Kitty & Teddy, LLC Ch. 04

"So, what have you done since yesterday?"

Peter and Jason ran me through the tracks they had chosen for layout matting. I could see some real possibilities in their choices. Naturally, much of it focused on Jason, including some simple portrait and torso shots, which I thought was smart. What was unexpected was the block they had of me. Shots included: me rolling a stocking; Paul pulling on the corset strings; me stretching on the bar; and me picking up the crop for the last sequence. I must admit, the black riding crop made a fine visual counterpoint for the white lingerie and a corset.

I adjusted the cropping on some of the shots, but overall, things looked to be developing well. I was about to ask about Justin, when he walked up, thumb drive in hand. This was his selection of his work with the Marquis' letter. It was more premium stuff. There was a variety of styles among the selection. There were shots in good light and in poor light. As I had requested, Justin had shot each page of the letter in candle light, as well as with the pages fanned out.

One particularly nice shot, was a closeup of the signature. I rotated that one, so that the signature was corner to corner on an 8" x 10". Then I dropped four other shots on top of it. With a little playing, I had an attractive page, with fine visuals, and plenty of room for text. It would serve as a template for other documents.

Sean had spent this time watching me work with his guys. Once I had massaged the template to the way I liked it, he cleared his throat. At once, everyone looked his way. He gestured at the screen I had just been working on.

He said, "Gentlemen, it is my impression that the rest of what needs doing is fiddly details. I realize a lot of artistic choices need to be made, but the material to complete the project is in hand. Would that be accurate?"

Peter was good with that assessment, as was I. Justin clearly wanted to shoot the letter some more, but he reluctantly nodded. When we all turned to Jason, he looked surprised that we would inquire, and turned his palms out to Peter and Justin.

"All right then. Use Cynthia while you have her today. She and I have an appointment at 4:00. After that I am taking her out to dinner." Sean said this last, while looking straight at me. It was not news, but I wanted some action, so I mimed a ballroom dance. Sean corrected, "Make that dinner and dancing. I do not know about you, but I feel she has earned it." I swear to God, they all started clapping.

Sean:

Sheila, or Cynthia, and Christine arrived. Cynthia kissed Jason on the cheek, then greeted Peter and I. Since Justin could be tied up for some time, I started the ball rolling.

I said, "I see we are all here. Gentlemen, this is Christine Collins. She is Cynthia's personal assistant. It is possible she will be available to play go-for. Please show her the respect you have shown us. Cynthia, your floor."

She took the pass without a bobble, "Christine prefers CC. Yes, she will be spending much of her time here this week. Please make her time pleasant. So far she has little experience in this type of work, but another pair of hands is often welcome.

"So, what have you done since yesterday?"

Sheila immediately put her stamp on the proceedings. Peter and Jason were still working on the background shots. I could see that they now had several portrait and torso shots, as I had suggested. Cynthia seemed to ratify my suggestion, by choosing one of the torso shots to tweak. With a few deft motions, she resized and cropped the picture. Even I could see it was an improvement.

After a few minutes, Justin came in, carrying a flash drive. Cynthia quickly sorted through his selections and pulled out a handful. From one, she took the Marquis' signature, rotated it to run corner to corner, then started dropping objects on it, including the other photos she had selected. In under a minute, she had a very sharp looking page, with a sizable block in the center for the item description. I could tell a layout template when I saw one. It was time to drop my little bomb.

"All right then. Use Cynthia while you have her today. She and I have an appointment at 4:00. After that I am taking her out to dinner." She mimed dancing, so I amended, "Make that dinner and dancing. I do not know about you, but I feel she has earned it." I raised my hands to clap. Justin, Peter and Jason joined in.

Sheila:

Applause is the butter on a performer's bread. In the worst cases, performers almost live and die by the quantity of their applause. No one, in the business, is unaffected by it. When Sean and the boys started clapping, I turned twenty shades of red, but it pulled at something deep inside me. It had been so long, I had forgotten what applause was like. The feelings were still there, so much so that it made me wet. I would have to tell Francine.

