Part 3: Quality Time
When he pulled out of her, Geoffrey produced a towel from behind a pillow. He wiped himself, then pressed it between Jane's legs. Cuffed as she was she couldn't wipe herself, but she squeezed her thighs together, appreciated the consideration.
He tucked himself in, adjust his shirt and pants. He sat her up, settled himself on the couch, drew her back against him. He reached for her glass. The drink was mostly water, melted ice, and it felt good going down. He sipped his drink. He didn't talk, just held her, gazed at the flickering tongues of flame. The moment went on for a deliciously long time.
Being naked and helpless, being held by a clothed Geoffrey, while she was so naked, so vulnerable nearly got her motor started again. Yes, she felt like an object, but he made her feel like a beautiful, desirable object. There were times when she felt uncomfortable with the nudity, but not when he was there, not when he touched her. Didn't even have to touch her, just the way he looked at her. It brought a flush of color to her cheeks, and a flash of warmth ... down there.
Presently he stood, took her arm. She stood, the towel fell away, he handed her the gag. She followed him out of the room. For one brief instant she thought he was going to take her to his bedroom, take her to bed with him, but he steered her out of the house, across the patio, and into the dungeon.
He set the black ball gag on the table, unbuckled the collar and cuffs, set them aside also. He opened a drawer, rummaged around, came up with another set of leather cuffs - yellow leather cuffs. Jane had never seen yellow leather. He slipped one around her left wrist. It was narrower than the other, but still wide-ish. And though it was lighter than the leather, when he adjusted the strap and fixed the buckle, it felt no less secure. He pulled open a bin and came up with a small padlock. He locked the cuff in place. He did the same with her right wrist.
He opened the cabinet. Again Jane could see the assortment of whips, paddles, and whatnot. But there was more. She noticed an assortment of gags hanging from hooks. He selected a simple, yellow ball gag. Jane couldn't help but smile.
Coordinated accessories?
The gag had a thick, elastic strap and he stretched it over Jane's head. She gathered her hair and he settled the strap around her neck. Jane let her hair fall and opened her mouth. As gags went it was fairly comfortable. The ball was soft rubber, almost sponge-like, and it both filled and conformed to her mouth without taxing her jaw. Back in the house the hopes of sharing his bed were dashed when he led her into the den and up the spiral stairs. In the fishbowl, Jane knelt on the soft mattress until the lights went off.
"Wednesday is cleaning day. I gave the girl the day off, with pay of course. Don't go crazy. Mop the floor, wipe the counters, chase the vacuum around the sun room and den. I'm not a micromanager. I don't care how you do it, just make it happen. But as I said, just give it a lick and a promise. I have things to do and it will keep you busy."
Jane swallowed, nodded. "Yes, Sir."
She popped a bit of melon into her mouth.
"It's the slave's responsibility to keep the dungeon clean."
Slave? First J, now slave?
"Always clean the toys and whatnot. It's in your own best interest considering where they might wind up. There's a closet behind the louvered door. You'll find what you need. Everything is marked."
"Yes, Sir."
"After you brush your teeth the gag goes back in. You can remove it if you get thirsty, but only long enough to take a sip of water. I'll be in my office. Don't disturb me unless the place is on fire, understand?"
Jane nodded. "Yes, Sir."
He left the kitchen. Jane washed the dishes, put them away. She went into the bathroom, peed and brushed her teeth. Jane wedged the ball back into her mouth and got to work. She was in the den when the doorbell rang. At least she thought she'd heard it. She stopped the vac. Sure enough, it chimed again. She felt a moment of panic.
Should she answer it, naked as she was? Cuffed and gagged? Should she get Geoffrey? He'd said not to disturb him. Maybe she could get one of his shirts. The sleeves and tails would be long enough to cover her, mostly. The chime sounded again. Jane ran to the door, peeked through the peep hole, and felt a wave of relief. It was Marge and Cindy. She pulled the door open.
Cindy started to say something, then noticed the gag. She smiled.
"Slaves should be seen and not heard, hey?"
Jane shrugged and gestured down the hall, followed them into the sun room. She settled them on the love seat. Marge sat, eyes lowered, hands clasped tightly in her lap.
"Geoff around?"
Jane nodded. She made a drinking gesture.
"Sure. Glenlivet, rocks, twist if you have them."
Cindy glanced at Marge who only nodded.
"Two."
Jane served the drinks, then padded down the hall. She knocked on Geoffrey's door, knocked again. The door swung open.
"I don't smell smoke."
Jane pointed toward the sun room.
"What?"
Jane frowned. He reached out and pulled the ball from her mouth.
