The Mammoth Book of Short Erotic Novels (59 page)

“My spider is like a little piece of David, still alive and in my care. I cherish it. Females live much longer than males, you know?” She was smiling broadly, then grew solemn.
“The computer he gave me was . . .”

The waitress interrupted them. She was twentyish, with short-cropped hair and dark skin. Her tentative nature betrayed the fact she was new to this job.

“Hello again,” she said, giving Sam’s untouched food a suspicious look. “Is everything OK?”

“Everything is fine,” Sam confirmed.

Amanda gestured for the waitress to come closer. “He knows his place,” Amanda confided. “My slaves never touch their food till I’m finished.”

“Oh.” Her face screwed up. “Your entrées will be out in a few minutes.” She hurried to the kitchen.

Amanda stifled a laugh. “Go ahead, eat!”

Sam dug into his appetizer. After a few bites, he asked a question he knew was on her mind.

“You feel David’s death was a set-up,” he asked, “and the government – or something – had a hand in it?”

“The authorities don’t want its citizens to read minds, Sam.” Amanda stared into the distance. Sam glanced around to make sure no one was listening.

“But the Darkling hat of yours was just a peripheral,” he commented. Amanda had shown him the mysterious device, the other day. “From what little I know,” he continued,
“it was intended as a tool for the treatment of mental illness.”

“Mine was the prototype,” Amanda explained. “David gave it to me for safe-keeping when he got suspicious the project was going to be terminated. The psychic powers of the EOS
were discovered by accident. Some graduate student kept the files of her PhD thesis on the super-computer where the EOS resided. She was told to remove her work from the drives. That night, she
logged on and erased them. Later, they found her wandering the halls, babbling incoherently. Somehow, all memories of her college career had been purged from her mind.”

“Jesus!” Sam exclaimed. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. Nobody does. Except maybe David. But it gets weirder. Luckily, she kept back-ups of her work. David and the others copied the back-ups to the EOS, and her memories
were restored!”

Sam listened, his mouth open.

“Another bizarre surprise was that people logged into an EOS network could read each other’s thoughts. If the different mechanisms of all this could be isolated –”

“Mind reading,” Sam interrupted. “To have your memories excised, it would be like being reborn.” He shook his head.

Amanda agreed. “I guess the myths and magic of the past become realities through science.” She broke off the conversation and leaned toward Sam. “I have been holding off asking
this . . .” Her voice drifted off. He did not need a psychic computer to anticipate her question.

“You want me to investigate David’s death, to find out what really happened.”

Her eyes brightened; she leaned even closer. “Can you? I mean, his parents did not care at all. They did not even allow me to come to his, to his –” Amanda’s eyes welled
with tears. “Shit.” She stopped herself. “This has nothing to do with you. It’s wrong of me . . .”

“Amanda,” Sam cut in. He reached across the table, gently placing his hand over hers. Her fingers were cold. “No, it’s fine. In a few months, I will have my license, and
that will allow me access to so much information, I . . .”

“Why am I telling you all this?”

“You have lived with this too long,” Sam encouraged. “I’m happy you trust me.” He needed to deflect the conversation; Amanda’s depression was showing on her
face. “Well, this is a switch,” he added with a wry expression. “The dominatrix confessing to the slave!”

“Oh, yeah?” She pulled her hands away and sat back in the chair. “Take your penis out.”

“Excuse me?”

“Correction: take
my
penis out!” Amanda clarified.

The people across the restaurant were looking again.

“You can do it!” she whispered. “Just keep yourself covered with the tablecloth.”

Sam reached under the table to undo his pants. He fished out his penis, checking to see that no one was watching. Fortunately, the tablecloth concealed his lap. Amanda shifted in her seat. Sam
jumped when he felt her boot press against his flesh. He chanced a glance down, seeing Amanda’s boots under the cloth.

“Spread!” Amanda said.

“What?”

“Are you going deaf on me? Your legs! They are too close together. How do you expect me to get comfortable?” She wore the smirk that drove him wild.

Sam parted his legs wider. Now both of her feet were situated on the end of his chair.

Sam’s penis was held vice-like between her leather boots. She started to pump her legs gently back and forth, pulling and stretching his rapidly hardening penis in a slow masturbation.

