Slave Girl Emily Ch. 04

"Better turn it off for now," said Master, and I whimpered, "No!"

But Daniel turned off both the clamps and the vibrator, and Mouche gave a strange little high-pitched chuckle, there against the wall.

Master chose Dare, and Daniel said, "Piss in Mouche's mouth."

She mewed again.

"Here?" said Master.

"We should put down a towel or bathmat," said Daniel, "but otherwise you don't need to worry about the floor. There won't be much of a puddle."

Master left the room briefly and came back with a big beach towel. I wondered if he'd take me to the beach if I asked. He spread the towel on the floor near me, so I could see well. He stood on one end, and said, "Come here, Mouche." She got to her knees on the towel, gazed up into his face, and waited.

Master didn't have nearly as much trouble getting started as I'd had. Almost immediately his pee splashed on Mouche's lips and she opened her mouth wide to receive his stream, shifting her gaze from Master to me. When she was full, she closed her mouth to swallow - pee splashed on her nose - and then she leaned forward, took his cock in her mouth, and swallowed again and again, like a greedy child drinking lemonade through a straw. And all this time she stared into my eyes.

Watching her drink Master's pee, I was almost as turned on as I'd been with the clamps and vibrator. Her dark eyes were so beautiful, and what she was doing was so degrading - yet she seemed euphoric, glowing so much with happiness that I could almost swear I saw an aura around her.

Now Karen said, "Dare," and Master said, grinning wickedly at me, "I want your slave to give mine a kiss."

Mouche climbed onto the table and sat beside me, legs tucked under her. Her eyes gleamed; her breaths were short and sharp; her dark lipstick was glossy, her breasts wet. She smiled at me happily, and I thought of what she'd been doing tonight, drinking Karen's pee, and mine, and Master's - how could it give her so much pleasure?

She leaned forward and kissed me. She smelled like an unclean toilet, and as she thrust her tongue into my mouth she tasted salty and acrid, not at all nice. And yet my body responded to her taste, her smell, her little pierced nipples brushing my skin. Even tied up as I was, I couldn't help moving my hips a little.

Then they turned on all our devices. My body exploded with the sensations. Mouche's kiss became wild and frantic, and she mewed into my mouth.

Somewhere in the far distance I heard Daniel say "Dare," and Karen said, "I want to see Mouche eat Famula's cunt," and things were getting rearranged, I don't know how, and my pussy, already damp and hot, was the center of the galaxy, everything whirling around it. And somehow Master was up on the table, and his cock was in my mouth, and I was gagging on it as he thrust, craving it, and Daniel was humping Karen against the wall.

I screamed around Master's cock and came with an orgasm beyond any I'd ever felt; excited, he fucked my face hard till he came in my mouth, and I gulped down his cum. Mouche sat up between my legs, and we all watched as Daniel and Karen finished up against the wall.

The owners laughed and talked as they untied me and took the devices off Mouche and me. They dressed, and we slaves trailed them back to the living room. They relaxed on sofas and chairs. Mouche sat huddled in a far corner of the room, knees up, looking miserable. She was the only person in the room who hadn't had an orgasm. I sat near her, leaned against the wall, and watched the owners.

They seemed deeply engaged in their conversation. I looked at Mouche: she was staring at me again, head lowered, eyes sad. I didn't want to make love to her. I wasn't aroused and didn't think I'd like eating her pussy. But I felt obliged to her somehow - for the orgasm she'd given me, for her strange devotion to me this night, for the mere sight of her, which had moved me and given me so much pleasure.

I crawled towards her on elbows and knees, quietly, trying not to draw attention. She spread her legs for me: her pussy was bare, her outer labia thin and pale, inner labia dark pink and forbidding as they opened. I went flat on my stomach between her legs. She made a thin, tiny whine in her throat as my tongue touched her clit.

I'd never touched a woman there before, never seen, smelled, tasted a woman so close up. I was terrified and repelled by her damp, her pissy, cunty smell, her desolation and need. But, oh, I wanted so badly for her to have an orgasm. I closed my lips over her clitoris and massaged it gently with my tongue.

And I discovered a need of my own - to give pleasure to this slave whose wretchedness, like mine, was no less real because she had chosen it, whose pain was no less intense because she embraced it, and whose desires were no less beautiful for being strange and rare. And in my own need, her pussy became beautiful to look at, and its warmth and wetness felt delightful on my lips and tongue, its smell divine, its taste a heaven beyond description. This was Mouche - woman, slave, lover - and I kissed her womanhood as passionately as I'd ever kissed any man.

She responded to me, clit and labia swelling, growing warmer, wetter - and she slid forward into me and moaned, just a tiny moan - but that's what must have drawn the attention of our owners.

"Famula, stop that!" Master's voice was the crack of a whip.

"Mouche! Bad slave!" said Karen, shrill and scolding.

I shrank away from Mouche's pussy, suddenly small and ashamed. She drew her knees up and pressed them together, folded her arms over her knees, put her head down, and sobbed. I thought my heart was going to break.

The owners were standing over us. "We'd better take Mouche home," said Daniel. "It's getting late. We'll deal with her punishment there."

"Get Mouche's things," Master said.

I ran to the bedroom, got her clothes from the closet, and brought them to her.

