Perdita's Pleasures Bk. 01 Ch. 07

Chapter Seven: One Dollar Bucket

I burst through the door to find myself by the pool, filled with sunglass-wearing bathers in various stages of undress, drinking cocktails and splashing around in the cool blue water.

“Hey! Perdita!” called a female voice, and I looked down to see Marigold, the girl who’d prepared me for my first evening at Eros House, squinting up at me from the edge of the pool.

“Are you busy?”

“I—well—no,” I fumbled, and Marigold surged up from the water and grabbed hold of my hand.

“Then come swim with me.”

“I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“So? You look all wet anyway,” Marigold replied, and tugged my arm playfully, pulling me into the pool.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, landing in the water with a splash. Marigold was right; I was still wet from the shower, and my wet hair had already begun to dampen the dress I’d thrown back on before coming downstairs. Well, hopefully it wasn’t ruined now…

Marigold, I now saw, was naked save for a pair of bright blue bikini bottoms. Her improbable breasts bobbed cheerfully in the clear water as their owner encircled her arms around me, kissing me affectionately. I kissed her back in spite of myself, feeling Marigold’s nipples firm against the wet skin of my dress.

“I’m not off-duty or anything,” Marigold said when she finally broke off the kiss, “but I am supposed to be spending the afternoon entertaining pool guests. Which, since you’re in the pool now, you’re clearly one of, so…” She moved in to nibble on my earlobe, but I drew back.

“I’m… actually not in that great a mood right now, I’m sorry,” I said. “I could kind of use a friend, though, if that’s ok with you.”

“Sure,” said Marigold, dropping her flirtatious demeanour and looking at me with concern. “Did something happen?”

“Sort of,” I said, and told her how I’d just accidentally witnessed my husband having sex with someone else. “And I know, It’s hypocritical, right? It shouldn’t surprise me to see him with someone else—it’s no different from what I’ve been doing since I got here. But even though it’s totally unfair of me to feel jealous, I do.”

Marigold sighed. “Let’s get you a mojito.” She grabbed my hand once more and towed me over to a swim-up bar, where a bartender wearing nothing but a green bow tie and a tan handed each of us a sweating glass of the refreshing minty drink.

“I’m not married,” Marigold said, stirring the ice around in her glass with a straw, “but I do know that jealousy is pretty normal, even if you’re open with your partner. Did you guys talk about sleeping with other people before you came here? I mean…”

“Yeah. We knew it was going to happen, and I thought I was prepared for that. I don’t know though… actually seeing it—it’s harder than I thought.”

“Sure,” Marigold replied, “especially when you came in on it unsuspecting. It would probably feel different if you had been in the room with him from the beginning. But this is part of the experience you both signed up for, right?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Well, then. If your relationship is strong, and you both went into this knowingly, you’ll be just fine. Getting jealous doesn’t mean the end of the world, it’s just a feeling. You just need to talk to him about it.”

Hearing Marigold’s advice made me feel better, if only marginally so.

“You’re probably right… But what if it isn’t fine? What if this ends up ruining our relationship?”

Marigold shrugged.

“I can’t give you any guarantees, but it’s not like everyone who leaves here gets divorced after. Going through stuff like this can actually make your relationship stronger, if you make sure to keep communicating, and listen to each other. Either way, you’re here now—just worrying about it isn’t going to make a difference.”

“Thanks.”

The uneasiness I felt had not disappeared entirely, but it was something I could set aside now for another day. “You are actually really great to talk to.”

“Oh, I see, so now I’m more than just a great set of tits, am I?” Marigold joked.

“I didn’t mean—”

“It’s ok, it’s part of my job,” said Marigold. “Are you… still in a bad mood now?” She leaned forward and sucked from the straw in Perdita’s glass.

“Um. I guess not…”

Marigold lifted the mojito from my hands and set both glasses on the edge of the pool.

“I’m glad,” she said, and pressed my back up against the pool wall. The water was just deep enough that I could still stand with my head and shoulders above water. Marigold slid her hand up the outside of my thigh and underneath my dress, grabbing my naked ass. “Because I like you,” she said, rubbing up against my body in the water.

“I like you too,” I said, letting my eyes drop half-closed, letting my head fall back on the pool’s edge as Marigold began to kiss my neck and explore between my legs with her fingers.

Presently, I became aware that a shadow had blocked the brightness of the sun from my eyelids, and I opened my eyes to see Master Aries standing over me, a bemused expression on his face.

“Perdita,” he said. “I’m glad to see you’re making new friends.”

“Uh,” I said, unsure how I should respond. Marigold drew away discreetly, resting her arms over the pool’s ledge a few feet away and sipping her drink.

“You seem to have lost your usual powers of articulation,” he continued slyly. “Perhaps you’ve gotten too much sun?”

“Am I… in trouble?” I asked, wiping the water from my eyes.

Master Aries swept into a low bow, bringing his face near to her cheek. “Why don’t you go towel off. I’ll see you in my study at five thirty sharp.”

“But aren’t I supposed to go to—”

“—I’ll cancel it,” Master Aries said, cutting me off before straightening and walking back toward the building. I stared after him, bewildered.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know, but I’d go ‘towel off’ if I were you,” said Marigold, smirking into her mojito. “I’ll catch you later.”

