“‘Oh, God!’ I moaned, wondering if I dared to touch myself.
“Karen’s stout legs appeared by my head. ‘Are you all right, dear?’
“I said, ‘Yes, Mistress, but . . .’
“‘Eat your dinner, then,’ said Karen, and shoved my face down into my bowl. I felt like crying, the humiliation was so great; but I got hold of myself and went on picking at my dinner with teeth and lips, though my face was surely a mess. There was no need to hurry: Amanda was now sitting up, apparently finished, but the others were just starting with the main course.
“Between the difficulty of eating from a dog bowl and the beads vibrating inside me, I only managed a few more bites before everyone else was done with dinner. Mae took my bowl away, and Karen came over, turned off the beads, and slowly pulled them out of me—I was so aroused that the stimulation of my anus expelling each one came close to making me come.
“Karen handed the beads to Amanda and said, ‘Mouche, dear, take these to the bathroom and clean them off. I’ll join you there in a minute.’ Amanda took the beads and scampered away with a sunny smile on her face, and Karen swept off towards the kitchen.
“Daniel cleared his throat, said, ‘I’ve got some calls to make,’ and left, leaving Emily and me alone.
“I said, ‘May I dress?’
“‘No,’ she said. ‘You can masturbate if you want.’
“I said, ‘Does watching get you off?’
“‘I don’t particularly want to watch you masturbate,’ said Emily. ‘I just thought maybe you could use some relief.’
“‘I’m okay,’ I said, though I wasn’t really. If I’d been by myself or with you, Sir, I would have had my fingers in my pussy in a second, but I didn’t want to seem weak in front of her.”
“You weren’t treating her like your dominant,” said Mr. Page.
Julia’s hand had stopped moving: her fingers covered her. “I know, Sir, but she was so cold, like she didn’t want me there at all.”
“Still, she was your dominant, and you shouldn’t have hidden your need from her.”
“I’ll remember that, Sir.”
“Move your hand so I can see your pussy, and go on with your story.”
“Yes, Sir. We sat there for a few minutes not saying anything. Her coldness made me uncomfortable. The more I thought about her behavior that afternoon, the more annoyed I got about the way she’d been avoiding me. Finally I said, ‘Why did you give me to Karen this afternoon?’
“‘What do you mean?’
“‘You deliberately busted so it would be Karen that played with me, not you.’
“Emily sighed. ‘Things didn’t go all that well last time I tried to top with you.’
“‘They went well enough for you.’
“This made her mad. ‘Do you think I liked making you safeword? I felt horrible about it—and I felt even worse when I realized Arthur was having a heart attack the whole time.’
“I said, ‘You sound like you were the one suffering, like it was all about your feelings. It was me getting suffocated, and my husband having the heart attack. And now somehow that makes me too disgusting to touch?’
“She stood up abruptly and said, ‘I told Arthur I’d make sure you got sex, and I’ve done that. Frankly, I don’t know why he cares. If you belonged to me, I’d take you to Fulton and sell you for a fish.’ She jumped up and stomped out of the room before I could think of anything to say.”
“You didn’t handle that well,” said Mr. Page.
“I don’t think so either, Sir, but I don’t know what I should have done.”
“You treated her like a rival cheerleader in one of those high school romances you used to write. But she was standing in for me. What have you said to me when I’ve just given you away without fucking you myself?”
“I’ve told you I don’t like it, Sir.”
“You’ve told me politely. If you spoke to me the way you did to her, you’d spend the night in a cage.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Now go on with the story.”
“Okay, Sir. I was still just kneeling there where the dog bowls had been, feeling kind of stunned, when Karen came back with Amanda following her, looking like she was lost in subspace. Karen said, ‘Famula has a headache, poor dear. She’s going to keep to her room tonight; the rest of us will watch a movie.’
“I’d made Emily so mad she didn’t want to be in the same room with me. Well, I could live with that: I didn’t want to be with her either. Karen led me to a media room where there were several sofas facing an immense screen. Daniel was already seated on one of them, holding a remote.
