Pipit Ch. 08

Pipit thought she'd like to have that feeling. She also wanted to see Emily's other rings, but she wasn't about to ask.

"I wish I could feel that," Pipit said, "but I get woozy whenever I think about anything breaking my skin. I passed out when I got my ears pierced. I was just thirteen. If my mother hadn't been there, it wouldn't have gotten done at all."

"We're entitled to our squicks," said Emily. "I've never gotten over being afraid of spiders."

She seemed a little wary: Pipit wanted to put her at ease. She laughed and said, "But I'm afraid of spiders, too!"

Emily laughed and relaxed a little. "It's okay to not want a tattoo. But if you were curious, you could start with just a little one. I got a little one, the word 'slave' in white on my thigh. I was probably crazy to just go ahead and get a great big one after that. My poor parents were totally bewildered by it."

"My parents are really conservative," Pipit said. "Serious church people and all that. They have no idea what I'm into, or what I do for a living. They'd disown me if they found out."

"They say it's easier to come out to your parents as gay than to come out as kinky," said Emily.

Pipit said, "I can't even imagine telling them I'm bi."

"Mine are really liberal," Emily said. "Sometimes I wish they weren't - it's a little tiresome when everything you do is okay. Anyway, I think they've sort of figured out the bi thing. They know I'm living with a woman and a man in a two-bedroom apartment. They hint around that they know what our arrangement is. They keep angling to get me to confide in them so they can have the satisfaction of approving, you know."

"What do you think they'd freak about most, if they found out you were kinky?"

"Well, having a toilet slave is like the last thing I'd ever tell them."

Pipit laughed. "If I ever want to kill my parents outright, I'll tell them about my three weeks as a toilet slave. How's Mouche, by the way? Did you tell her I was sorry about how I treated her?"

"I did," Emily said. "She said it was nice of you to say that. She really is happy, you know."

"And how about you?" said Pipit. "It's not your kink, is it? Having a human toilet?"

"Not really," said Emily. "It's a thing I'm willing to do for her."

"I'll bet Karen would love to get her back."

"Daniel actually called me a couple of weeks ago and said exactly that," said Emily. "When I brought it up to Amanda, she said she'd never go. I think it's more about staying with me than being mad at Karen and Daniel. Amanda doesn't hold grudges."

"So I guess you've got a toilet slave whether you want one or not," said Pipit.

"She's sweet and easy to have around. I love her. Just don't tell my parents what we get up to in the bathroom."

"So would you tell them about the rest?"

"I don't think so. They'd go crazy with anxiety about me getting hurt. I can almost hear them now. They'd be like, 'Are you sure it's safe, you know, being tied up and whipped?'"

"You could explain to them about safewords," Pipit said.

"And they'd stay up at night wondering if Andrew could be trusted to stop when he heard a safeword."

"Some people play without safewords," said Pipit. "You know, like trusting your partner so much you let him ignore you when you say no."

"Aren't they mostly the ones who've been married for like decades and played the same way the whole time? Andrew asked me if I'd ever consider playing without a safeword, and I told him to ask again in twenty years."

Pipit laughed. "That was a good answer. What did he say?"

Emily's smile faded a little. "He didn't say anything. He just went back to his book."

"You shouldn't ever let anybody pressure you into playing without a safeword," said Pipit seriously. "Tell me you won't ever do that."

"I won't," said Emily. "You sound like maybe you have."

"Once," said Pipit. "I let myself be tied up and gagged, and I didn't have a safe gesture. I thought I was going to die like five times before the scene was done. I could've died, too. It's really dangerous. Just don't ever do it, okay?"

"I never will," said Emily.

The memory of the powerful fear she'd felt playing with Andrew was making Pipit wet. In a few days she'd play with him again. She'd do it without a safeword - she just had to - and she was already terrified. Emily was making her wet, too. Pipit wanted to kiss her pierced places. She wanted to confide in Emily and tell her every terrible thing she'd done. She pictured herself tied to a cross, gagged, without safeword or safe gesture, Emily standing there with a whip and a murderous look in her eye. She blushed and said, "I have to go to the ladies. I'll be right back."

* * *

Neko knew Pipit could never be a Dominant, not like Raquel, but she was deferring to her friend more and more as time went on, and Pipit usually topped when they made love. Right now, at their secret apartment, Pipit was giving her a wonderful treat, biting her thighs, breasts, and arms, leaving little bruises here and there on Neko's body. Later, Neko would spend time admiring them in the bathroom mirror. She'd think, "Those are Pipit's bruises." She got lots of bruises from Raquel, but she didn't feel the same way about them. One little bruise from Pipit was better than two big ones from Raquel.

Right now Pipit was teasing Neko's pussy, raking her parts lightly with her teeth and delivering tiny bites to clit and labia. It was divine, all the more so because a client had given Neko's pussy a good paddling just last night, and she was very sensitive there.

