Macho Sluts (30 page)

“Made a few decisions just now,” Alex said, coming back to her, the heels of her engineer boots treading heavily on the wooden planks of the floor. Roxanne peeked between the legs of the horse. An upside-down vision of Alex, from the knees down, included a cat-o'-nine-tails dangling from her hand. She gulped. “Thought you might like to be kept informed. As of now, your safe word is rescinded, bitch. You can say anything comes into your empty, useless head. I'm not lettin' you go. Not now. Not ever. I couldn't have no self-respect at all if I didn't fight to keep whatever belonged to me, and as of now, you better not cherish any illusions about being treated any other way.”

The lashes of Alex's cat were tightly braided and very narrow. They could land together on a freckle, but now she was splaying them out, encouraging Roxanne's bottom to turn tomato-red as quickly as possible. The cheeks were stretched from her position on the horse, and it felt like they were swelling as Alex whipped her, becoming indecently large and heavy. When Alex laid the first fast, cutting stripe across them, Roxanne expected to hear them pop like a balloon. But she had no such luck.

“Daddy, I know I've been bad,” she cried. “I'm sorry, don't hit me any more. Daddy, it's gonna be so sore when you fuck me, there won't be any place left for you to hang on to.” But Alex did not stop. “Oh, I hate you, I hate you!”

She was in for it now. Alex was going to continue the whipping until she broke down and cried and confessed that she loved her Daddy best of all. There was no way to feign this catharsis. And at the moment there was nothing in her heart but murder. She screamed and kicked like one of the Furies, and wasn't even grateful that the horse was bolted to the floor.

The hot coffee had put color back into Chris's cheeks, and she had recovered her perspective enough to laugh at Roxanne's dilemma. “God, what a seductive little witch she is,” she said, admiring the stripes that were rapidly adorning Roxanne's pert, plump bottom.

“Yeah, it's a nice piece,” EZ said, strolling up and leaning back, putting one foot up on the wall. “Too bad it isn't yours, Chris. But you had your shot at it, and the big dog made you give it up. Anyway, I think we all can see you just don't have what it would take to keep that cunt happy.” Everyone was so shocked that EZ actually had the time to sneer at Chris before Kay hooked one foot around her buddy's ankle, and her keister hit the floor.

“This time,” Kay hissed, “you have gone too far.”

“Jah may be dead,” Joy murmured, “but this tired world still need a little justice, gotta make it where we can.”

“Your not-for-profit corporation just lost its tax-exempt status,” Tyre announced.

“Baby, you are about to lose your tailpipe and muffler,” was Michael's estimate.

“Keel-hauling is too good for her,” Anne-Marie huffed.

Chris didn't know what to say, but it really didn't seem like there was much to be added.

“Aw, fuck all of you!” EZ shouted. “I never wanted to come to this goddamn party anyway. You all think you're such hot shit. And that bitch over there, how does she rate? She's nothing but a whore, and you're all just pussy to me. Tryin' to act tough and important, you're just a bunch of
girls
.”

She did not seem to notice that the bunch of girls were surrounding her, and that each of them had something sharp in her hand. Tyre had her Damascus-steel sleeve dagger, Kay had clicked open a switchblade, Michael had produced a K-Bar from her uniform trouser-leg, Joyous Day had a sliver of obsidian between the fingers of her right hand, and Chris, of course, was twirling her throwing knives, one in each hand. But it was Anne-Marie, whose sense of protocol was deeply offended by EZ's unspeakably bad manners, who put a stop to her tirade by removing her nurse's cap, walking right up, and resting the point of a four-inch-long, pearl-headed hatpin under EZ's left eye.

“Can'tcha all take a joke?” EZ said. “Ha-ha. Ha? Kay?” Sweat popped out on her forehead, and there was a real cold feeling between her shouderblades.

“Oh, I'm here,” Kay said, “right here,” and used the point of her switchblade under EZ's chin to bring her up on her toes. Anne-Marie stepped away, replacing her hat and tidying her hair. “Tried to tell you to watch your mouth. Now I don't think I care to listen any more to anything you got to say. Take off that jacket, badboy. You ain't entitled to wear leather in front of this crew.”

The insult made the cords on EZ's neck stand out, but she let the jacket slide to the floor.

