Tombstone (13 page)

Tombstone gazed down on her in stunned surprise.
 
The club.
 
It’s what she was getting from the club.
 
He recovered quickly.
 
“Place your palms on the floor on either side of the bowl and eat.”

The sight of her silently obeying his order had his cock throbbing angry, anxious beats.
 
He sat down and tried to concentrate on his dinner.
 
One of the ‘Fives’ delivered homemade meals that only required re-heating.
 
Tombstone bit into a carrot while he considered Felicity.
 
If she was already broken to pain and submission, the only thing left was pleasure.
 
He thought back to his times with Teresa.

After they ate, he walked her over to the coffin.
 
Her eyes widened, but she remained silent.
 
He trailed his fingers over the wood burned letters.
 
“Do you know the significance of Room Five, Felicity?
 
I could see, like your mother, you want to believe you belong in Room One.”

“I don’t, Master,” she admitted in a small voice.
 
“But my mom never would have been allowed to go to Room One.”

Tombstone wrapped his arms around her, and he pulled her back against his chest.
 
His hands cupped her breasts and gently stroked her nipples, causing them to tighten and the woman to shudder, needing the stimulation of tight gripping.
 
“You don’t think that Bethany wanted the back rooms?”
 
There was obvious surprise in his voice.

“She wanted it.”
 
Felicity pushed her chest forward and his strong hands moved with her, still not increasing their demand or pressure.
 
“She died for her want.”
 
Felicity whispered, “I killed her.
 
I told her Susanne was talented enough to work her way to the back, and that she never could have… even if your mother was gone.
 
She waited two days for the anniversary of the shooting and killed herself.”

The tone of her voice was flat and detached.
 
She pushed her chest forward again and Tombstone released her breasts.
 
“Stop demanding, Felicity.”
 
She relaxed back against him, and he smiled and began caressing her again.
 
Though she wanted pain, she would accept being touched.

“She never wanted me,” Felicity murmured.
 
“Her bitch of a mother did, but Bethany didn’t.
 
I hardly remember her ever coming to see me.”

Tombstone chuckled.
 
“Well, I got my Aunt mad enough once that she admitted my dad paid Susanne fifty bucks to fuck him.
 
Thus, the conception of Jerald Fry.”
 
He squeezed her breasts inadvertently, and she moaned.
 
“Pretty fucked up.”

“Yes.
 
Pretty fucked up,” Felicity agreed.
 
“What is Room Five?”

“Room Five was the final stop before the ally.
 
The mannequins had the excitement and money from Room One, and slowly dropped rank as they got older.
 
Stevie, the bastard that owned the place, made sure to point it out by changing the colors of their suits.
 
One was blue, Two was red, Three was green, Four was Yellow, and Five was black… the color of death.
 
The women in Five had one foot in the ally and would soon be kicked out of the club.
 
It’s the Room Susanne was in.”

Felicity remembered the black mask she had found on the floor of the dressing room.
 
“If Susanne was in Room Five, why did my mother shoot her?
 
It would seem to make more sense to go after a woman in Room One.
 
Susanne was going to be gone soon anyway.”
 
It made no sense to her.
 
“I never could get into any Room but number One.”
 
She quickly added, “Except for one of the dressing rooms near the back door.”

“The Crimson Cruiser,” Tombstone whispered.
 
His thumbs strummed her nipples.

“What?”

“The car you found.
 
Susanne called it the Crimson Cruiser, and she said she was going to get a real one some day.
 
The whole time we shared Aunt Gertie’s old sedan, because Susanne could never save a dime.”

Felicity stiffened a little.
 
“I thought that you would hate me.”

“Jerald might.
 
He adored Susanne and never saw her faults.
 
I tend to be a little more judicious with memories of her inadequacies.”

“But… but, you are…”

Tombstone raised a finger to her lips.
 
“No, Felicity.
 
And don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m that insipid, fawning little boy.
 
He sits by her grave, right where I left him.
 
Though, I might have thought you would be more upset with Susanne’s role in things.”

“Susanne didn’t do anything.
 
I was pissed when I was younger, but when I knew that mom never could have enough control to go to the back rooms, and probably not enough to hold onto that man… she did it to herself… and to me.”

“Yup, we’re pretty fucked up.”
 
Tombstone squeezed her breasts again and she gasped.
 
“Into bed.
 
We have a busy day tomorrow.”

Felicity looked at the small box.
 
It was completely padded and not roomy enough to move.
 
She would be held still in relative comfort.
 
“Can I sleep on the floor?”

“Where you can scrape against the stone and masturbate to the bruising?
 
I don’t think so.
 
In.”

It was worse than she imagined.
 
He locked her wrist cuffs to the sides so she could not touch herself.
 
Tombstone walked out of sight for a moment and Felicity began to think of the frightening confines of the casket and quivered, “I… I don’t think…”

“That’s right.
 
You don’t think.
 
And you don’t speak any more without permission.
 
Our happy trails of memories are over.”
 
He set the dials on a vibrator and stroked her pussy, separating her lips and pushing the device inside her.
 
Tombstone leaned down and kissed her forehead, and stared into her green eyes.
 
“It runs for two minutes and shuts off for ten.
 
Pleasant dreams.”

Felicity stared openmouthed as he lowered the lid.
 
A few seconds later, the vibrator turned on.
 
It was not like any device she had ever owned.
 
It swelled and jiggled, pumped and stroked, and drove her mad until she was on the edge… and then deflated and remained still for ten agonizing minutes.
 