My stars, I was expecting Francine to call. I put on a brave face for five minutes, then begged off for the Ladies' room. Once in the stall, I checked my messages. Francine had called six times, most recently twenty minutes before. I called back and received a voicemail.

Phone: Damn it. Sheila pick up, you horny bitch. Shit. OK. Fine. I will call at exactly one o'clock. Fucking, be there. Trust me you want to hear this.

I set my alarm and went back out.

There were things to organize. We had a lot of raw material, but there was a lot to do before we visited the printers. Jason had a good visual eye, so I set him to sorting images. We needed at least four for every piece, but generally we had dozens. I told him to select the four he thought best and add any close calls. Justin, I set to refining the background shots. The catalog would have dozens of categories, and I wanted a different wallpaper for every group. Peter had done a great deal of work making digital frames, but there was a lot left to do. CC, I put to doing the mind numbing drag and drop work, into Peter's finished templates.

I had barely finished handing out jobs, when my phone alarm went off. I excused myself, and went to field Francine's call.

Phone: Schwartz, you lazy bitch, is that finally you.

"Yes, Francine. Did you meet with Sean last night?"

Phone: Sugar, prepare yourself. Mamma got news.

"Oh, heavens, what now?"

Phone: That man is stuck on you, girl. I mean, he is stuck bad.

"Francine, will you drop the phony accent? What part are you playing anyway?"

Phone: Piss on it, Schwartz. You are no fun. I plan to read for the part next month. Anyway, what I said about Ricky, I mean Sean, is true. He's got it bad, though he may not know it yet. Don't interrupt.

We went to dinner, and he was all nice to the troupe, not that it mattered. They were all there to get away from Monica, the manager. By the time the cheesecake cart came around, there was no one left to eat it. So I took Ricky home. It was only a three block walk. We sat and petted a bit. I played little girl and he played Mr. Man. I played naughty, and he spanked me bare assed.

"Francine, is this supposed to make me feel better?"

Phone: Wait for it. He held me down and brought me with a quicky hand job. I told you he had skills. Anyway, it was my turn, so I got his pants off and did a stroke and blow, just to take the edge off. So far its all very friendly, but not very serious. Then I sat my bare ass in his bare lap, and gave him my best "Wanna fuck?

"Francine, you slut."

Phone: Schwartz, I kid you not, I was turned on. Worse, I had not been seriously screwed in almost a month, and I was in the mood for some sweaty animal sex. I looked him right in the eye and said so. He kept it a friendly necking, and he left 15 minutes later.

"What time was that?"

Phone: Probably about 9 to 9:30. Why?

"He must have come straight to pick me up. Damn. You have to be right. He never said a word to me. He just took me home and put me to bed."

Phone: Bullshit. There has got to be more than that. What do you mean, you never said a word. Why the fuck not?

"Oh Frannie, what I did yesterday. If I was you, I would actually go to confession. It was that bad. We needed a set of shots that smoked, and there was no time to be delicate. I took a kid, barely out of high school and naive as hell, and put him through the wringer at my studio. Heavy duty stuff, and I made him wait for it, too.

We got the shots, and it will probably save the project. But, I could have messed him up badly. As it is, he is not the same guy that got up yesterday morning. It was so close, I had to focus hard on my work, just to keep from shaking. Hell, I'm shaking now. When you see the video, you'll understand."

Phone: Richards. What has this to do with Ricky Richards?

"The shoot only took about half an hour. After that, I had to handle clients. Then, I went over to the warehouse -- that's where the photo work is being done -- and went over the video with the other two guys. After a while, I was just sitting at a computer, pulling up frames, cropping out a shot and going to the next one. It was strictly hand work and I zombied out. Autopilot.

"Anyway, after a few hours, Sean shows up and throws everyone out. He threatened to have security escort us out. Once Peter and Justin had gone, he took me to his car -- he uses a driver -- and took me home. He held me and stroked my hair the whole way. When we got to my apartment, he walks me to the door, takes the keys, lets himself into the building, walks me up to my apartment, lets himself in again, takes me to the kitchen, sits me in a chair and takes off the corset."

Phone: Oh. My. God. You had that corset on all day, like 15 hours.