“Chaps too, bigmouth, dumbshit, troublemakin', good-for-nothin'. What's the matter? Can't bend over? Well, figure it out, 'cause nobody's gonna help you now.”

Somehow, EZ got her chaps unsnapped and the zippers undone. They joined the jacket in a pile on the floor. “Wanna save that for a rummage sale, Tyre?” Kay said. “I'd consider it a pleasure to make the first donation. Start a home for wayward girls. I know one that's about to be homeless.”

Before EZ could protest the loss of her precious leather, Kay punched a hole in her T-shirt and cut it up the front and down. She put the knife in her teeth, whirled EZ around, pulled the T-shirt slightly off her shoulders, and yanked the cords together in a neat square knot. EZ's elbows nearly touched. Tyre had quietly folded and piled the discarded leathers on one of the bar stools. She came over now, taking her handcuffs off her belt, and handed them to Kay, who snapped them onto EZ's wrists.

“Shall I leave these on?” Kay wondered, unbuttoning the waistband of EZ's 501s.

“Kay, please—”

“Shut up, I'm just talkin' out loud to hear myself think. Yeah, I think I better leave them on. After all, you always do. I sometimes wonder if you shower with your pants on, EZ. You got something in here you don't want me to see?”

She shoved her hand down the front of the faded jeans and rummaged around. EZ bent double, trying to stop her, and Kay removed her hand and kneed her in the crotch. “No, there's nothing there, just pussy,” she said, her voice made harsh with old grief. “That's why you look at Michael as if looks could kill, 'cause she went out and bought herself a dick?” She smacked EZ between the legs, and let her go to her knees from the pain. “Michael, come here. Let's get a good look at that joint of yours. Come on, EZ, you been starin' at her basket all night long, now it's right in your face and you
damn well better look
good and hard.
”

Michael was not being nice. She ran her tongue around her mouth, pushed down on her cock with two fingers, then wrapped her hand around it and jacked it off.

“See, you don't want to suck it because you figure that makes you pussy, but welcome to the twentieth century, EZ, where it takes a real man to suck cock. Blow it.”

Five weapons in female hands circled her head, and the sixth went down her throat. “I am glad to see you're not pretendin' you don't know how this is done,” Kay said calmly. “D'you think none of our tricks ever told me what went on every time I stepped out to take a leak or get a beer? You got quite a reputation, girl, for sneakin' around doin' something most people think is American as apple pie. Don't think you're gonna hide your light under a bushel no more, cocksucker. We just found something socially useful for that nasty mouth of yours to do.”

With her hands behind her back, EZ had very little control over the depth of Michael's penetration. She tried holding her neck stiff, but the prick of steel against her scalp took the starch right out of her. She gave up and let Michael make full use of her. When they hauled her to her feet, her face was covered with tears and less attractive substances, and Kay took the red bandana off her jacket to mop her off. EZ permitted this, but when Kay reached into her jeans again, she bolted. Michael and Joy caught her by the belt-loops and dragged her back, and Kay slapped her backhanded, a serious penalty when she was wearing all of her rings. EZ had to let that hand worm its way into her crotch and bring up a handful of female lubrication, which Kay smeared across her face.

“I just gotta make sure you get brought down a notch or two and stay there,” Kay said, “about at the height of my spurs. See, I think you not only believe that the faggots you suck off will forget all about it, I think you also believe that I forgot how we ever got together in the first place. Tyre, go ask Alex if there's any room on the horse.”

“No!” EZ shouted. “Not ever there. Not by her. I won't! You can't make me!”

“Nonsense, dear,” Anne-Marie said, and they dragged her bodily to where Alex stood, beckoning them to join her, and threw her onto the horse by Roxanne.

“This is not consensual!” EZ fumed.

For Anne-Marie, this was the last straw. The ritualistic etiquette of S/M; the titles, forms of salutation, provocation, and response— each varying with one's level of experience, role, and specialty—were her first love. “That is highly irrelevant, you pipsqueak, you popinjay, you buffoon,” she cried. “Did you ask any of us for our permission before proceeding to insult and harry us? Those unfortunate few who behave as badly as you have given their consent to be taken in hand and punished severely. You are worse than the most loutish male submissive I ever had to put up with before I met Tyre and came to work at the Calyx. For shame, for shame.”

