Stripped Down (28 page)

“Did she tell you what kind of detail she's going on?”

I shook my head. “Just something undercover.”

Phoebe was getting louder. “Oh, god, oh, yeah, oh,” she called, while Caine murmured, “Oh, baby, come for me, yeah, honey, that's right, that's right,” and Walters kissed and nibbled and sucked everything she could reach.

“And that the shave is part of her cover,” I added.

“Or it doesn't matter.” The Sergeant shrugged. “She was pretty coy about it. All I know for sure is that a little roughing up was good to go.”

The legs of the cot were beating a tattoo on the cell floor as Phoebe bucked under Caine's onslaught, and she was yelling obscenities full blast. Caine herself was bellowing like a calf, and Walters was squatting bare-assed beside them, grunting, having unstrapped her piece to bring herself off, one hand pistoning the big dildo in and out while the other worked furiously at her clit.

“That's so undignified.” I nodded toward Walters, reflecting on the number of times I would have liked to do just the same thing myself.

“I hope she put a fresh rubber on it,” the Sergeant remarked gravely.

At last the sweaty threesome was quiet, draped on the cot and each other like a heap of puppies. Phoebe didn't look half bad with a bare knob. I guess you have to have the right shape skull.

“Okay, let's go, let's go,” the Sergeant waded in, clapping her hands. “Let's break this up and let the lady get some circulation back.” Caine groaned and heaved herself off Phoebe. “Get those cuffs off her. And put that thing away, for god's sake,” she pointed at Walters's discarded dildo.

“You know, I thought I'd take Phoebe home myself for the last…” I pulled out my pocket watch, “…ten hours before she has to report.” Phoebe was straightening her legs and working the kinks out of her shoulders. “But it looks like she still owes you for that shirt.”

“Go out and get that bag of clothes, will you? And you can dump the basin and swab down that cot.” The Sergeant handed out her orders and turned back to me. “What are you saying? You want to turn the prisoner over to my custody, Officer?”

“Let's ask Phoebe.” I called to her, “Hey, Phoebe! You and the Sergeant have some unfinished business. You want to choose your poison for the rest of the night, or do you want us to flip for you?”

Phoebe's sleepy eyes opened wide. “Flip for me?” She hooted. “You, maybe, Sam. But the Sergeant?” She howled.

The Sergeant grinned.

“All right, all right,” I said, smiling. “Some other time, maybe.” I waved at Caine and Walters, now busying themselves with laying out a fresh set of jeans and T-shirt for our guest of honor. “I'll just send those guys…”

Phoebe ignored the clothes and made her careful way to me. “Thanks for a great time.” She put her arms around my neck and kissed me, deep and lingering. Her beautiful breasts pressed into my shirtfront as she molded herself to me and set my heart to racing all over again.

“Do you want to catch some z's? Or keep going?”

She threw a mischievous look toward the Sergeant. “Sorry about the shirt, Em.”

I caught sight of Walters and Caine from the corner of one eye. “What in hell is going on here?” Walters had strapped
her rod back on; Caine seemed to be helping her adjust the fit. Her mouth was millimeters away from touchdown. “Clean that thing up and put a rubber on it, for god's sake.” I excused myself from Phoebe's embrace. “Have you maggots forgotten your drill?” They bounced to their feet. I eyed the half-masted stiffie poking out of Walters's fly and shook my head sadly.

“These jokers are in need of training, Sergeant. Would you be so kind as to take charge of the prisoner for the rest of the night?”

“With pleasure, Officer.” She turned to Phoebe, who was now dressed and seating herself gingerly, sneakers in hand. “Shall we, darlin'?”

Phoebe lifted an eyebrow and gave Em a look that would've turned my knees to water. I sighed. I saw them out and bolted the door behind them, with one last kiss for Phoebe and a wink for my lucky friend. Back at the pen, Caine and Walters were disassembling each other's uniforms, too busy to notice my return.