“What would happen to our privacy,” Amanda went on, “if people could read minds? In the wrong hands, David’s work could mean the end of individuality. But David’s
team had mental therapy in mind. It would be used like surgically precise shock therapy, excising traumatic memories. But screw the therapy aspect!” She hit her fist on the table.
“Don’t exorcize my demons: they are the best part of me.”

Sam had heard her say that before, but now he was paying little attention.

“Can I take your plates?”

The waitress! She was standing right next to Sam. Amanda showed indifference. But then he saw Amanda slowly, purposely, pushing her fork closer and closer to the edge of the table. It tumbled to
the floor.

“Oh, I’ll get it,” chimed the waitress.

“NO!” Sam shouted. “Ah, that’s OK, I’ll get it.”

Sam contorted himself, leaning forward to successfully retrieve the piece of silverware. Amanda kept his cock in a vice-like grip, the whole time.

“Your entrées will be coming right out.” The waitress cleared the table and sped back to the kitchen.

Amanda only partially succeeded in suppressing her laughter. Sam joined in.

“I hope we don’t get kicked out of here!” Sam cautioned.

They were still laughing as the waitress returned. She set a huge platter of crab legs in front of Amanda. The Cajun-blackened bluefish was for Sam.

“Our food looks great!” Amanda commented.

Sam begged with his eyes.

“Go ahead, silly. Eat!”

Throughout the meal, Amanda occasionally asserted herself by tugging on Sam’s imprisoned cock.

“Hot sauce!” Amanda said, near the end of their dinner. She was listlessly pushing around the spiny shell of the crustacean she just ate. Sam picked up the bottle, but he was unsure
what to shake it on.

“I think you could use some lubrication,” Amanda suggested.

“What?”

Amanda pointed underneath the table. “Down there!”

“You don’t mean . . .”

“Do I have to explain everything?” There was a dismissive edge in her voice. “You were doing so well up to now.”

“You mean, you want me, I have to . . .”

Amanda unlocked Sam’s penis from the trap of her boots. She acted as if she was going to leave.

“Yes,” he quickly assured her. “I mean, yes, mistress.”

He pushed the tablecloth back to just reveal his lap. He inverted the bottle, sprinkling a liberal dose of the condiment over his penis. His skin welcomed the cool wetness. He carefully avoided
getting it on the tip of his penis; he did not want to learn the effects of pepper sauce on it.

Amanda eased her feet back together. Now the leather easily glided over his skin. Her movements took on an accommodating, slow tempo. His skin eagerly welcomed the marvelous combination of
leather and liquid.

“Mm,” he moaned, then under his breath said, “Amanda, that feels nice.”

“Just wait.” She shot him an evil grin. “You know why it’s called the Darkling hat?” Amanda asked.

“Yes,” Sam replied, as he began to feel a tingling in his foreskin.

“You do?”

Sam nodded. “It – it’s about the beetles embroidered on the hat.”

The spice was just now working its way into the nerve-endings of his skin. A tingly warmth was developing. The movement of Amanda’s boots remained slow and steady. She moved her foot to
place the sole flat against his penis, forcing it up against the confines of his zipper and pants. She nestled the spike heel underneath his scrotum.

“Go on,” Amanda encouraged.

Sam cleared his throat.

“Yes, the Darkling Beetles belong to a family called the Tenebrionidae.”

Sam closed his eyes. His crotch felt very warm. Amanda pressed her foot harder into him, the arch of her boot spreading his testicles. It was as if she were trying to force her spiked heel into
his anus.

“Tell me more!” She asserted her command by giving him a sharp thrust.

“Ooh!” Sam yelped. “Darkling means things done in darkness.”

She withdrew her foot. His penis was free. But the burning increased. Next, she forced his penis down, trapping it between her sole and the top of her other boot.

“Now, those other dark beetles you told me about, the Skin beetles, the Dermestids.”

Each of her movements pushed more and more of the hot sauce into his skin. Suddenly the tip of his penis felt as if it was on fire. The evil liquid had found an opening. He started to sweat. Sam
offered her a pleading expression, but Amanda just smiled.

“Skeleton preparation. Dead animals are stripped by hand of their skins and soft tissues . . .”

