There was no three-way post-coital tangle on the bed. That had been made clear to Christopher, and he was fine with it. He left shortly after, and was just as friendly and kind as when he arrived. I had no worries that we had ruined a friendship with him or alienated him in any way. The mission of the evening now accomplished, I simply wanted to be with Evan.
With a bottle of wine and two glasses this time we went to the bedroom. He wrapped himself around me in normal fashion. Holding me as close as ever. Trying to press all of his skin against me at once, which usually earned him teasing. Tonight it earned him the same. I tried to have every part of me against him at once. If I could have crawled into his skin with him, I think I would have.
He kissed the nape of my neck, his fingers playing slowly in my hair. Gently. Barely a touch. Enough to make me drowsy and happy.
“We ’re OK?” he asked and kissed my ear. I could hear in the tone, he already knew the answer. He just needed me to say it.
“Better than fine. Thank you.” I kissed his fingers one by one and, as was my usual joke, sucked on his index finger until he groaned.
“Why are you thanking me?”
“You gave me something I wanted. You had the courage to give it to me,” I said and kissed his other fingers in turn.
“Shouldn’t I be thanking you? You did the same.”
“That was the point,” I said. “We did it for each other. With each other.” Then I kissed his palm and closed my eyes. I was suddenly very tired. I relished the feel of his warm mouth against the back of my neck. So familiar and now even more treasured.
“Do you think you’d ever want to do it again?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Do you? Think you’d ever want to do it again?”
“I don’t know either. I guess we’ll find out,” he said and then yawned softly.
“Together. We can find out together.” I let myself drift off. I was safe. I was cherished.
Peace de Resistance
Kris Cherita
Linsey winced as Brianna kneaded her back. “Jesus, girl,” said the masseuse, “you are a fucking
mess
. What the fuck have you been doing?”
“Just working.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” her friend asked rhetorically, with a hint of a sigh. “Why did you take that job, anyway?”
“They forced money into my hand,” said Linsey wryly. In truth, she’d been offered the position of principal of Maria Goretti College, over many colleagues with seniority, because of her excellent track record as a teacher. She’d accepted it in the hope of being able to improve the school as a whole, and had scored some minor victories, but only by micro-managing as much as possible. “Ow!”
“You getting any exercise?”
“No.”
“Getting laid?”
“No!”
“Thought not. When was the last time?” When Linsey started doing the maths, Brianna shook her head. “Not since Phil left, right?”
“No,” she admitted, with a slight twinge. While her ex-husband had had many faults, he was undeniably good in bed – a vast number of beds, unfortunately. She’d been hugely inexperienced when they’d started dating, but he’d soon changed that; he was a silver-tongued actor and dancer with the ability to arouse her to the degree that she would agree to almost anything. “I’ve been on a couple of dates, but none of them . . . well, you know. None of them turned me on.”
“How much of a chance did you give them?”
“What?”
“Did you try talking about anything other than your job?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Brianna nodded.
“I don’t get many opportunities to meet anyone—”
“Bullshit,” said Brianna. “There are plenty of people out there, and you still look damn hot – OK, not in that straitjacket you were wearing when you came in, but you do now. Pretty face, big tits, nice curvy butt, good legs . . . you just have to learn to show them off a bit. All it takes is some effort and a bit of imagination.”
“I can’t go cruising the bars, or anything like that. I have my position to think of. I’m having enough trouble at the moment with parents trying to sack one of my best teachers for saying that abstinence-only sex education isn’t enough, and we should tell the girls about alternatives, including contraception and masturbation.”
“Maybe you should take that advice yourself. Start thinking about alternative and different sorts of position. Do you masturbate, at least?”
“I’ve tried that. It doesn’t work for me, either. I can’t . . .”
“Let yourself go?”
“Something like that.”
Another sigh. “You always were a control freak. You’ve got to learn that sometimes you have to make the choice to let someone else take control instead; always being in control fucks you up almost as bad as never being in control. Then you can decide when to take control again, because you want to or need to, not because it’s just a habit.”
Linsey didn’t reply.
