Fair Trade 5.1 Twenty-four Hours: Rabbithole, Again
I can do this.
Also, I have to do this, no choice. But I can do this. I can get through this.
Stop yelling at me to go to Min! I'm going, I'm going! It's not my fault I got held up and missed the bus and had to wait for the next one! I texted her with why, she knows I'm not trying to cheat!
The bus felt like it took forever to get to the stop nearest Min's apartment. The nagging pressure in her head had started shortly before the time she normally left work. It wouldn't have been so bad if she'd caught her usual bus. But this was distinctly uncomfortable. Yes, she was scared—this time, not because she had no idea at all what was coming, but because she had just enough idea to be certain it would be difficult. But not impossible. That faith, that Min and Nikandros, Dagrun and Henry and the others, would keep her safe, that made all the difference.
Even if they were being their full-on fae selves with her as their consenting human toy, rather than just being slightly odd but friendly.
Min buzzed her in the building door. The apartment door, unsurprisingly, was ajar—Min had told her to come directly in. She hardly even thought about hanging her purse on the coat-rack and dropping her overnight bag under it on her way to kneel at Min's feet.
With the gentle caress of Min's fingers on her cheek, the insistent nagging stopped.
“How are you feeling, dear?” Min asked. “I'm sorry I haven't see you all week, I've been busy living up to my side of the bargain.”
“He wasn't at work today,” Jillian said. “It's horrible how much of a relief that was.”
“I know. He's going through an unwilling version of... call it extreme therapy and radical behaviour modification, built on his religious beliefs. He is not a particularly devout or observant Christian, but he does believe, with an absolute inflexible bone-deep certainty, that the world was created by a divine heterosexual white man for mortal heterosexual white men in his image, and everything else within it exists for white men to exploit or eliminate as they see fit. When we put the last piece in place, he will believe just as absolutely that if he doesn't start treating all other people with respect regardless of gender or colour or anything else, he's on his way to an eternity in hell, and that the next time he lays a hand on an unwilling woman there will be a devil there waiting to claim him, and it would be better still if he starts repenting and atoning for his sins. It will take us at least another week or two to be sure that we've left no loopholes or cracks. He was off today because last night, he got neutered like the aggressive oversexed animal he's been acting like. We made certain he looks intact, but, at the risk of too much graphic information, those are not real testes. Low testosterone should reduce the aggression and greatly decrease his obsession with sex. Combined and completed, I'm confident that it will fulfill what you asked for.”
“That's pretty thorough and intense,” Jillian said. “Has he been doing bad things?”
“Mm, let's just say I have reason to feel not the slightest hesitation or remorse about neutering him or terrifying him. It doesn't currently matter. What does matter is you.”
Jillian sighed and nodded. “It's worth it, no matter what, to have one less threat in the world. And I gave my word. I'm yours.”
The world shifted, very slightly, or maybe it was just turning to a different angle in relation to the inside of Jillian's head.
Mistress' hand stroking her hair was meant as reassurance, and it was, so all was right.
Oh. You again.
“Stand up,” Mistress told her. “Leave the dress here. It's from Jillian's life, and once you're through the door, you're not Jillian, you're my Jewel.”
Right. Not Jillian. Jewel. Should've seen that one coming.
She let her white pumps slide off, unclasping her wide white stretchy belt as she stood up, and pulled her respectable, if somewhat form-fitting, cream and grey and white dress over her head. That left her only in the honey-gold set Nikandros had given her, though with neutral stockings. She shivered—without a satyr stirring her hormones, she still felt highly uneasy about being underdressed, especially around other people.
Like that was going to matter. The only rule was no penis-in-vagina penetration. Anything else, which probably included a lot she couldn't even imagine, was fair game.
And oh god, why am I getting wet and hot? I'm not here because I want this!
But Mistress would be pleased if she could relax and enjoy herself.
Fuck. I forgot about that bit.
“I see Nik's point,” Mistress mused. “Absolutely delightful. Leave the dress there on the chair and stand straight with your hands behind you. Now, since Nikandros has put as much effort as I have into fulfilling your request, I would like you to define him in your own mind as Master, the same way I'm Mistress. I believe he's earned that as a way of thanking him.”
“Yes, Mistress.” She could feel the process of redefinition, and it made her shiver again: his name was still there, she'd recognize any reference to him the way she recognized references to 'Min' as meaning 'Mistress,' but over 'Nikandros' in big bold letters was 'Master', and that was the only way she could refer to him in her thoughts. But that was a small thing, and it would stop in twenty-four hours with no damage. Not worth fearing.