Pipit was teaching Neko to be alive to the emotional qualities of scenes and sex in a way she hadn't been before - being natively better at logical problem-solving than at reading moods. There was a difference between a bite given her for her own pleasure and one given for the sadistic pleasure of the top. She valued both - she got off on the selfishness of a good Dominant - but she got wetter from a bite given with love.

With Pipit's guidance, she'd even learned to read the emotional state of Raquel, who had at first seemed to her pretty much always the same. But when Raquel called Neko to the playroom, Pipit might whisper "Look out, she's in a bad mood," or "She's been really loving today," and sure enough, Neko would notice a sharp edge or a softness to Raquel's sarcasm and insults that day, and a lesser or greater attentiveness to her, and the play would feel different too. Pain wasn't just pain: it was better when you were feeling connected to your top.

A moment like this with Pipit was always special: she'd alternate bites with tender kisses and licks; she'd pause to give Neko's pussy a little spank, which somehow always felt bigger than it really was; and always there was that wonderful sense of connection, a special empathy between the two of them, as if their bodies and brains were wired together.

Neko had a lovely gentle orgasm, and after she'd had a minute to rest, Pipit said, "Eat me, honey." Neko loved the gentle but commanding way Pipit said "Eat me," and she liked the way she called her "honey" - there was something proprietary about it that made her feel safe.

Today Neko sensed tension and reserve in Pipit, as if she had something on her mind. Pipit wasn't often distracted this way: it worried Neko. She fingered Pipit's ass and then rimmed her, a thing that usually got her attention, but still she seemed just half there. Neko was able to give her an orgasm, and that relaxed her a little, but the tension soon returned.

So when they lay together afterwards, Pipit on her back, Neko turned towards her with an arm and a leg over her and said, "You're tense, sweetie. What is it?"

"Nothing, honey," said Pipit. "I'm fine."

"I know you too well, Pipit," Neko said. "I know when there's something going on. You were gone like half the day on Tuesday. I'll bet you were right here, weren't you?"

Pipit didn't say anything.

"Who were you with? It was that Andrew, wasn't it? I wish you wouldn't see him alone, sweetie. He's naive and dangerous. I'm so scared he'll hurt you."

Pipit turned onto her side, away from Neko, who pressed her body against her friend's back, reached around her, and stroked her mound.

Neko whispered in her ear. "I love you, sweetie. I'll die if anything ever happens to you." There, she'd said what was in her heart. She didn't know anything else to say, so she waited for her words to sink in.

It was a minute or so before Neko realized that Pipit was crying. She felt the tremor in her body and heard her soft sniffles. She pulled her onto her back, leaned over, and kissed her wet cheek. "Tell me, sweetie. What did he do to you?"

"It hurt so bad," Pipit whispered.

"Tell me," said Neko, allowing just a little edge to creep into her voice.

Pipit told her about barebacking with Andrew, about being restrained and gagged so she couldn't safeword, about how she wanted to safeword but couldn't, and how scared she was that she was going to die. Neko's heart felt like it was freezing as she listened.

"Sweetie, why did you do that?" Neko said. "You know better - you could get killed that way!"

"I'm sorry, honey. I know it was stupid. But you wouldn't believe the things I felt - the helplessness, the fear, the need. I've never felt so dependent on another person, or so turned on."

"If you have to do that, couldn't you at least do it with somebody that like knows what he's doing?"

"It's part of the thrill that he was green, and it was so dangerous."

Neko was crying now with fear and frustration. "Promise you won't do it again. I don't want you to play with this Andrew at all. But if you have to, at least use a safeword. Swear you will!"

"I will," said Pipit. "I swear it."

"And no barebacking, sweetie. You think you can control him, but you can't. He's like in a frenzy: there's no telling who else he might be barebacking with. Promise me you won't do that again."

"Okay," said Pipit. "I promise."

She turned to Neko and kissed her. Her kiss was fervent, her body hot. Neko reached for her pussy and found it wet already. Telling about her scene with Andrew had turned her on.

"Want to borrow my strap-on?" Neko whispered.

"More than anything," said Pipit.

* * *

Another Tuesday afternoon. Pipit was ready with a plan this time - everything had become clear. She waited on the sofa, too nervous to read or watch TV. She was already naked, wearing just a cuff on each wrist and ankle and the crystal butt plug. She held the ball gag in her hand. On the coffee table there was a collection of items: several lengths of chain piled up together, a coiled up leash, a tub full of clothespins, a bottle of lubricant, and several dangerous-looking toys: a paddle, a cat, a riding crop, and a cane.

She fingered the ball gag nervously. Her pussy was hot and tingly.

The buzzer sounded. She ran to the intercom, spoke to Andrew briefly, and buzzed him in. A minute later there was a knock. She opened the door, flung herself into his arms, and kissed him fervently.

When she was done, he stepped in, smiled, and said, "Good. You're all ready. Did you follow my command?"

