the space in front of the passenger seat by habit, but there was no ring there to fasten her to, and Therin added this to a list of new slave owner tasks he was compiling in his head. He patted his lap and pulled her over it face down; there was plenty of room around the seat for her head and legs to hang down. He tucked her in close to his belly to keep her out of the way of the controls, and looked out his window at Miseko.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’
Miseko loo
ked in, saw Vizay over his lap and snorted. ‘Better make it the next day. Drive safely,’ he said, smothering a laugh.
Therin piloted his car without a word, the soft weight of the female warm across his lap. She lay still, but he could feel the rhythmic movement of her breathing against his thigh. He was alone with her. And he would have her to himself for days. He owned this female, and had rights to do what he liked with her, short of harm. It was remarkable how different it was, being alone with her, not just for an hour or a night in another man’s house, but really alone and in charge. It wasn’t just Vizay who needed to know she had two masters. And of course Miseko had seen that.
Therin looked down at the shadowy body, the panel lights reflecting dimly off the smooth skin of her back, more brokenly off the skin of her buttocks, which had weals that roughened the smooth curves. Her hair fell forward, leaving her neck uncovered; the edge of her metal collar glowed a faint arc in the darkness. Therin visualized the new holotag with its two names. He had what he wanted, what he had worked so hard for, thanks to the generosity of friends. He felt a warmth that wasn’t just from the little body over his lap. Miseko could have gotten more money for the half share if he’d tried. Garid, beneath that deadpan exterior, was the kindest of men. Therin was at a loss to explain his friends’ generosity, quite unaware of the effects of his own rampant good nature.
He shifted slightly in his seat to feel the woman more firmly against him. He sensed her adjust and lay passive again. His hand began a long, slow stroking, from shoulder to knee, the other hand firmly on the controls.
When he landed he sat her up in his lap and looked her in the eye, smiling down at her. Her eyes were in shadow in the near darkness, but he could see a tiny reflected light in each as they searched his face. He reached for the bag on the other seat. ‘I thought I saw a naughty look in your eye back there, little one,’ he said. She lowered her head at once, not quite able to hide the sparkle that echoed his own. ‘I think we’ll do something about that.’ He locked her arms behind her back, and then pulled out the hood he’d borrowed from Miseko. Delicately, his long fingers closed the leather covering over her head, and then positioned the gag. He was pleased to see that her eyes looked distressed, just before he lowered the blindfold.
He lifted her down to the ground, and took her leash to lead her into the house. He had to tug more than once as she followed hesitantly, barefoot over unfamiliar ground. Once in the door, in the flood of light she stood uncertainly in darkness, without even sound to give her the sense of the room she occupied. She obeyed the leash’s pull, knelt down at a push on her shoulders, and sat on her heels on the floor near his chair. Therin fastened the leash from the back of her collar to her ankles, and went about making some dinner. Every minute or so he feasted his eyes upon her.
He took out the gag to feed her, but didn’t remove anything else. When a bit of food fell from her mouth onto her thigh he slapped her breast. He slapped the other one harder when she slobbered over her leather-covered chin. After that she made no more mess. He had her lick dessert from his cock, and then made her suck him for a while, his hand holding her down by the leather-encased head. But he wasn’t ready yet. He replaced the gag.
Therin unfastened her ankles and snapped the leash to the front of her collar again. At an upward pull she rose to her feet. ‘Shall I give you a tour?’ he enquired ironically. He knew she could just hear his voice through the padding, though probably not the words. He took her leash up short under her chin, and began to lead her through the house, allowing her to feel the living room rug with her feet, and nudging her up against a rough wall-hung sculpture in the courtyard he’d made himself. There was no way she would be able to guess what it was, feeling it only with the side of an arm and her breasts. It gave him an idea for a project, and he tucked the thought away for future consideration. Right now he was reveling in the moment, introducing her presence into every corner of his house.
He prodded her up the stairs, step by step, controlling her with the leash with one hand while he pinched her ass with the other. Halfway up she stumbled and went down on one knee. Unable to resist, he pushed her face forward onto the steps and plunged his hand into the inviting cunt that opened up before him. It was soft and very wet, and she moaned behind her gag, her face against the step. He wiped his hand on her ass and pulled her up again. Continuing the tour, he walked her through the two bedrooms and the bath, turning her around in corners until she staggered in confusion. He stood her over the drain in the bathroom and hosed her down, making her clean and his own for the night, tightening her nipples and sweet vulva with jets of cool water. She was trembling with the chill, and angling her pelvis and breasts as far as she could toward him. He toweled her off, then took a step back and took off his clothes, watching her for a long minute as she stood, lost, unable to locate him.
