Part 5: Weird and Wonderful
The weird ...
Jane wiped the stove. It didn't need wiping, but Cindy told her to wipe it. That was after she told Jane to strip and put on pantyhose, clipped heavy chrome-steel clamps to her nipples (those were going to be a bitch coming off), pushed a ridiculously large ball gag into her mouth, and locked a pair of leather cuffs on her wrists. Naked she could understand, but pantyhose?
Maybe she had a stocking fetish. Unusual for a lesbian. Unusual for any normal female. Who invented those things, anyway?
Jane turned to look at Cindy. She was reading the paper at the small dinette in the corner of the kitchen. There was a half empty mug of coffee at her elbow and a cigarette burning in the ashtray. She hadn't seen Cindy puff it. She came into the room with it in her fingers, set it in the ashtray. Now it was about burned down.
Without looking up Cindy said, "Counters."
"Yes, Mistress."
She'd called her "Ma'am" earlier, as Geoffrey had instructed her to do. Cindy said that if she had been owned then Ma'am would be proper, but because Jane wasn't collared yet (she actually said "yet"), then Jane could call her "Mistress".
Jane turned her attention to the counters.
She felt a tinge of jealousy and realized she'd been thinking about Marge - specifically Marge being fucked by Geoffrey.
It was Cindy's idea. Technically, Marge was a virgin, had never had intercourse, had never known a man in the Biblical sense. Now that Marge wore Cindy's collar, she, Cindy, felt Marge should expand her horizons as it were. Jane kind of felt the same way, not for Marge, but for herself. While straight, she had a bit of a bi streak - especially when in the hands of a tough Domme. Not that she had been there. At least not yet. Hadn't had any experience with a real Dom until Geoffrey. Before now, her only experience was with kinky boyfriends and some scene play ... key word: play. Yet being strapped to an X-frame, clamps adorning her body, being flogged by a leather-clad Amazon haunted her dreams. Being forced to eat pussy ... Well, chalk that off the old bucket list. She spent the afternoon yesterday with Marge and ate a whole LOT of pussy.
Jane heard the flick of a lighter. She turned to watch Cindy light another cigarette, take one puff, just one, and set it in the ashtray.
What's up with that?
She turned her attention back to the counters. Her thoughts went back to Marge, back to Geoffrey. She couldn't imagine what they were doing. Well, she knew what they would be doing, sometime, maybe, eventually. Was he wooing her? Was he being soft and gentle. Was he seducing her? Or was he ravaging her?
The thought of being ravaged by Geoffrey sent a thrill through her spine and a tingle, well, down there.
She had woke that morning sore, but she expected that. She and Marge had been part of a Shibari demonstration at a club, something they called Purgatory Night. It was your usual mix of mostly vanilla gawkers, a lot of people in costume (not really 'scene' people), a few authentic types and, yes, a few weirdoes.
She had watched a girl have her boobs turned into pin cushions. She had danced with Geoffrey. He was a GOOD dancer. She had trouble keeping up with him, and that's saying a lot.
Eventually she and Marge found themselves on a stage being bound by a Mr. Kim and Maya. It was very complicated, very tight, moderately painful, and it lasted a long, long time.
Back home, she'd knelt between Geoffrey's legs. The room was dark. The fire glowed. It cast a pleasant warmth on her back. A good thing because after the storm yesterday the temperature tanked. Jane didn't know whether it was unusually warm yesterday or unusually cold today, but she liked it. Such a break from the incessant Florida heat. Of course, Geoffrey insisted on driving with the top down this morning and Jane's nipples got so hard she thought they'd fall off! But, then again, by Oregon standards, it was probably down-right balmy.
He had driven her to Cindy's place. She didn't see Marge, but she soon realized she was alone with the Domme. And Marge was where now? Jane felt another little stab of jealousy. But maybe he wasn't fucking her. Maybe he just made it seem like he planned to do it. Maybe he hired a bunch of Chippendales, threw her a proper party. Woohoo!
Maybe Jane was in denial.
Maybe Jane had fallen under Geoffrey's spell.
"Come here!"
Startled, Jane stepped over to the table. Cindy pointed at the floor and Jane knelt. Cindy grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her under the table, between her legs. She pushed Jane's mouth against her crotch. Cindy was wearing panties. Jane was a bit taken aback.
What the hell?
Cindy's insistent hand on Jane's head settled the issue and Jane munched her snatch through the soft, cotton cloth. Cindy reached down and grabbed the metal chain connecting Jane's nipple clamps. It didn't take much convincing to keep Jane's mouth firmly planted on Cindy's panty-clad pussy.
It took a few minutes, but Jane realized she was wet. It took another minute for her to realize why. While the stuff of fantasy, Cindy's callous treatment was turning her on. She felt a thrill of both anticipation and trepidation. She had read somewhere that no one knows how to torture a woman like another woman. Jane shivered.