She lost count of how many times she was within seconds of climaxing, only to have the damn thing whither.
 
She caught infrequent catnaps, only to shudder awake.

In the morning, Tombstone looked into her feverish angry eyes and he smiled.
 
Felicity began to complain, “That was horrible…”

Tombstone put his finger on her lips.
 
“No talking.”

“The hell with this,” she said angrily.
 
She would piss him off and make him do something to her.

He did.
 
He grabbed the gag and shoved it back into her mouth, and then he lifted her out of the coffin.
 
Tombstone bent her over his dining room table and eased his cock into her soaked center, plunging with painfully slow thrusts and fingering her clit until they both erupted in a gentle climax.
 
Felicity wailed her dissatisfaction, while Tombstone considered that he could never remember fucking any woman not covered in latex.

Later that day, he introduced her to his back studio and strapped her to the chair.
 
The frenzied excitement in her eyes was disarming, and Tombstone stroked down her cheek in a disappointingly gentle caress.
 
The only hair he removed were the curls shadowing her pussy.
 
The head covering was full, encasing her cropped dark locks with only the slits for her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

While he was making her black and green suit, he could hear her pulling angrily at the chain in the other room.
 
He left her hands locked behind her and denied her the sensations she craved.
 
Felicity did not know it yet, but once she donned the latex suit she had fantasized about, all her senses would be gone.

He made the suit pliable, but it wrapped her into a rubber cocoon.
 
After a few hours she was crying and pleading with her eyes, Felicity thought she would go mad if she could not feel something.
 
The only reprieve was the man’s stroking and thrusting to climax in sync with her body’s betrayal.

A week later he began making adjustments to the outfit.
 
He cut through the rubber, leaving wide bands of wrapping at swirling angles, over and under her breasts.
 
The neck was cut to a two-inch collar, hooking the mask to the body with straps on the sides.
 
The arms and legs were cut in swirling striations, with the fingers cut off the gloves at the knuckle and her feet bared.

Felicity scraped her feet against the flooring and her hands searched out the walls.
 
It had seemed to be a long time since she felt anything other than the rubber of the suit confining her body.
 
The reality of the latex was not what she had expected, and she wondered why her mother had striven for such a situation.
 
For Felicity, her world centered around feeling and around more painful infractions so she could feel alive.

She watched Tombstone make their dinner while she stood chained to the overhead pipe.
 
Because of the ring gag, she could not complain about his lack of more brusque attention, though she pleaded with her eyes or stubbornly refused to follow him.
 
His strong hand rested on the middle of her back, urging her forward without so much as a swat on her exposed bottom.

A man arrived the next day while Felicity was chained to the pipe.
 
Her wrists had been locked together because she tried to punch the wall.
 
The man followed Tombstone over to her.
 
“So, this is Felicity?”
 
Donald rubbed his cock while it thickened.
 
The girl was untamed and there was such passionate need emanating from her partially covered body that it stirred his lust.

Tombstone caressed her breasts.
 
“Yes.
 
She’s borderline masochistic, so I’ve been giving her the ultimate torture by denying her any pain.”

Donald heard the girl moan and noted her welling tears.
 
He reached between the split crotch of the rubber and stroked her wet sex.
 
Felicity bucked into his hand, but as Tombstone had done, he moved his hand back to continue the light brushing.
 
Two fingers spread her labia and another traveled up and down her wet path, tickling the obediently emerging clit while she wailed and tried to push into him.
 
Her orgasm was sudden.
 
Tombstone had kept her hands away from her pussy for a week.

Donald chuckled, and stuck his drenched fingers into her mouth.
 
Felicity balked and shook her head, which allowed him to cleanse his hand on her thrashing tongue.
 
In his pocket was a bottle and he handed it to Tombstone.
 
“Samuel says to make sure, because he has no dissolving agent for the bond.”

“I have no intention of removing it,” Tombstone replied.

Donald left, and Tombstone guided Felicity to the back room.
 
He secured her in an X frame and pulled the brush from the bottle.
 
Fingers lifted the top seam of the collar and Felicity felt the burn of the sticky substance when it was brushed onto the rubber and sealed to her neck.
 
Tombstone worked silently for hours, applying the solution on the inside edges of all the swirling rubber straps surrounding her body.
 
The meaning of the liquid was clear to her.
 
The latex strap suit was now permanently adhered to her body, with only the mask left free to be removed.

At last she was released from the frame.
 
There was light tugging in places that was not harsh enough to be truly pleasurable.
 
Tombstone guided her to the table and bent her forward.
 
She felt some lube rim her anus, and she gasped when she heard his zipper being lowered.
 
“Spread your legs wider and use your arms to arch up off the table.”

Felicity shuddered.
 
Yes.
 
Yes, deeper.
 
He entered in slow thrusts and she tried to push back.

“Be still,” he ordered.

Felicity froze.
 
He plunged with an excruciating slowly tempered invasion, and his hand reached around to play with her clit.
 
“Be still,” he murmured into her neck.

Felicity could already feel the tears of her failure again.
 
“I’m displaying you at the club tomorrow night… as a true ‘Closet Mannequin’.
 
You will
not
move, Felicity.”

Oh, god.
 
She tried to force her thoughts away from her building climax.
 
His thrusts became harder, faster… his finger moving with more of an urgent frenzy than the easy stroking.
 
Oh, god.
 
She climaxed with him, pushing back and forth with the strength of her arms, into his cock and into his hand while she shrieked.