“‘Sit with me, dear,’ said Karen, positioning herself right in the middle of a sofa so I’d have to sit close to her. I sat, and Amanda sat on the floor against a wall with her feet pulled in close and her knees high.
“The movie was Moonrise Kingdom, which you know, Sir, came out on DVD last month. I liked it, though I was distracted by the way Karen kept playing with my pussy. She’d massage me till I squirmed and breathed hard, then back off—over and over, teasing me. Now and then I glanced at Amanda, who didn’t pay much attention to the movie except when Kara Hayward or Frances McDormand was on the screen. Otherwise, she spent the whole time staring at Karen and me. A couple of times I saw her wet a finger, slide it into her ass, and then suck it. It was kind of disturbing.”
“Mouche is a coprophage, Julia.”
“I know, but I didn’t want to have to see and think about that. I mean, I’d kissed her. If Daniel or Karen knew what she was doing, they didn’t mind. When the movie was over, Daniel said, ‘Clever fellow, this Wes Anderson. We’ll hear more from him.’
“Amanda slept in what Karen and Daniel called the slave quarters—a tiny room with an adjoining bathroom but no furniture at all. I was also assigned to that room. They regarded Emily as Amanda’s dominant, not a submissive, so she had her own bedroom. The rule was that Amanda had to start out the night in the slave quarters, but if they found her in Emily’s bed in the morning, they didn’t raise a fuss.
“The floor of the slave quarters was carpeted with some soft material and a thick pad underneath, so the whole floor was like a futon. Clean bedding was piled neatly in a corner. Amanda took two sheets, a blanket, and a pillow from the pile and made herself a bed against a wall. She visited the bathroom while I arranged my own bed against the opposite wall.
“Amanda crawled under her blanket, and I went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I returned, she was facing the wall. I turned off the light, whispered ‘Good night, Amanda,’ and crawled into my own bed.”
Julia’s hand moved over her pussy as she continued. “In the middle of the night, I was awakened, gradually, by cool air on my skin. I became aware of soft hands parting my thighs and something wet gently probing into me. I looked: it was Amanda with her mouth in my pussy, gazing solemnly up into my face.
“You’ve often awakened me by going down on me, Sir, and it’s amazing what you do to me: it’s like being thrown off a high cliff, and when I hit bottom, that’s this immense orgasm. Well, this was way different. Amanda’s tongue was as light as a feather, barely stimulating me at all at first, and just exploring my pussy, along my labia, around my clitoris but not touching it, teasing around my opening, sometimes tickling my anus. As she went on she probed harder and came closer to my clitoris but still didn’t touch it, till I was writhing and trying to push against her mouth. And it was only when I said, ‘Oh, please, baby!’ that she finally sucked and tongued my clitoris hard, and I came—a long, soft, warm orgasm.
“I sat up and looked at her. Oh, Mr. Page, she was so beautiful. Her eyes were hollow and haunted, her mouth pursed and wet, her nipples pointed. Don’t you agree she’s beautiful?”
Julia’s still hand covered her pussy as she gazed up at her dominant, anxious for confirmation.
“Yes, Julia,” he said. “She’s very beautiful.”
“I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to tha
nk her for her kindness . . . I wanted to go down on her and give her an orgasm too, to repay her for mine. But the image came into my head of her putting her finger in her ass and sucking it, and that made me think of what she must have done with Karen in the bathroom. And I just couldn’t. I couldn’t reach out to her. I couldn’t touch her.
“And then Emily’s voice came from the little hallway that led past the bathroom out of the slave quarters: ‘Come, Amanda,’ she said, and her sharp tone made us both jump. Amanda scrambled to her feet and ran to hug her, but I just sat there feeling ashamed. I was sure she’d seen everything. She gave me a disgusted look, took Amanda by the hand, and led her out of the room. I went to the bathroom and scrubbed my pussy with a washcloth; then I wrapped myself in my blanket and lay down, but I had a hard time getting back to sleep.
“In the morning, Amanda was just as sweet to me as she’d been the day before, but Emily was really frosty. I’m sure she likes me even less than she did before last night. She grabbed a bagel and left us, and Amanda and I talked for a while till I decided it was time to come home.”
