Pipit Ch. 06

* * *

"This is your lucky night," said Mistress Kathy. "Tosatsu isn't usually available for walk-ins, but tonight she had a couple of cancellations."

Mistress Kathy took Andrew to the warehouse room, where Tosatsu was waiting, looking just as beautiful as he remembered. She put her hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you came," she said. Kathy left them alone.

"Before we start," Tosatsu said, "we have to talk about limits and plan out the scene. But first maybe we should talk a little about why you're here. You said you had a girlfriend, and you were both in the lifestyle."

"Yeah." said Andrew, "We got into it together, but then I dropped out for a long time - more than a year - while she went on with it. We've been back together for just a couple months, and - I guess I feel like I need to get up to speed."

"What's your slave's name?" asked Tosatsu. "Just to make it easier to talk about your relationship."

"Emily," said Andrew.

Tosatsu asked about the kinds of play Emily liked and her limits, and Andrew spoke of her love of impact play, and her ruling out scat and most kinds of edgeplay.

Tosatsu said, "What a slave needs is a Master who's masterful - who doesn't doubt himself and takes what's his without ever asking. I like being taken by surprise by a Master's mastery - you know, his overwhelming force. I like it when I don't know what he has in mind. Limits are important, but I like it when a Master pushes right up to my limits, and even goes a little over. That expands my abilities and reminds me who's in charge - who's setting the rules. And if his manner is confident and strong, it's really erotic to be pushed that hard. If your slave is turned on, that's guaranteed to turn you on, too."

This sounded a little different from what Andrew had been told. He wasn't sure he was comfortable pushing past anyone's limits, but he was curious what it would feel like to play rough with this beautiful woman. "Okay - I get it," he said. "What are your limits?"

"They're kind of like Emily's, but I can't bear the thought of anyone hitting hard enough to break the skin," she said. "That's an absolute hard limit."

"Okay," he said. "I've never broken Emily's skin either, even though she hasn't made it a limit."

"It's something you might want to think about, then," said Tosatsu. "She might make it a hard limit, but then she might like it. I know my roommate does."

They planned out their scene, keeping it simple: Andrew would bind her to one of the rough-hewn wooden posts in the room, flog her upper back with a cat, and let her reactions guide him towards greater intensity. If all went well, they'd move from the cat to a cane.

He remembered the flogging he'd gotten from Ai and tried to make the first strokes like caresses. She closed her eyes dreamily, sighed, and said, "Oh, that's good. Work your way up, but don't ask anything or tell me anything. Just do it."

Andrew did that: he gradually increased the force of his strokes, getting more aroused every moment until she was writhing and moaning. Then he paused and stepped close to her, meaning to ask if she felt up to going on with the cane, but before he could speak she said, "Masters don't ask. They just do it."

Tosatsu's upper back was red. Andrew tapped lightly with the cane where the skin was reddest, and she twisted and said "Ow!" Feeling bolder, he quickly built till she was shrieking and he was beginning to worry about breaking her skin. He wished he could do that - his cock was painfully hard and he thought he'd come at the sight of blood on her perfect, creamy skin. But he stopped, released her, and led her to a sofa, where he sat with his arm around her.

In a quiet, dreamy voice she said, "We can't do it the right way here. You've got to come back to my place."

"I guess I'd better get home," Andrew said. He was already unsure what he'd say to Emily about where he'd been. His homecoming would get more awkward with every hour he stayed out.

"It'll cost extra," she said in a barely audible voice. "I'm sorry about that. I wouldn't charge you anything if it were just up to me. You're so compelling. I want you to humiliate and punish me."

He remembered her exquisite body, flawless from head to foot, and the way she'd said, "I wish they'd let us make love."

She whispered now. "I want you to take my body. I want to give you every inch of me to use for your pleasure. I need you to fuck me."

She whispered into his ear many things she longed for him to do to her body, till his need to make love to her was irresistible. "Okay," he said.

She smiled. "You won't be sorry," she said. "Talk to Mistress Raquel."