Instead of using wrist and ankle cuffs, Joy threw a couple of half hitches around EZ's waist and the horse, which made it impossible for her to rear up off of it. By now, Anne-Marie had fetched one of her canes and was rolling up her sleeves. Alex heard Roxanne say, “Oh, shit, she's in real trouble now.” Kay yanked EZ's Levis down and slammed her fists once into the exposed buttocks before stepping away, shaking her head in disgust, and gesturing that Anne-Marie could do what she would.

The cane was a yellow blur. Alex had stopped plying her cat and stood watching in open-mouthed astonishment. Roxanne was screaming in sympathy. There was a reason why she treated Anne-Marie with impeccable courtesy. The British are practically the inventors of imperialism, and it doesn't do to forget that beneath the grand style of Victoria's Empire there was brute force and a great appetite for wielding it.

EZ screamed for a long time before she made any coherent sound, which was Kay's name. “Fuck ya,” Kay said stubbornly. “Hope she cuts you in half, you dumbshit, badboy bitch, you.”

Apparently, EZ felt this was not an impossibility, because her screams trebled in volume and range. But her ordeal continued until the cane broke. Anne-Marie felt it split and lowered her arm at once. The edges would be sharp as razors.

“Let that be a lesson to you,” she advised the distraught victim, and stalked to the bar to throw the ruined and bloody implement away.

“Fuck her,” Kay told Michael, uncapping one of the cans of Crisco she had stashed by the horse when the evening was still young. “Why don't you just shove that big fat cock of yours up her ass, the same place I got my fist up the night I made the mistake of drag gin' this snot-nosed case of arrested development home to cure a hangover. See, I think she figured that if she told me she liked getting fucked she might have to get her own little paws dirty and do something lez-bian with me. Nothin' more pussy than a dyke, ain't that so, EZ? But nobody could tell you wasn't a boy right now, with Michael plowin' a straight furrow up your dirt road. And as soon as she's done, anybody who feels like it can have a piece of you because I don't want you gettin' any ideas that this is a real cock, as if it made a goddamn bit of difference to whether the fuck was any good or not, or who has to do the fucking, or that you are too good to spread your legs like the rest of us—or get it up for a buddy who would like to be on her back for a change.”

Not everybody could even wait to take their turn. With Alex's encouragement, the horse turned into a double gang-fuck. Only Chris hung back, until Alex slapped a handful of grease into her palm, grabbed her hand, and went into Roxanne's cunt still holding on.

By the time they were finished, the two girls were such a mess that Tyre got a spatula from under the bar and scraped the Crisco off them, knocking it off the spatula into an empty can that Kay held out for her. Anne-Marie rolled up a towel and used it the same way, then Alex scrubbed them both down with one she had unfolded. Joy found the invisible bathroom door, got the shower running, and helped the rest of the pack strip their victims down and herd them under the water. Kay kept a sharp eye on EZ, afraid of a resurgence of bad temper, but she and Roxanne just started soaping each other and washing each other's backs. One thing led to another, and eventually Joy said, “I feel like I ought to do the decent thing and turn my back. Or say what the hell and take me some pictures.” Roxanne and EZ didn't want to stop even when the hot water ran out.

Kay had somehow scrounged up a beach towel from the trick linen to wrap EZ in. Alex and Chris were performing a similar service with smaller towels for Roxanne, who wore an idiotic smile and somehow still had Crisco in her ears. Tyre went to fetch robes for both of them. When she brought them back to the bathroom, Kay caught at her sleeve and said under her breath, “Look, I really planned to stick around for the finale, but I have to finish this now that it's started. We'll just slip out while everybody takes a break. I got to get this boychick off to myself and talk some sense into her while she's listening to me. Hey, we could have peace in our time.”

“Don't be silly,” Tyre said. “Do you know what time it is?” She thought, by now the place upstairs is probably almost empty. I could check with Simba and have her give them the key to one of the smaller dungeons. But then I'll have to check on them before I leave, and see if they need a lift home. Or I guess the cleaning crews can let them out tomorrow. What a drag.

“Kay,” EZ said. They could barely hear her. “Please, don't make us go. I won't be dis—disruptive no more. Lemme see Roxanne get her rings. I'd never forgive myself if I fucked this up for you. We can talk tomorrow. Or you can talk and I can listen, anyways. Please?”