Note

The previous episode is here. 

The story so far is that I took my slavegirl Arethusa to the local bdsm club, Club Bento, after months of begging.

I’m running this “Arethusa and the late essay” pic again, because I’m quite proud of my aim and spacing.

It took months because I was monitoring her university work, and she kept fucking up and having to be caned, and then grounded. Finally, she was good, handing in all essays and studying for her tests, for a whole month! A Master’s life is hard, but at last I could reward her! 

We met Delores there, an ex of mine, who was showing the club to a girl called Cash, who turned out to be yet another ex. 

Cash was Qing, when I’d first known her, and she was still dressing like a mainlander Chinese girl from a small city. Because back then she was. (You should hear what diaspora Chinese say about mainlanders. Hollywood writers being rude about the deep South doesn’t even come close.) 

In the years since we’d lost touch she’d transformed herself into a zippy, leatherette, platinum blonde bobbed style icon, who moved at twice the speed of everyone else, though I bet she had less amphetamine in her system than most people there. 

They hadn’t actually kissed yet (they would later, in Arethusa’s and my kitchen and bed), but this was on their minds five or so seconds after they’d met

So we all met, and I introduced Arethusa to Delores and Cash. Cash and Arethusa contracted a case of lust at first sight, while Arethusa and Delores didn’t hit it off.

I took Arethusa into the dark part of the club, to feed her champagne while fingering her under her tutu, keeping her close to coming but not giving permission.

Delores went looking for a man to bruise and fuck her. Cash picked up a girl on the dancefloor, and dragged her off to the women’s toilets to facefuck her up against the wall. Then Cash went back to gthe dancing, followed by the girl, who was smitten, and then by the girl’s master, who sensed a threesome.

Cash didn’t want any part of his body anywhere near her body, but she wanted to be polite, for the girl’s sake more than his. So she said she’d love to, but she’d have to get permission from her Mistress.

Now read on.

The Kiss 7

Delores (now we’re following this story from her point of view again) was also a girl who’d come from a small town, but she’d never re-packaged herself as a big-city girl the way Cash had.

She still thought it weird that girls might want sexy stuff with girls, when there are men around. She had many lesbian and gay friends, who loved her and who she loved. She genuinely was not a bigot. It was just she had no perspective from which same-sex desire made any sense to her. 

Similarly, she was submissive and that’s that. She was assertive in her life, with her children and her work and so on, but in a bdsm context she couldn’t switch to save her life. She could no more spank another submissive, or give one an order, than she could flap her arms and fly.  

Cash kissing Delores (Cash’s perspective)

So she was a bit taken aback when Cash raced up to her, kissed her passionately on the lips, and whispered, “I’m going to call you Mistress and ask you for something. You have to answer no. Save my life. Ok? Just say no!” 

So Delores wiped the girl-kiss off her lips, and said, “Just say no… What? To drugs?” 

But the dazed girl and her Master arrived. Out loud, Cash said, “Mistress, darling Mistress, can I please go off with these two tonight?” 

So Delores, still thoroughly confused, saw the girl and her Master, there waiting for her permission, which gave her an inkling of the problem. So she gathered up all her wits, and said in the most Dommely voice she could manage, “No.”

Cash whined, “Pleeeeease?”

“No. No, you may not go off with… these two tonight.” It was the most unconvincing domme voice ever heard, according to both Delores’s and Cash’s account, but it was enough to disappoint the dazed girl and her Master. They were sad, but they knew they’d won Cash over, and their threesome had only been thwarted by the despotic and arbitrary rulings of a jealous and mean ol’ Domme.

At least, they thought they knew that, and that made them feel better. So they slunk back onto the dancefloor, and paid more attention to each other. They’d both just been certified sexy, by an independent party. The girl more than her Master, but his honour was satisfied. 

Meanwhile Delores was still giving Cash the thousand-yard stare. “What,” she asked, “the buggering hell was that about?” 

Cash kissing Delores (Delores’s perspective)
Girlgerms!

So Cash explained, the pick-up on the dancefloor had led to Cash fucking the girl with her face, in the women’s toilets, and the girl’s Master wanting Cash to go off with them, and she didn’t want the Master to get shitty with his girl because she’d scored with Cash and he hadn’t.

