Belonger (An erotic novel): Part One (62 page)

“
Oh. Yeah,” she chuckled.
“They accidentally brought it up with my things when I moved in.
You need it?”

“
Well… no.
You
need it?”

Ione locked eyes with him for a moment. “No.
Of course not.”

Dean shrugged, turning to leave. “Screw it.
I’ll get it next time. Don’t really wanna lug it to the car right
now.” He kissed Emma and Ione escorted him down the elevator to the
underground parking deck.

“
See ya, Dean.”

“
Later, cutie,” he tiredly
grinned.

He drove off in his big green convertible.
Ione suffered a sentimental twinge as it departed from view but was
anticipating a new car for her own the following day.

When she got back to the apartment Manassa
was soundly asleep on the couch, but Mark was restlessly fighting
an erection. He beckoned Emma and Ione into the bedroom and quietly
closed the door. Ione noticed that he had brought a pair of heavy
fabric whips with him.

“
I’ve got a request,” he
self-consciously solicited.

Ione guessed that he was referring to a
remedy for the ongoing problem of his fulfillment. Emma’s brow
raised at this intrigue.

“
Anything,” offered the
little blond. “What is it?”

“
Something I saw a couple of
women do that I kinda wanted to try. Sex trick called a ‘pecker
bit.’”

Ione nodded encouragingly, knowing their debt
to him was so great now as to render anything he might ask
reasonable. She was drunk anyway she realized, and happy for some
intimate interaction with the two people she was most comfortable
with.

Mark clambered over to the middle of the bed,
knees planted wide, penis erectly projected. He gestured for the
two of them to approach, positioned them to either side such that
they faced each other across his manhood.

“
Now you’re going to be
spanked. And while it happens you’re going to stifle the noise onto
the cock clamped in your teeth.” He eased Ione’s lips onto his
erection so that it passed through her jaw like a bit; in one side
and out the other. It crossed Emma’s mouth the same way from the
opposite direction. Ione was stationed at the base of his manhood,
Emma closer to the tip. “Put your hands behind your backs,” he
ordered and they quickly complied.

“
As you are punished you
will vent your pain onto the bit as necessary to preserve the
decorum of the act,” he instructed. Ione met Emma’s slantwise gaze
in anticipation. The formality of his words excited a feminine
resonance in her that hadn’t been aroused in a long time, and she
settled her lips tightly around the base of his penis, felt warm
testicles against her left cheek, ready to dispense a big
ejaculation she hoped.

Without warning the fabric strap came down
hard on her crotch, painfully cupping her labial bulge. Ione
gasped, backing off the bit, but instantly got herself back onto
it, clamping her lips determinedly around his penis. Another blow
landed, tagging her clitoris hard enough to induce an oppressive
humiliation in Ione.

“
Unnh!” Emma grunted,
breathing fitfully as she noisily appeased him with her tongue,
washing the underside of his penis with thick, fluttering strokes.
Ione bit down in agony as Mark strapped her crotch with a
heartless, domineering assumption of compliance.

“
Nnaaahh!” she
gritted.

Ione was overcome with excitement as she felt
Mark’s angry musculature buck in her mouth with each
pain-dissipating flexion of her jaw. She could feel the elliptical
authority of his censure, returning to him through the narrow
aperture of her own submissive instinct, wondered through an
exquisite haze of drunken agony if it might serve to fulfill
him.

Emma’s thighs spasmed in little jerking
motions open and close as she gripped his penis with all possible
concentration to withstand the smacking hurt at her pubis. Ione’s
arms lay tensely along her back, forcing her weight on Mark’s
uplifting member. The impact of his strap on her vulva, the
resulting pain inflicted on the penis longwise in her mouth, and
the intimacy of Emma’s tear-stained face so close to her altogether
brought climax tantalizingly near, and she lingered there without
reaching it as Mark spanked out a foot-dancing, tongue-thrashing
orgasm for her partner.