“Knowing how humans build associations, there is one other ground rule, and this is for several reasons, first and foremost your own comfort. Like the rest, it will end as soon as your debt is paid. I want you to forget that the Nikandros who is your master is the same one who visited you at work and who gave you a gift—you have not seen your master since the last time you were in my villa. Likewise for Dagrun and Sigrun and Nechtan—the fae who are here are not the same as the friends who helped you move, you have only ever seen them here. Since you do not know them or encounter them in any other context, there is no need to feel self-conscious. Your memories won't change, but you will not make any connection between fae self and human self for anyone but me, and you won't consciously remember the details of this command. Your memories and associations in regards to Flair can stay as they are. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mistress.” Something was happening in her mind, rewriting connections, blocking paths... now she couldn't remember what it was rewriting, and that was alarming, but she bit her lip, dug the nails of one hand into the wrist of the other, and waited.
Have faith. Trust Mistress.
Yes, she should definitely do that.
“Do you remember where the bathroom is? The one in my villa, not the one here?”
“I think so, Mistress.”
“Good. Flair is there waiting for you. Your master wishes to do the final part of getting you dressed more appropriately for my toy Jewel, but Flair will begin. Off you go.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Which meant she got to walk around in just her underwear long enough to go through the bedroom door to the lounge, through the larger door there to the long corridor, and then she'd have to try to remember which door.
Back through the looking glass, she thought as she crossed the threshold between apartment and villa.
It both helped, knowing that Flair was her friend and would do anything that offered itself to make this easier, and terrified her, that a friend she was coming to depend on was going to see whatever happened. Flair said it wouldn't matter to her. Would it, to Jilli...
I am not Jillian! I'm Jewel!
The thought was so vehement it cut off any other thought sharply and made her wince a little.
So, on her way, she tried to get readjusted and orient herself.
I'm Jewel. I belong to my mistress and master. I'll obey anything they tell me. My job is to obey and to please them and any guests they have. They're fae, I'm human. They're powerful beyond what I can understand, and I'm definitely not. But even if they're powerful, that doesn't mean they'd ever hurt me instead of protecting me. What I want isn't going to change anything. I'm a toy for them to play with. I can't stop them from doing anything they want to me. But Mistress and Master will be happier if I can let myself enjoy whatever they do whenever possible. They like toys who are willing and adaptable. I'm safe no matter what. Broken toys are no fun.
The not-quite-a-voice in her head gave her a flash of approval on each point, strong and unwavering.
You're my anchor, thing-in-my-head. You're going to tell me whether I'm living up to my responsibilities or not, so if I'm failing I can fix it fast. I agreed to this with my eyes open. I don't care how terrified I am, I'm doing it right. But it helps to know that you aren't going to let me screw up.
That got a couple of flashes of approval, as well. She didn't bother to analyze exactly which points, since none of it flagged red.
The bathroom door was open. She found Flair perched on the stool by the counter, a stack of folded towels beside her.
Flair hopped off the stool to greet her with a hug. “You look scared. You'll be okay, you know that, right?”
“Yes. But I don't think I want to talk about it. That might be enough for me to break down crying or something, and that's not good.”
Flair let her go immediately, but kissed her cheek before nodding. “Just be Jewel. Shoo, in the shower, then.” She gestured to a familiar bottle of bright yellow stuff, and a jar of pale pink, and one of pale green, all waiting on a ledge in the shower. “Yellow one on your hair, green one around your eyes to get makeup off, pink one absolutely everywhere else but keep it away from your eyes. Tell me when you need help with your back and your face with the pink one.”
“Oh lord. I forgot about starting off getting my skin hypersensitized.”
“Would it matter?”
“No.” She untied and loosened the laces of her honey-gold corset and unfastened the front clasps; Flair took it from her and waited while Jillian stripped off the rest and gave it to her, then crossed the broad cool tile floor to the shower, wearing nothing but the black and green collar.
“Um, I think if you can not get in your own way too badly,” Flair said hesitantly, “you might honestly end up enjoying whatever it is they have in mind.”
“Where'd that come from all of a sudden?”
“I just noticed that your panties are wet. Not just a little bit, either.”
Jewel winced. Embarrassment right off the bat, even if Flair wouldn't see it as anything but normal.
“I think some part of you is maybe sort of liking something about this,” Flair said, clearly choosing words with care. “So maybe if you can try not to worry about whether something's wrong with you or what anyone else is thinking about you, it won't be so bad. They'll be thinking fae things and I'll be thinking you're my friend and I know what fae do. It would be really hard not to feel all sexy and awesome wearing what's in the dressing room. I'm almost jealous I don't get one to match this time.”