"Cindy and Marge."
He pushed the ball back into place.
In the sun room he leaned over Cindy and they did the cheek bump/air kiss thing.
"Scotch I assume?"
"Yes."
"Too early for me. J, wine please. White."
Jane nodded, fetched the drink.
"Are you done?"
She pointed at the floor and nodded, pointed at the pool house and shook her head.
"Well go finish."
Jane mmf'd a response, turned and left the room.
She had lied, but she didn't think it would be a good idea to be running the vacuum when Geoffrey had guests. She coiled the chord and set the machine back in the hall closet, left the house.
In the dungeon, she cleaned the things on the table, put them way where she thought they belonged. She ran the mop around the floor, wiped down the equipment, helped herself to a bit of snooping.
The cabinet turned out to be an armoire. An assortment of whips hung on one side. Jane fingered them, pulled this one and that off their hooks. These weren't scene toys, they were the real deal. Even the little one foot cat looked like it could do some serious damage. She lashed her thigh - and immediately regretted it. A chill went up her spine.
Would he use these on me? Why else would he have them?
She recalled the Story of O, the way the girls were whipped. She had had a little epiphany regarding the whipping. She didn't see the men as sadistic beasts. Okay, so there probably was a sadistic element. Yet it was an erotic story written by a woman for her lover. Jane reasoned that the whipping served two functions.
First, it separated the truly submissive from the merely kinky. It was a winnowing process of sorts.
Second, it gave the girl a way to demonstrate the depth of her devotion to her master. She could say she was a slave, but whip marks don't lie.
Geoffrey had started calling her J, started referring to her as slave. Was he planning to keep her? Would he test her? Could she pass the test? Would he reject her if she didn't or would he respect her limits? Jane knew she had limits - she just hadn't faced them yet.
Jane pushed the thought from her head. She rummaged through the rest of the things. There were several straps. A couple turned out to be harnesses of some sort. She opened a drawer. It was full of sex toys in every shape and size, and every color of the rainbow, several clearly meant for anal play. She picked up one of the latter. It was the size of her fist. Jane couldn't conceive of that thing finding its way into her, and yet ...
She opened other drawers, found collars and cuffs, chains and locks -
"J!"
Jane whirled. Geoffrey was there, Cindy and Marge close behind.
He stepped over to the armoire. Jane cringed. She expected him to pull out a whip, lash her. She willed herself to not run from the place, but she did take a step back.
He gave her a look, then merely closed the doors, the drawers.
"I hope you found everything to your liking. I'll arrange some quality time for you, time to get to know the place a bit better."
Oh God.
They say fear of the unknown is the worst - they were right.
"Come."
He held out his hand, Jane took it. He led her over to the small couch at the end of the room. Cindy sat. Marge stood before her, head bowed.
"You understand the agreement?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Explain it to me."
"Yes, Mistress. By giving myself to you I give up all rights as a free woman. I will become your property to be kept and used as you please."
I took a moment for what Marge had said to sink in.
Oh my God! She's going to be collared!
"I have no say as to how you use me and disobedience is not an option. The only choice I have is whether I wear your collar or not. I'll be free to leave at any time, but only once. If I ask you to remove the collar it's over, forever."
Holy shit! I don't believe it!
"If I disobey, you will punish me and continue to punish me until I either submit or ask to be freed. Those are the only options: Wear your collar and submit or not wear your collar."
The silence drew long. Jane was starting to get fidgety.
"Very well."
Cindy removed the collar from her purse. It was the same as Jane had seen on the girl by the pool. A metal, mesh choker. Gold. It had the same concentric ovals. The inner was engraved, but it did not have a name like the other. Or did it? When it caught the light Jane thought she could make out letters in amongst the curlicues, maybe not.
Cindy drew the ends behind Marge's neck. There was no obvious lock, no obvious clasp that she could see, but there was a faint click.
Marge flicked the outer oval. It hinged open. She tugged it drawing Marge in for a kiss. Marge trembled, then sobbed. Cindy drew her into her lap.
"Thank you, Mistress. I will please you. I promise."
"I know you will."
She eased Marge off her lap and back down onto the floor. Cindy sniffed and wiped away a tear.
"Very well. You'll have three modes of behavior: a public mode, a private mode and one I call service mode. In public mode you are pretty much free to do what you want, come and go as you please, as long as you keep me apprised of your comings and goings. In private mode I'll grant you about the same amount of freedom as long as you ask permission. I don't expect you to ask for frivolous things, so I doubt I'll deny you - but I can. In service mode you stand by my side if I'm standing, kneel at my feet if I'm sitting. You don't speak unless spoken to. You do nothing without being given specific instructions. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"If I call you Marge you'll know you're in public mode and you will call me Cindy. If I call you slave, you are in private mode and you will call me Mistress. If I call you by your slave name you are in service mode, again you will call me Mistress."