* * *

Raquel showed them into her playroom and left them alone. Andrew's stomach was fluttery. This was appallingly expensive. He could afford it, sort of, since he and the two women were living on Amanda's money and not spending any of his, but he couldn't easily justify it to himself, particularly since, somewhere in the back of his mind where he was still being honest with himself, he wasn't at all sure his purpose was really to become a better Master. But since he'd committed himself, he had to go on.

Tosatsu said, "I'd like to suggest a game where we explore the border between humiliation and degradation. Like humiliation is when you make somebody feel ashamed, and degradation is when you take that so far it actually hurts. Okay?"

"Okay," said Andrew.

Tosatsu said, "Was there ever a girl, like in high school or college, that dissed you, really humiliated you?"

"Oh, yeah," said Andrew. "Becky Harrington. I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She went out with the most popular guys, you know, the star athlete, the guy who drove the beemer. She went out for a while with the team's quarterback, and when I heard they'd broken up, I worked up the nerve to call her. I was like, what's the harm? She turned me down politely enough, but went around talking about how that dorky Andrew had the nerve to ask her for a date. It was like some nightmare out of a teen movie. Very humiliating."

"That's perfect," said Tosatsu. "Why don't we make believe you're in town for some kind of convention. You call up an escort service, and the girl they send round is Becky Harrington. You know her parents have no idea she's, like, a prostitute, because your parents have been passing along all kinds of news about how brilliantly she's doing in her career in, I don't know, finance. Does that sound like a scene you could get into?"

"Yeah," he said, "it sounds good." That old insult still rankled a little, now that he thought about it.

"Okay," she said. "I'm that girl Becky. You're not going to sympathize with my plight - you're not going to be even a little bit kind. The sight of me pisses you off, and you just want to get revenge for the way I humiliated you all those years ago. You've got all the power, so you know you can do it. You're going to humiliate me, and maybe even cross the line a little into degradation. Then you're going to fuck me like you hate me. Do degrading things to me. If you show me any kindness or sympathy at all, I'm going to stop the scene and turn you over to Mistress Raquel."

He smiled and said, "Anything but that," though his cock had gotten tingly at his first sight of Raquel tonight, and had grown heavy in his pants when she'd said, "Well, if it isn't the fucking loser!"

"Good," Tosatsu said. "I'm going to leave the room, count to ten, and knock on the door. When you open it, this'll be your hotel room, and we'll start the scene."

She left the room, Andrew took a few deep breaths, and then the knock came.

He opened the door, and she gave him a sunny smile, which faded quickly into uncertainty.

"Hi," she said, voice a little quavery. "I'm Dusty."

"No, you're not," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said uncertainly. "I think maybe I have the wrong room . . ."

"I don't think so, Becky," he said, seizing her wrist and pulling her inside. "I sent for a whore, and you look exactly like a whore."

She tried to twist away, saying, "Let me go. I really have to go."

"No, no, Becky. It's been such a long time. We've got so much to catch up on."

"It has been a long time . . . Andrew?"

"Your parents are telling everybody you've got a job in finance, and you're making a bundle. That's a little exaggerated, isn't it?"

"A little," she said in a small voice.

"I'll bet you are making a bundle, though. Selling your ass is lucrative."

He paused. She didn't say anything, but glanced towards the door.

He went on. "Don't think of trying to escape, Becky. Think what a pity it'd be if your parents found out how you're making a living. If it happened to slip out while I was talking to my mother - she's a terrible gossip, you know - it'd be all over town in a heartbeat."

"No," she said, wilting. "You can't . . . please don't tell."

"Don't you deserve it, though? You were a nasty little number back when I knew you. Wouldn't it be just right, you know, karmically, if everyone knew you were living off your cunt?"

"I always liked you, Andrew, really I . . ."

"Get on your fucking knees when you talk to me. Here, right in front of me."

She knelt in front of him and said "I always thought you were cute, and really sweet, Andrew . . ."

"Shut the fuck up, bitch," said Andrew. "I'm going to spend the rest of the night making up my mind whether to let your proud mommy and daddy know you're a whore. You'd better be thinking about how to please me. Believe me, you can't do it with lies."