“I'll try. Mistress did something to... I think my memory or something... just before she sent me back here. Do you know what?”
That got her a bright red light in her head, a strong nudge of warning.
“Ow. Nevermind. Wasn't thinking. Obviously not supposed to ask that.”
“Um. It's nothing bad and it'll actually help you for now and it'll go back to normal later. I got orders about things not to say, so I know. But yes, you really shouldn't ask questions like that. Do not try to second-guess Mistress or circumvent her or anything like that, ever. Just do as she says and trust her. She's really tolerant with her pets, but there are always limits with fae and pushing them is a really super bad thing to do.”
“All right, I was just wondering. I'll be good.”
The thick yellow goop going into her hair made her sigh.
“Is this stuff going to leave my hair its natural colour afterwards?”
“Yes. But I ran out to pick up bleach and hair dye, the store's not all that far and I had time with my charm. I figured I'd better just get red, even though there are some other really pretty colours that would probably look wonderful. It was starting to fade anyway and your roots were coming in brown. We can redo it tomorrow.”
Mistress wasn't the only one looking out for her. “Thanks.”
Quiet on both sides of the curtain, while Jewel kneaded the yellow goop into her hair. It was longer than it had been in years, she hadn't been cutting it. Would that make any difference in how long it came out?
Pale green on her face, washing away her work makeup.
She picked up the bottle of pink stuff, and braced herself. The effects afterwards, her utterly hairless, flawless, and faintly scented skin, that part was great. It was getting there, knowing what this was going to her nervous system in between, that was alarming.
She took a deep breath, and started on her feet, working her way inwards towards her core. Some part of her mind associated the scent with pleasant stimulation—she discovered: she could feel herself getting wet, muscles beginning to flex and her clit to suggest that it wanted her attention. The tingling started by the time she reached mid-thigh, more quickly than before. She switched to working on her arms, then down the front of her torso and over her bottom, before nerving herself to do her inner thighs and up into her short-trimmed sex.
“Oh hell,” she gasped, as the tingling met up with the associations and whatever else was buried in her head, and the needle on her arousal swung violently in the direction of 'intensely horny.'
“You know it's harmless,” Flair said. She sounded amused and sympathetic at once. “Just go with it. Head start.”
Hadn't Master said something last time about it being easier to get through if she was thinking with her hormones instead of her head? Something like that?
“Yeah,” Jewel said, a bit breathlessly. “Come do my back?”
“Sure.” Flair pulled back the curtain, took the jar, and started spreading pink stuff all over her back. It felt... way too good. Jewel gritted her teeth and tried to concentrate on breathing.
“Turn around, face too.” And, a moment later, “All done. Time to rinse off.”
Which meant vigorous scrubbing of her highly sensitized skin, which made her whimper under her breath more than once. Again, Flair did her back, since the pink stuff wouldn't just rinse. Then the yellow stuff.
She looked at her hair in surprise. It was a couple of inches longer than last time, but that wasn't the unexpected bit. “Whoa.”
“My hair isn't red this time. Something dark, can't tell the colour.”
“Mm... I bet it's blue.”
“So it matches, of course. Finish up and c'mon out so you can get dry and see.”
“Fucking hell.” The profanity struck her as entirely justified. “Dry may not be an entirely relevant concept, here...”
Flair giggled. “You're all clean otherwise. Don't worry about that. Master loves that scent. And, well, it's bound to get a lot worse before it's over. Sorry, not supposed to give you time alone to do anything about feeling like that this time. Not supposed to offer to help, either, but maybe later. Right now we're just supposed to get you dressed.”
Flair let her dry most of her body, but did her back and her hair for her.
“All set. Next door. Go sit down and let Echo do her thing while I clean up, then I'll come help with clothes.”
“Um... okay. Um... maybe I should grab a towel to sit on, so I'm not messing up the bench?” She knew she was blushing.
Flair just handed her a small towel. “Go! Just because Mistress didn't give us a hard time limit doesn't mean you can dillydally.”
Not just naked except her collar, but naked with every trace of body hair gone and her skin hyper-reactive to every breath of air, Jewel made herself go through the sliding door to the dressing room.
It looked exactly the same. She couldn't see anything lying out to give her a hint about her future.
Uneasily, she spread the towel on the bench and sat down.
Her reflection, as before, blinked in sync, then blinked out of sync, then took on its own life.
This time, Jewel tried to pay attention to what the fae in the mirror was doing, but Echo moved much too quickly and Jewel couldn't track half of what she was doing and less of what she was doing it with. She gave up, and just sat quietly while Echo did that magic. Her black-lined eyes were shadowed with silver and midnight blue, this time, which made them look rather mysterious, and she turned her lips to quite a remarkable glossy strong blue that shaded into purple on the inside invitingly.