Amanda continued to play with him, squeezing, rubbing, changing her movements.

“When it is just bones, cartilage, connective tissue, and bits of muscle, the body dries out.” Sam closed his eyes.The burning was growing unbearable.

Amanda finished the explanation for him. “Then the carcass is placed in a big vat of Dermestids,” she said, “and the beetles swarm over it, gnawing on the dried bits of flesh.
After a time, the skeleton is picked clean and white.”

Sam did not hear her words. Beneath the cauldron, a new threat was asserting itself. It promised a moment of relief from the fire. A source of pleasure was rising fast. The table creaked as he
hugged it, digging his nails in. Any second now, his orgasm would be joining them for dinner.

A voice cut into his conscience. He willed his eyes open.

“How was your meal?”

It was the waitress. She was standing beside them.

Amanda was glaring at Sam. “Our charming waitress asked a question!”

It was as if a huge gripping fist were releasing his body. His back stiffened. He gave in to his orgasm. Amanda held him firm, as surge after surge of his jetting semen poured over her
boots.

At the last contraction, he spoke. “Uh, I –” clearing his throat “– it was very good, thank you.” Now please just get the fuck out of here, Sam screamed
inside.

“Well, would you like any dessert?”

“No, thank you,” he heard Amanda say. Sam covered his forehead and eyes, as if he had a headache. “Just bring our check.”

“Sure,” the waitress answered.

Sam was still panting. Amanda had the hot sauce in her hands. She poured a little out onto her fingers and brought it to her lips. She painted it there in lip-gloss fashion, like the time she
painted his lips with his semen the first time they met.

“Yum,” Amanda commented.

The burning was now overpowering; it felt as if his skin was bubbling off.

“Uh, uh,” he mouthed.

Amanda perked up. “Yes?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Please, Amanda,” he begged. “I have to use the bathroom.”

Amanda chuckled. “Fine; you’re excused.”

Sam gingerly returned his penis to his pants. As if by some miracle, only a little of the sauce had stained the outside of his pants. The restaurant was dark; he guessed no one would see.

He bolted to the men’s room. Fortunately, it appeared vacant. Standing before one of the sinks, Sam undid his pants and pulled them halfway down. He threw open both taps. Water shot out,
splashing in the sink. He cradled his penis and scrotum, draping them over the cool porcelain. He frantically splashed handful after handful of water over his inflamed genitals.

“Ooh, ooh,” he moaned, as the water bathed and refreshed his skin. He leaned against the sink, adjusting the taps, keeping the stream cool. A mixed droplet of semen and hot sauce
oozed from his penis.

Sam heard a flushing toilet. Someone was in there! The door of one of the stalls opened. Out came an older man, one of the people who had been staring. Sam wished he were invisible. In the
mirror, he watched the man clean up in a sink that was furthest away. The man carefully avoided making eye contact. Just before leaving, he hesitated at the door, turning in Sam’s
direction.

“I’m treating my daughter to dinner,” the man announced in a stern voice. “It’s her graduation!” He slammed the door behind him.

“Well,
congratulations
!” Sam shouted to the empty room. He dried himself off and returned his reproductive organs to their rightful home. When he returned to their table, most
of the plates were gone.

“How are you doing?” Amanda asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Good. Why not pay the bill, and head back to my apartment?”

Sam had never been to the place she lived. “Not the dungeon?” he asked.

“I could use a little cuddling near the fire. How about you?”

Sam smiled broadly. “That sounds fantastic! I’ll pay the bill and get our coats.” He rose from the table.

Just as they were about to leave, a crashing sound stopped him. Sam spun around. Amanda had one of her legs up on the table. She swung the other leg up, bringing it down with a thud. She pushed
back in her chair, pointing an accusing finger at her boots.

“You horrible pig!” Amanda screamed. Sam saw a mix of hot sauce and come painted on her boots.

“You want me to leave here, in a state like this? And you were doing so well, up to now. I am so disappointed.”

“No, Amanda,” Sam interrupted. His mind raced, then he chose a course of action. Leaning over, he brought his face down to her boots. In front of the sparsely filled dining room, Sam
licked her boots clean. He had tasted his semen before, but the smell of her leather and taste of the hot sauce was delicious. He did it as fast as he could.