“
Ohh vugg oh vugg
ohhh
vuggggg
,” Emma
bawled around the huge phallus crossing her jaw, biting heedlessly
in torture-coerced ecstasy as the strap caught her again and again
on the twat.

They finally fell still and Ione carefully
detached from the pecker bit. Its turgidity was unabated; there had
been no climax for Mark. Or herself.

Ione awoke later, deep in the night. The
others were fast asleep, and she lay silently for a while,
listening to the orderly sounds of the Gnomon’s Tower about
her.

She reached down, began to quietly masturbate
but stopped after a little. It wasn’t the same anymore, alone like
this…

She rose carefully and walked out into the
salon. Manassa was sprawled on her stomach, half off the couch
where she had fallen asleep. Ione didn’t feel awkward about her
exclusion from the bedroom; her bed barely fit two people. It was
crowded with Mark and Emma in it.

She stepped into her studio, closed the door
quietly behind her, opened it again out of a paranoid conviction
that someone had awoken, watched and listened carefully for a term,
then shut it again. She pushed her work chair up against it.

The Metrognome was standing in the corner,
facing the wall in what abruptly struck her as an obvious posture
of guilt. She stepped over to it and wrestled the creature face up
onto her padded test bench. Listening carefully one last time for
potential intruders on her privacy, she thumbed its left nipple,
quickly cycled through its modes to engage its erection. The other
nipple took it in small increments from a docile wag to a thrilling
shiver, the only gnome she had encountered with this functionality.
She already knew the frequency that excited her most
effectively.

Straddling its body, she eased the penis into
her, playing with its depth and pressure, fingers rounding her
clitoris on a slow, unexpectant orbit as her arousal strengthened.
She slipped the vibrating cock out and rubbed it dreamily across
her clitoris, held the tip down hard there as bliss mounted.

A silent supplication escaped her lips as she
thrust it slowly into her rectum, pushing deep inside. Then it came
out again to rub her all over the lips. Climax circled, nearer than
she had ever summoned it through self-stimulation, and Ione forced
the buzzing head against her stiffened little knot with a eudemonic
resolve to navigate the remaining distance. An impossible journey,
but effortlessly pleasant…

Emma made the Dowser’s Club the following
evening, arriving just before sunset in Ione’s gorgeous dark blue
convertible, obtained that afternoon from the production lot on the
fifth level of the Gnomon’s Tower. They brought it down on the
elevator amidst a knot of admiring employees and drove it straight
out the building to the far side of the metropolis.

Emma was obliged to support Dean that night,
which she planned to do by any means possible. The others had the
same motivation but were also anxious to disport themselves as
people of higher status. Much had changed over the last few days.
She made sure the head Doorman let them skip to the head of the
line, which was an exhilarating boon to their pride as the squat,
redheaded sentry who controlled all access to the Club was not
known for such friendliness. He liked Emma but was generally
considered something of a dick, which she found a little amusing
since his name was Dike. From within she watched her friends smugly
pass by ordinary people trapped in a wide, winding procession that
put huge pressure on the arched front doorway, operationally
referred to as “the mouth.” When they were inside she got her
friends choice seats by the dance floor, where they made perhaps
the most charismatic group in the Club.

The night was well underway when the
drummers, operating under deep green glow gnomes, began to develop
the rhythms that would catalyze the crowd to dance. The floor was
already populated by small groups and more were joining them all
the time.

Emma signaled to her favorite server, a thin
redheaded slipper named Chaycee that took immaculate concern for
her clients. She flirted with Emma constantly, which was great for
business. She doubted it would be a problem with Ione, who was not
likely to be threatened by someone of her intellect and social
standing.

“
The bar is mixing up a
fantastic stillwater mint tonight,” she advertised.

“
A real strong formulation,
I expect,” Ione smirked.

“
Yep.”

“
Gimme one then,” said Mark,
and the others were quick to follow.

“
It looks like Dean has a
pretty good following at this point,” Ione observed.

“
What can we do to help
him?” Mark asked. He was in good spirits, having woken up in
bondage that morning to face the fabric whips he had just used on
Emma and Ione. They had taken their time with him.