"Francine, I swear that corset was holding me together. I needed the support. Anyway, Sean took off my blouse, undid and took off the corset, unsnapped my bra, but didn't take it off. Instead he took off his own jacket and shirt, put the shirt on me, then pulled the bra out through the sleeve, just like I would. Then he took off my skirt, shoes and stockings and led me to bed. I was out before he left the room."

Phone: So what then?

"I slept all night, til the alarm in the morning. I woke up in his shirt, which was a nice way to wake up. It still smelled of him. Right now, I am back at the warehouse playing slave driver with the photography team, not that they need the push. Things are rolling.

"That reminds me. I need a favor. Can you stay in tonight?"

Phone: Not a problem. I was thinking about bar hopping, to get rid of this itch Richards left me carrying, but nothing is definite.

"Sean left me a present. He picked up a girl, barely out of high school, and made her my personal assistant. She doesn't know anything and cannot do anything, but she is definitely one of my people. I have not tried yet, but I am guessing the sight of a whip will make her wet. Yet, she is a bondage virgin. I would stake my reputation on it.

"I need someone to at least open her eyes, before I throw her in deep. Give her a good dose of Oskar Gruber style discipline, and spank her til she comes four or five times. Are you up for it? You can have her eat you up as part of the deal."

Phone: Holy shit, Schwartz. I knew you ran a BDSM place, but the staff? Seriously?

"I will give her your address and have her picked up in the morning. Understand that everything has to be 100% consensual, but I am telling you this girl has been dreaming about someone like me for a long time. Get her naked. Teach her some positions, and make her stay in them while you do your nails or something. Then tie her up and tease her til she screams -- I better include a gag -- and bring her off til she melts on your rug. Like I said, have her service you any way you like it."

Phone: Oh. My. God. I am speechless.

"Not in this lifetime. I will tell the driver to go where she wants to go. If she shows up, she wants to be there. Now, I have got to go. Appointments. Sean is taking me dancing tonight. We can swap more dirt tomorrow.

Phone: He seriously gave you the shirt off his back?

I had not thought of it like that, but yeah. Holy shit. He actually gave me the shirt off his back. Wow.

"Seriously, I gotta go. Love you."

Phone: I love you too, even if you are a kinky bitch.

I went back out to the work group. Thinking about the shirt must have made me smile, because everyone looked at me oddly. That was all right. I could put the bark back in the bitch, if I needed to. At that point, things were moving well enough without her. Besides, I had clients to attend.

I said, "Don't mind me. I just received some very good news. Unfortunately, it has nothing to do with all this grunt work. I have appointments to keep. CC will say and assist. Keep working. If something comes up, work around it. I will be available tomorrow."

Sean:

I needed to get back to the office. With a 4:00 PM appointment, my time was pressing. On the way over, I called the printer. Harold Johnstead, the owner, was apprehensive when he came to the phone. Our last three contacts had not been good for him. This time, I was able to tell him that we had a basic layout blocked and that the objective was a matter of details. He gave an audible sigh, and responded with a list of priority items. I promised to have at least rough work for him first thing in the morning.

Once back at the office, I had legal issues to sort out. First I looked over two drafts, which Curtis had messaged over. One version was as we had discussed, and the second one added a 10% participation, for the seller, in any money that was made. I liked that idea. Most would jump at the possibility of something for nothing. However, it raised a point.

Most of the auction items were of some age. That included the erotica, some of which was written in Greek and Latin. Even the Marquis' letter was written in Enlightenment period French. However, some of the items were fairly recent and in English. The words themselves had value, especially if the copyrights were still in force. I called Sheila. She suggested a book. God, I love that woman.

I called the Chancellor back and floated the idea of him using the university press, as leverage to get the documents. Naturally, he balked. However, I know a soft sell situation when I run into one. I pointed out that he would also be getting measured photos of an array of religious, ritual and fetish objects, some of them quite old. When his manner turned distant, I cut him loose to ruminate on the idea. I called Curtis back and told him to work the concept of a book into the language. His swearing soon turned creative, so I left him to his work.