***

“I suppose it is my fault, for not making myself explicit,” Master Aries said as he circled me.

I was standing in the centre of the rug in Aries’ study, head tall, staring straight ahead. My arms were bound in a black bolero-style straightjacket, strapped, immobile, to my chest just underneath my bare breasts. Aries pulled me off balance by tugging the strap that ran from the garment’s collar down along my sternum, and I staggered forward until he caught me, cupping his hand against my pubic bone.

“While you are in my service, Perdita, you are to be my whore. I may give you to others as I please, or arrange for playdates, as I did today with Master Jonathan. However, let me be very clear: this cunt between your legs? It belongs to me. I don’t want you to fuck whomever you please: while you are my pupil, it’s up to me who uses you.”

He massaged the outside of my cunt, roughly, and I could feel the tender flesh swelling with arousal.

“Do you understand, Perdita?”

“Yes, Sir,” I gasped.

“I’m not sure I heard you.”

“Yes, Sir!” I said, louder.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded, sliding a couple fingers inside my slick pussy. He began to stroke me, mercilessly kneading the front wall of my cunt. It felt good, almost unbearably so, and I began to squirm from the relentless pressure, my knees buckling under. Aries pulled me up again by the strap on my chest.

“Did you not hear me when I asked you to keep your legs spread?”

“I’m sorry,” I panted. “I—I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Aries continued to fuck me manually, and try though I might, I could not stop my thighs from trying to rub together, nor my knees from buckling.

Master Aries withdrew his hand abruptly, and left me staggering on the carpet.

“Unfortunately, this is just no way for a proper whore to behave,” he said, an amused smile on his face.

He strode to the cabinet by the St. Andrew’s cross and returned momentarily with a length of rope and a handful of other items.

“I think I’m going to have to teach you a lesson to stop this sort of thing from happening again.”

He grabbed my knees, jerked them roughly together, and began to wind the rope around my legs just above the knee joints.

“On your hands and knees,” he commanded when he was done, and I struggled to take the position with my legs bound tightly together. The Master stepped back and looked at me appraisingly. “Needs something more,” he said, and picked up a smallish metal ash pail with a wooden handle from the hearth, dumping its contents into the fire.

Minutes later, I found myself on my hands and knees outside the double doors of one of the mansion’s large parlour rooms.

My hands had been loosely bound together and encased in thumbless mitts, and the little bucket swung from where I held it between my teeth. My bound legs kept me from being able to crawl normally, and the hard stone of the hallway floor was cold beneath my knees and shins. I had been dressed in the mere suggestion of an outfit: a tiny crinoline skirt that was little more than a ruffle about my waist, and the suggestion of a brassiere, a black ribbon garment that traced the outline of my breasts but left them naked and exposed.

Aries opened the door before me, a mockery of the gentlemanly gesture. The muffled sounds of music and conversation I’d been able to hear behind the closed door roared to life as I beheld the scene before me. It was a cocktail party, of sorts: elegantly dressed men and women filled the large room, standing in circles of conversation or lounging on sofas as musicians played soft music in one corner of the room. Servers dressed as slave girls and boys circulated among the guests, offering trays of drinks and canapés.

“Come back to my study when you’ve got ten dollars in your bucket, and we’ll see if you’ve changed your attitude,” Master Aries said, and he turned and left me alone in the room full of strangers.

As I heard the door swing shut behind me, I felt a momentary panic rising in my throat. Well, there’s only one way to get this over with, I thought, and began to crawl as best I could toward the centre of the room.

It wasn’t long before someone stopped me. I had been concentrating on the pattern of the carpet ahead of me, thinking about how swiftly the relief of its softness was giving way to rug burn on my bare knees, when a man’s dress shoe stuck itself into my path.

“What have we here?” said a warm male voice, and I looked up to see a handsome man with curling brown hair, green eyes, and a lean, stubbled face. His voice had a faint european accent; Italian, perhaps. He crouched down in front of me, tipped up my chin with a finger, and read aloud the words written on the bucket I carried in my mouth.

“Good whores listen to their Masters. Help me learn my lesson: $1 per use.”

I could smell the pleasant musk of the man’s cologne. He grinned, amusement in his eyes as he looked at me.

“Oh! Someone has been bad, it seems,” he said. “Well, some other time, I’d love to hear the story of how you earned that bucket in your pretty mouth. But, for now, let me help you fill it up a little.”

I nodded my head in agreement, nervously excited, and felt the clang reverberate in my teeth as a single dollar coin dropped into the empty bottom of the bucket. The man led me up a ramp—designed for situations just such as this?—onto a nearby leather sofa, so that he needn’t kneel on the floor in his tailored suit to fuck me.

As he moved around behind me and out of my field of vision, I became keenly aware of the air against my naked ass and cunt. Anticipation and delicious shame sent a fierce hot flush throughout my body. I willed myself to stillness and listened, waiting for the sound of his zipper through the noise of the crowded room. It seemed an age until I heard it, and another until, all suddenly, I felt the blunt, warm head of his cock pressing up against the lips of my cunt.

