The Madam


Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine





Marceline, 1893.

The golden furred Pekingese pulled back on the lace curtains, and peered down from the fourth story window into the heart of Marceline proper. The little hansoms and surries were continually speeding through the town’s thoroughfares, dashing between the freight wagons. The noon hour marked lunch, and the streets had become crowded with traffic. Everyone from government clerks and bank clerks, to sugar-bakers and soap-boilers made their way to one of the many meal houses either on foot, or in one of the omnibuses, tandems, and carriages that made their trade plying the slab-stone streets. Altogether it was a rattling, noisy, and thickly jammed traffic of vehicles and drivers who swore and lashed at their steeds. Police directed traffic at the many intersections, and trains forced their way through crossings at street-level into the Western & Atlantic's railyard. The four-wheeled wagons, their tops crowned by their drivers, rolled in and out constantly between the many stores, businesses, and especially the train station, all while the foot-ways beat under the trampling of the growing population.

The fourth floor of the Hotel Marceline provided a cozy hideaway from the world below.   

For a few seconds, she focused on the town, glancing through her own reflection in the window glass. She was a big woman, full-breasted and statuesque. From the full head of thick fur that draped around her eyes, down her bare neck and shoulders and to the black leather bodice that supported her rather sizable bosom with plenty of cleavage showing, she radiated dominance. She let the lace curtain fall back and returned her attention to the room. Her bushy tail wagged side to side behind her, bouncing to the piano show-tune that came from the phonograph.

Inside the parlor of the hotel suite the light was warm and low, mostly coming from the large windows. The room looked like one big, open space—and full of stuff that would have made any respectable woman blush. The floor was covered in thick oriental rugs, with subtly hidden anchor bolts all over the place, driven into the walls, the floor, the ceiling, not to mention quite a few pieces of furniture plainly meant to tie someone to. Over in the corner was an ornate love-seat, as well as a brass head framed bed and what looked to be a wardrobe.

A low hum filled the air, coming from the machine at the center of the room. It looked like a saddle, made from black leather, standing atop a frame a good two and a half feet off the floor. Atop the black saddle was a long rubber pad with a ridged ball perched on top. Those connected to powerful pneumatic motors inside the device that could vibrate at thousands of RPMs. There was simply no resisting it. As the current pet who was atop the machine was finding out.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Dixie?” The madam said in a low sultry voice, turning around to face the golden furred Irish setter. “Although I suppose it was only a matter of time…you never could behave.”

The beautiful creature didn't answer; her naked, voluptuous body bound with black silk rope tied in intricate knots up her frame. All glistening with a sheen from her exertion. Instead she was content to grind her hips against the sybian and moan softly through the deep red silicone ball that filled her mouth. Her bright red hair and golden cheeks were cupped by the harness gag’s black straps, while nervous exhales fogged the rubber surface as it was held between those lips.

“Hmmph!” Dixie’s voice had been reduced to incoherent moans.

“Oh, hush sweetie, I know you love it, even if you can't admit it.”

Peg began to walk around the set-up, while the setter’s eyes followed. The madam's dress gave away her position as a dominatrix, from the bodice to a long flowing red skirt that concealed knee high boots with spiked heels. The madam noticed that Dixie couldn't help but stare wide eyed at her own jugs, tightly laced in the bodice so while their tops would jiggle with each step, they appeared as if they would spill over at any second.

“I would be fibbin' if I was to say I wasn't looking forward to this.” Peg commented.

Dixie grunted, eyes rolling, as Peg walked around her, examining the work. Rope had been used to tie each of the setter’s soft ankles to its respective thigh, keeping her fully seated atop the Sybian. Ever the perfectionist, Peg tied an additional rope around Dixie's waist and then to the eyebolt behind her, preventing her from trying to use her knees as leverage. The only articles of clothing on the bound woman were her heels, and they were not much. Her feet were mostly exposed except for a thin black band that ran over her toes, and another around her ankle. The points of her heels made pronounced divots in that soft ass. Peg couldn’t resist and reached a finger out to tickle the tops of those squirming paws.

