Mistress Ai rose from her chair, smiling warmly, and said, “That is an excellent answer, Julia. Arthur is fortunate to have you for a sub.”
She reached behind her and undid the wide sash, which she pulled off and dropped on the chair behind her. She opened her kimono, peeled it off her shoulders, and let it fall into a shimmering pool behind her.
She was naked now, slender and graceful, skin white and flawless, breasts small with tiny nipples. A colorful dragon tattoo wound sensuously over her shoulder and opened its mouth wide above her right breast. Julia stared, awestruck.
Mistress Ai stepped towards Julia and traced the outline of her mouth with a slender finger. “Such pretty lips,” she said, “pink and shapely. They are made for kissing.”
She took Julia’s hand and drew her back to the chair she’d been sitting in. She put her delicate hands on her shoulders and, exerting almost no force, pushed her to her knees. She lifted one foot and placed it on the chair’s arm: now Julia could see, just in front of her between Mistress’s parted legs, her black pubic hair—soft, straight, and trimmed short—and her smooth pink labia.
Julia had always been fastidious about her own sex. She had masturbated occasionally, but hadn’t enjoyed her own taste and smell. She hadn’t licked or sucked the fingers she touched herself with, and she’d always washed thoroughly afterwards. She couldn’t think of a woman’s sex as beautiful. It was unhygienic, even dirty, and it repelled her. But she’d known this moment was coming: something in her was ready.
Mistress Ai put a hand on her head, fingers in her hair, and pulled her forward, saying, “Kiss me, Julia.”
Julia tipped her head back and gave Mistress Ai’s sex a light, tentative kiss. It was so scary up close, and the smell and taste were stronger than on her fingers. She wanted to get up and run. But Mistress Ai held her firmly in place and said, “Use your tongue, Julia, or I may think you’re not happy to see me.”
Julia’s stomach gave an unhappy little lurch as her tongue slid into Mistress Ai’s warm, slick cleft. But Mistress sighed “Oh,” a sweet breathy sigh, and just like that, Julia’s whole body sang with happiness and arousal. She breathed deep: Mistress’s odor was musky and clean, not filthy, and she wasn’t slimy, but wet with living passion. Julia lapped it up.
All too soon, Mistress Ai wound her fingers into Julia’s thick hair, pulled her head away from her, and looked into her face. “You kiss well,” she said, and pushed her onto her back on the floor. She knelt over her head, pressed her open pussy against her mouth, and humped her—while Julia, drinking in her salty wetness, felt her sexual temperature soar.
Absorbed in her sensations and emotions, Julia was about to reach for her own pussy when strong, sure hands (they had to be Mr. Page’s—she could sense a confidence in them that could only be his) gripped her ankles and lifted her legs. She felt a man’s warm thighs against her bottom, and a cock slipped into her wet vagina.
This was completely different from the fantasies she’d been having all week with the dildo in her throat and her own fingers inside her. Mistress Ai was riding her face faster and harder, and Julia’s cheeks were drenched with her juices. Mr. Page was already thrusting, battering her mound, making the butt plug move inside her and stimulate her anus. She was pinned down and helpless, and the sensations were too much—but this was the first time Mr. Page had taken her this way. Fucking her, it was as if he were sealing their bargain, committing himself to her in a way he hadn’t before.
Mistress’s fingers were still in Julia’s hair, and she was crying out, a high-pitched, rhythmic cry of approaching orgasm—and then a soft scream as she ground herself hard into Julia’s lips and tongue, again and again, for a full minute it seemed, till finally her body relaxed.
Mistress Ai climbed off Julia’s face, knelt beside her, kissed her, and petted her hair. Julia could see now that it was Mr. Page between her legs, lost in his own sensations and oblivious to her as Eric, still seated, looked on with interest. Julia watched him, still in his gray suit (did he never get naked?), and the thought that he was taking so little notice of her and cared so little about her pleasure aroused her and somehow made the sensation of him inside her all the more intense.
She could feel her own orgasm building and was almost there when Mr. Page arched his back and came, panting. This, Julia thought, was the disadvantage of having a lover who wasn’t attuned to her sensations: she wouldn’t always get to come.