“But you obeyed Emily—that’s the important thing.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And You will continue to obey.”
“So you’re sending me back, Sir?”
“If you’ll go.”
“Do you want me to, Sir?”
“I do.”
Julia didn’t want to see Emily again, but even though the night had been difficult, it hadn’t been unbearable. Further, she liked Amanda and felt she owed her something. She wanted another chance with her.
“Okay, Sir, I’ll go if Emily will have me.”
“Good,” he said. “You can have your orgasm now.”
At almost the same moment, Emily and Amanda were relaxing together in a huge bathtub, Emily’s arm around her slave’s narrow shoulders.
“I don’t know, Emily,” said Amanda. “I just like her. She’s pretty, don’t you think?”
Emily should have known better than to start this discussion. She might figure out eventually why Amanda had taken a liking to Julia, but she’d never get there by asking, because Amanda wasn’t analytical about her likes and dislikes. Perhaps a person had struck her as kind, or she’d detected in them a capacity for love—but what she’d say was “he’s got such beautiful eyes,” or “I like her big nipples.”
Now Amanda added, “And her pussy gets so wet.”
There was no point in probing any further—Emily didn’t want to hear how nice it was to kiss Julia or how exciting it had been to watch her go down on Karen, and there was nothing she could ask that wouldn’t give away her feelings, which she was a little ashamed of. She was jealous; it was as simple as that. She wasn’t worried that Amanda would leave her for another woman, but she didn’t want her to like someone she didn’t like herself.
Emily decided to ignore her foolish jealousy. She said, “Do you want Julia to visit again, baby?”
“Oh, yes,” said Amanda. “I’d like to see Julia again.”
They got out of the tub. Amanda toweled Emily off, then herself. In Emily’s bedroom, she selected some clothing for her mistress and helped her dress.
When that was done, she went to pick up in the slave’s quarters. She folded her own bedding and piled it neatly in the corner; Julia’s bedding would go to the laundry. Amanda picked it up: underneath were some pages clipped together: they were headed “Little Girl Lost, by Julia Page.”
Amanda carried the bedding to the laundry room and brought the pages to Emily.
6. Just us girls
On the following Sunday morning, Julia was again seated in front of Mr. Page. He said, “Did you and Emily get along better together this time? No, don’t tell me yet. Tell everything in order. We’re writing a novel here.”
“If it were fit to publish, Sir.”
“Everything you do is fit to publish, Julia.”
“If you say so, Sir,” said Julia, who knew better. “At three o’clock yesterday, Amanda, naked as before, answered the door of Daniel and Karen’s huge apartment. She smiled shyly, pulled me inside, closed the door, and hugged and kissed me. ‘Hi, Julia,’ she said breathlessly.
“‘Hi, Amanda,’ I said, grateful that there seemed to be at least one person here who liked me.
“Amanda led me to the kitchen, where Emily was sitting at the bar with a cup of coffee. Lying beside her coffee cup was my latest story. I took a printout with me last week, and I guess I forgot about it.
“‘You left this,’ said Emily, and handed me the pages.
“I said ‘Thanks,’ hoping against hope that she hadn’t read it.
“But she had. She said, ‘Couldn’t you have given her a better ending? The way she finds her mother . . .’
“‘I left the girl alive,’ I said. ‘In real life, the ending isn’t always that happy.’
“‘I know, but . . . you could have gotten her off the street. You could do some good with a story like that, showing how it’s done.’
“‘Kids like that don’t read fiction,’ I said. ‘Most of them never read at all. If I knew how to get them off the street, which I don’t, I still couldn’t reach them. But I can show other people what it’s like to be homeless.’
“‘I know, but it’s just . . . sad, is all.’
“‘I guess you weren’t a literature major,’ I said. I was annoyed that she’d read the story—it seemed an invasive thing to do.”
“It wasn’t, though,” said Mr. Page. “As your dominant, she had a right to do it.”
“I guess,” said Julia. “Anyway, she said, ‘I majored in Chemistry.’