At last he pulled her to him and held her off the floor by the ass, parting it and plunging a finger into her, and she shrieked in an indistinct way, wriggling her body against him. He tucked her against his hip, reached out and found some lubricant to squeeze out of its bottle and into her. Then he carried her out onto the landing and turned her over the banister with her bottom up. The lubricant shone around her little rear entry; his fingers slipped on it as he parted her ass as far as it would go. He rubbed his big member around in the lubricant between her cheeks, and then slid the head past the tight sphincter. She shivered beneath his body and tried to raise her head, and he felt her muscles contract around him. Then her head dropped and she opened for him, opened and opened until he could feel himself parting her insides, like a piston through heavy oil. He took her slowly at first, making space for himself inside her, restraining his own ragged breathing to hear her groans and whimpers through the gag. He reached down with his slippery hands and squeezed each breast, sliding toward the nipple with each stroke, ending each with a hard tweak made less painful by the lack of friction. Her whimpers grew higher and her thighs parted, trembling. Close to coming, Therin straightened up and pulled out almost completely, giving himself room to smack Vizay’s ass hard, twice on each side. The impact of his hands striking the resilient flesh, the sight of her round buttocks flaming red, impaled by his thick cock, and the sound of her obstructed cries all took him over the edge; he plunged back into her and came, his own harsh gasps now all he could hear.
He left her where she was while he washed, and then he came back and looked her over. Her leather-covered head hung down passively, but her ass and cunt contracted a little from one moment to another, and her thighs were not quite still. He stood her up and brought her into the bathroom again, and covered the skin that was exposed with warm water and suds. He soaped her cunt gently, his fingers soothing and circling, then squeezing, then manipulating in tiny strokes against her clit. His arm moved around her slippery waist and held her tight as her thighs went rigid and she shuddered and spasmed against his fingers. Her moans came from her throat, almost against his ear.
He rinsed them both off one more time and dried them, set her on the toilet to pee, and then put her to bed. He released her hands and attached them to the headboard, but left the hood on.
Therin woke many times throughout the night, responding to the novelty of a woman’s body against him in his familiar bed. Toward morning, half asleep, he slipped his erection into her from behind and rocked back and forth in a dream for a long time. After he came he slept deeply, and only woke up in full sunlight, still holding her spoon fashion, his damp cock nestled between her thighs.
The hood stayed on well into the day. He fed and exercised Vizay without removing it, the latter an experience she’d not had before. The courtyard at the back of the house was enclosed on three sides by the L-shaped house and the aircar port. He shifted the furniture out of the way, and prodded her around in circles on a long lead, forcing her to keep her knees high. Therin was utterly pleased with her dependence on him, and with his own confidence as the man in charge.
When he fina
lly took off the hood at midday she blinked painfully, her hair plastered to her head with sweat and her face flushed. Her glance up at him was for information only, to ascertain his wishes, and then she looked down at the floor. He stroked her hair back from her face, and she ran her cheek over his hand and quickly kissed it, then lowered her head again. She’d never done that before. He looked at her in wonder, and knew he had her.
In Harness
It seemed I now spent most of my time either in my cage, or running in harness on a line. The cage had become the default, so to speak. I was put there if there wasn’t a use for me.
I was out on the lawn one morning after a grueling run, motionless on my hands and knees. My head was down, and I was watching wisps of steam come off my hot skin; they had washed me down a moment before. The air was crisp and dry, and my body was so heated that I dried in minutes. Then I shivered. I felt straps against my face again and opened my mouth for the gag; Arleben was fastening the bridle back on my head, the one I wore when I wasn’t in harness. He led me back into the kitchen, took off my leash, and snapped his fingers in a gesture toward the cage door. I crawled in, and watched him close the lock and turn away.
I spent hours that day as usual, in this little kennel of an enclosure, watching the free ones going about their business. I was mostly ignored. The kitchen tended to be a hub, but even Pav didn’t spend all his time there, so there were long stretches when I was not only locked up but left alone. I knew when they locked me up it was unnecessary; they put me in there to keep me out of the way and out of trouble. Still, by the middle of the day I wanted out. I wanted to stretch my legs, sit up straight, get to be walked on my feet rather than crawling. What I wanted and what I merited were, of course, two very different things. Bad girls didn’t deserve to be anywhere but a little cage. After a while they did take me out to feed and walk me – crawling – but they put me right back in again.
I obeyed now as perfectly as I could. Consequences for anything else were swifter and more severe than I could handle; I guess they’d upped the ante. Pav had become especially strict; he didn’t let me get away with anything. That rod of his swished down at the slightest provocation. And the words ‘Bad jeedy!’ snapped at me and made contact, like a cane’s surge and crack, and made me cringe.