Then Echo freed her dark blue hair, brushed it smooth before working something colourless into it, and pulled the whole mass up into a sleek high pony-tail with, apparently, not a single hair escaping. It was a very different look from simply having short hair.
Echo paused to look her over, then produced a handful of silver. She fastened elaborate danglies into both sides, but still had silver left over.
What is she doing with... OW!
It hurt less than getting her ears pierced, but she still jumped... four times, two of them farther out and up on her lobes, and two of them high on her cartilage so fine chains could swing between. She gave her reflection a dirty look; Echo just shrugged, smiled, and spread her hands in a “See the result?” gesture.
Okay, she had to admit... that did look pretty cool...
The new piercings were all rings, and she wasn't sure any of them opened without magic. On one side, a spiralled snake dangled from her earlobe, and on the other, a goat's head, which pretty much announced who she belonged to. Hanging from the ring at the top of the silver chain on each side was a tiny free-swinging triple strand of glittering blue stones in silver settings. They didn't hurt like new piercings, at least. They felt like they'd been there for years. Near the edge of her hearing was a mellow soft chiming sound. She shook her head experimentally, felt the silver bump against her, and heard the ringing get louder until she was still again. Not that Echo gave her a chance to look closely and see exactly where the bells were. It was low enough that she figured she'd forget it once she was distracted.
Echo cleaned her own real nails, which were now longer than they used to be, and turned them shiny deep blue. There seemed to be a theme here.
One last inspection, then Echo nodded, blew her a kiss, and her reflection went back to simply being her reflection.
“All set?” Flair asked. “I love the earrings. Come to think of it, I love all of it. She did an awesome job with your lips, and your hair looks amazing blue.”
Jewel shook her head gently just to feel the collection of silver in her ears swing. “It's all pretty exotic and I wouldn't dare wear it outside of here...”
“Why not? Maybe not work, but why not otherwise?”
“... but I actually really like it. Which is just making me wonder what the catch is. What am I going to end up wearing?”
Flair grinned at her and held up something that was a beautiful rich deep royal blue, something stiff enough to be a corset, but that was not satin. “Good thing you're getting used to corsets. I think this one's meant to be pulled tighter. C'mere.”
“Oh god.” Jewel got up and joined her, helpfully ducking her head and slipping her arms through the wide contoured strap that crossed the back of her neck and joined the corset at either side, then linking her hands behind her so the corset could be fastened up the front. This one cupped each breast—Flair tucked them into place more securely—and was probably going to create some really traffic-stopping cleavage once it was tightened.
Leather, she realized belatedly. This one was made of leather, buttery-soft anywhere it touched her skin, but between the boning and the thick leather of the outer layers, it was going to have virtually no give. It had smallish D-rings in a number of places, sometimes linked by decorative chain, shiny silver a contrast to the blue.
“Ready?” Flair said. “Let's see what we can do.”
“Go for it.” Jewel spread her feet for balance and braced herself while Flair worked her way up and down the laces, keeping the tension even while she drew it tighter. With no trouble she got it to comfortable everyday levels, then a bit beyond, and kept going.
I should say stop.
No, I should show Mistress and Master that I'm willing to deal with a little discomfort to look my best for them.
That was right, not the earlier thought.
My body is used to some pressure now, having it a bit tighter won't do anything major. And it feels good, and oh dear god it looks incredible.
“Wow, now that was perfectly planned,” Flair said, tying it off. “The edges meet exactly right there, and that is absolutely perfect. You're going to look like a total sex goddess.”
“I thought I was a toy.”
“If the toy is willing, is there a difference? Right. Skirt.”
The skirt matched, also leather except for the elastic panels of matching blue along the sides, making it possible for the skirt to fit extremely tightly while still allowing her to move. It was also quite short, and with a lack of panties she was going to be flashing everyone if she bent over or sat down without keeping her legs pressed together. It zipped at the back, in the opposite direction to the usual, so it could actually be unzipped halfway up but still stay securely in place around her waist.
Flair knelt in front of her with knee-high socks and put them on for her, to save her having to bend down, then eased her feet into knee-high blue boots.
“You have got to be kidding me with these heels.”
“You can manage them. I've seen you.” Flair imperturbably continued to lace them tightly for her.
“Not for twenty-four hours solid with an unknown activity level. But they're boots, so that'll be some extra support.”
“You'll be fine. Stop complaining and put those on.” She nodded towards the bench beside Jewel, who picked up the last item.