"No, Master," she said, and burst into tears. "It was an accident. I'm so sorry!"

"How did this accident happen?" he asked, an ominous calm in his voice.

"A client was fucking me," she sobbed, "and I forgot. I'm so sorry, Master!"

"A client was fucking you," he repeated softly. "How many clients have fucked you since last Tuesday?"

"Three, Master. No, two! I'm so sorry!"

"But you only came with the one?"

"I couldn't help it, Master! He was ass-fucking me and calling me a filthy slut, a worthless cunt, and a whore."

"His words turned you on?"

"Yes, Master."

"Why is that?"

"Because they're true. Please, Master. Punish me for coming!"

He took the ball gag from her hand and put it on her. "You're a vile cunt," he said, "and I don't think it's possible to teach you the difference between right and wrong. But maybe I can teach you to obey your Master."

She met his gaze with moist, wide eyes. He went to sit in the chair farthest from the coffee table. "Get on your hands and knees, whore," he said, "and bring me the cane."

She crawled to the table, picked up the cane with her teeth, and brought it to him. She dropped it in his lap.

"Now the chain," he said. It took her several trips to bring him all the chain. He pulled her arms out from under her, making her fall onto her shoulders, and fastened her wrists together behind her back. He fastened her ankles together.

"No safe gesture today, whore?" he asked.

She shook her head as well as she could with her cheek pressed against the floor.

"Then we'd better get started on your punishment," he said, and raised the cane.

* * *

Pipit lay trembling in his arms. She couldn't stop crying. Her bottom and back still burned where he'd beaten her, and her ass hurt because he'd shoved in so roughly with just the little lubricant that was already there. Her nipples and labia were sore from the clothespins. The bitter and acrid taste of his urine lingered in her mouth, and she was terrified of infection because he'd pulled his cock out of her ass and shoved it right into her pussy. He'd insulted and degraded her for two hours, calling her things that were wounding because they were true; she felt she could never be given enough punishment to make her whole again.

But Andrew was radiant with belief in his near-omnipotence: Pipit could feel the happiness like a thousand starbursts inside him. Just a little more, she thought. One last step, and he'd be utterly transformed.

* * *

Late that night, Mouche sat and watched Emily sleep. Master Andrew had demanded that she and Emily let him tie them both up and gag them without giving them a safe gesture. Emily had flatly refused, and they'd had a huge fight, which had ended with Andrew storming off to the bedroom. Emily was too upset even to make love to Mouche, but had said, "I don't know how much longer Andrew and I can stay together."

Mouche thought her heart would break for pity. She was sure Master Andrew was going insane. She was terrified she'd be killed - he was that out of control. But though she thought of herself as far from brave, she now found that her own death was easier to think of than harm to Emily. She resolved that she'd never again allow herself to be restrained by Andrew. She'd make bondage a hard limit. She'd never allow herself to be put in a position where she couldn't fight for her Mistress.

Mouche studied Emily's features - her eyes and nose, chin, breasts, thighs. She'd often asked herself why she loved her Mistress so, but even though she loved every inch of her body, she found no answer to the question in her physical features. What she adored in her Mistress, what made the thought of ever being apart from her unbearable, was on the inside - it was her ability to love a thing like Mouche - a human housefly with the world's most repulsive kink. Mouche had sensed this ability in her the first time she'd seen her, and she'd loved her instantly.

Mouche wanted to creep into her Mistress's arms and feel safe there, but she knew that, for the time being anyway, she, the slave, would have to be the strong one. And she was sure she could be. She'd fight like a tigress before she'd let anything bad happen to Emily.

Mouche's glance fell on a card lying on the nightstand, lettered in a fine calligraphic hand. She picked it up idly and read. It said:

You are cordially invited to

Ai's fourth annual

PYL BALL

Friday, 5 October, 2012, 9:00 pm

at Mistress Shigemi's House of Kink.

Please be prepared to pyl.

In the margin was written, "I hope all three of you can come. Yours faithfully, Ai."

Mouche smiled as she lay down beside her Mistress. She'd never been to Ai's PYL Ball - here, at least, was one fun thing to look forward to amid the ruin Andrew was making of their lives. In her fading consciousness she pictured gowns, coaches, and footmen - as if this were Cinderella's ball. In her mind's eye she entered a great ballroom with her beloved, both of them in silks and laces. Every head in the crowd turned, and they all spoke of nothing for the rest of the night but how beautiful, how noble, how good Emily was, and Mouche was so full of love and pride, she felt like she was going to burst.

Additional note: Invitations to Mistress Ai's exclusive PYL Ball are, of course, coveted by all Manhattan kinksters. But you, dear reader, are invited! Put on your kinkiest outfit or (like Pipit) nothing at all, and come along to Chapter 9 (when it's available). There you'll find plenty of food and drink, kinkiness, and salacious fun before we get on to the serious business of winding up this tale in Chapter 10.