As She's Told (57 page)

And then it was my master's cock before my face, making use of an eager and tremulous mouth and throat. Then withdrawing, still hard, and using my ass to come.

Empty, completely empty, head hanging. Waiting for the gods' next whim. After a while the release came, and my master god manoeuvred me to the stairs. I wanted to crumple at his feet and beg, but I was instead propelled upward, half bent over by the grip at my back, watching my feet mount the basement stairs, trying not to stumble. He wasn't going to let me sink down. One contact of heel to clit, and the careful discipline of months would end in shameful, howling ecstasy.

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No such luck. I was hefted almost off my feet, moved along like a slightly unwieldy appliance that was too tippy to be left to stand on its own.

"Here you go," I heard him say. A change in grip. Karl shoved me down to my knees and held me tight between Ria's long, slender legs. She took a handful of hair at the crown of my head and tipped my face down into her crotch. The thin film was already hot and soft beneath my lips. I obeyed every minute direction, feeling a phantom tongue on my own inflamed flesh, and felt my own hollow clench and empty shudder when she came.

Anders voice came from behind me. "Okay, hold her, please. Ria, you want her plugged, I presume."

"That won't make her come?"

"No. Just keep her on simmer."

"Good."

Hands held my hips. Twin probes from behind, carefully aimed and slow, slow. Sliding through my liquid flesh, which contracted in helpless, hapless waves. Inner shield pressing over rings. Outer shield up. Lock clicking. And finally my arms were released and the handle was unbuckled.

I was back on hands and knees, feeling the dismissing slap on my welted rump, and crawling, weeping, for my cage.

Inside, I curled up, rubbed my arms and then wrapped my head in them.

The teasing scene was already replaying itself, moment by excruciating moment. My naked, obscenely swollen clit on display. The ultimate indecent exposure. Karl's excruciating words. My pathetic, pointless pleading for mercy. They were round the coffee table now, laughing, and the sound made me want to sink through the naugahyde and metal plate and basement and bedrock and the whole earth's crust, straight into hell. Thighs and inner muscles clenched, my hand was cupped secretly over metal. Oh, god, if only I could come!

***

Anders observed the frenzied small movements in the cage across the room. His slave was rubbing her tits on the floor now, and her fingers were scrabbling desperately at her crotch. Amazing that she would risk this in full view. The sight had him hard as a rock again. She looked up, saw him watching, and buried her head in her arms. He could see her ribs heaving against the corset. Poor baby. What a gorgeous display. What could be sweeter than pushing her past every vestige of reticence and self-control?

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The four of them wound down with yawns and a little akvavit passed around. It was Sunday, and he had to be up the next morning. And so, of course, did Maia. But Karl and Ria were just getting their second wind; they were planning to go off and sample the Toronto scene. He got them a key.

Ria toyed a little more with the girl in the cage, stroking her and pulling on her nipple rings, before she went up to the guest bedroom to change. By the sounds that emerged, she and Karl were nowhere close to being finished for the night. Anders walked his slave into the bedroom and watched her face at each cry of female fulfilment from the next room. "Do you wish you were Ria, little girl?"

She looked up, eyes flashing. "At this instant? I – " She paused for a long moment, looking at him, and then shook her head. "No, master. Never."

He leaned down and ran the tip of his tongue up a salty line.

She swallowed. "I want to be – what I am, just – if I could just come – "

The last word came out as a whimper. Anders smiled.

He wasn't finished yet either. The noises through the wall were like fresh cayenne, on top of the feverish suction of his slave's mouth, and the tiny, urgent convulsions of her body. Anders tucked her up in bed and held her close, allowing a few more broken, murmuring pleas before he muzzled her. Luxurious with approaching sleep, he sucked her nipples for a while, stroked the welts on her ass, and listened to his guests going quietly down the stairs and out the door. Stilling his slave's desperate squirming, he murmured, "My sweet little hunhund. So juicy and rare. Go to sleep."

Once or twice he woke to the sound of her moaning and whimpering in her sleep. Did she ever get to come in her dreams? From the sound of her voice, he thought not.