"I'll please you, Andrew, I swear." Her mouth looked so succulent when she said that, and talking this way was incredibly hot. He was already rock hard.

"Call me Sir, whore."

"Yes, Sir," she said, looking frightened.

"Take your clothes off."

She started to get up.

"Don't get up. Do it on the floor."

She pulled off her top and squirmed out of her shorts while sitting on the floor.

"Lie down," Andrew said. "Spread your legs, pull your lips apart, and show me your cunt."

She did those things. Andrew saw she was wet already. He bent down and slid a finger into her. He thought she had the most beautiful pussy he'd ever seen.

As he finger-fucked her, she said, "Do you like it, Sir?"

He said, "Shut up and turn over."

She turned onto her stomach, and he bent down, pulled her ass cheeks apart, and inspected her anus. That was just as beautiful - tight, symmetrical, pink. He pressed a thumb against it and felt it push back against him. "I'll bet you sell your asshole, too, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir. You can fuck my ass too, Sir . . ."

"Just answer my fucking questions. Don't say any more." He turned her onto her back again and gave one breast a slap, making her gasp.

She even looked a little like Becky. Andrew said, "I can't believe I ever thought you were beautiful. You have pretty features, but the rot inside makes you ugly as hell. You may as well weigh five hundred pounds, because you're so filthy and depraved, I can hardly stand to look at you."

Her eyes were beginning to tear up. "I'm sorry, Sir," she said.

"Sorry for what?" Andrew said. "Sorry for the way you treated me back in school? Sorry for being scum?"

"Everything, Sir. I'm so sorry."

She was so persuasive when she said "I'm sorry" that he almost believed his words were really hurting her. The feeling was exhilarating, as if he were the world's greatest Dominant, making his sub feel the most powerful emotions. He needed more of it.

"You are a sorry slut," he said, putting a hand on her bare mound. He slid a finger into her: she was already wet. "Does it turn you on, selling your cunt?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, wriggling under his hand. "Please, Sir, I need you to fuck me."

As he listened, his arousal became unbearable. He stood, pushed his pants down, and said, "Suck me, bitch."

"Yes, Sir," she said meekly. With a graceful, fluid movement, she got to her knees in front of him and leaned forward, letting his cock slide into her mouth. He reached around her, seized her braid, and pulled her to him roughly, forcing her to take him deep.

"Fucking skank," he said. "You were already a whore back in high school. And now you're just a collection of holes for men to squirt cum into, aren't you?"

Her answer was a liquid, gargling noise. Tears were running down her cheeks. He pulled her to him harder, and she choked and drooled. That turned him on more, but Emily often did that for him, and he wanted something bigger and more intense.

"Just a fuck-toy," he said, and shoved her backwards onto the floor. "Like a plastic love doll." He mounted her head and forced himself deep into her, grunting with the effort. She squirmed and put her arms around his thighs as he pounded her throat. She gagged, turned her head so his cock flopped out of her, and spat drool onto the floor. Then she turned back to him and cried, "Please, Sir!"

He pushed into her again, took her head in both hands, and pulled her up hard. He held her there, tight against him, nose smashed into his pubic hair, and moved a little back and forth, liking the way that stimulated the head of his cock way back in her throat.

Suddenly her body convulsed, and she wrenched away and vomited a yellowish mess onto the floor - not a lot, but enough to excite Andrew even more. He seized her head again and thrust as she flailed under him, choking and puking, making a yellow puddle.

When he felt he was close to coming, he pulled out of her. He yanked her to her knees, bent down, slapped her cheek, and enjoyed the way she said "Ow!" and flinched.

She was really crying now. "I'm sorry, Sir," she sobbed. Shit, she was good, really convincing. He slapped her other cheek, grabbed her wet pussy, and rubbed hard, overstimulating her and making her cry out.

"Time for a fuck, cunt," he said, and slapped her pussy, making her twitch violently.

"Ow, Sir!" she cried as he sank three fingers into her, "Anything, Sir!" He didn't know when he'd felt as good as he did right now, his body buzzing with energy, his mind ablaze with a wild happiness.