Within seconds, Mr. Page was pulling out of Julia, and Eric was handing her a towel to catch the drip.
Mr. Page stood and put himself away. Zipping up his pants, he said, “So much for the appetizer. Julia, go to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Lombardi when dinner will be ready.”
Mistress Ai was putting on her kimono, but Julia knew better than to ask to dress. She went back to the kitchen and said, “Hi, Suzy! Mr. Page wants to know how dinner is coming.”
“I don’t know why he cares,” said Suzy. “He won’t eat more than a bite. Well, tell him fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes later they were all seated at a small, square dinner table. The others were dressed, but Julia was still naked and her butt plug was uncomfortable to sit on. She sat between Eric on her left and Mistress Ai on her right.
Eric had said very little tonight: perhaps he was shy. Julia tried to engage him in conversation, but he seemed tongue-tied. Instead, Mistress Ai dominated the conversation, delivering news and leading discussion about people known to everyone there but Julia, who was fidgety and anxious.
She was relieved when Mr. Page finally pushed back his chair and said, “Let’s return to the living room. Mrs. Lombardi can bring us coffee or drinks to enjoy with our after-dinner entertainment.”
Someone, probably Suzy, had placed a futon in the middle of the living room floor. Mr. Page said, “Stand on the futon, Julia.” Then he addressed the group. “I gave Julia two homework assignments last week. One was to train her anus to tolerate a large butt plug for a full hour. Since she put in a plug of that size when she came in tonight and has been wearing it ever since, I know she’s completed that one. Bend over and let everyone see your butt plug, Julia.”
She bent over to show Mr. Page her plug. Then she turned slowly so the rest could see. She was pleased with the little rush of embarrassment she got displaying her ass with the obscene jewel in it.
Mr. Page said, “The second assignment was to learn to deep throat a dildo I gave her. Did you do that, Julia?”
“Yes, Mr. Page,” she said.
“Alas, I forgot to ask you to bring the dildo back so you could demonstrate your new skill. You didn’t happen to bring it, did you?”
“No, Sir,” said Julia. “I’m sorry.”
“We’ll have to make do. Eric, I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you mind letting Julia suck your cock? I believe you’re about the same size as the missing dildo.”
“No problem, Arthur,” said Eric, and stood up.
If Mr. Page preferred to have sex with his clothes on, Eric was more like Mistress Ai, who had undressed to play with Julia before dinner. With the unhurried calm of a man who knew his body was worth looking at, he stripped off jacket, tie, shoes, pants, and everything else until he had on nothing but a gold wristwatch. He had a fine body, well muscled with a narrow waist: his skin was dark with copper highlights. He held his penis in his hand and stroked it as he ambled towards Julia. All his dinnertime shyness was gone now: naked and with a stiffening cock, he was in his element. To Julia he seemed an Adonis: she thought she’d never seen a body so beautiful.
He stopped at the edge of the futon and pointed with one finger to a spot in front of him. Obediently, she got to her knees and stared at his cock: the shaft was a rich brown, like his body, and the circumcised head was lighter, with a hint of pink. She took him in her hand and glanced at Mr. Page, who nodded. She lifted Eric’s cock and licked the length of it from his balls to the very tip, where she teased his slit before taking him in her mouth, so slowly, t
he dark head disappearing between her pale pink lips, then the corona, and the darker shaft.
She took him slowly, wanting to draw out the pleasure for him—and for Mr. Page and Mistress Ai, who were watching closely. It was a solid minute before her lips reached the shaved base of him and she stuck out her tongue to lick his balls.
Mr. Page clapped his hands and said, “Very good. But it’s one thing to deep throat a dildo, or Eric when he’s standing still. It’s something else entirely when a thing is in motion. Eric, would you please demonstrate?”
Eric pulled out of Julia, bent down, and kissed her briefly. He said, “Lie down, babe,” and guided her so she was lying face up, with her head off the end of the futon and tilted back.
