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”.