Slave Girl Emily

Author's note: Here's Chapter Ten of "Slave Girl Emily." I hope there's enough naughtiness here to satisfy, but the main business of this chapter is to deliver what the classicist Master Andrew would call the "catastasis" - the part of a story that heaps up complications to be resolved in the "catastrophe" (the story's climax and resolution). In other words, we're going to shake things up a bit before we end in Ch. 11.

Emily (scene name Famula) is a consensual slave who's now on her third Master - Christopher, an NYU professor. She likes impact play, while he prefers gentler pursuits, such as pet play. The resulting conflict came to a head in Ch. 9, when Christopher invited several friends over to advise him on his Emily problem and play an elaborate mind game with her. Emily enjoyed the evening, though she was disturbed by certain aspects of it. Tags: Voyeurism, Wax play, Oral sex, Lesbian sex, Slave.

* * *

Probes and nipple clamps on again, dialed up to high. He's going to kill me, holding that vibrator to my clit.

"Fuck," I moan.

How long have I been here? An hour? A week? I was a good girl, made my parents proud. He said, "How do I pay what I owe?" They never even frowned, even if they didn't like Bobby much. Small-town valedictorian, so smart. I remember that place. Playgrounds, parks, they let me run. I used to daydream about being arrested and handcuffed. I smiled a little smile and said, "Tie me up."

"Pee," I say.

"What?" he says.

"Got to pee."

All that passive aggressive shit, better he hit me with a baseball bat. Great student, lab work always perfect, even if I looked silly with that purple streak. ". . . and make me safeword," I said. They thought I'd be happy if I was free. They didn't know shit about me. He grinned and said, "You think I can't." Give me the third degree, slam me up against a wall. Running like crazy, I'm only just getting acquainted with myself.

The vibrator buzzes louder, and he presses it hard against my clit. "You can piss whenever you want," he says.

"No - "

". . . but I can," he said. I know who he is. I chose him. I didn't think he could.

I don't recognize this place.

* * *

That same night, I dreamed that five men were gang raping me. A few days before, I'd watched an online video with a porn star pretending to struggle while five men slapped and spanked her, filled all her holes at once, called her whore and slut, and degraded her in awful ways. I'd been horrified and fascinated, and I'd wondered what it would feel like to be that girl. In my dream, I

was

that girl, but I really was trying to get away, not pretending. They held me and tore into me - mouth, pussy, and ass - with grotesque cocks like huge tree branches. I couldn't fight or escape, and when they came they just kept coming and coming on my body, and their cum rose all around me, a viscous tide, till I was drowning in it. I woke up gasping for breath, saw Master sleeping peacefully beside me, and was comforted.

After breakfast next morning, Master took me to the dungeon and paddled me soundly for setting his place wrong the night before. As I lay in his arms afterwards, he said, "Why don't you go out and do something fun? Go to some stores and spend a lot of money. Stop thinking about Master for a little while."

"I never stop thinking about Master," I said. "But I'd like to go shopping."

I didn't want anything, but it was nice to visit the stores and see what the big-name designers thought I should be wearing. I wandered through Saks, admiring the displays and being ignored by the sales staff, till I stopped short near one of the counters in the vast perfume department. Was that Andrew behind the counter, holding a little bottle and talking earnestly to an elegant middle-aged lady? I hung back and watched. There was no mistake. That was definitely Andrew, holding the lady spellbound. I moved a little farther away and browsed a few of the nearby displays, praying that a salesperson wouldn't approach me before he was free.

Fortune smiled on me. The lady paid for something and moved off, and I approached the counter while Andrew was putting the sample away. As he straightened up, I said, "I'm looking for something kind of narcissistic and self-destructive. Got anything like that?"

He stared for a few seconds, and it occurred to me that I'd been a mousy brown-haired college girl last time he'd seen me. I was fooling myself if I thought a little makeup, hair dye, and ink could make me beautiful.

"Emily," he said. "How are you?"

"Good," I said. "And you?"

"Good." He didn't look good. He seemed to be turning green.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I must be like the memory of a nightmare."

"No, no," he said, recovering a little. "It's great to see you."

"Do you have a coffee break coming up?" I asked. "It'd be nice to catch up."