Crouching over her, Eric inserted himself into her mouth—as slowly as she’d taken him before, till he was deep inside and her nose was pressed into his balls. Then he withdrew a couple of inches and pushed in again, slowly at first, but faster after a few repetitions, out and in, longer strokes, and harder. Her hands flew up reflexively, to push him away, but she caught herself and let them fall. Soon her mouth had filled up and overflowed with drool that ran into her eyes, over her forehead and into her hair. Faster and deeper, he was fucking her now, the wet noise of cock in her throat loud in her ears, and she couldn’t help making a weird quacking noise that startled and scared her.
His hands were on her breasts, kneading her nipples, firm balls bouncing as he fucked her, brown asshole flexing inches from her eyes as he strained into her. Down below, her hand found her pussy and she rubbed herself hard, aroused in spite of her fright at this violation of her.
The butt plug was moving in her ass—someone was pushing and pulling it, fucking her with it, and finally pulling it out of her. Hands grasped her ankles and lifted, and a warm cock pushed into her ass. It was Mr. Page’s cock—what else could it be?—she could sense the sureness of the man and his control in the way he held her and thrust. This was painful despite her being stretched by the butt plug. She couldn’t speak or protest, but pedaled with her feet and hummed around Eric’s big cock.
After an excruciating moment of stretching, the friction of Mr. Page’s smooth skin in her sensitive anus became pleasurable. His rhythm and Eric’s were working together now: when Mr. Page thrust hard into Julia below, jolting her whole body, she felt it in her throat; and likewise when Eric shoved into her throat, it pushed Mr. Page deeper into her ass, magnifying the sensations there.
Someone pushed her hand away from her pussy and thrust into her there—it had to be Mistress Ai’s fingers, though Julia couldn’t see anything but Eric’s smooth and muscular ass. She reached for her nipples and massaged and squeezed, waves of sensation crashing in her body.
After a few minutes she could scarcely endure the stimulation. It became pain, and the pain was on the point of swallowing her up when Eric came, spurt after thick spurt, filling her mouth to overflowing so it coursed over her cheek. When he climbed off her, she could see Mistress Ai with her fingers in her pussy and Mr. Page fucking her ass. She swallowed Eric’s semen, and the sensuality of that, and the sight of Mr. Page and Mistress Ai, and what they were doing to her pussy and ass made her come—an even bigger orgasm than what she’d had masturbating for Mr. Page the week before.
Julia stared at Mr. Page, whose hooded eyes roved over her face, taking in her beauty but not seeing beneath the carefully made up skin: at this moment she had no interiority for him; she wasn’t there. Good, she thought. Later they could talk about life and literature: at this moment she was content to be his toy.
He pulled out of her ass, the sudden contraction of her sphincter a jolt of pleasure, and with a few swift strokes his semen arced over her belly and splashed on her breasts, on her chest and neck. He stared at her briefly before he stood up. As he was putting himself away and zipping up he said, “How’s work on that new office building coming, Eric? Where was it again? St. Louis?”
“No, it was Kansas City,” said Mistress Ai, picking up her kimono.
“It’s going to be the tallest building in the city,” said Eric proudly.
That’s when the reality of what she’d done—what Mr. Page had made her do—came crashing down on her. These three people had used her like some cheap plastic toy. Caring nothing for her, they had fucked her, drenched her from cock and pussy and instantly forgotten her. She said, “Mr. Page?”
He waved her away impatiently and said, “Construction is on schedule, though? It’ll be finished on time?”
“On time and fully rented,” said Eric. “Your investment’s safe.”
Raising her voice, Julia said, “Can I go to the bathroom, Mr. Page?”
He made a shooing motion and she scampered away as he said, “Tell me what kind of companies are renting.”
She ran to an upstairs bathroom, as far away from them as she could get, slammed the door behind her, and collapsed on the floor in tears.
She’d been rich, she’d had everything she could possibly want, and now she had come to this—an after-dinner amusement for rich kinksters—call it Degrade-the-Whore. She had sunk as low as the wretched subway-girl in her story—without dignity or self-respect, she was surviving in the flesh but not really alive.