“Ah, you’re eager to begin,” I heard him say, and then he thrust into me so suddenly that the coin clanged noisily against the inside of the bucket. Just in time, I remembered Master Aries’s admonition never to let it drop from my mouth, and I bit hard into the wooden handle as the man began to fuck me from behind, holding me by the hips and squeezing his cock into the tight opening between my rope-bound legs. It felt embarrassingly good, and I wriggled back against him, desperate and grateful.

The man finished quickly, with a forceful thrust that shot hot come deep inside my cunt. He let out a satisfied sigh, and wiped the head of his cock on my bare ass when he pulled out.

“Very nice,” he said, before guiding me from the couch back down to the floor. “Well worth my dollar. Perhaps I will see you again later… But for now, you have your job to do.”

And with that, he returned to his companions a few feet away, who had barely stopped their conversation when he’d stepped away to fuck me. With a deep breath to steady myself, I continued through the crowd, semen slowly running down my inner thighs.

The next man to use me that night was not so friendly as the first. He pumped his cock into me roughly, squeezing the cheeks of my ass with strong hands, digging his fingernails into the flesh. He neither spoke nor looked me in the eyes, and made me wait until he was done and I was full of his come before he casually tossed his dollar into the bucket. I never saw his face.

Somewhere around number five or six, I began to lose count. My cunt was sore and swollen. My thighs were red and sticky and coated in come, and they rubbed together as I shuffled my tethered knees across the carpet floor. It was only the knowledge that I must keep track to know when my task had been completed that kept me from sinking into an animal oblivion, and I counted the cocks that spent their loads inside me, and the coins as they piled up in the bucket.

Some of the men pinched and played with my body while they fucked me; some told me how pretty I looked, coated slick with sweat and semen. Some, like the second man, didn’t speak to me at all, and used me like a toy. It was difficult to say which I craved more.

I was grateful for the bondage keeping me on my hands and knees—I doubted I would have remembered how to stand or walk at this point. What did it matter that my hands were locked in mitts? I had no need of fingers. What was it to me that I could not speak? Everything I needed to say was written for me on the pail I carried in my mouth. The rug burn on my knees, the ache in my jaw from clenching the bucket handle, the chafing of my sticky thighs—all began to fade away, my whole awareness narrowed to the sensation of my engorged and come-filled cunt and the many cocks that took their pleasure there.

The feeling of the cold stone floor surprised me when my raw knees touched it. It took a moment before I realized I was outside the parlour once again.

I had finished the task Master Aries set. Ten men had fucked my cunt between my clamped shut thighs, and now I was to return to the Master’s study with the pittance I had earned for it. If I could remember where it was!

I was spared a long search. Aries heard me coming down the hall, and called out for me to enter when I reached his doorway. The door was ajar, and I pushed through it with my shoulder. He was seated at his writing desk, and did not look up when I came in. A small fire had been lit in the hearth since I’d been gone, its gentle crackling punctuating the silence. I waited, trembling with exhaustion, as he finished what he’d been writing. At last, he stood, came over to me, and reached his hand down to my mouth.

“Open,” he said.

I did. A long string of spittle was attached to the bucket handle, which he ignored as he emptied its contents into the palm of his hand.

“Hm. Twelve dollars. I thought I told you ten?” He looked down at me. “I do hope no one was tipping extra,” he continued. “The price was clearly marked.”

“N-no Sir.” I managed. “One dollar each.”

My own voice sounded strange after hours of forced disuse.

“Ah, good! Bit of an overachiever, then.” He smiled to himself. “I’ll buy myself a lovely cappuccino with your earnings. And? Have we learned our lesson?”

With a few swift motions, Master Aries loosed the rope that held my knees together.

“Spread your legs, whore,” he said, softly.

My knees drew wide apart at his command, heightening the ache between them. Casually, as if he were checking a piece of machinery, Aries inserted several fingers into my cunt and then withdrew them. He walked around in front of me, and sat in one of the handsomely upholstered chairs a few feet away from where he’d left me. He held up his fingers, examining the juices that coated them in the warm firelight. He gestured for me to come over to him, and I crawled toward him.

“I think,” he said, “you have pleased quite a few of my friends tonight.” He held his hand to my lips and I parted them, obediently taking his fingers into my mouth and sucking them clean. “Good little slut,” he said approvingly. “Is your jaw very sore from this morning?”

“Only a little, Sir.”

“Excellent. Then I think you’ve earned yourself a treat,” he said, and he leaned back in his chair and unbuckled his belt. “Come suck your Master’s cock like a good whore.”

Still unable to use my hands, I wriggled closer to his lap. His cock was lovely: stout and firm, with brownish skin and a broad, well-formed head. It was the first time he’d given it to me, and the warm clean skin of it tasted so sweet in my eager mouth. I took him deep in my throat, desperate to show my gratitude and willingness to please his cock.

As I worked, my Master raised a foot between my legs and tapped the inside of one thigh, reminding me to keep my legs spread wide. I moaned as I obeyed, and pushed my nose up against his stomach as thick streams of come still oozed from my hard-used cunt and dripped onto the floor of Master Aries’s study.