The Club - Second Week
"Mistress? If I may have a word?"
Emile was doing his Jeeves thing, again. Respectful, but like he knew I put my pants on one leg at a time. Or would do, if I still had clothes, which luckily I didn't, because right that moment they would have gotten in the way of Clyde's cock. It was Sunday morning, and she was languidly serving it to me from behind while I rested my own major tits on the middle of a table.
"Go ahead -- oof -- I meant Emile."
"I have received a call from Mistress Lewis. She says that she has already prepared a site for our rural retreat, but it seems there is a problem. She feels it would be unwise to bring in a crew of local builders, not to mention inspectors, given her present and intended activities there -- to say nothing of her new form."
"Couldn't we do that? Do the building, I mean," said my former pet, a little loudly so as to be heard over the squishing noises produced by her determinedly pistoning through our combined juices.
"My thoughts, exactly, Miss Clyde. Several of our minions were in the construction trade, and there are many of your sister servants who can provide the brute labour for the task. We need only acquire a bus with which to provide regular transport to and from the site. I can rent a truck to discreetly bring the required materials."
This was well timed, actually. The unfortunate incident with Max and his buddy the previous Thursday had ended well enough, what with them becoming sex-bots. But the whole affair had created quite a stir, so we'd hosted a toned-down Friday and Saturday at the Club, featuring no Latex Girls at all -- or at least, no undisguised LGs. But ... there were some excellently costumed simulations among the clubbers, and in the event we recruited three of them. A guy and a girl asked to be Submissives - interestingly enough he without and she with the lady-pleaser. This role swap notwithstanding, they afterwards continued to hang out in each other more often than not. To be honest, I forget their names - since they chose to be known henceforth by their serial numbers: S-013 and SP-008. Which, I suppose, was suitably submissive.
The next day a Goth-girl was quickly manufactured into another shiny new Latex Submissive. She was the bright yellow unit - known as Duckie - I was now watching writhe nearby with Demi.
So - cutting a low profile was looking to be a bit tricky, what with the crowd we were accumulating up in the loft. Counting our most recent conscripts, we had myself and my two lesser mistresses, plus eleven Subs, and the three Latex Girls who weren't into in the whole BSDM kink. Also our two minions, not to mention Emile and his sister, and the two fembots. So twenty-three hungry, randy occupants.
It was more than a little confusing, so we'd adapted a variation on the ribbon labelling system that Destiny and Raven had tried - now anyone with a collar ring had a dog tag with his or her new name clearly inscribed, from a fancy pet shop down the street. Flashy big ones, of course - silver, and proper disks, not those bone-shaped ones. (Although I think I might have been on board with
boner
shaped tags ...)
Anyway, now Lewis had conveniently provided us with an outlet for some of our randy babes to burn off excess steam.
"Do it -- erk! I meant Emile."
** ** **
Emile quickly got his hands on an old tour bus, with suitably tinted windows (last used by some local rock band). That same night, Pril set off in charge of a work party consisting of our two robots, and all the Subs - except for my Clyde - but including Molly, who was beginning to get on my nerves what with the crazed singing. Elfie chose to stick around, too, to do the cooking. Our minion boys - and girl - were also shipped along, seeing as how they claimed to know all about construction. Plus, Matrix was licensed to drive a bus -- a bonus since we needed someone up front that could pass for normal. Even our resident mermaid Coral went along -- both to be with her sweetie, and to try out the pond she'd heard about. No big deal -- they didn't have to constantly splash water on her, or anything. It was just a matter of lugging her aboard.
It was lucky they were all on friendly terms, as you might say. Packing that bus seemed to involve saving space by inserting a great many bits inside of each other -- although I suspect this wasn't strictly necessary. Suffice to say, they wouldn't need to resort to 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall' to pass the time -- although it turned out Molly did start up a Sixty-nine Bottles version, which P
antoufle
quickly dealt with by catching hold of Demi's tail and inserting it down her throat.
After the rubber-bus had set off, I put in motion my latest cunning plan. I detailed Emile and Trixie to go rescue Max's two Sub units from his mansion, along with the contents of his (sorry,
its
) walk-in vault. To take care of its room and board, of course. It seemed to need a high-oil diet now. I sent them off with all the necessary access codes, which we had extracted from Maxine-bot before conversion.
That expedition was a complete success -- they came back with a pair of confused Subs, a big pile of loot, and a small surprise. Emile was a teeny bit cranky about that part.
"We didn't ask the Maxi-bot whether there was anyone else in the mansion, did we?"
This was a bit cheeky, 'cause it was me who'd done the asking. "Sure I did -- I specifically asked if there were any guards or staff."
"Well, meet the girlfriend." This being the unconscious person slung over his shoulder. "She came after us with a Gloch."
"She attacked you with a xylophone?"
Emile closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, he had his Jeeves-face back in place. "Not a glockenspiel, a gun. She tried to shoot us, but we'd already cut the power, so the mind control system was down. One of the Latex girls hit her from behind with an ashtray." He nodded toward the pair. "They were, ahh, annoyed with her."
The LG on his left spoke up: "She treated us like were just ... things!"
