Cara nodded, “Yes, exactly, it’s perfect. The eagle is about to take off, just as we want the kids to take off.” She smiled. “And as a nice side effect, it’ll push Kiki into the limelight and bring attention to her other stuff.”
He frowned. “You’ll have to be careful with that, you know. I’ll get my PR people on it, because if the wrong gossip site pushed the information out the wrong way it could appear you made me buy it to help your friend.”
She shook her head. “I’m not—”
He interrupted. “I know you aren’t. It’s ideal for the project. I’m just looking at how they’ll give the information to the public.” He smiled. “We’ll make sure we release it the way we want it reported.”
“Let’s go find Kiki and Papa Bear and make sure no one else has bought it, and let them know you’re interested.”
* * * *
She awoke the next morning refreshed, and managed to get out of bed without waking Travis. She used the restroom, retrieved the camera and sketchbook from their trip, and stole out to the solarium before sunrise. She had an idea for a quick rendering of the cascades and wanted to paint the gristmill before she looked up the picture.
When Travis found her two hours later the painting appeared almost complete, and she’d even painted the sunrise surrounding her while she worked, capturing the pinks, reds, yellows, and a hint of purple in the little bit of sky showing in her painting.
“How’d you do this so fast? It usually takes days to paint something this size.”
“Oh, different technique; I used large brushes and didn’t put much detail in. I’ll paint it again later and add millions of little details, but I wanted to get what was in my head onto canvas. I haven’t tried to find a picture of what the mill looked like yet, but it’ll be interesting to see how close I came. When are Paul and Meg supposed to arrive?”
“Noon, which gives you another two hours to paint before you’ll need to come in for a bath. I’m going to shave you, and I want you in the right headspace when they get here. I won’t insist on a big breakfast unless you want it. Are you hungry?”
“Honestly? If I can just eat one of those bar things you like to feed me when I’m working, that’d be good, so I can finish this and start on another idea I want to get onto canvas really quick. It’ll go faster than this one, so two hours should be about right, give or take fifteen minutes?
Travis smiled as he handed her a cinnamon-bun flavored protein bar. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it, then. I’ll blink the lights fifteen minutes before I come get you.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cara lounged in the dry tub, her legs comfortably thrown over both sides as Travis shaved her pussy. She’d been mortified in New York, but today it seemed perfectly natural.
She was still a little sore from his fist, and as he pulled and stretched the areas he was shaving she could feel it pulling the overstretched tissues. It wasn’t a bad pain, but a warm reminder of their magical night and she wondered if that made it less embarrassing, but decided it didn’t matter. She was comfortable and happy, and should just leave it alone and not pick it to death.
She always seemed to get as much paint on herself as the canvas, and Travis had squirted shaving cream on her paint speckled arms, hands, and face before he started. She reached her left hand to her right and used a fingernail to push what was left of the shaving cream away, testing. To her surprise, the paint easily slid off her skin.
“How did you know the shaving cream would do that to the paint?”
“I didn’t, for sure, but I hoped. Leave it be, when I’m done here we’ll fill the tub and get it all off.”
Within an hour Cara was back in a bald cap, and flesh colored tape across her lips made her look as if she didn’t have a mouth. The image in the mirror was disturbing, like something from a horror movie poster. He gave her eye shadow in several shades of purple, with a diagram of how to apply it and a picture showing how it should look when finished.
The eye makeup pushed her past horror-movie-poster, making her even more of a thing — a non-person.
Travis sat her on the vanity stool and laced her ballet boots on before standing her to face the mirror as he laced her strictest corset, tightening it until her waist looked impossibly small, more like that of an animated cartoon character than a human woman.
The house boasted three garages with a total of fifteen places to park a vehicle, and she was walked to the rarely used four-bay garage, where she noted the RV, four wheelers, and cars normally stored were missing. Several tarps stretched across half the concrete floor, chains hung from the rafters in a few places, and a folding table stood with whips, floggers, paddles, and a wide assortment of other toys.