“OK,”Brianna said, after a moment’s thought. “It’s your birthday next month, right? And I owe you something for introducing you to Phil in the first place. What say I arrange a party for you, out of town, so you don’t have to worry about meeting anyone with daughters at your school?”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Did I ever tell you about the time I worked in a brothel?”
“You did
what?”
“Just as a receptionist. I needed the money – besides, I wanted to play Blanche DuBois, and this seemed like a good chance to watch the working girls. Anyway, I found out some interesting stuff – for one thing, a lot of our clients were lawyers or judges. And after a while, I learned what their kinks were.”
“I’m scared to ask.”
“Judges, and a lot of lawyers who’d just won a case, wanted to be dominated, even tortured. Restoring the balance, if you like: they’d meted out punishment, and wanted to be punished for it. They’d taken away someone else’s control over their own lives, and they wanted to surrender control themselves, if just for a few minutes. It sounds to me like you should try doing the same thing.”
“I’m not into S&M,” Linsey said sharply.
“I’m not so sure. Taking that job might be considered masochistic. So what
are
you into?”
The limo that arrived to pick Linsey up on Friday night had tinted rear windows, so dark that she could barely see outside, and the chauffeur warned her not to wind them down. “You don’t want to spoil the surprise, do you?” he asked cheerfully. “Help yourself to something from the bar, if you like.”
“No, thanks.” She stopped trying to keep track of the corners they turned, then blinked as the TV came on. The sound was turned down, but it didn’t take her long to realize that a man in a sea captain’s cap was directing four couples into an increasingly intense orgy.
The next scene began with a blonde nurse in a latex uniform, who teamed up with another equally unlikely looking nurse and a male doctor to remove a long dildo that had become lodged too far up another woman’s ass for her to extract unaided.
The third scene began with an Asian woman in a maid’s uniform being summoned to her blonde mistress’ bathroom; the limo pulled into a garage just as the maid began licking her mistress’ soap-slick slit. The sound cut out as the garage door closed behind her, and Linsey began to wonder whether she’d made a horrible mistake going along with Brianna’s plans. Despite this, she stepped out of the car when the chauffeur opened the door for her, and was escorted down a hallway into a small office. The woman sitting behind the highly polished desk looked her up and down as the chauffeur left, then nodded at a side door. “There’s a bathroom in there,” she said. “You can change in there. I don’t know what the friend who paid for your session here has told you, so I’ll just run through the basics.
“Firstly, there’s nothing here to sign: I don’t know your name, nor does anyone else here, and we don’t need to. For tonight and tomorrow, if you want to stay that long, you’re Roberta Stepford; a sex robot, a living, walking, talking fuckdoll.” Linsey’s eyes widened in alarm, but the manager gave no sign of noticing. “How much personality you choose to display is up to you, but you must obey all legal orders you are given. The most important thing you need to know is that we do not allow anything illegal or unsafe, though you can simulate it if you wish. Your sponsor has given us a list of what you won’t allow.” She reached into a drawer and removed a sheet of pink paper, which she handed to Linsey. “The other participants have been told this, of course, and they will be removed if they break any of the rules. The next most important thing is that if you wish the games to stop, you only have to say your safe word, and you’ll be taken to a room where you can dress and recover, and someone will drive you home again. Your safe word is ‘overtime’. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Linsey. Her mouth was dry and she wasn’t sure her voice was audible, but the woman merely nodded.
“However, once you use that word, everything stops. No line-item vetoes here unless someone else breaks the stated rules. If that happens, your sponsor will receive at least a partial refund, and you can then decide whether to continue, or to return another time.”
“Who are the . . .”
“Other participants? Some are employees here; some are . . . volunteers, but they have all been very carefully vetted, and understand that if they break any rules, they’ll be heavily fined and then permanently blackballed. OK?”
Linsey nodded.
“Excellent. So, if you’ll go in there, please, and get into your outfit, I’ll send one of the maids in to help you with your makeup, give you your enema, and help you shave.”
The bathroom contained a shower stall, towel rack, hand basin, toilet, folding massage table, inflated bondage chair and a TV mounted in one corner. Linsey looked at the costume laid out on the table – a silver lamé corset that stopped just above her hips and below her nipples, and silver boots – with some alarm and more than a little amusement.