"Your slave name is Ivy. It's engraved on your collar; those are ivy vines. No one is to know your slave name - ever. If someone calls you Ivy it is because I have given them the right to use you and you are to submit and obey as if it were me."
Another drawn out silence.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"You may assume that since Geoffrey knows your slave name I'm giving him the right to use you as he pleases. Jane, this doesn't apply to slaves. Anyway, there are a couple of caveats. First is that you will suffer no harm, either physical or psychological. Being whipped will cause pain, yes, but no lasting harm, being assaulted, beaten would. If you find yourself in that situation you may leave. Second, no permanent marks. You belong to me and if you are to wear marks they will be mine."
"Yes, Mistress."
She turned to Geoffrey.
"You recorded this?"
"Yep. Whenever the lights are on, the cameras are on."
Cameras?
"Do you want the raw footage or do you want me to do a bit of editing?"
"I know nothing of photography. I'll leave it to your best judgment."
"Of course."
He gestured toward the door.
"Shall we?"
Back in the house, Jane poured champagne. Cindy and Marge shared the couch, holding hands. Marge was smiling, almost giggly. Apparently her earlier mood was a case of pre-collaring jitters. Geoffrey had allowed Jane to remove the gag and she knelt at his feet, glass in hand.
"She's still a virgin, technically. She has never had intercourse."
"Really."
Cindy nodded.
"Mmm."
"Are you implying ..."
"I've given you her slave name. She is available to you to enjoy as you please."
"Couldn't you accomplish the same thing with a, er, device?"
"No. Not the same. Men and women make love differently. I think it would broaden her horizons to have that experience. And I trust you, explicitly. Of course if you don't want to ..."
"I'll have to sleep on it."
"What about Jane?'
"What about her?"
"She's never been with a woman"
She looked down at Jane.
"Have you?"
Define the word 'been'.
She had played ass pat and tickle with a few girls, even did a bit of kissing and groping once until she realized the girl was seriously hitting on her, but sex? To actually have slept with a girl?
"No. No I haven't"
"Ma'am."
"Sir? Oh, sorry. No, Ma'am."
"Perhaps we should give them a bit of quality time ... alone."
Geoffrey contemplated this for a minute.
"J, you're a guest in my house. It's your call."
Guest? A naked, cuffed 'guest' kneeling at your feet.
She took a sip of wine and nodded. Maybe they could just talk. She hadn't seen her friend in a couple of days and it felt like her world had become a very strange place. She needed some normal and she needed it now.
"May I take a shower, Sir? I didn't get one this morning and I got a bit sweaty earlier."
Truth was she wanted privacy.
"Sure. Take off the gag. The cuffs are waterproof."
"Thank you, Sir."
Jane rose and headed for the bathroom.
"Go with her, slave."
Jane turned as Marge eased off the couch.
"Yes, Mistress."
She followed Jane into the bath; Jane closed the door.
"Well at least he lets you close the door. Cindy won't let me, says slaves have no right to privacy, and you know I'm pee-shy."
Jane clutched at her friend.
"What the hell is going on?"
"Well, I've got a brand new collar and you don't look to be too far behind. Who knew you were a sub?"
"And what about you? Who knew you were submissive AND a lesbian."
"Yeah, well, you know how it goes. Hey, if we're gonna talk we should at least run the water. Besides I have to pee."
Jane turned the knob, adjusted the temperature, toggled the shower.
"I really do need to get clean."
She stepped in, slid the door shut. A minute later she heard the toilet flush and a naked Marge joined her.
They looked at each other, then Marge held out her hand. Jane took it and pulled her close. They kissed. It was a relatively chaste kiss.
"We're gonna have to do it you know."
"Yeah. Won't Cindy be jealous?"
"Uh uh. She's possessive, but not the jealous type ... as long as she's calling the shots, that is. The thought of me being the vehicle of your deflowering, as it were, tickles her."
"What about you? She all but handed your cherry to Geoffrey."
"Yeah. Well. Uh, what's he like?"
"We only did it once. Last night. But these past couple of days he's been a gentleman. A bit assertive, even domineering, but he's been very considerate all things considered."
Jane stood, her arms wrapped around her best friend.
"Okay, so where do we start?"
"We start by getting clean. I'll do you then you do me."
And she did.
