Macho Sluts (31 page)

“Well … ”

“Put a collar on her and see if she means it,” Tyre advised. “If she can bounce back this fast after the lesson you taught her, I don't think there's any hope. All of us would really regret it if you didn't stay.”

Out at the bar, Joy was checking the spines of tape-boxes. “You and I think it be time for Brian Eno now,” she said. “Well, well. They got Jarre doin' Oxygène. A golden oldie. Outer space is here to stay, children.”

The leftover sushi disappeared in minutes. So did two pots of coffee and a fifth of cognac. Kay was up on the stool at the far end of the bar, drumming her spurs against its legs. She plied a little pair of scissors, manicuring the biggest bud sensemilla Tyre had ever seen.

“This one got horny enough to drown itself,” she grinned. “Figure this is just what we need to float through the final frontier.” EZ sat peacefully at her feet, naked except for a collar and a terry-cloth bathrobe. Kay lit up her pipe, then EZ carried it to everybody who wanted a hit and held a lit match over the dope for them while they toked up. “It takes about two hits of this shit to get real high,” Kay said, sucking smoke through her teeth. “That's high as in Tibet.”

Once she had gotten everybody on top of the Himalayas, Kay put her paraphernalia away and wrapped her legs around EZ, giving her a big thigh-hug, and played thoughtfully with her parti-colored hair.

“Tyre, are those needles sterile?” Alex fretted.

Tyre glanced at the timer light on the autoclave. “Jesus, yes, ‘Daddy,' they've been cooking for hours.”

“Well, take 'em out and let 'em cool, will you? I'm afraid to touch that damn machine. You put the rings in there, too?”

“Whatever you had on the tray got sterilized, stud. I wasn't the one who laid it out, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, Tyre.”

Roxanne pressed her face into Alex's knee. Her eyes were shining. “Psst!” she said. Alex gave her a look. “I know you have to be brave for the both of us,” she said humbly. “I tell you I can take anything before it actually happens. I'm afraid of pain, so I struggle and call you bad names, and I lie. But I gave tonight everything I had, and I really do want to be your best girl. You're always asking me to trust you, Alex. When I wear your rings, will you finally trust me?”

Alex caressed her head, and took her gently by the hair. “You're wonderful. And it's been beautiful to watch you. I thought my heart would be ripped in two when I heard you scream, and knew it was somebody else who was making you suffer. But I've watched these women discover abilities that I didn't know you had.”

Roxanne shivered. “I wonder if I could really love any woman who held my leash and threatened to whip me.”

“Well, at least we know you honestly do love to be abused,” Alex said. “You're lucky you have somebody who will dish it out with a careful hand. Why do you think I want you pierced? I can't run the risk of you forgetting me or trying to replace me. I want you wearing something that will prevent that. I meant it when I said I'm never going to let you go, Roxanne. But ownership enforced with a collar and a crop can be broken or mislaid. Even the marks you have now will heal and disappear. But these piercings are permanent.”

“Oh … ” It was a whimper of sexual excitement. Roxanne's hand strayed between her legs, and Alex laughed at her. She began to move spasmodically, crying again, begging subvocally for help and reassurance.

“Rings,” Alex teased. “I am going to put my rings in your flesh. To see every time you dress and undress, to feel every time I put my hand on you. My rings.”

Roxanne shuddered as if in the throes of orgasm, then ceased caressing herself. Alex held up a long, thick needle. “The points I'll actually use are in the sterilizer,” she said. “But this is what they look like.” She gave it to her to play with.

Roxanne examined it carefully, trying to find some acceptance or desire for it in her heart. She wanted the rings, lusted after them, but the needle appalled her. “Where will you pierce me?” she asked, trying to be calm.

“Wherever I like.”

Roxanne gave the needle back and folded up at Alex's feet again, trying to hide within her own arms. She had a perverse desire to fall asleep. Alex stood up and stepped behind the bar. She and Tyre scrubbed together in the sink there, lathering themselves up past the elbow with antiseptic soap. “Think we're sterile?” Alex asked Tyre.

“We're all girls. I don't think anybody's going to get pregnant,” she replied.

Alex gave her a pained look.

“Sorry, I couldn't resist. It was starting to sound like the
Wedding
March
in here.”