He'd left a few condom packets on the edge of the mat. He took one, put it on, climbed on top of Tosatsu and thrust into her pussy. He slid in easily - he'd turned her on so! "What are you?" he growled.

"I'm a whore, Sir!"

"Are you filthy and degraded?"

"Yes, Sir, I'm a filthy whore!"

He made her say these things over and over, like a catechism, as he fucked her. Then he flipped her over and thrust a finger into her ass, which she'd already lubricated for him. He rammed into her from behind, sudden and hard, and enjoyed the way she cried out with the pain and sobbed "I'm sorry, Sir!" as he fucked her and taunted her with her worthlessness and sluttishness.

And finally, when he felt his orgasm coming, he pulled out of her ass, tore the condom off, and flipped her over. Her face was wet with drool, bile, and tears - more beautiful than ever. "Oh, please, I'm sorry," she whined, but he jerked off inches from her open mouth, and his cum splashed onto her cheeks, into her mouth, onto her forehead, and into her eyes.

"Filthy whore," he snarled, and was thrilled by her tears and her devastated look as he smeared his cum all over her face with an open hand.

He held her then, and she cried quietly in his arms. He thought it strange that she was still crying after the scene was done. Not knowing what else to do, he stroked her back and waited for her to recover. When she'd calmed down a little, he said, "That was fantastic. I hope it wasn't too rough."

She sniffled, wiped an eye, and said, "No, it was good. You were . . . amazing. Please . . . promise me you'll come back?"

He didn't say anything. He didn't mean to come back, but in his heart he must have known he had to.

* * *

Neko wished she knew how to comfort Pipit. She sat with her arms around her friend while Raquel saw Andrew out. Then Raquel came back, took Pipit from her, and held her in her arms, and she cried in Raquel's ample bosom for a long time, unable to speak. Finally Pipit said, "I'm sorry, Daddy."

Raquel rocked Pipit and said, "You're really fucking exhausting, you know that, babycunt?"

Pipit said, "I'm sorry. Please, Daddy?" and started to cry again.

Raquel got up tiredly, leaving Pipit sprawled on the mat. She came back smacking a paddle against her palm.

"Fucking whore," Raquel said. "Filthy cunt. On your shoulders and knees."

Neko sat and watched Raquel make lovely red marks on Pipit's ass while she screamed that she was sorry, so sorry. She wondered what in the world was going on.

When Pipit's ass was all red and shiny, Raquel sent her to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Neko had the next turn in the bathroom, and when she got back Pipit was already locked in her cage and Raquel was impatiently tossing a padlock from hand to hand. Neko crawled into the new cage that Raquel had placed next to Pipit's, and Raquel locked her in and left to go to bed.

Neko listened for a minute to Pipit's sniffles, and then said, "What did that guy do to you, Pipit?"

"He called me a whore and a slut, worthless, disgusting, and depraved, and he fucked me like he hated me. He . . . he made me throw up."

"That's horrible, sweetie."

"It was what I asked him to do."

"Why did Raquel paddle you?"

"She had to punish me for being the things he called me."

Neko took a few seconds to think about that, and then everything snapped into place. "Oh, sweetie," she said. "I wish I could give you a hug."

"You don't want to touch me," said Pipit. "I'm filthy and disgusting." She started to cry again, and Neko ached, wishing she could comfort her.

* * *

Later Pipit lay awake in her cage, wrists cuffed to the bars, listening to Neko's breathing. How she wished she could masturbate! Daddy had punished her for whoring, but there were other things that she couldn't even tell Daddy, bad things she'd done. If only Daddy knew to punish her for those! Or Neko, her best friend, or Andrew - she needed them to punish her for the things she was doing to them.

Snot dripped from Pipit's nose, but she couldn't wipe it away with her cuffed hands. Tears puddled on the floor of the cage. Moisture trickled from her pussy and tickled her thigh. She twisted her body to rub her legs together, trying to stimulate herself, but it did little good. She was wound up, her need overwhelming. She whispered, "I'm sorry, Neko. I'm so sorry, Andrew." And on the last syllable of "Andrew," she came without touching herself.