They had showered together before, of course. Now that she knew about Marge, Jane felt a twinge of belated embarrassment. No, she had never been as thorough as she was just now, but having Jane naked and soapy had to be a turn-on. And about those "massages" ...
Jane was nervous when it was her turn. Soaping her friend was fine. She tried to be more slow, more deliberate as Marge had been. After moving over her back and down her legs, Jane worked a soapy hand between Marge's cheeks, moved it back and forth several times. She considered probing Marge's ass because she had paid a lot of attention to her there and Jane sensed a certain hesitation in her friend. Should she or shouldn't she? She decided no and removed her hand. She decided Marge was clean enough back there.
Marge turned and Jane covered her, neck to knees in frothy, white bubbles. She pulled Marge to her, rubbed against her, kissed her - serious kisses this time - as Marge had done to her. She slid her hand between Marge's legs, slick fingers on slick girl flesh. Marge reached down her hand, covered Jane's. She positioned Jane's fingers, guided her, making little circular motions. Things had moved well out of the realm of cleaning. Marge made little whimpering sounds into Jane's mouth.
"I'm gonna come, okay?"
Jane wasn't sure if it was okay or not. Being soapy was fine, and even having Marge's hands go where none had gone before was okay, although she felt distinctly uncomfortable at first. But this? Jane resisted the urge to pull back, to crack a nervous joke. She continued to allow Marge to guide her.
Marge broke the kiss and grabbed her. She made little gasping sounds in Jane's ear. Jane did her best to keep the rhythm, the movement Marge had started. In a moment she felt the spasms, heard the soft gasping grunts. After a bit, Marge reached down and removed Jane's hand.
"Oh God, that was nice," Marge whispered. "Really nice."
Jane didn't know the protocol. Was she supposed to let Marge get her off now? Was she even ready for that yet? Then she noticed her fingers had become wrinkled. They had been in the shower a long, long time, so she planted another kiss on Marge's lips and stepped away.
They stood side by side before the large mirror wrapped in thick white towels. Jane retrieved two of the three hair dryers she had found under the sink and they worked the warm breeze through their hair. Neither spoke.
There was a note on the door. It read simply: fishbowl.
"Fishbowl?"
"Yeah. It's kind of my private room, except it's, well, glass."
"You? Me? Both of us?"
"Probably both. They're not around and we're supposed to be spending quality time together. Come on."
They stood before the thing.
"Oh wow. It really is a fishbowl."
"Yeah."
Jane stepped over to the wall, opened the drapes. It was raining. Big dollops splattered on the patio. Further away the ocean was a mass of whitecaps.
"I love rain."
"Like I didn't know that."
"Can we have some wine?"
"Aren't you in slave mode? She called you slave. Which means you're supposed to get permission, right."
"But she's not here. By the way, where are they?"
"Beats me, but if you want wine, sure, but it's your ass."
They padded out into the kitchen. Jane opened a fresh bottle. There were marble coolers in the walk-in and she pulled one out. She decided that heavier glasses would be better on the soft mattress, so she grabbed a couple of crystal, rocks glasses and they headed back into the den.
At the top of the stairs, Jane jabbed a button. The lid hinged up, the stairs descended. No sooner than they had stepped off the bottom stair than the thing retracted.
"What the ..."
"I don't know. Some kind of automatic thing. It's never done that before. Or at least I never noticed. I just figured Geoffrey was controlling it."
They watched the stairs disappear, the lid lower and latch itself. They looked at each other and giggled.
"Oh well, we have wine and push comes to shove we can pee in the cooler thing."
"Yeah."
"So this is home?"
"Such as it is. I spend the night in here, sometimes during the day, too. Usually Geoffrey is off somewhere and I just kind of laze around. Sometimes he'll sit there and just look at me and I have to kneel while he just watches me."
They filled their glasses, settled in side by side before the glass. The silence dragged for a while.
"You want to talk about it?"
"Not much to talk about. When I was a kid I realized boys were icky and I never outgrew it. That first spring break I came out of the closet. I met Cindy and the rest, as they say, is history."
"Mm."
They lay in companionable silence, sipping, watching the surf.
No sense putting this off.
Jane tossed back the rest of her wine. She reached over and stroked Marge's back. Marge purred.
Soon they were face to face, kissing each other's cheeks, their shoulders, their breasts.
"You know we don't have to do this."
"Yeah. Yeah we do. It's just that I, uh, don't know what to do."
"Mmm. You're doing pretty well so far."
Jane blushed.
"Here, just follow my lead. Okay? You do me like I do you and it'll be fine."
Jane did and it was.
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24.07.12
story continues in Jane's Story 4: At The Club
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