So she’d done the right thing to get everybody out of a difficult situation.

And hey, thanks for your help, Delores, that “no” of yours was really powerful, just like the real thing. 

But Delores hadn’t got past the “face-fuck in the toilets” part of Cash’s story yet. “And… you kissed me with THAT mouth?” 

[The End.]

Another note:

Obviously, that’s where that story has to end. More events happened, when Arethusa and Cash and I went off together a bit later, and our night together. That was a steamy night, and some time it’ll make a good story too. In a different way. 

But next Wicked Week, I’m going back to fiction, and Maddie’s saga with her Wicked Headmaster. 

Note:

The previous instalment of this story is here. But we finished with Cash having girl on girl sex kisses with another girl on the dancefloor, then racing her off into the Women’s toilets. 

Because Delores didn’t go in after them, we’re going to switch to Cash’s point of view for the next half hour or so of this story. 

Cash in the Women’s

Cash had a starry-eyed girl in tow, hand in hand. The wide-eyed girl had never done anything girl on girl before, but music, dance, alcohol and Cash’s irresistible energy had turned her on, massively, and she was very keen to experience whatever happened next.  

Cash had liked Arethusa, and fancied her. The knowledge that she was invited into Arethusa’s and my bed, some time early in the morning, or later that night, was exciting too. But in the meantime she had a pretty girl, obviously submissive, wanting her attention. So she grabbed the girl’s hair at the back of her head and kissed her again. 

There were other women passing, so the couple pashing near the door were a bit on display. A sort of tasteful centerpiece.

Club Bento isn’t the sort of place where anyone, including straight women, will mind the sight of two pretty girls making out. So the starry-eyed girl got compliments for being a good girl for her Mistress.

Cash never even asked that girl’s name, and never knew it, but she did know that the girl was finding the compliments mildly humiliating and hot as fuck, all at once. So she upped the ante and pushed her up against the wall. She flipped up the girl’s little tartan skirt, and pulled her panties down. The girl closed her eyes. Once the panties were at her knees, Cash pushed them down to her ankles with her boot, and kissed her again, with her hand on, and then partly in, her cunt. 

Club Bento isn’t a sex-on-premises venue, by the way. If a bouncer had found them they’d have been thrown out for putting the club’s licence at risk.

But the bouncers didn’t go into the loos, or the seating in the dark where the girl next to me had just sucked her Master off, and I was using Arethusa as my cunt-puppet, still at the edge of coming with three of my fingers in her, but not allowed to come. Or make a sound. 

Cash stroked the girl, who was now wild-eyed and trembling, until she was nearly ready. At the last second she dropped to her knees, and finished the girl off with her tongue and lips, getting her face quite thoroughly wet. Eventually the girl moaned, then shouted, her arms flat against the wall as if she were being crucified, and she fell forward, onto Cash’s back, moaning, stroking her and calling her mistress. 

But Cash was done, for now. She stood up, kissed the girl, face shiny-wet with her fluids, and helped her with her panties. She said, “You’re really cool! And fucking pretty! But I’ve got to dance now.” 

Cash left, and the girl followed her out: she was a bit dazed, and she wanted more of that sort of thing. And she, the girl, bumped into her Master, who’d seen her go into the toilets with another girl, and knew something good was happening that he wasn’t part of. But now the two girls were out, and one of them was his submissive, and there was another girl with her. He knew he had a threesome lined up. 

His idea was on these lines, except he’d need a bigger shirt

But he didn’t. He was a little softer-bellied than Cash liked, and he had unfashionable hair. So this dom spanked his submissive, standing up, for going off without him. And then he said to Cash, “Come with us.” He was using the command voice to someone who hadn’t submitted to him, and for Cash that absolutely confirmed his complete unfuckability.

The scene in the toilets may make Cash seem a little heartless, but she’s not that at all. She was just living in the moment. So she knew that if she turned the guy down, he’d take it out on his girl, and she’d have a horrible night instead of the brilliant one she’d been having until then. 