She struggled to her feet and stared at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was smeared and smudged, her lipstick gone, her hair tangled. A glob of semen was drying on one cheek.
“I can’t do it,” she whispered. Suddenly Mr. Page seemed a horror and she couldn’t have sex with him even one more time. And the others, even if she liked them and thought they were good looking, she couldn’t let them degrade her this way.
But they had done it, and she’d let them; the damage was done, and there was no getting back what they’d taken from her. She might was well be dead.
Someone knocked on the door. “What?” said Julia.
Suzy said, “Mr. Page wants you.”
She was too tired to argue. She opened the door, still smeared and damp, and followed Suzy downstairs.
8. The break
Mistress Ai and Eric were leaving, and Mr. Page wanted Julia there to see them off. She couldn’t think of what to say. “Goodbye” seemed wrong somehow. Dressed, Eric was awkward and shy again: he shook her hand.
Mistress Ai touched her cheek, kissed her lips, and said, “You’re an exceptional woman, Julia.”
She couldn’t answer. She didn’t feel exceptional, unless you counted exceptionally vile. She forced her lips into what she hoped was a facsimile of a smile and held it till they were gone.
When the door closed, Mr. Page wheeled in place, strode towards the living room, and barked “Come!”
She’d tell him when he was seated. She’d stand in front of him and tell him she was leaving and he could keep his hundred thousand, and he shouldn’t worry because she’d be okay—not that he was the kind to bother himself to worry about her. That’s what she’d say.
He collapsed into a chair and said, “Your panhandler. Does she have a name?”
Flummoxed, Julia said, “I’m not sure, Sir. I think maybe Laura.”
He repeated “Laura,” as if testing the sound of it. He smiled. “Yes. It’s a good name. Plain. She’s everygirl—anyone could find herself in her place. You must tell me everything about the story . . . in the morning.”
She said, “Sir—”
“Come sit beside me,” he said, pointing to a spot on the floor beside his chair.
Somehow the moment when she could have spoken had passed. Remembering the way Noye had rested her head on Mrs. Kim’s knees, she lowered herself to the floor and sat on her heels.
He said, “Do you understand what happened tonight, Julia?”
“Not really, Sir.”
“When I most wantto keep you to myself, that’s when I will share you. When my esteem for you is greatest, that’s when I will degrade you. And when I feel . . . warmth towards you . . . that’s when I will turn my back.”
She stared at the floor in confusion
.
“The one who didn’t stay,” he said, “she left when I presented her with a scene like this one. Two others did it once and made it a hard limit. You accepted it tonight, but you can make it a limit—I can live without it. It’s important that you remember you are completely free at every moment.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said.
“But as long as you remain here, I will continue to rule you, consistent with our contract.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He was quiet for a time, and she waited for him to speak.
Finally he said, “You’re not leaving.”
Startled by the truth of his words, she said, “No, Mr. Page.”
He leaned back in his chair and spread his legs. “Suck my cock,” he said.
She moved between his legs, unzipped him, and pulled out his cock. She didn’t want to do this, knowing that if she did, the time to walk away would never come again. She’d be his till he made her leave. She jerked him off, watching him grow, repulsed by his pale length, wishing she had the will to walk away—no, to run. But what would she run to—to a freedom she didn’t want, a dignity she found more repulsive than the slippery fluid now leaking from the tip of his cock? She leaned forward and let the smooth crown of him slide between her lips, his silky skin snake over her tongue and into her throat.
She stopped thinking then, stopped wondering what there was in her that needed to crouch before him with his cock in her mouth, needed him to use her up and walk away silently. His breathing was labored, as if he couldn’t catch his breath, and raspy as he worked, holding her head and pushing her down on him till he moaned and filled her with cum.
She raised her head so she could see his face when she swallowed. He was ghastly pale, as if half a corpse. His frame seemed shrunken in his suit, a pile of bones in the chair.
She sat up and said, “Are you all right, Sir?”
“Yes, Julia, I’m fine.”
“Can I do anything for you, Sir?” she said.
Julia and Mr. Page Page 6