He brightened a little more. "Actually, I get off in a half hour. Meet me here?"

He led me the short distance to the Starbucks at Rockefeller Center, where he ordered a latte for me and black coffee for himself. We found a table, and I took a good look at him. I found I remembered him accurately - especially those penetrating gray eyes. He seemed as dangerous as he'd ever been.

He told me he'd taken a year off to work and plan his life, and now he was rooming with friends on Morningside Heights and getting ready to begin graduate study in Classics at Columbia.

"You've graduated, of course," he said. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I said. "I'm still pretty devoted to my kinks. I'm living with a man - a Master - down in the Village. My parents are totally in despair about me. I've become this disreputable tattooed girl with an expensive education and no ambition - whatever happened to their sweet, clever daughter?"

"She's gotten more beautiful," Andrew said, and turned red.

I blushed too, and said, "Thanks. But you had a point about me, you know? I'm going to have to get on with my life soon. I'm really happy, but eventually I've got to start a career, or at least get a job."

"You had a point, too," he said. "You've got to get on with your life, like everyone else, but there's no law that says it has to be a vanilla life."

We were quiet. We'd come too close to forbidden territory.

"So what about you?" I asked. "Have you met the love of your life yet?"

"Not yet," he said. "I've been out with a few women, but I haven't clicked with any of them. For a few weeks last winter I actually thought I had a relationship, but she dumped me."

"Too bossy?" I asked, smiling.

"She didn't say," he said, "but I have a suspicion. It's an aspect of my personality I need to work on."

"Or not," I said. A little ripple of pleasure rolled through me.

He was still in touch with friends I'd lost track of, and he filled me in on the gossip. Then we fell into an awkward silence. I wondered if we inhabited different universes now, or if we'd just run out of topics that weren't minefields.

He said, "Do you think we could stay in touch? I mean, if I wrote you an email now and then, would you answer?"

"I think so," I said. "I can't keep any secrets from Master, so it'd have to be all right with him."

"I'll write to you," he said, "and you can just tell me if I shouldn't do it again."

Walking along 50th Street to catch the subway back to Grove Street, I skipped every few steps. He was still so Andrew - ordering me a latte without bothering to ask what I wanted. I hoped he'd follow through on his promise to email, and I hoped Master would let me write back.

I was so preoccupied with thoughts of Andrew that I was halfway up the front steps before I noticed the figure huddled in Master's doorway.

"Amanda!" I exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

She tried to speak, but burst into tears. I took her inside, led her to the kitchen, sat her at the bar, and made tea. Finally she collected herself enough to say, "They're not renewing my contract," and then broke down again.

I set her tea down and sat next to her. "Why?" I said. "Did they say?"

Again she could hardly speak. "They took over Pipit," she said. "She's their new toilet slave. This was like five days ago. I couldn't stand her. She was so mean to me. I told Mistress, and I thought she'd make her go. But today she told me I'd have to move out instead. I was so ashamed, I couldn't wait for the contract to end at the end of the month. I just left."

"Do you have any place to go?"

"She said they'd find me a place, but I don't think I can live by myself."

"Poor baby," I said, and hugged her. "But how did Pipit end up with them?"

"I don't know," she said. "Master and Mistress invited her and Master Frederick over to dinner, and they played with her in the playroom, and Mistress took her to the bathroom - "

She buried her face in her hands and couldn't speak for a minute. I rubbed her back.

"And then a couple days later she was just there." She put her head down in her arms, and her shoulders shook.

"Oh, Emily," she said, "What am I going to do?"

"I don't know, sweetie," I said. "We'll figure something out."

The front door opened, and I ran to present myself to Master. He embraced and kissed me, but he must have sensed the tension in me, because he said, "What's the matter?"

"Amanda's here," I said. "They threw her out."

He frowned. "I didn't give you permission to bring her here," he said.

"She just showed up. I found her on the front stoop. I couldn't send her away - she's got no place to go."

"What'll we do with her?"

"Can't we put her up for a few days, Master? I'll take care of her. She won't be any trouble."

"I suppose we'll have to. Make it clear to her that she's not a slave or sub here. Feed her in the kitchen and give her the third-floor bedroom. Taking care of her will be in addition to your other responsibilities. Do not have sex with her without my permission. And keep her out of my way."