Moving on, I called Harold Johnstead, who owned our printer. He was very apprehensive when he picked up. Our last several conversations had not gone well. When I told him I expected rough layouts, first thing in the morning, it may have made his day. I called Peter to tell him what I had just told the printer. He saw no problem and offered to do a visit to the print shop. I had Helen set that up. Suddenly, it was time to go to my session with Sheila and her client.

I arrived promptly at 4:00 PM. In the front room was a middle aged man, who looked more Korean than Latin. Sheila moved out of the shadows to introduce us. I suggested that Mario might want a lightly attired look, in the usual vein of his sessions, and that a blindfold would be appropriate. He was quite willing and retired to change. I gave him five minutes.

Sheila, as usual, was difficult to read. I asked her, "Will you be participating or observing?"

"Both."

"Very well, go to the bar and clasp it, with both hands, behind you. I trust that you will show your usual discretion as we conduct this session." She nodded and went to comply.

This left me with a few minutes, to sort through the resources. Sheila had a well stocked cabinet of restraints, ranging from soft and passive to edged and designed to cause pain. In addition there were paddles, lashes and whips in a range of sizes. One box was marked "Piercing", another marked "Body Art", as well as an array of sexual enhancements. From these I chose a penis ring, two strings of vaginal beds, lubrication, a light paddle and a middle length leather lash.

By the time I returned to the studio, Sheila was waiting at the rail, breathing quickly. She was wearing a lighter outfit than the last time we met in this room. In a way it was a pity. I had seriously enjoyed dealing with that wonderful corset. She was all business, in a 1950s schoolteacher vein: long sleeved, high collared, white cotton shirt, with a long red and green plaid skirt. As usual, her hair was done up, she wore silk stockings and heeled shoes. The stockings dark green, and the shoes were white and showed her ankles well. On an impulse, I added a full face mask to my collection and put them all in a convenient cart.

Going up to Sheila, I raised the mask. I said, "My dear, you look lovely today. I would like to put this on, if you will allow me. I would also like your hair down."

She nodded consent. The mask was ceramic, the grinning theater face. Since she was at the stretching bar, I simply stepped behind it to gain access to her back and hair. As I let it down, I reveled in its lushness and scent. Natural rosemary, again. I carefully removed the pins. All were ivory today and looked Middle Eastern. Also, they were genuinely old. I would guess they valued several hundred on the collectors market.

I had to know. "These are lovely. Are they Persian? You may speak."

"Yes."

"I would like to discuss where you acquire some of your personal things at some point. You have excellent sources. However, this is not the time. I believe Mario is about ready, so we may begin." I secured the mask over her face and crossed the room to meet my charge.

"Mario, some ground rules. Do not speak or make any vocal sound unless permitted or instructed to do so. Do you understand? You may speak."

"Yes, Master. I..."

"'Yes' is sufficient. Do not address me as master. You are the master here. All I do is for your benefit. If you refer to me, I am 'Mr. Sean.' If you address me, I am 'Sir.' Nod if you understand."

Mario nodded.

"Very well. I will mark this slip up to poor instruction, and will consider it no more. I remind you that this session is being recorded and that Cynthia will be able to see and hear everything, in addition to the recordings. Nod if you understand and consent." He nodded.

"At my request, Cynthia will not speak to you til the session is complete. Now, since I see that you are suitably attired, we may begin." Mario wore only a studded dog collar, and leather straps on his wrists and ankles. All had multiple rings.

"Mario, Cynthia has taken this opportunity to present you with some new experiences. You have met myself, but I have an assistant whom you will now meet. This session is also her session. Do not speak to her, or about her, to anyone. Nod if you understand." Mario nodded. "Excellent. Do you have a leash? You make speak."

"Yes, I do."

"'Yes' is sufficient. Where is it? You may speak."

"It should be hanging on the wall, beside the door." He gestured with his head.

"It is unnecessary to gesture. Please restrain from such overreaching of my instructions. I see three leashes: one red, one green, one of braided leather. Which?"

"Leather."

"Excellent. A distinct improvement. One moment." I took the leash off the wall and snapped it in his collar. I pulled it lightly, and he followed willingly. I led him to where Cynthia was waiting.