“
Just be your crazy selves,”
Emma advised. “He has a tough set ahead of him. The guy who is
challenging for a spot tonight is really good, and the other man in
the rotation is
the
Drummer, the finest musician in the City. It ain’t gonna be
him looking for a job tomorrow.”

Emma lingered with them for a little longer,
making sure everyone in sight connected her with their charisma and
stature. The influence they commanded worked both ways, after all.
The drinks arrive and they toasted Dean’s success.

“
Time to get busy,” Emma
declared, and fluttered off into her clique to service their social
and carnal appetites.

The bucket was soon empty and the crowd
muttered expectantly. The Dowser unlimbered the giant oar from its
ceremonial perch above the bar and raised it high. The Club went
almost silent for a moment, then he slammed the metal pail with a
tremendous blow. The sound issued from the well in a great
concussive wave, an almost palpable force that shivered Emma’s
hair, momentarily blurred her vision. A great cry rose from the
crowd and the Dowser vaulted to the edge of the bucket as it began
to descend. Emma wondered what secret he possessed that allowed him
to find stillwater where no one else could.

Returning her attention to duty, she noticed
that the spin-the-grin apparatus she had become accustomed to, even
fond of, had been replaced by a new set of toys. The Dowser
periodically changed features of the Club to maintain its
preeminence as the most lavish entertainment available. Tonight
pecker hitching was the attraction.

Scattered throughout the Club were
cylindrical, waist-high cabinets with three fist-size holes
positioned near the top. Emma watched another socialite kneel to be
secured inside one of them, hands locked at her sides to ensure no
secret gratification took place as a doorman watched to make sure
it was done correctly. Her folded legs were aligned almost
vertically, sunk in a molded rubber form to ensure the thinnest
possible profile of her body. The form spun on smooth bearings. The
contesting men lowered the hitch cover about her, erections
hardening for the contest.

One of Emma’s clients noticed her speculative
glance at the device and called raucously over to her. “You gonna
hitch for us, beautiful?”

She flashed a lecherous smile. “What, does
someone need head around here?”

A dox of men leaped to their feet. “I do!”
“Me!” “I’m hard!”

Emma let herself be led over to the nearest
unoccupied machine and the men raised its cabinet ceremoniously
high. She settled her folded legs knee-first into its deep cavities
of soft rubber and one of them locked the cuffs on her wrists with
a flourish.

“
Drink up!” Ione facetiously
enjoined.

Emma smiled gaily to her friends, caught
Mark’s narrow leer of interest, saw him push to his feet just as
the hitch cabinet lowered to close off her view. This was part of
its appeal; once you were inside no one knew who occupied the
device, and there was no way to tell from within who was calling
for service, either.

Emma licked her lips, getting ready. Her body
was rotating slowly to the left, an uncontrollable movement that
yielded a dizzy impression of the Club as the holes wandered by.
Then the cocks pushed in.

An erection loomed through the closest
aperture and she opened her mouth as it came to probe at her lips,
let it in a little bit, sucking on the head as the drummers swerved
into a funky ostinato. With a pecker in her mouth she had the
leverage to control her spin and promptly stalled it by sucking
hard on the client’s dick. He proceeded to fuck her face.

Another penis shot through to jog her head
from the left, tentatively punching around her jaw, and she felt a
third assault under her right ear, oiling up her neck with a little
pre-ejaculation. She continued to favor the client in her mouth,
giving him a decent interval of pleasure, imagining his cagey smile
before the unserved others. But their needy penises were pushing in
at her, jostling her this way and that with their restive need for
attention.

Emma relaxed her suction on the first penis
and was sloppily spun about by the jacking intrusions of the
men.

“
She’s loose!” one of them
hissed.

Cocks swatted her cheeks, shoving her head
from all directions as the men sought to intuit her orientation
solely from phallic feedback. The stiffest erections had a
mechanical advantage where this was concerned, and a big patron’s
pole gauged her passage twice then launched nimbly into her lips
the third time around.