That turned out to be a pair of, not gloves, but fingerless mitts that had holes for her thumb and little finger and pulled all the way up to just below her elbow, with lacing on the inner wrists. Presumably that was because they were of very soft fine leather that didn't stretch like spandex. Jewel fumbled with it and managed to tighten it, but had to wait for Flair to finish with her boots so she could tie each side for her in a neat small bow.
“All set,” Flair said. “And just oh my god wow, that looks... I don't know any words. Stand up, I'm right here, so you can look at yourself.”
Jewel let Flair give her a hand to her feet, and positioned herself in front of the mirror.
Black-lined, blue-shaded eyes widened in shock, and she ran her blue-nailed mitted hands down her sides. “That's me? That can't be me.”
Flair giggled. “That's you. See? Sex goddess.”
The narrowness of her waist accentuated the dramatic curve from chest to hips and made her breasts look larger; her legs, in heels that she guessed to be more than four inches but they were slender wedges instead of spikes, looked extremely long and very shapely. The neck strap of the corset, nestled under her collar, widened where it joined the rest along the outer edge of her breasts and edging towards her underarms, and it framed her chest, drawing attention there. Deep blue leather armoured and contoured everything but her upper legs, her upper arms and shoulders, her chest and upper back, and her head. The contrast between her own pink-goop-smoothed skin and the blue leather was a stunning effect, highly out of the ordinary but gorgeous.
“Should I really be happy about looking like a sex goddess?”
Flair shrugged. “You're going to whether you're happy about it or not. They're going to do the same things to and with you whether you're happy about it or not. You might as well. And don't tell me that you aren't absolutely loving what you're seeing, I won't believe you. Remember, you don't need to worry about makeup damage or your hair coming loose, no matter what. Right now, I'm supposed to go tell Master that you're ready, he wants to add something. You're supposed to stand in the middle of the room with your feet shoulder-width apart and your hands behind you and wait for him. There was nothing about which direction, so facing the mirror's fine if you want.” Flair pressed a fleeting kiss to Jewel's lips, and strode away.
Jewel worked out the spot that probably was most central, and placed herself there in the correct position.
Yes, that was right. Master's orders were to stand and wait, so she should stand and wait no matter how long it took.
That didn't help with how turned on she was. Her skin all sensitized, her own reflection being impossibly erotic, her awareness that she was currently just a toy, and now standing here not daring to break position, waiting for her master to come and add some finishing touch to her look. What could he add that wouldn't destroy it?
Whatever it was, she hoped he'd come soon. She was aching with the need to touch herself or be touched, and was depressingly certain that her own juices were already on her inner thighs and probably heading south. But she couldn't press her thighs together or manage any other form of stimulation at all. She could only stand still knowing she was leaking.
She couldn't even ask why she was so turned on. Surely anyone, given a makeover like that, would start getting hot and bothered by the result. That didn't make her a freak.
She heard hooves on the floor, and turned her head to look.
“Eyes front, Jewel,” Master said firmly. “You weren't told to move.”
“Sorry, Master,” she said meekly, straightening.
He circled around her, looking her over, his hands caressing the tight hard curves of her waist and sliding down over her hips.
“Oh, you are just too delicious for words. I am so looking forward to this. There's just one more thing I want to add, and we need to make sure that we both understand the same meaning in it.”
The more he moved, the more she could smell that intoxicating musky scent, and the more she wanted him to touch her, approve of her, allow her to serve him... “Any meaning you tell me is the right one, Master.” Far off, a small voice in her head agreed that yes, Master defined meaning. “Does it matter if I understand it? As long as it pleases you.” Anything that pleased him was worth any price.
“Correct on the first point. However, I want you to understand.” He stopped in front of her, stroking the upper side of her breasts lightly.
“Then I want to, Master.” The inner surface of her thighs was wet, but that was nothing compared to the intensity of the heat and pressure just above that. If he'd only touch her there...
“Good girl. I love how responsive you are. You know I'm manipulating your libido, don't you? Ramping it up higher? And you're fine with that?”
Wasn't there a reason she'd been unhappy about that at some point? Something about resenting control over her thoughts and feelings? She couldn't currently bring it to mind, she was far too interested in his hands, his scent, the tickle of the tip of his penis against her thigh. Besides, it sounded... wrong. “That's your right, Master, I belong to you and you can do what you want. And it feels good.” The inner voice agreed instantly.
“Do you know that you're such a wonderfully horny kinky little tart underneath all your efforts to be boringly normal that I hardly have to push you at all?”
“If you say so, Master.” He clearly considered that a compliment, so that was good.