“You aren’t wearing cuffs because Paul has an affinity for zip-ties. They’re a lot harsher than rope and you’ll let me know if it’s too much.”
She raised her eyebrows, wanting to point out she couldn’t exactly talk with the tape over her mouth, but he pulled a clicker from his pocket, holding it up to demonstrate. “I’ll tape this to your right pointer finger. Click once if you need me to slow down and give you a minute, twice if you have a mental or emotional problem with what we’re doing, and three times for a scene stopping safeword. The first two won’t stop the scene, but will make us back off. The third will involve taking off the tape and having a discussion. Understand?”
She nodded and he continued. “I plan to share you with Paul, but I won’t use Meg sexually. I’ll help him hurt her, and I’ll help get her restrained and into position, but my cock won’t enter her body. Are you okay with that?”
Cara wished she could talk. She wanted him to take pleasure in Meg’s body if it was what he wanted, and if Paul invited him, but he was asking if it was okay for him to help hurt and restrain her, so she nodded in the affirmative and made a mental note to talk about it later.
A car pulled up outside as he walked to the table and retrieved a spreader-bar. He stepped to one of the hanging chains and clicking the center of the bar to the chain. He crooked a finger at her and she hobbled to him as gracefully as possible in her ballet boots. She remembered refusing the shoes he’d bought her on their second date, and marveled that he’d managed to train her to walk in shoes far beyond normal high heels.
He pulled the clicker and some tape from his pocket, attached it to her pointer finger as promised, and stepped back.
“Reach up and hold onto the ends of the spreader-bar. I’ll be disappointed if you let go.”
She’d heard the car turning around outside the garage, so when Travis pushed the button to raise the door she wasn’t surprised to see the rear end of a car backing in. She didn’t expect the engine to shut off before the car was all the way in, and was thankful the spreader-bar allowed her to turn and allow a better view.
The trunk popped open seconds before the driver stepped out. Travis pushed a large rolling dolly towards the car and as he reached the trunk the other man lifted something heavy and gently set it on the cart. As they wheeled it towards her she was horror-stricken as the form slowly coalesced into the shape of a woman.
Thin white straps went around her legs every four to six inches, imprisoning them together, and as they turned the cart Cara realized the woman’s arms were forced together behind her back by the same kinds of straps, and her feet had been brought up behind her and connected to the straps around her wrists.
Meg was lying on her side, and when her face came into view as they rolled her nearer, Cara saw she also wore a bald-cap, tape on her mouth, and the same purple eye shadow.
Pain reflected in Meg’s eyes as she lay on her side, her body bowed backwards. Cara wondered how long she’d been in this position, and how long she’d been in the trunk. Suddenly, the image of being stored and transported like luggage hit her, and she rubbed her legs together as warmth bloomed in her belly and her clit throbbed to attention.
She watched Paul pull what looked like heavy-duty wire cutters from his pocket, and he sn
ipped the bands from her arms while Travis hooked another spreader-bar on a chain hanging less than a foot from Cara.
When all the straps were removed they stood the woman and walked her to Cara. Travis let her lean on him as he raised one of her arms to the spreader-bar and Paul ran a wide zip-tie around her wrist and a smaller one through the first zip-tie and then through end of the spreader-bar. He pulled it closed and Cara saw Meg would have several inches of play, so she could grasp the bar or not, but wouldn’t be able to lower her hand. Paul quickly gave Meg’s other wrist the same treatment before securing Cara’s. Travis had stepped away, and Cara heard the car start and pull out.
Paul turned Cara towards Meg, and Cara realized the other woman wasn’t wearing a bald cap — her head had been shaved! The revelation struck Cara like a thunderbolt, and she was both horrified and fascinated.
The woman was turned to face her, and Paul placed clover clamps first on Meg’s nipples, and then on hers, all four connected by short chains. Cara gasped as they went on and then tried to remain still, because any movement by either woman pulled. Painfully.