And while in Geoffrey's eyes Jane felt like she was a prized possession, a special pet, Cindy was treating her like a worthless dog.
Oh God.
Cindy backed away from the table. She yanked Jane's nipples - hard. Jane banged her head under the table and crawled out.
Ow, ow, ow!
"Get me more coffee."
Jane grabbed the mug and began to refill it.
"No, damnit. Dump that."
Jane tossed the leavings in the sink, added a packet of the blue stuff, a heavy dose of cream, and filled the mug.
Cindy didn't say, "Thank you." Geoffrey always said, "Thank you."
What she said was: "You really a little slut, aren't you?"
"Mistress?"
"A slut. You don't know Geoff from a hole in the wall, but he's in your hole pretty damn quick. You jump into bed with Marge without the slightest hesitation. I could bring the whole, fucking football team in here and you'd fuck them, wouldn't you? You're a slut," she sneered.
Jane's cheeks burnt.
"Truth hurts, doesn't it? Come on."
Jane started to follow her.
"Crawl."
Jane dropped to her hands and knees and crawled.
She was aware of the cold, hard, tile floor, aware of her breasts swinging in rhythm as she crawled, her nipples dragged down by the weight of the clamps, her ass in the air, her sex hot and wet. Jane flashed on an image of those female monkeys in the zoo, asses high in the air, obscenely large pussy lips colored a burning, glowing red.
Oh God.
Cindy was right.
Cindy led her upstairs, up to what must have been Marge's bedroom. She opened a drawer, fished through it, grabbed a bundle of cloth.
"Here. Put this on."
Jane took the garment. It was a simple, short sleeve dress, black and white stripes, made of some stretchy material. She worked her arms into it, pulled it over her head.
"Oh. Wait."
Cindy reached out and ripped the clamps from Jane's nipples. Jane shrieked, back-pedaled until she fetched up against the wall - hard.
She stood, gasping for several breaths.
Slowly she pushed away from the wall, slid her arms through the arm holes, and tugged the dress down over her head.
"Here."
Cindy held out her hand. Jane extended hers.
She removed the cuffs from Jane's wrists, pulled the ball from her mouth.
"Go splash some water on your face. Don't dawdle. Oh, and lose the panty hose. Whoever invented those things should be shot."
Jane had an 'Alice in Wonderland' moment. Was anything real anymore?
But she simply nodded and said, "Yes, Mistress."
In the bathroom she looked at herself in the mirror. It had been a rough night and it was not a pretty sight. She washed her face, combed her hair, put on a bit of mascara and lip gloss, decided to add a bit of cream under her eyes to smooth out the dark circles. It worked - sort of. She tugged down the dress. It didn't tug. Marge was a head shorter than Jane, which meant the dress was a head shorter, which meant she'd spend the day pulling at the hem.
At the grocery store, they wandered the produce aisle. Cindy chose a plum, handed it to Jane. Jane started to reach for a plastic bag.
"No. Hang on to it."
They made their way through the store. Cindy was seriously picky - fresh this and organic that and free-range the other thing.
It took over two hours to half fill one small shopping cart. They headed for the checkout.
"Go to the little girls' room and put the plum in your cunt."
Jane blinked at her.
"What? You never shoplifted before. Move! This line isn't all that long and every second I have to wait for you will be ten lashes."
Jane found the restrooms at the front of the store, right next to the security desk.
She tried to look inconspicuous as she headed down the hall, pushed open the door. It smelled as these things always do and Jane was glad she didn't have to pee. She envied the Japanese with their little holes in the floor, easy to squat over, but commodes? Try squatting over one of those. Shit! You sure don't want to sit on it ... guys have no idea.
Jane had to resort to soap. Spitting on her fingers did no good. The plum wasn't huge - about the size of a golf ball - but it wouldn't go in. Maybe it was just nerves. She was happily relieved that the soap didn't burn and she was able to shove the thing into her. She slid her finger in, deeply, and pushed the fruit all the way in. It wasn't coming out, no how. Then the thought struck her - just how the hell WAS she going to remove it?
She came out just as Cindy wheeled away the cart. Cindy glanced at her watch.
"Four seconds, forty lashes."
Jane's heart sank.
And it was forty. Jane had to count them.
When they arrived home Cindy took her into a room. It wasn't a dungeon like Geoffrey's, but it had the basics. Jane stripped and Cindy fastened her to a large, padded saw horse kind of thing. It had shelves on the sides and Jane draped herself over the horse, straddled it, knelt on the padded shelves. Cindy strapped her down.
"Count 'em"
Jane had barely enough time to register the command when the cat lashed her back. She stifled a scream.
"One."
"One, Mistress."
"One, Mistress."
Another lash.
"Two, Mistress."
Cindy lashed her ten times. It wasn't bad once the initial shock wore off. It hurt, but it was a dull kind of hurt. Still it brought tears to her eyes. At ten, Cindy presented her pussy.