“You're easily meeting me halfway. So pliant, but that means we can do so much more with you. Compared to hammering a rapey asshole into a responsible citizen against resistance, this is a pleasure. Creating a work of art.”
She whimpered, a little afraid, but mostly hopeful and eager. “Make me whatever you want me to be, Master.”
“Oh, we will.” He circled around behind her, caught her wrists in his, and pinned them across her chest, pressing her hard against his body. Despite her heels, he was just a little taller, but that seemed right. “In the end, which won't be in the next day or so, it'll take months to do it right, you'll be what your mistress and I want you to be, as long as you keep responding so beautifully. And what we want you to be, treasure, is truly and completely free and whole, inside yourself where it matters most. But we are more than happy for you to belong to us on the outside and be our toy. Now, pay attention. For the next twenty-four hours, your life is pretty much all about sex. That's your purpose.”
“Sounds wonderful, Master.” She got to put her great new look into practice! She got to be a sex toy for real! What else could she be, looking like this? She pressed backwards eagerly with her hips, grinding hopefully against him, and felt his erect penis rubbing against her. “For you and Mistress?”
“Among others. You're going to have more sex than you ever dreamed you could have in twenty-four hours.”
Jewel made a happy sound low in her throat. In that case, maybe she'd have a solution to the ache that was growing between her legs. Hadn't she been feeling vaguely frustrated for some time? Wanting a lot more sex than she was actually getting, and wanting sex that was a lot more interesting than anything available? Making do with a toy, when what she wanted was living contact that wanted her to be the toy instead? Where was the fun in being modest and sensible?
“So I want you to be as sexy as possible.”
“I'll try my best, Master.”
“I know you will, treasure, and I want to help you with the most effective approach. Do you know what makes a woman sexy above all else?”
“That's a part of it, and you sure as fuck have that. Part of it is feeling sexy and horny, and you've got that too, don't you?”
“Very much, Master. Really. A lot.” She wished they could get to the part about lots of sex, but he wanted her to listen, so she did. Besides, it felt so good right here, being held.
“There's a third thing that makes a woman sexy, but it's a complicated one, so let's simplify it down to the immediate. A woman is sexy when she knows what she wants, and she knows that she shouldn't feel bad about feeling good, and she tries to get what she wants.”
“Mm. So if I want really badly for you to fuck me, Master, I should ask?”
“That's the idea, although I can't technically do that. No penises inside your vagina.”
“Awww...” How was she supposed to be a sex toy, then?
“Other things can, and penises can go inside other bits of you.”
“Oooh.” That was more promising.
“I want you to think and tell me the truth. What do you want more than for me to fuck you? What sounds like it would make you happiest?”
That was an easy one. “Being a toy, Master. Your toy and Mistress's. For you to let me obey you and serve you and be a good girl. Mm, maybe be good at being a bad girl.”
“You are definitely a good girl, and an adorably kinky submissive one, but not bad. You are only ever bad if Mistress or I say so. So I have something for you that will make it easier for us to play with you. Spread your arms to your sides... just like that.” He moved them for her to about forty-five degrees downwards, and let go of her. “Don't move, treasure.” She watched in the mirrored wall as he walked over to the dresser and took a black bag out of it, then he returned to her. The bag had a strap he looped over his arm so he had his hands free to take out something silvery.
She watched, wide-eyed, as he closed an intricate silver band an inch wide around her wrist. It was loose enough to be comfortable, but it would never fit over her hand. On her inner wrist was a smallish but sturdy-looking D-ring.
He did the same on her other wrist.
“There we go. Aren't those pretty jewellery for a gorgeous Jewel?”
“Yes, Master. Thank you.” He was going to tie her up? He didn't need to, she'd stay anywhere he put her in any position... at least, she would if she could, but possibly she couldn't always. And it sounded fun and sexy.
“And that means I can do things like this.” He fastened something to the ring on each wrist; she snuck a look at the one on her left while he attached her right wrist to a D-ring on her corset at the front of her waist. Two clasps, she didn't know the name but each was compact and nearly circular, joined by a sturdy ring. He brought her left wrist to a mirror ring. “Go ahead and try to get loose.”
She tugged at them, twisted, tried to reach the clips but they needed a much better angle than a common snap did, and gave up after a moment.
Master dropped to one knee behind her, sniffing, and she felt him run his tongue up her inner thigh. She gasped, writhing in place, fighting to not arch towards him. “Oh, yummy. You are loving your new accessories, treasure. You really badly want to come, don't you.”
“Yes,” she whimpered. “But only if you think I deserve it, Master.”