She stripped, showered, and was reaching for a towel when the door opened. A pretty woman in her mid-twenties, wearing black latex gloves, spit-polished slut shoes and a maid’s outfit only slightly less revealing than Linsey’s abbreviated corset, walked in and looked at her appraisingly. “Nice,” she drawled. “OK, let’s get you ready. Lie down on the table.”
When Linsey didn’t obey immediately, the maid shook her head. “What part of ‘lie down’ didn’t you understand? Do you speak English?” “Yes.”
“That’s ‘Yes, Mistress Abigail’ to you.” Linsey blinked, but echoed, “Yes, Mistress Abigail.” The maid smiled. “That’s better. Now say, ‘I will do everything my mistresses and masters tell me.’”
“I will do everything my mistresses and masters tell me.” “You’re a big-titted robot fuckdoll. What are you?” “I . . . I’m a big-titted robot fuckdoll.” “Mistress,” the younger woman reminded her. “I’m a big-titted robot fuck doll, mistress.” “Better. OK, now get your butt up on that table. Roll over on to your side. Now, grab your cheeks and spread ’em.” Linsey obeyed, then gasped as she felt the cold, well-lubed enema nozzle being pushed up against her anus. Abigail chuckled, then reached around between her thighs and began gently rubbing her clit. “Relax,” she said, making it sound more like a suggestion than an order. “Y o u ’re a fuckdoll. Fuckdolls take bigger things than this up their nice hot asses. And you want to be clean for your masters and mistresses, don’t you?”
“Yesssss,” came the reply, through gritted teeth.
“Mistress.”
“Missstressss.”
“That’s good.” When Abigail was satisfied that the nozzle was firmly in place, she began lathering up Linsey’s honey-coloured pubes, tantalizing her with the brush and her fingers. “Pretty hair,” she mused. “Seems a shame to get rid of it, but orders are orders. Right?”
“Yess, mistress . . .” Linsey’s senses were beginning to reel. Phil had taught her to enjoy anal sex, and it felt as though she were being flooded not just with warm water but with happy memories. That, combined with Abigail’s expert ministrations, were bringing her close to orgasm, but there was still something niggling at the edge of her consciousness, something that stopped her . . .
If Abigail was disappointed by Linsey’s failure to come, she didn’t show it; she simply finished trimming and shaving her pussy, then wiped it clean and leaned back to admire her handiwork. “OK,” she said, then returned the shaving gear to the drawer under the sink, and produced a butterfly vibrator, a G-spot stimulator and a remote control for the TV. Abigail strapped the butterfly vibe over Linsey’s clit, then sat in the bondage chair and began using the G-spot vibe on herself while she watched a scene of two women decorating a third with frosting until she resembled a cake – which they then proceeded to devour. The next scene showed a blonde woman cheerfully taking on four men, and Linsey realized that the vibrator on her clit was sound-activated, responding both to the soundtrack of the porn movie and Abigail’s squeals of pleasure. I’m not in control any more, she thought, and moaned as she let herself be overwhelmed by the delightful sensations. She opened her eyes a moment later to find Abigail standing over her and grinning. She smiled back weakly.
“Happy little fuckdoll?”
“Yes, mistress.”
“Good,” said Abigail, producing a collar and leash from the pocket in her apron, “’cause that was just an appetizer. Wait until you see the entrée.”
When Linsey was prepared to Abigail’s satisfaction – silver eye shadow and nail polish, scarlet gloss on her lips and nipples, lubricated silicone anal beads in her ass – she was led down the corridor to meet her new masters and mistresses. “Remember to show proper respect,” said Abigail, before she opened the door. “Don’t speak until you’re spoken to, smile and say thank you whenever you think it’s appropriate, and don’t look anyone in the eye: it’s best if you don’t look any higher than their crotches unless you have to. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Mistress Abigail.”
“What are you?”
“I’m a big-titted robot fuckdoll, mistress.”
“Good.” Abigail opened the door, and led her into a large room dominated by a huge bed and a plasma TV screen. Assorted strangely shaped chairs and sofas were positioned along the walls, and six people – four men and two women -were standing around with drinks in their hands. “Ah,” said the shortest of the men, who was wearing a tuxedo jacket with no pants, “the new toy. Bring her here so we can take a closer look.”