***

"So. Maia doesn't seem to – uh, like Ria much, does she?"

They were on the Gardiner Expressway, Ikea boxes stacked in the truck bed behind them. Svend's wrecked furniture was finally being replaced.

Anders didn't much respect the quality, but then he wasn't going to have to live with it. He glanced at his brother and shrugged. "Not much."

Svend scratched his chin, glanced back. "Or Val, come to think of it. Is that – ethical?"

Slowly, Anders nodded. "An interesting question." He came up behind a slow cube van, glanced over his shoulder, changed lanes.

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"Well?"

"Depends how you look at it. It's well within our agreement, which is that I do what I like with her without consulting her wishes. And being consulted is something that she's always been frantic to avoid. So sometimes she gets what she doesn't want.”

“Or doesn't get what she does want. As in orgasms.”

“Right."

"Are you just as frantic to avoid consulting as she is being consulted?"

Anders considered this bait, then left it lying. "Consulting would turn the whole thing sour as far as I was concerned, yes."

"And you like letting people use her without her consent."

"I do. But if it bothers you, you can stick to the mandelkager."

"No, no. I'm fine. She likes me well enough."

"You wouldn't use her if she didn't like it, huh?" said Anders

"No, I wouldn't."

"But you'll participate when it's happening."

Svend thought about this. "For the time being, yes. She's much too fun a toy to pass up." He cracked his knuckles, stretched, and flicked a glance at Anders. "And I must have a few of those dom genes; I'm really starting to get off on this stuff. But if she didn't want me to fuck her I wouldn't fuck her.”

“You're only responsible for what your own cock does."

"You asshole! All right, I was just as in on it as everyone else, if I didn't stop it I can't complain, yadda yadda yadda. Can't I have second thoughts? I ask you some ethical questions and you turn around and attack me. Classic defensive manoeuvre. I'll tell you who's got ninety percent of the responsibility, buddy, and it's you."

"Ninety-nine at least." Anders glanced at the simmering figure in the passenger seat. The jaw was set at an angle familiar to him, ever since Svend had thrown his first punch at him at the age of two. Things with his brother could start simple, but they rarely stayed that way. Nor could Anders resist his own dig. "Since when do you judge, huh?"

"Huh. That was different."

"No."

A speeding Camaro was coming up in the rear view mirror, weaving between lanes to get an advantage. No signals, the asshole. When it was up 361

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beside him he let it in and kept an eye on it as it wove three more times before it was out of sight. Fallout from the accident; Anders couldn't help being more wary on the road than he had been.

"All right," he said. "There's wanting and wanting. A relationship like this means pushing boundaries. I take my time, and I introduce new elements as I think she can deal with them."

Svend nodded, still angry, but listening. "Maia's too straight to enjoy women sexually, and she resents them when they tell her what to do. I'm forcing her limits on this one. She doesn't like it. Accepts it but doesn't like it."

"What's the point, then?"

"I like it."

"Jesus. And it's what you like that counts."

"Yes. That's our relationship. That's what I need, that's what she needs, that's what she agreed to. With every warning beforehand that I could give her."

"You like making her do something she hates?"

"Yes. Up to a point, and strategically, yes."

"I guess it goes with the rest of the sadistic territory."

"I am what I am, brother. You don't like it, stay home. I'm not playing any games to appease your conscience." There was an irritable gesture in the seat beside him. Anders took the next exit, steered onto Lakeshore and pulled up at a light. "Don't imagine she'd thank me if I did, either. The masochistic territory is the same landscape in reverse." He put the truck in gear, ready for the green. "In the long run, this is right for her. She'll go deeper. Wait and see."

***

Karl and Ria stayed with us for a very long four days. In the early evenings they sat around the living room with Anders and Svend, talking and arguing in Danish, amusing themselves with me, watching movies, going over a package of papers and pictures: some kind of real estate material with pastoral photos of fields and stands of trees. I served, hyper-vigilant for signals, on edge and vulnerable. I was at everyone's whim and mercy, my every nerve stretched and exposed. It was a relief when Anders used me for a footstool and I got to have all four limbs firmly on the ground, with his legs a weight and a shelter.