I cleared my throat. They threw me startled, guilty looks. Caine giggled. Walters hurried to button her shirt, getting them wrong.

“Jesus Christ.” I rubbed my weary eyes. “Didn't one of you baboons even think of cleaning that up?” I pointed at the puddle Phoebe had left on the linoleum. They looked at each other with identical expressions of horror. “No, no, with the mop, you morons.”

I thought longingly of Phoebe and the Sergeant, the good time they were undoubtedly having without me. When Phoebe came back, I'd take it out on her hide. If she came back, I corrected myself soberly, with more than a little worry. I hoped we'd given her a good send-off, at least. In the
meantime, I'd just have to make the best of it.

“Straighten up! Caine, put that dick away. Walters, you're still out of uniform. Undo it and try again, then DROP and GIVE ME TWENTY!”

It was going to be a long night.

Phoebe, bon voyage.

TAKING STEPS

Thea Hutcheson

 

 

 

 

“I won't eat dog food again for you.”

I looked at Misty in surprise. “Why not?”

She looked up at me. “Because I give up everything.” I wasn't sure what to say. That's what subs do—at least what they negotiate.

A month or so after we met, we were comparing notes about a leather convention and discovered we'd both been at the same humiliation demo. The top had gotten the slut to eat dog food for sex treats in front of the audience. We talked about it and thought it was cool for different reasons. She liked the idea of giving up so much for a top and I liked the idea of coercing someone past ordinary boundaries. I had worked her up to it, in slow steps, exploring humiliation play during our few months of interacting.

Misty was a wonderful slut, small and delicate with curly brunette hair, an elfin face, a major sex drive. She wanted to be made to do all kinds of outrageous things, which made her perfect for this kind of scene and my kind of play.

I enjoyed planning the steps that led to her acquiescing; pressing her to see what she would do for me, the lengths to which she would let me take her. Those humiliation scenes always created tension between us. I would urge her to do something, she would acquiesce, and there was this pull, like a rubber band, between us.

I was excited thinking about it now. The new vibrator and its remote were lying on the kitchen table when she came home Sunday. After dinner I put it on her really slowly and showed off the remote and both speeds with a quick demo that didn't get her off, but showed her what it would do. Then I removed it. I watched her face when she realized I was really done. It was all I could do not to smile.

“Did you like that, Misty?”

“Oh, yes, Jean.”

“What did you like about it?”

She didn't even hesitate. “I like the way it straps right to my clit and you adjust it to fit me. And I like the way it buzzes really fast like a big bee. But most of all, I like the way it feels.” She was blushing now.

“The big bee does the trick, huh?”

“It would if you left it on,” she said in her poutiest voice.

“You want me to put it back on?”

She brightened, but by now, she knew me well enough not to get her hopes too high. “Yes.”

“What would you do for it?”

This was fun to watch. She knew she had to be reasonably
honest or I wouldn't accept it. But, of course, she didn't want to humiliate herself any more than was necessary, so it was a seesaw. She was so transparent that I could almost read her mind as she reviewed all the conversations and scenes we had had recently.

“I would go back to the corn maze again.”

That had been fun. “Nah, you already did that.”

“You could do me in the backyard while there's a game at the stadium.”

She really liked that vibrator.

“Nah, I think since you really like it so much, it ought to be something really big.”

I watched her as all the really big ones went through her mind. I let her off the hook. “How about you eat dog food for me, the wet kind,” I said, knowing she had eaten kibble as a kid with her Barbie gang.

That was unexpected and I watched as she worked through it. Say no versus be pollinated by a big bee, humiliation versus pleasure, crossing the ravine versus staying on the comfy side. I could feel that pull between us.

“Do I have to answer now?”

I shook my head. “Tomorrow at dinner.”

She waited until we were nearly finished eating. “One bite. Just one, that's all and I get the vibrator until I say I'm done.”

It was what I had figured and all I actually wanted. I paused, pretending to think it over, then nodded. “Okay. One bite and I'll give you the big bee until you say, ‘Enough.' How about Saturday night?” There was a nice steady pull coming from the center of my chest.