“Well, that's exactly it. We're going to play a game, just to make sure you stay motivated. Your mistress and I have six close trusted friends over for the weekend. That means eight fae for you to entertain, amuse, please, and otherwise keep happy. That is your first priority and your whole reason for being here. Which is making you all hot and excited, isn't it?”
“Yes, Master.” Wasn't there a reason she should feel embarrassed by that?
“You'll be allowed to orgasm sometimes. Your mistress and I don't want you miserable and frustrated, we want you happy. But you're going to have to earn them. For every six orgasms you give, you get to have one. Remember, you are not allowed to play favourites, you have to entertain all the fae present with equal enthusiasm and make sure no one feels neglected. So any set needs to include six different people, and obviously not always the same six. Think you can handle that?”
“Yes, Master.” That sounded like the best game ever. She could hardly wait to start.
“Have you ever had an orgasm that wasn't from direct stimulation of your clit?”
“No, Master. I'm not sure I can.”
“Mm, for the women who can, it usually takes practice and being genuinely intensely turned on, and that still isn't always enough. I would say we have the second one but not the first one. Bend forward, Jewel. I need access to your pussy.”
She edged her feet a bit farther apart and bent forward, praying that she wasn't going to lose her balance because with her hands bound, she couldn't catch herself. But Master wouldn't let her get hurt, of course. Was that far enough?
His fingers, probing between her legs, stroking her outer labia, then seeking out the feverishly-hot opening there, made her moan. It felt so good, she desperately hoped he wouldn't stop.
“I'm sure you'll be a good girl and wouldn't try to cheat, and that we'll all do our best to make sure we follow that one restriction, but I don't want any accidents on anyone's part.” He pulled something deep blue and glossy out of the bag, discarded the latter, and held it for her to see. “This is my version of a chastity belt, made just for you. It'll respond to commands from fae, so if I want to lick that delicious pussy, it'll get out of my way, but it'll make sure your clit stays protected from accidental contact until you earn an orgasm. I suppose if you do have one without that, you can consider it a bonus, and we won't penalize you for it.” He unzipped her skirt from the bottom up and fastened the blue belt around her waist under it. She whimpered as he gave her clit a quick light tickle. Then he reached between her legs from behind and brought the centre part up to meet it at the back, tight between the cheeks of her bottom.
It wasn't leather, it was something rubbery.
As it came together behind her, the whole thing sort of... writhed and contracted, tearing a yelp of astonishment from her.
Master reached between her legs, pushing and rearranging. “Outer lips spread to give the rest a perfect frame, sealed nice and tight against your skin to allow you to pee, good and thick over your clit, all closed off... just like that, and that's exactly what it will do at any point in the future you put it on. Right now, treasure, for any practical purpose, you have no vagina and no clit.” He freed her hands, though he left the clips dangling from her wrists. “Go ahead and feel between your legs.”
Nervous but obedient, she did.
It felt like her entire groin, from her mound back, was sealed in a rubbery coating shaped perfectly to her natural contours. It must be thin in some places: her outer labia, permanently spread far apart to allow access between, were almost as sensitive as ever behind their prison. Her urethra seemed to be exposed, so she'd be able to pee, but it was the only thing that was. Her clit might as well have vanished: it was under a smooth thick dome through which she could feel absolutely nothing. Farther back, her inner labia were also spread. But instead of a vaginal opening, there was more rubbery stuff, closing it off.
It was disturbingly like what an anatomically-correct Barbie doll might have. She stroked it, bewitched by the slickness of the surface, the sensations through it in the places that still had that, and imagining what it must look like.
“Just so you know,” Master said. “There are very small holes to let those lovely juices flow freely instead of trapping them inside. I want to see those on your legs and smell that heavenly perfume, and I'm not the only one. Paying attention, Jewel?”
“Of course, Master.” She drew her hands back, and he zipped her skirt up, hiding her rubberized pussy. She squeezed her thighs together. The rubbery stuff flexed, it was rather pleasant, but there was zero sensation of pressure over her clit.
No matter how desperately horny she got, she wasn't going to get any release that way unless her owners decided she'd earned it.
Well, that was fair enough. She shouldn't be expecting it unless they decided she earned it anyway.
“You can use or offer absolutely anything that you can think of that might make Mistress or I or our guests orgasm, but you'll need to get creative—we're going to get bored if you try to do the same thing over and over. We'll tell you do to things sometimes, but the rest of the time you're going to have to figure out what you've got and what you can do with it. Okay?”
“I'll do my best, Master.”
“One other thing, and you can go get started.”
“Enjoy yourself as thoroughly as you possibly can.”
“I will, Master.”
“Go to the salon.”
“Um. Master? Can I do one thing first? Please? I really want to.”