Chris and Joyous Day scooped Roxanne up in their arms and bore her to the operating table. Tyre and Alex followed them. They arranged her comfortably and switched on a strong overhead light. Anne-Marie adjusted the head of the table until she was sitting up. Roxanne followed everyone with her eyes, recording everything. When Alex ran her hands over her body, she arched beneath the caress, trying to prolong contact between her skin and Alex's hands.

“Very nice,” Alex told her. “I'm glad you're ready for this. I hope you want it as much as I do.”

“I'm real scared,” Roxanne said. “Can I see the rings?” Alex lifted the tray and held it up for her examination. “What do they mean to you?” her slave whispered.

Alex replaced the tray on its stand. She noticed how precise and careful her own hands were. “They are the symbols of our relationship,” Alex said. “Symbols of my responsibility and payment for my attention. They are, in and of themselves, a constant reminder that I care for and possess you. They are reassurance and ornamentation. And they will always belong to me, despite the fact that it is your body they pierce and decorate.”

Roxanne's eyes were full of alarm and love. “Anybody who sees these rings will know all about me,” she said. “When I go see a doctor—and at the gym. The other dancers at the theater. Daddy, I won't even be able to pick up a trick unless I want her to see me … that way.”

Alex nodded. “It's not a small gift I'm asking you to give me.”

“What if you leave me?” she wailed.

Alex shrugged. “I think you're the kind of woman who ought to wear slave rings. If you ever leave me, though, I will expect to get them back. If I choose to set you free, I'll give you the choice of keeping them or having me take them out.”

Roxanne turned her head away. She was contemplating her own inner darkness, taking counsel from the shades that moved there. It took her some moments to speak. “Every time you give me an order, I'm afraid—afraid I won't be able to do it, or afraid someday I won't have anything left to give. You're so hard on me, Daddy. Greedy. And mean. It was nice to make everybody come after me. Did it make you jealous?”

“Yes. It also made me real hot.”

Roxanne laughed softly. “I don't have any rings in you,” she said. “So I have to have something else I can pull on. I don't want to go home with anybody here but you, Alex, but I like to keep you guessing. Just so you don't forget how hard you had to chase me before you finally caught me.”

“You are such a flirt, I keep looking for ways to make sure I've finally got you. I don't think I'll ever be sure. But I guess it doesn't matter that much any more. Because I think if I ever knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was going to have you forever and ever, maybe I wouldn't want you any more.”

“Oh, don't worry, Daddy, you'll never be able to trust me too much. But I love you enough to let you make me pay for it.”

Alex laughed.

“Be serious for a minute, Daddy. Will you do just one little thing for me? Please don't tie me up. I promise I won't spoil the work. I just don't want any doubt to exist that I wanted you to do this.”

Alex shook her head. “Pride,” she said. “Such pride.”

“Aren't you proud of me? Look at all these little old ladies stumbling around, yawning their asses off. Told you I'd wear them all out. How many flashy pieces of trash do you know with that much stamina? Only woman I never could wear out is you.”

“Oh?” Alex said, disbelieving. “That's just 'cause I'm in fear of my life.” She laughed at Roxanne's pout. “Have to bring you down here and lock you up in a big steel cage if you couldn't get what you wanted. Hey, quit makin' that face. I won't tie you up. I'll never do anything to you that you don't really want. You know that.” They stared at each other for a few long seconds. Than Alex said abruptly, “You don't have to be brave yet. Tyre is going to shave you first.” She stood aside.

For once, Roxanne did not ask questions or protest. She shifted her attention to Tyre and let her body follow her with small pleading gestures. She had learned how to be passed on without resistance or fear. In each new mistress's eye, she was reborn and re-enslaved.

Tyre was a vision, six feet of red and black leather, with her white hair cascading to her knees. Her high heels rang on the floor—such a different sound compared with Alex's heavy tread. Roxanne found herself worshipping Tyre's well-groomed nails, long hair, and feminine movements. She felt herself diminished, lacking in she-ness, clumsy and without grace.

Tyre was carrying a marble soap mug and a straight razor. The razor's handle was mother-of-pearl. Roxanne closed her eyes and let Tyre put her feet in the stirrups and lather her crotch. The soap was warm, and the edge of the razor peeled off her fur without nicking the tender skin beneath.