She remembered seeing Delores, just before going into the toilets. “Yes, that’d be great,” she said, politely. “I’ll just ask have to ask my Mistress for permission.” 

[To be continued]

The story so far…

I take my loved slave Arethusa to Club Bento, a bdsm nightclub. I meet an ex-submissive of mine, Delores, who is showing the club to Cash, who turns out also to be an ex of mine. 

(If you spend enough time being a really dedicated slut, as I had been before Arethusa, then the chances of you having had sex with at least two or three people in any given nightclub in your city starts to approach 100%. The same applies to bdsm sex and bdsm nightclubs.) 

Eye contact? Not _always_

Arethusa and Cash eye each other off, and it’s agreed, non-verbally, that Cash, Arethusa and I are bound for my bed, some time in the early hours of the morning. But Cash goes off dancing, then Delores goes looking for a dom to bruise and fuck her that evening. Arethusa and I go and get lovey-dovey in a dark area where there are seats and, in our case, champagne. 

But now this story will follow Delores for a while.

Now read on…

Delores still had her glass of champagne, because she wasn’t really much of a drinker. Still, it made her look elegant, and gave her something to do with her hands while she looked around. 

Bedroom eyes. Leather panz. What more do you want?

A young man came over, dressed in tight leather pants that squeaked when he walked. His name was Marty, and he’d wanted to be her Master once. She’d been interested, until he’d tied her up and flogged her far harder than she’d agreed to. When she’d told him to stop, he’d said he was punishing her, so safewords didn’t count. When he released her, he told her she’d been a good girl. She’d slapped him hard, and told him to fuck right off. 

But here he was, with one hand on her shoulder, turning her round. “Hey, Delores!” He made to kiss her. 

Arethusa isn’t afraid of men, because she’d never been with one who’d wanted to harm her. But Delores has had a different life. She isn’t afraid of men because she’d experienced the worst, the very worst, they can do. She said, “I haven’t told many people what a pathetic, sick little fuck you are. I need to fix that. And if you don’t get your hand off me and fuck off in two seconds, you fucked-up little coward, I’m calling a bouncer.”

He went from scowl to smile in about a second. “Jesus, Mary-Jo, chill out for god’s sake. I’m just sayin hello.”

Mary-Jo was her given name, which she’d rejected. Marty was insulting her by using it, but in a deniable way. He was a passive-aggressive, whiny little sadist. When the two seconds were up and Marty was still there, she shouted, “Hey, Ron!” Ron the bouncer, not a small man, headed her way.

Marty snarled, “Crazy fucking bitch” and disappeared into the crowd in the dark.

Ron arrived. “”Hey, Delorry, you ok?” 

“I’m ok. Keep an eye on that little shit who was pestering me. And…” 

“Yep?” Ron, a sensible man, remembered Delores, liked her and trusted her judgment. 

“He’s a non-consent player.” Ron bristled. They give bdsm, and doms in particular, a bad name. But he said nothing, waiting. “If you see him getting lucky with anyone, it’d be a favor to all womankind if you fucked up his night.” 

“Ok. Done. Thanks for the tip. I don’t think he’s coming in here again. I mean, he can do what he likes, but he’s not getting in the door.” 

“Good.” Delores tiptoed and kissed him on the cheek. He clutched the spot, as if overcome. He smiled and, as he was walking away, turned and blew her a kiss.

Scuse fingers. (And no orgasms allowed.)

So that was a good outcome, she thought, but Marty had fucked up her mood for a bit. She looked for me, but I was kissing Arethusa with my hand under her tutu, and Arethusa was squirming nicely. She wasn’t allowed to come, and she was wondering about begging, with another Master and his slavegirl sitting so close. I slipped a third finger into her.

So Delores looked for Cash, instead. She turned around (I hadn’t seen her), and went to check the dancefloor. 

Girls, eh. What can you do?

And so she saw Cash on the edge of the dancefloor, kissing another girl, with the girl pushed a little back and Cash’s hand on her arse. Cash had kissed many girls; the other girl hadn’t. This was new for her: twenty-one and never been kissed. Not by a girl, anyway. But it was an intense, sex kiss. 