"Go to the bedroom and wait for me," Master said.

I slouched away, stomach sinking. I turned in the entrance to the hallway and looked back. Mouche was staring at me, but the others were talking among themselves. I met her gaze and licked my lips, then turned and ran to the bedroom.

I curled up on my pallet. I was hot, tense, and unhappy, yet still aroused and unable to dismiss from my mind the image of Mouche's pussy, pierced nipples, pale skin, and dark eyes - the haunted, needy look of her and the excitement of that second of rebellion when looked into her eyes and licked my lips.

From where I was, I couldn't hear the voices from the living room, but I knew they were saying their goodbyes and leaving. Minutes passed; they seemed like hours.

I heard Master's step; his black leather shoes appeared by my pallet.

"Sit up, Emily," he said.

I sat, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around my legs. I couldn't look at him, but stared forward, seeing nothing.

"Look at me," he said.

I forced myself to look up at him. His face was severe, mouth a hard, straight line.

"Your body is mine," he said, "not yours. You do not choose what to do with it - not what to eat, where to sit, where to go - I decide those things for you. You have no will, no agency, no power at all over yourself or others - all that is mine. Your sexuality is mine - your sexual pleasure comes from me or at my direction. You have no right to give pleasure to others without my leave, and yet that's what you did tonight."

"I'm sorry, Master," I said, and for the first time since I'd come to him I found no enjoyment in my fear and anxiety.

"For the next three nights you'll sleep on the table in the playroom, not here with me."

The playroom sounded like a cold and lonely place. "Yes, Master," I said, and started to gather up my blanket and pillow.

"Leave those here," he said. "You'll be warm and comfortable enough without them."

The table was hard, I was cold, and Master was far away. This was the worst punishment he'd ever given me.

The next morning I woke up early, stiff and cold. I took a hot shower and went to make breakfast. I got Master for breakfast as usual, and when I brought his food and asked permission to sit, he said, "No. Eat in the kitchen."

Feeling miserable, I ate standing at a kitchen counter. Master mostly ignored me all day, only occasionally calling me to fetch him something. I stayed out of his way and read my schoolbooks. As the dinner hour approached, he announced that he was going out, that he might be coming home late, and that I needn't wait up for him. I didn't hear when he came in.

The next morning he let me sit with him at breakfast but said nothing. That evening he was already home when the driver dropped me off. When I let myself into the apartment, he was sitting on the sofa, looking at me. I felt awkward. He seldom saw me with my school clothes on.

"Come sit with me," he said.

I went to sit at his feet, but he said, "Here," and patted the sofa cushion beside him.

I sat next to him, feeling even more awkward, and waited for whatever was coming.

He said, "I don't want to belabor the matter of your infraction last Saturday, but before I let it go I want to know why you did what you did."

I said, "I'm sorry, Master," and I really was. I was still feeling ashamed and miserable.

He said, "I'm not going to punish you more than I have. I just want to know. You're supposed to confide in me, and in this case you can do so without fear."

"I'm sorry, Master," I said again. "Everyone at the party had an orgasm but her, and she looked so sad. I wanted to make her feel good."

"I thought it must be something like that," he said. "She comes across as rather a waif. But we can't consider the impression a slave makes when we manage her."

"I don't manage slaves, Master," I said. "I am one. Like her."

"And so you understand very well that she chose the life she's living, as you did."

"We did choose to be slaves, Master, but we don't make that choice at every moment. We're really not free and completely your responsibility."

He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. He let a few seconds pass and then said, "She's beautiful. Were you attracted to her?"

"Yes, Master. I got more attracted to her as the night went on."

"She had something of a fixation on you. But you shouldn't let that bother you: she does everything obsessively."

"It bothered me at first, Master, but then I decided she was harmless."

"She has unusual kinks. Some find them repulsive. But you didn't?"

"No, Master."

"Not when I made her kiss you with piss on her breath?"

"No, Master, not after a few seconds."

"So I failed to find a limit there," he said.

I didn't know what to say. The silence became awkward.

"Shall I make your dinner, Master?"

"I don't want dinner right now," he said. "Come with me."

He led me to the bathroom and said, "Take off your clothes."

I stripped and dropped my clothes on the floor.

"Sit on the toilet," he said, putting the lid up.

I sat, and he took his cock out and aimed it between my breasts. It felt like a gun pointed at my heart.

"Master?" I said.

"Yes, Emily?"

"No? please?"

"Is this a limit, then?"

"I'm not sure, Master. Maybe a soft limit for now? Do you really need to do it?"

"I don't need to piss on you," he smiled, "but I need to piss. You'd better get up."

I stood up. He raised the toilet seat, and I watched him pee. On an impulse I put my hand into the stream; pee splattered on the floor, on his trousers, and on my legs.

"Emily!" he exclaimed, pinching his cock to make himself stop. "Look what you've - "

"Oh, Master!" I giggled. "You've peed yourself!"

He turned to me and said, "Emily - "

He looked really funny standing there with his cock in his hand, trying to look stern.

"Master, you - " I snorted, trying to suppress my laughter, but the effort just made it more hilarious.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Emily, you will go to the playroom and wait for me there. We have serious business to attend to."

"Yes, Master," I sang, and skipped out of the room.