She expected to be given a mirror and told to look at herself, but instead Tyre began to lather her calves. It startled her, but she closed her eyes again and began to imagine having rings in her labia. Obviously they were going to be placed there, or why would Tyre have shaved her? The sensitive lips were burning a little, and the razor stroking her legs was cold.

Tyre wiped the last traces of soap from her cunt and legs with a hot, wet towel. Then she began to lather up her armpits. Roxanne wondered if Alex would keep her this way. It was like being permanently nude. She would
feel
naked, even under her clothes. By the side of another slave who had been stripped, but retained her body, she would be more completely stripped.

Tyre sharpened the razor. Then she soaped and shaved Roxanne's arms and thighs. She even flipped her over to remove invisible hairs from the small of her back. Then Roxanne was forced to hold the cheeks of her ass apart while Tyre ran the razor's edge between her buttocks.

The experience was unsettling. She felt as if the razor was cutting away all of her facades and her dignity. She began to feel chilled. “Somebody turn the heat up,” Tyre said, and a vent in the wall immediately started blowing hot air at them. Roxanne sighed and closed her eyes, trying to let the heat soothe her nausea and appease the adrenaline that provoked it. She had promised Alex she would not panic. Totally preoccupied with stage fright, she jumped when Tyre used a soft barber's brush to remove all the hair from her body on the table. Tyre swabbed Roxanne's ears with antiseptic and chose a long, straight needle. She smiled her most beatific, madonna-like smile. The steel pricked Roxanne's earlobe and plunged through. It made a crunching noise that put Roxanne's teeth on edge. But she did not move a muscle.

“Did you notice the special earrings she made for you?” Tyre asked. They were little cat-o'-nine-tails, braided out of gold, dangling from a gold ring. Tyre fit one of them to the end of the needle and rotated it through the fresh piercing. The pain was slight, more like heat. “One more to go,” Tyre said. “It's a nice idea to give you some piercings you can see without taking off your clothes. They'll remind you that you belong to women. In the outside world, you are a particularly despised breed of female: a cunt who rejects cock, a slave who rejects the masters of currency and armies. But we prize you for what the world despises. You make us wealthy.” She smiled at Kay, and EZ (who was kneeling at her side) hid her face against Kay's thigh.

Roxanne stared at the needle. She could not see a trace of blood on it, but her ear had definitely been pierced. It was swelling already. Tyre laid the spike down, took up a new one, and pinched her other lobe. One more stab, and the smooth passage of gold into her flesh. Roxanne found herself holding her breath. Tyre admired her. “There's a little blood around the jewelry,” she said, “but nothing extreme. They're centered perfectly. You look stunning. Thanks to me.” She doused her with antiseptic. “Alex,” she called, “if you don't get over here quick, I'm not going to be able to keep my hands off her tits.”

Alex replaced Tyre at the side of the operating table. “I'm going to do your tits first,” she said. “One ring in each nipple. Are you ready?”

Roxanne took a few deep breaths. “I'm ready,” she said.

“Good. I love you. Are you sure you can hold still?”

Roxanne nodded.

Alex took a surgical marking pen and put a dot on either side of Roxanne's right nipple. She picked up a pair of Pennington forceps, opened them, and clamped them shut, centered carefully over the marks where the needle should enter and exit. Then she selected a curved needle, steadied the forceps with her other hand, and pushed the point in. The tissue was surprisingly tough, and resisted penetration. Roxanne bit her lips and wrapped her fingers around the edge of the table. Tyre was nearby, her eyes concerned and full of admiration.

“Look at her,” she admonished. “This big, dumb hunk loves you. She's putting rings in your tits. Look at her if you have trouble remembering why this is being done. She's the most beautiful woman in the world, and she wants you.”

Alex turned her head and stared into Roxanne's eyes. “It's halfway through the nipple,” she said. “I'm being as quick and gentle as I can.” Roxanne dared not look down at the needle. “Look at the needle,” Alex told her. She sobbed and bent her head. It was in her, embedded, but incomplete, unsatisfied. “Can you take this much?” Alex asked her.