She was aware of Travis switching on the large exhaust fan while Paul had placed the clamps, and as she breathed through the pain and tried not to move too much with each breath, she heard the garage door closing and Travis’ footsteps returning. He stopped beside them and put a hand on their shoulders, saying, “Meg, I’d like you to meet my Cara. Cara, this is Meg.”
He looked at Paul. “Looks like I need to take Cara’s corset and boots off, if we want a matched set.”
Stepping behind her, he quickly worked the lacings, yanking at her nipples with every tug. She took a deep breath when finally it came off, thankful it was gone. The boots were next, and Travis walked back into her vision.
“Paul and I have decided to begin with a nice caning. Five to one girl, then five to the other, until we think you’ve both had enough.”
He paused, looking in Meg’s eyes, then Cara’s. “Let’s hear your safeword for stopping the scene.”
Cara pushed her clicker three times and he nodded. “And if we do something that hurts too much and you need us to back off?” She clicked once and he turned to Meg, “How will you let us know if you need the scene stopped?”
Meg stomped her foot twice, paused, then once. Paul moved into her vision and said, “Can you grunt it with the tape over your mouth?”
She grunted the same pattern and he nodded and stepped away. Travis pressed a quick kiss to Cara’s cheek before following.
Hearing the other woman’s safeword calmed Cara and reminded her they’d both chosen to be here and could stop everything if they wanted. Cara looked at Meg’s shiny head again and her insides ignited at the thoughts of Travis shaving her bald, for real. As annoying as it was, her hair was such a defining part of her. Being stripped of it for a scene was difficult enough, but permanently — or, least until it could grow out again — would be dehumanizing on an entirely different level.
The authority and control one would need to take someone’s hair was a huge turn-on, even if she didn’t actually want Travis to have that kind of power over her.
Paul’s voice came from the side. “Coin toss to see who gets caned first?”
“Sure, I call tails.”
A chuckle, and then, “Smart ass. Of course you do.”
The ting of the flip echoed through the large garage, the sound of a hand hitting another, and both men said, “Heads.”
Cara closed her eyes, disappointed she didn’t get to go first. The anticipation was worse than the caning, and once it started she wouldn’t be as afraid of it.
As the first strike landed on Meg’s ass, she jerked and screamed deep in her throat, the tape muting the sound. Her erratic movements yanked Cara’s nipples and made her bellow what would’ve been a wild shriek if the tape hadn’t trapped most of the sound in her throat as well.
By the time the fifth cane stroke landed, Cara’s nipples were on fire and she was almost in a state of terror over the anticipation of her own five strokes.
Paul handed the cane to Travis and he didn’t wait long to deliver the first searing line of fire to her ass. She was horny, and parts of her welcomed the pain, but without a warm-up it was right at the edge of too much. The pain in her ass combined with the radiating shock to her nipples when she jerked had her wanting to try to escape but scared to move a muscle, lest she yank her nipples.
At the second impact she knew Travis planned a diamond pattern with the cane strokes, and when he stepped to the other side for the fourth strike she wasn’t surprised when it overlaid parts of the others and etched the pain into her soul.
Travis returned the cane to Paul immediately after her fifth stroke, and Cara was lost in a haze as the cane passed back and forth. Her ass got a rest but her nipples were never given a reprieve.
She wasn’t sure how many strokes she’d received when Travis took the nipple clamps off, but she and Meg bellowed and shrieked in tandem at the agony of removal. Cara thought Meg tried to tell Paul something with her eyes a few times, and when he pushed at his slave’s lower belly as he asked how she was doing, Cara started to suspect he’d make Meg pee while they were bound like this.
So now, as Paul stooped to use the zip-strips to attach their legs together, Meg began shaking her head and grunting franticly. Paul unwrapped the strand before running it through the eye, stood, and said, “If you’re going to and you don’t want to pee on your new friend, you should do it now, before I fasten your legs together.”
She shook her head and whined, but he only said, “You know it’s going to happen; you’ve had almost two liters of water since you awakened and haven’t been to the restroom since around eight this morning. You must be quite uncomfortable by now, why delay the inevitable?”