That gave her all week to think about it.

Come Saturday night, I told her to take off her clothes and stand in front of me. I strapped the big bee securely to her clit and hit the remote. “How's that?”

“A smidge down and a bit snugger, please.” I made the adjustments and buzzed her again. It was amazing what a vibrator pressed to her clit would do. Her whole body sank into her center as all her attention centered on her clit.

“Go get your chair and bring it here.”

I pulled the toy bag out from behind my lounger and got out her favorite purple rope, some lavender cord, her purple anodized nipple clamps with the matching chain and my favorite toy, a dick on a stick.

“Take your position,” I said when she came back. She sat and spread her legs with her hands resting on the back of the seat so her tits poked out. I paid extra attention to binding her arms behind her to the chair back, letting her wiggle for comfort adjustment. Each leg was a separate event, slow and deliberate. Finally, I went to work on her tits with the cord, crowning them with the clamps.

“Comfy?” I asked when I stood back to look her over.

“Yes, Jean.”

“Ready?”

“Yes, Jean.”

“Let me make sure we're together on this. The purpose of this scene is for you to eat dog food so you can win the attention of the big bee until you're finished. Is that right?”

She put her head down, shaking it and blushing furiously. I gave her time to work through it.

“Yes, Jean. That's the purpose.”

“Say it so we're both clear.” I had to fight the tension and not lean toward her.

She shook her head again, sighed and smiled lopsided. “The purpose of this scene is for me to eat dog food so I can get the vibrator until I say I'm done.”

I smiled. “Okay, then. Let me reacquaint you with what you can look forward to.”

I gave her a nice hit from the remote then slipped her the dick on a stick, just enough to get her excited, and stood back to watch her think about it.

“Please, Jean, please give me the dick on the stick.”

“You like that?” I did. “You want a buzz from the big bee too?”

“Yes, please, Jean.”

“Please Jean, what?”

“Please turn on the vibrator.”

“Bzzz,” I said as I gave it to her. I smiled as she squirmed, trying to suck the dick in. I pulled it out.

“You like that?”

“Yes, Jean, I like that a lot.”

I started torturing her tits and after awhile I asked, “Do you want some more of that big bee?”

“Yes, Jean.”

“What would you do to get that big bee buzzing again, Misty?”

She knew what she was supposed to say and I knew she knew so I smiled broadly.

“What would you do?”

“Whatever you asked.” I was enjoying it hugely so I let her off the hook for the moment.

“Do you like it enough to eat some dog food, a little Mighty Dog?”

She blushed then. Here it was. Put up or cry red. I watched
as she weighed shame versus pleasure, humiliation and reward, everything up on the scale. The tension was pulling good now and I swayed a little.

“Yes, Jean.”

I wasn't going to let her off that hook.

“Yes, what?”

She sighed hugely. “Yes, I want the vibrator so much I will eat one bite of dog food.”

I smiled. “Well, then, let me get you out of this chair.”

I slowly untied her tits. She sucked breath as they came free. I massaged them gently, removed the clamps and smiled as she hissed when the blood came back into them.

I put a place mat on the carpet and put down the new dish I had bought. It even said
Misty
on it. “I'll bet you're thirsty after all that. Have a drink, my little slut.”

For a moment I thought she would refuse to get on all fours since that hadn't been in the negotiation. But she scrunched down so she could get a decent drink.

“That's my good Misty. I know this is hard and I think you deserve a reward.” I gave her the dick on a stick and hit the remote control for a few seconds. She arched her back to take them in and I could feel her pussy tightening up, pushing the dick out. I removed it before she could fall over the edge of an orgasm.

“Did you like that? Do you want some more?”

I watched her think about me and her, doing versus not doing, the pleasure of that vibrator versus all the distaste and social disgrace of eating dog food. She might cry red. At that moment, I thought she wasn't going to play. Then she whispered, “Yes, Jean.”