"Yes, Master."

"Now bring me a drink."

"Yes, Master."

I told Amanda what Master had said while I made his drink. "Stay in the kitchen for now. I'll show you your room later, and then you'd better just stay there except when I tell you it's all right to come out."

"Thank you, Emily," she said meekly.

"Everything's going to be all right, honey," I said, and gave her a pat. It occurred to me that I was trying out pet names for her. Without a contract or any acknowledgment of it, she was becoming my sub and my responsibility, and there wasn't a thing either Master or I could do about it.

I took Master his drink, and he retreated to his study while I made dinner. I set a plate for Amanda at the kitchen bar and went to get Master. When I returned to the kitchen, she was sitting on the floor with her plate. I was glad to see she was using a knife and fork.

As Master ate and fed me, he told me he'd called Frederick. "He went with Pipit to dinner at Daniel and Karen's place, and a couple days later she just disappeared," he said. "The next day Daniel visited him in his office, told him that Karen wanted to take on Pipit as a slave, and gave him a check for fifty thousand dollars. He sounded pretty devastated."

"Amanda said Pipit was Karen's toilet slave," I said.

"I don't have to tell you that Daniel and Karen are immensely wealthy," Master said. "You've seen their place. Frankly, it doesn't surprise me if Pipit was drawn to that kind of wealth, or if it induced her to do things she'd normally find repugnant. But I wouldn't have thought her the kind to break a contract."

After dinner I took Amanda to the third-floor room, gave her some of my clothes, and told her to stay there till I came to get her in the morning. Master and I played in the dungeon, and I spent the night in my cage.

The next morning, as I was with Master at breakfast, I said, "Master?"

"Yes, Emily?"

"Would you think about allowing Amanda to stay with us? I don't think she has any other friends."

"Surely Daniel and Karen will provide for her somehow. They'll give her a place to stay. It's the only decent thing to do."

"She can't live alone, Master. She can't take care of herself. She'd get into a frenzy and do all kinds of risky things. She's done it before. She could get sick and die. She'll eat anything."

He studied me. "It would be complicated. She obviously looks at you as her Dominant. How can you have a sub if you're a slave yourself?"

"I don't know, Master. I haven't thought it all through. But you like her, don't you, Master? Maybe we could try it on a trial basis. Just a few days at a time. I think you'd like playing with her."

"She's a sweet girl," he said thoughtfully, "despite her kinks, which are rather off-putting. You're probably right that she can't take care of herself. I'll think about it."

I jumped up and gave him a hug. "Thank you, Master."

After he'd left for work, I went to get Amanda and fed her breakfast. That morning, a courier brought a box for her. It contained her clothing (she had little, and it was all black), a bottle of the mouthwash she used, a vial of pills with a label showing the name of the kink-friendly physician who'd prescribed them, and a few other things.

We weren't allowed to have sex together, but Amanda was able to help with my chores - she was more useful this time - and we got them done quickly. Then we lounged and chatted for much of the afternoon.

When we heard the front door open, Amanda retreated to the kitchen and I went to greet Master. He said, "Bring Mouche to the living room."

I brought her to him. She looked frightened.

He said, "Mouche, Emily has asked me if you can stay here for a while. Would you like that?"

"Yes, sir," she said.

"You would have to be a slave here. Are you willing to be my slave?"

"I'd like to be your slave, sir," she said, glancing at me.

He drew a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Look this over. It's a one-week slave contract. If it's agreeable to you, we can sign, and you'll enter my service immediately. We can renew for a longer term if it's agreeable to both of us."

I looked over it with her. She'd be Master's slave, but I'd be her overseer. Master would have all the rights that Masters usually have over slaves. The contract gave Master the right to lend her for play and sex with others and gave her no power to object. There were no limits written into the contract, but there were spaces to add them at the end, and she requested a few. She asked for a pen and signed, and master signed too.

At dinner, Master made Amanda take her clothes off and eat from a dog bowl while I wore clothes, knelt beside him, and was fed tidbits from his plate. I guessed that he was signaling that her status in the household was lower than mine. It made me uncomfortable, though I knew it was true.