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Our visitors dropped in on me at work one morning, and chatted and browsed the shelves. Though my hands shook for an hour afterwards, I handled the visit itself with sufficient aplomb, having had practice with Val and then Svend, with their wicked glances and double entendres. Karl and Ria came in professing to need directions, and stayed to look through the materials and to shake their heads over Canada's pathetic investment in renewable energy.

That night they took us and Svend out to dinner; a Thai place on Danforth. Anders made sure I had every possible kind of bondage beneath my clothes, including two plugs and his remote control arrangement, plus vibrating clips on my nipples. The remote went round the table. My usual facility with chopsticks failed me. I didn't manage to get much to eat, but my appetite was so limited, and my harness so very tight that it hardly mattered.

When my trembling hand missed my water glass and knocked it over, Anders put his hand into his pocket, handed me a small bristly object, and bent his head to my ear.

"Hold that between your thighs, naughty girl. Press hard. I'll expect to see marks later." It was an old-fashioned roller, the kind made of springy wire mesh with nylon bristles sticking out all round. Where had he dug that up? Gingerly I pressed it between my thighs, and winced. His hand was on my lap, his long fingers pulling my knees together. "Harder. Hold that. Now eat your dinner." The vibrator buzzed. Which one of them had it now? I managed to get a couple more mouthfuls to my lips.

The waiter came over, asked whether our meal had been satisfactory, and got an unusually enthusiastic response that puzzled, though it pleased him. He described the desserts. The vaginal vibrations leaped to full power, and I stared in front of me, trying not to pant. My thighs relaxed momentarily and then I made myself press them together again. The damned thing hurt. A silence. They were all looking at me.

"Sorry." I sat up, attempting normalcy. "No dessert, thank you. Um, no tea, either, please. Nothing more to spill." They laughed in a friendly way, good companions who relished a little self-deprecation. The nipple clips vibrated harder. They asked me difficult questions, fastened me down with their eyes until I answered, watched me blush. Anders found my thighs slackening and gave me a jolt in the rear that brought tears to my eyes. Like a scolded child I sat, head lowered, hands in my lap. Squeezing my thighs 363

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for all I was worth.

Another night Val came over with her guitar, and I was hung up with the bells, just as I had imagined. The instruments came out, and they traded songs and stories, ate and drank all round me, tried out tunes on me. Karl had a good rough voice, and Ria did a little drumming. Val talked her way through some hilarious stories with guitar accompaniment. I swung, bridled and gagged, and had my ass used as a rhythm section. I had a sneaking hope that someone would get forgetful and play my clit along with the bells, but my master used the first two piercings to lock it up under a little metal hood.

Enough to prevent careless contact, to my grief. On Karl and Ria's last night, I knelt beside their bed and watched as they grappled and straddled one another like a pair of wrestlers. Anders had handed my leash to Karl, and now the end was looped over the bedpost. Karl managed to pin Ria on her back, and she snapped and bit and he bit back. I stared into the wet filmed slit in front of me, wished myself away. Legs surrounded my head. "Suck, girl."

My own cunt was as locked away as ever, heavily plugged. Hands fastened behind my back, I was an adjunct to their lovemaking, an extra tongue; extra buttocks and breasts available for the punishment that both delighted in inflicting but neither wanted to receive. I absorbed the blows and yanks, served my function, and watched breathless the conjunction of hands, mouths, cock and cunt, all free and forceful, both bodies with every right in the world to reach for their desire, to take and thrust and revel.

When they were done Karl, still naked, took me by the collar and walked me on my knees out into the hall. "Hey. Anders."

My master's tread on the stairs, head rising into view, grey eyes sharply etched, looking me over.

"Done with her?" he said.

"All done." Karl handed the leash over.

"How did she behave?"

"Fine. A good girl tonight."

"All right. You want to be up by seven?"

"Yes, please." Karl yawned. "We need an early night for once."