Delores, for all her many virtues, doesn’t really see that girl-on-girl can be a real thing, so she approached them instead. But before she’d got in range, Cash had grabbed the girl’s hand and was pulling her, she following very willingly, into the women’s toilets.  

[To be continued.]

So I was at Club Bento, with my slavegirl Arethusa, with whom I was madly, passionately, in love. I was holding a tiny platinum blonde Chinese girl who’d jumped up on me with her legs round my waist and, because she wasn’t taking much care while she rocked against me, I’d put my hands on her ass to support her. She’d realised by then that I hadn’t recognised her, and that seemed to be hilarious as well. She was still beaming at me.

I looked her. It was her eyes and her mouth that did it. I said, “Qing!”

She kissed me. “Where’ve you been, stranger?”

“I’ve been here. I kept trying to call you, at your house. And I kept getting through to your housemates. Who were grumpy as fuck. And I left messages. Did they get through?”

“Not to me. They were stupid bastards, those people I lived with. And they thought you were that other guy, your asshole friend. So they probably thought they were doing me a good… Anyway, that’s a pity, but… Here we are!”

Er, artist’s impression. Cash still had her knickers on, though tugged down considerably

She fell forward, and we kissed. Eventually, because it seemed like a good idea I pulled her tiny skirt up, and tugged her knickers as far down as they’d go, on a girl who was straddling me. That provided a space of bare bottom that was tempting in every possible way, and in easy reach. I spanked her, hard, six times, while she squealed and hung on.

It seemed like a good idea to set the mood. Before she’d been my possession, Arethusa had been in a relationship with a lucky guy and another girl, and she liked threesomes.

I hadn’t delivered one for us yet. But it seemed likely that this would work out.

Finally I dropped the girl to her feet. “How come you’re calling yourself Cash?”

Cash, as I was getting used to calling her, tugged at her skirt. I smacked her bottom again, and said, “Leave it.”

She dropped her hand, skirt still round her waist, half her bottom bare. “Nickname, darling. Too many people couldn’t pronounce Qing. So they started calling me K-Ching, like a cash register. Then I changed it to Cash. I liked it, so it’s my name.”

“I like it too. Cash, this is Arethusa.”

The two girls looked at each other. Cash pointed her head at me. “You’re with him?” 

Arethusa said, neutrally, “Yes. I’m his property.” 

So Cash hugged her, and said, “Cool! Lovely to meet you! How long have you been together?” 

“About a year. When did you..?” 

“When I was an accountancy student. We’d known each other for about an hour, and by then he’d tied me up, whipped me, fucked me, and then taken my anal, uh, girlhood. So it was just one night, but it was memorable.” 

Arethusa looked at me. Our first night had been roughly similar, except that she’d preserved her anal virginity for another month. I’d taken it with more ceremony than I’d allowed Qing. Arethusa said, “That’s Master, all right.” 

I looked at her. She smiled at me, thank fuck. I pointed at Cash. She nodded.

Strictly, we’d agreed that she was property, and it wasn’t her decision who came to bed with us, or what she did with her body. There was a piece of paper that said that, among other outrageous things, signed by both of us. In reality, of course, a slavegirl is the most wonderful person in the universe to her owner, and no master with a clue wants to make his girl unhappy. 

I said to Cash, “Do you have, um, an owner of any sort?” 

This doesn’t represent reality. It’s a pretty good indicator of what I was thinking, though

She was still looking at Arethusa. They’d reached some sort of understanding. But she shook her head. “I’m more of a top these days. So…” 

I considered that, disappointed for a second. On the other hand, Cash still hadn’t pulled her skirt down, after I’d told her not to. So I pulled her and Arethusa into a hug. And then, though I didn’t expect her to come to bed with us, I reeled in Delores as well. And we held each other, swaying together, and Arethusa and Cash kissed, and, because Delores didn’t kiss girls, I kissed her. 

It was one of the most blessed moments of my life. But I’m going to disappear from this story soon, for a while, anyway. 

[To be continued]

Note:

This is the sequel to a story I told a couple of years ago. You can find Qing’s and my first encounter, when she was a very different sort of girl, here. Or you can look for it, under its title, “Mouth to Mouth: Qing’s story”.