That night, after dinner, Master again made Amanda and me play and have sex while he watched. After Amanda had been sent upstairs to bed, he made love to me in his bed before sending me to my cage for the night. I lay awake a long time and worried about whether our reconfigured family could be made to work, and what would happen to Amanda if it couldn't.

After Master left for work the next morning, I checked my email and found three interesting messages. This was the first:

Dear Emily,

On second thought, I think it would be a mistake for us to try to stay in touch. Seeing you yesterday confirmed what I figured out a long time ago: that you were right about everything, and I fucked up badly when I let you go. I don't want to be the melancholy ex who never got over it but keeps hanging around - a sad stereotype from a bad sitcom.

Don't write back. I just wanted you to know so you wouldn't think I was being rude.

Andrew

I was tempted to write back anyway, but decided on second thought that it would be kinder not to. This was the second email:

Dear Emily,

If you're feeling Schadenfreude now, I can't blame you. I believed I was justified in what I did because I thought I understood love and knew you and Pipit. But it turns out I didn't know anything at all. If I were in your place, I don't think I could forgive, so I won't ask for forgiveness. But I thought I'd apologize anyway.

Yours ever,

Frederick

His distress didn't make me happy, but I wasn't ready to forgive him yet either. I couldn't think of anything to say to him, so I didn't write back. This was the third email:

Famula,

Are you free for lunch today? If so, please come to my apartment at noon. I have already secured permission from your Master. Mouche is also welcome.

Ai

Her address, not far away in the Village, was in the signature line. I wrote back to say I'd be delighted to come to lunch and Amanda would come with me.

The man who answered Ai's door wore a collar. He was young, well built, and - strangely, despite being naked and completely hairless - dignified. He smiled warmly and showed us into the simple and elegantly furnished apartment. Ai rose gracefully from a sofa as we entered. She was wearing a lovely black dress with a floral pattern. Her presence was as powerful as it had been two nights ago: I glanced at Amanda, who was staring at her with a glazed look.

Ai showed us to a table with three place mats. The slave brought us soup and stood by as we began to eat. I couldn't help stealing glances at his trim, strong body. "Your slave is very impressive," I said.

Ai said, "Thank you. He's quite accomplished. In the

Beauty

novels, the male slaves are required to maintain erections at all times, but of course that's a fantasy. It can't be done. But I require my male slaves to become erect on demand. Inkei?"

The slave stepped close to the table and stared at Ai. Amanda and I watched, fascinated, as his cock slowly grew and lifted till it was standing straight out.

"It's really big," Amanda whispered.

Ai said, "Yes, this is the biggest one I own. Thank you, Inkei. I'll reward you later."

He smiled and left the room.

"Do you have many slaves, Mistress?" I asked.

"Five at present," she said. "Four men and one woman. But Inkei is the only one living in right now."

I tried to imagine having five lovers at my beck and call, but couldn't. "Why so many?" I asked, and then quickly added, "I hope it's not rude to ask."

"Not at all," she said. "Part of it is simply that so many submissives are available. You may not know this, because you've been fortunate, but true Dominants are quite rare. Most of the men claiming to be Dominants are frauds, and most of the women are prostitutes. Submissives, both men and women, are much more numerous, so it's easy for a true Dominant to acquire a number of them - and a service to the community as well."

Inkei brought out bowls of rice for us. His erection had mostly subsided.

"And then," Ai continued, "different slaves have different attributes and abilities. Inkei has an exceptionally large member, as Mouche noticed: it feels delicious in me. I have a cunnilingus expert: he's highly skilled and content to do it for hours on end - with short breaks. I've trained one as a masseur; another has an insatiable appetite for my excreta. I like men best, but I always have to have at least one woman on hand, because the female body delights me so."

"Do they stay long?" I asked. Inkei brought plates with small portions of fish and a tasty-looking vegetable that I couldn't identify.

"All of my contracts run for one year," Ai said. She reached out, took Inkei's cock in her hand, and stroked it gently. He stood still and closed his eyes. "Normally I don't renew. I help my slaves find Dominants or owners, and mostly I'm able to leave them well matched. However, I'm so very fond of Inkei that I'm thinking of renewing him for another year."