"You have a Get Out Of Jail Free card, slut. One orgasm for ten lashes. Four orgasms, forty lashes. You walk. Get busy."
Jane got busy. Cindy pressed her pussy to Jane's mouth. There were no panties this time and Cindy's juices soon made Jane's mouth a sticky mess.
Cindy came. Not quickly, and Jane had the feeling Cindy was drawing the whole thing out, but it was better than being whipped. She ate Cindy until her jaws ached, but finally, eventually, mercifully she was rewarded with a fourth orgasm.
"Very nice, slut. I may ask Geoff to borrow you from time to time. Now you come for me."
Cindy pushed something cold and hard into Jane's ass. Jane wasn't much into anal, but she didn't have much say in the matter.
"Same deal, slut. Four orgasms or forty lashes."
She pressed the vibrator against Jane's clit, turned it on. If Jane hadn't been strapped down you would have had to peel her from the ceiling. She came almost instantly - or would have if the thing in her ass hadn't sent a shock through her that eliminated all thoughts of orgasm, all thoughts of anything.
"Pleasure and pain, slut. That's how it works. Now come for me, bitch." Cindy snickered. "Either that or the cat."
Jane came. The first orgasm seemed to take forever, but then she learned the secret, learned to hide the fact that she was coming until it was too late, too late for the shocking pain in her ass to have any effect.
When Geoffrey came for her, Jane was wearing the peach dress and nothing else. He didn't say a word as he drove her home. He had the top up and Jane was glad of that because it had gotten seriously cold. He still didn't have the heat on though and Jane hugged her breasts.
The wonderful ...
"She was harsh with you?"
Jane blew an imaginary hair from her forehead.
"You don't know the half of it, Sir."
"She taught me everything I know."
That bit of information did not fill Jane with soothing thoughts.
"Did it turn you on?"
Jane flushed, felt the heat on her face, nodded.
"Yes, Sir."
"I'm not surprised. Cindy has a certain, er, intuition about these things."
Jane was having trouble processing that.
"Take you and Marge. Would you have ever had sex with her if Cindy hadn't insisted on it."
Jane shook her head.
"Yet you wanted it - both of you. You just didn't know it. Well, maybe Marge did. According to Cindy, she's had a crush on you from day 1. But after you'd slept with Marge you were in a better frame of mind to deal with a true, female dominant."
"But, Sir, I don't want her, I want to please YOU, not her."
"You don't want to please her, no. Or on some level, maybe you do."
Jane frowned.
"Remember in the Story of O when she meets Sir Stephen? Remember when he explains the difference between submitting out of love and submitting because that's what slaves do?"
Jane nodded.
"You submit to me out of love. Well, maybe not love, but affection." He cupped her cheek, planted a brief kiss on her lips. "You submitted to Cindy because it's - what - slaves - do."
Jane's world tipped a bit more degrees off axis. First Geoffrey was dominating her, not treating her harshly, but clearly in control. Case in point, she had never seen him smile until last night at the club where he actually danced, danced! with her. Then, today, there was Cindy who treated her like a piece of shit, abused and humiliated her. And now Geoffrey was all warm and cuddly. Well, not cuddly, really. Jane was once again cuffed, collared, naked, and kneeling at his feet.
"Your flight leaves at, what, eleven?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Come on. Go shower and I'll take you to dinner. What do you like?"
Jane shrugged.
"Anything, Sir."
"J, when I ask you a question I expect an honest answer."
Jane thought.
"Italian. Seafood Italian-ish, maybe?"
"Okay. Go."
He gave her a slap on the ass. It felt nice, kind of proprietary. Jane flashed on the image of him hauling her back across his lap and spanking her. It was Cindy's fault. She had planted that whole pleasure/pain thing in Jane's mind. And while Cindy was a Domme, she was still a woman, and Jane wanted Geoffrey's hand on her ass. She wanted to squirm in his lap, feel his strength, feel his cock, hard against her belly, wanted him to ...
Jane shook her head and padded down the hall.
Dinner was Italian and seafood. Jane had mussels over angel hair. She'd never liked the things, not until her uncle took her to the beach one day and they collected buckets of them. She knew they were expensive in restaurants and here they were free for the taking. He steamed them in beer and they were good - very, very good. Not as good as good little neck clams, but, hey, they were free. Well, not tonight. Tonight they were damn expensive.
They walked the tourist district wandering in and out of the stores. At one point Geoffrey steered her into a shop. He bought her a simple, silver chain. It looked kind of like a doggie choke collar with two little rings at the ends. In another shop he bought a lock, a small, heart-shaped lock.
He held up the necklace. Jane pulled her hair back. He wrapped the chain around her neck, snicked the lock in place.
The next morning at the airport, going through security, the machine beeped. The TSA guy ran the wand over her until he came to the necklace.
"I'm sorry, Miss, but you'll have to remove that."
Jane shook her head.
"No. No, I'm sorry, but I can't."
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02.09.12
story continues in Jane's Story 6: Epilogue
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