“‘Figures,’ I said.
“‘It’s a good story,’ said Emily. ‘I couldn’t put it down. It just made me sad, that’s all.’
“‘It was supposed to make you sad.’
“‘Well, it was good.’
“‘Thanks,’ I said. It was kind of painful to have to thank her.
“She said, ‘Do you do a lot of writing?’
“‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I’m all about two things—writing and fucking Mr. Page.’
“‘It sounds nice.’
“‘It is, most of the time.’
“She looked at me as if I were a riddle she was trying to solve. I know I come across as kind of a bimbo—”
“You’re not,” said Mr. Page.
“I am when we play, Sir. Then I want to be your mindless cunt, good for nothing but a fuck.”
“I couldn’t love you if you were really mindless.”
“I understand, Sir. I’m just explaining that people who don’t know me well don’t expect me to be able to write.”
“Point taken. Now get on with your story.”
“Okay, Sir. So Emily stared at me a while and said, ‘Do you want to be a fuck toy again today?’
“I was thinking, well, that’s why I’m here, and then I thought maybe the question meant that Emily didn’t want to play—so I was getting annoyed and confused. I said, ‘I guess.’
“Emily said, ‘Karen and Daniel are both out for the afternoon—some gallery opening. We’re on our own, just us girls. We could watch TV or read. It’s up to you.’
“I didn’t want anything to be up to me. I was determined to be the submissive. So I said, ‘Mr. Page wants me to do what you tell me to do.’
“Emily stared at me and then said, ‘What do you think, Amanda? Do you want to play with Julia?’
“‘Oh, yes, Emily,’ she said, sounding eager. There’s nothing in the world quite as compelling to Amanda as a live person.
“‘Come to my bedroom,’ said Emily.
“Emily’s bright and cheerful bedroom had an immense playground of a four-poster bed—bigger than a king size. ‘Lie on the bed and spread your legs, Amanda,’ she said. ‘Julia, you undress.’
“We both did as we’d been told. Amanda was already aroused and touching herself: her dark pink labia swelled as her pale finger slid between them.
“E
mily said, ‘There was something you forgot to do when you were here last, Julia. Do you know what that was?’
“I nodded, staring at Amanda’s pussy, which was already open and wet, appalling and beautiful.
“‘You want to do that now, don’t you?’ said Emily.
“I didn’t answer, but just stood there, full of misery. I wish I could be less fastidious, Sir.”
“I don’t,” said Mr. Page. “I like you that way. I love to see you perform cunnilingus, your lips wet with pussy, knowing you find the female genitalia repulsive. Are you getting turned on, telling your story?”
“Yes, Sir. May I masturbate again?”
“You may.”
Julia undressed as she continued. “Emily looked confused for a second, and then it was like something clicked inside her, and her whole manner changed in a second.
“Her face hardened, and she spat, ‘Bitch!’ She grasped the back of my neck and pushed me hard onto the bed.
“I squeaked as my cheek hit the bedspread. In a second, Emily was beside me: she grabbed a handful of my hair and dragged me, scrabbling and flailing, towards Amanda. I tried to struggle to my knees, to get away, but she seized my neck again and shoved my face into Amanda’s crotch.
“‘Eat her out, cunt,’ Emily snapped.
“I don’t know—maybe she was just mad at me, but it felt like she knew me almost as well as you do, Sir. It was so hot when she called me ‘cunt’! The word made me whine as my mouth closed over Amanda’s pussy, Emily’s hand still on my neck, holding me firmly in place.
“Amanda’s labia were warm on my lips, like a returned kiss. My tongue slid into her, in the wet, over her opening, up to her clitoris, which I stimulated with soft swirls. Amanda rested one hand on a thigh; with the other she massaged a nipple; I saw her eyes close, her lips part, heard her sighs.
“Oh, I could have done it all day, with Emily’s hand on my neck, pressing me into Amanda’s pussy and making me do what I wanted and didn’t want to do: I held onto Amanda’s thighs to keep her close and gave her clitoris a soft suck.
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