“Yes, you can.”
She spun around, dropped to her knees in front of him, and ran her fingers reverently along the length of his shaft, base to tip. A bit uncertainly, aware that her skills at oral sex were entirely unremarkable, she started at the base, just above the furry ball sack that swung less freely than a human's, and ran her tongue slowly up the underside, tasting him, revelling in the smooth texture of his skin and how much stronger that exhilarating musk was from here.
Master groaned, low in his throat, then laughed. “Oh, you are an eager little strumpet.”
She ran her tongue in a slow circle around the head, feeling the more pointed tip, the wider flare, and flicked over the very end where the slit was, which gained her a salty and intoxicating drop.
“Master? May I? Please? It's so beautiful and I want it in me somewhere so much. I'm probably not going to be very good at it...”
“Stop. You will not, at any point, put yourself down like that. Like anything else, treasure, it just takes practice. And I'm perfectly happy to offer some suggestions. But I want you to believe this: any man who sees, and hears, you being enthusiastic and enjoying what you're doing is going to be really forgiving on the details. If you've already got him mind-blown by looking drop-dead sexy and you're all over him wanting him, then he'll care even less about technique. Gorgeous horny chick being all aggressive wanting to go down on him... oh hell yeah.”
“Mmm.” She ran her tongue around the head again, in the opposite direction. “Thank you for helping me please better, Master.” Careful of her teeth, she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around him, the bells on her earrings making a silver shimmer of sound.
He cupped one hand around her cheek, not holding her or forcing her, but the touch was nice, gently guiding and supporting, as he gave her advice. It took intense concentration, she discovered, leaving no room for distractions if she wanted to do it right—coordinating lips and jaw, tongue and breath, keeping everything extremely wet, while toying gently with his balls.
Satyr precum, he told her, had something in it that would partially suppress her gag reflex; to her delight, though she did gag a bit, she was able to wait it out and then get him farther into her throat than she'd ever been able to do with a human lover. With her nose almost touching the pale fur of his groin, it made her fiercely wet, the knowledge that his divine penis was buried full-length down her eager throat, the first into new territory. It made her feel owned and claimed and useful, and that was satisfying and erotic at once. She knew exactly what he wanted and expected of her, and she could do it, and it matched up perfectly with what she wanted to do. She rocked backwards, sighing softly to herself as his shaft slid out of her throat until only the head was in her mouth, then forward again. It was easier, that time, and after only another stroke or two, her gag reflex gave up entirely. Teasingly, she tried experimenting with swallowing while it was on the way down.
“Oh, fuck, treasure,” Master said, a bit breathlessly. “Hell yes, keep doing that with your throat. You feel so good, you are just so good at this. Any time you ever want to practice more, you let me know. And looking down and seeing you on your knees, looking like you're born for nothing but sex, with those pretty blue lips wrapped around my cock and you going to town like it's your favourite ice cream, and oh hell blue is not cold...” That ended in a groan, and his hips bucked towards her. She moved forward so he was buried deep in her throat when he finished. She'd have liked to taste satyr come, but the knowledge of him releasing it so far inside that it was well on the way to her stomach to become part of her was good, too. She was sure she'd get an opportunity to taste it at some point.
After all, she was a sex toy.
A far-off voice in her mind agreed. She was a sex toy, Master had defined that as her sole purpose, and it was good to take pleasure in that identity.
Panting, he backed up a step, then another, until he was entirely free of her mouth. She regarded his penis with interest: only a moment after climax, it was at half-mast, but not going all soft and useless like a human man's. Did that mean a satyr could be ready for a second round more quickly?
She hoped so, and likewise any other male fae present, otherwise her own ability to earn orgasms was going to be disappointingly reduced to match male limitations.
She licked her lips, found they tasted something like his scent. She liked that.
“Wow,” Master said. “You are off to an amazing start. All right, off to the salon with you. Five more to earn one for yourself. Stay that enthusiastic.”
“Yes, Master.” She accepted his offered hand to help her up, rose with as much grace as her corset and boots would allow, and left to go to the salon.
Next time: well, what do you think, when Min and seven fae friends have a sexy toy?
Copyright 2018 prysmcat/Steph Shangraw If you share it: 1) I'll be thrilled and flattered and grateful, since word of mouth is the best publicity, and that means you consider it worth sharing; 2) Please include the link back to the source or, alternatively, to my writing site below; 3) Don't post the full text on other sites without my permission, don't claim you wrote it, and don't include it in any paid collection. For more of my work (novels and serials, fantasy and urban fantasy), more about me, or other ways to contact me, check out Prysmcat Books at http://prysmcat.com