Meg dropped her head and stepped as far away from Cara as her bonds would allow before spreading her legs, sighing a broken sob, and letting go.
Paul lifted her chin and aimed it at Cara, saying, “No, open your eyes and look at your new friend as you pee in her house — as the piss runs down your legs and puddles at your feet.”
Cara tried to look away, to spare her the humiliation, but Travis stood beside her saying, “No. Look at her, Cara Mia. See what she’s feeling, the fight she’s going through.”
Cara felt warmth at her toes and grabbed the bar with her hands as she lifted her feet. Meg’s face grew even more horrified and the stream stopped. Paul said, “Finished? Already? You’ll be attached to Cara for quite a while so if there’s more you should empty now, before I zip-tie the two of you together.”
Meg’s eyes looked desperate a few seconds, then defeated, and the stream started again. Cara thought back to the beginning of A League of their Own, at how long he’d peed, and was certain Meg went considerably longer. She must have been miserable while they were caned, and probably during the drive here in the trunk.
When the stream finally waned and then stopped, Paul kissed the tape over his wife’s lips, told her he loved her, and cleaned her with baby wipes as Travis used a shop vac on the floor.
Cara remembered Travis insisting she guzzle an entire sports drink before their guests arrived, saying she hadn’t eaten much and this would keep her hydrated and give needed calories. She hadn’t felt the urge to go until now, but with the idea in her head and the realization Travis would likely make her go in front of Meg, she suddenly needed to go.
When the shop-vac quieted Paul said, “It’ll break up our matched set, but I need the use of my toilet so the tape will have to go.” He looked at Meg. “You’ll remain speechless when it’s gone; you don’t want to give me a reason to punish you today.”
Cara was pleasantly surprised to see the tape pulled off Meg’s face without any apparent discomfort, as she’d been dreading the pain of removal.
Meg opened her mouth and worked her jaw, but remained silent as Paul pulled the wire cutters from his pocket and casually cut the straps between wrist-ties and spreader bar,
saying, “I need your services as a toilet. If you take four or five steps to the right you should feel a mat under the tarp.”
She took several graceful steps to the side, effortlessly dropped to her knees, grabbed her elbows behind her back, and opened her mouth.
Cara hadn’t seen Travis come around behind her, and her heart stuttered a few beats when his arms wrapped around her torso. His hand made circles on her stomach, soothing her as he said, “You probably won’t see much since he’s having her drink instead of pissing on her.” He dipped his fingers to her pussy, ran them through her folds, and lifted his hand to wipe the moisture on her cheek. “You’re wet, but is it from the caning or the watersports?”
She wanted to complain. It was terrible to be asked questions when you couldn’t answer. She squealed in protest as his hand went to her nipple, still excruciatingly sore from the clamps.
“Watch, Cara Mia. See her swallowing? She has to use care to keep her lips sealed around the head enough so none of his piss escapes, but not so much it closes the hole. She can hear us talking about her. How do you think she feels while on her knees drinking her Master’s piss in front of you, knowing you’re fascinated but have never done it. Are you disgusted? Turned on? She has no way of knowing, and you can’t tell us with your mouth taped.”
Cara was aroused and repulsed. Paul had called Meg a toilet, and was using her as a urinal. The parts of Cara’s psyche turned on by objectification wanted to have a spontaneous orgasm, but another part of her brain protested about germs and waste products. Her hips moved involuntarily and she had to admit arousal was winning over aversion.
She’d read online that a healthy person’s pee is safe to drink as soon as it comes out of the bladder, but...he was peeing in her mouth.
When at last he stepped back, his cock semi-hard, he walked behind his wife and stood her up, wrapping his arms around her as he said, “I love knowing I’m inside you.” He rubbed her stomach, patting it lovingly, and kissed her cheek before moving his hands to caress her breasts and then rub her shoulders.
Safeword: Quinacridone Page 28