“Grruummphhh,” Drool slipped from the diva’s lips.

Peg chuckled. Growls weren't very intimidating when they were muffled by a ballgag.
	
The dominatrix slipped a hand back and tugged at the strap behind Dixie’s neck, tightening it further until it bit into the diva’s cheeks and stretched her lips over the sphere. Dixie closed her eyes as the chin strap pulled and tightened the other strap over her the top of her head until her jaw griped the ball like a vise. Satisfied, Peg continued her slow pace, her eyes drinking in the sight.

“I could give it to you,” she said to her captive, “Everything you've done to others, done to you. You know what sort of mischief you’ve been up to. I don’t think I need to explain that.”

Dixie’s elbows had been lashed tightly together, forcing them to touch behind her. Each of her wrists was bound individually, the ends of which having been fed through the eye-bolts at Dixie's sides and finally tied tightly to the ropes on her thighs, so that each hand was pulled to the side and hung helplessly against the frame of the saddle. Peg had finished the job by tying additional rope to Dixie's elbow tie and feeding it through the eye-bolt behind her, then up to the top of her gag harness. Pulling that tight not only held her head back but also prevented her from leaning any further forward. Her full, pillowy tits perked upwards with delight, begging for attention.

Peg turned her attention to that fine chest, each pink nipple stiff and pierced by a golden ring. A gloved finger slipped into a ring and gave it a light tug, just enough to elite a gentle squeal. The setter’s mounds had two coils of rope wound around the base, and tight too, the rope having been fed down over a shoulder, behind her back, back up the other shoulder, around her neck, and finally down between her glazed breasts. Wrapping them around her torso both above and below her chest, each successive coil squeezing Dixie's helpless globes a little more. After crossing the cords between her breasts in a distinctive X-shape, Peg had knotted the harness at the bound woman’s front and tied the remaining ends to the eye-bolt just in front of her. Drawing against it forced the ropes to further squeeze her chest. Dixie whimpered slightly, knowing that this leaning position would soon be difficult to maintain.

"You see, Dixie," Peg went on, “I know all those things too. I also know how to bind you so you'll never escape. I know how to use each and every toy. I know how to tease you so that you can't orgasm, unless I let you."

The opposing tension on Dixie’s chest made any thought of changing position a foolish fantasy. The setter flexed her arms and wiggled her shoulders uselessly, groaning faintly as she struggled to adjust, finding the rope-work both foreboding and wildly exhilarating.

“I need you to know these things,” Peg walked behind her shivering body, to where the copper tubes ran from underneath the device, then along the wall to a brass handled valve. “Because I need you to know something else too.”

“Mmmmmphaaahhmmm,” the trail of saliva finally dripped, landing on a small damp spot right between those heaving tits. Dixie groaned and tried shifting her hips, the ball inside her and the rubber pad vibrating manically against her loins. The setter's tail quivered and her lips bared in a snarl around the scarlet ball.

“I need you to know that today, you belong to me.” Peg gently twirled the valve. Adding more pressure to the device’s pneumatic motors. “You’ve been exceedingly challenging as of late, dearie. Oh, Cash has told me all.”

Dixie groaned as the buzz of the motors grew sharper. It hummed as it worked, the ridges pressed deliciously against her g-spot, driving her closer and closer to orgasm. She was soaked, her wet pussy clenching but finding no purchase on the slippery rubber pressed into her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded as she rocked her hips, taking the vibrations then pressing down against the ridge that was up between her feminine lips.

“Someone like you, stubborn and bullheaded, needs something creative. Invigorating." Peg twirled the handle again, increasing the motion. “More than for me to just stick a vibrator against your pussy, or fuck you with a strap-on. Isn't that right?”

“Muumm-huum.” The diva doggie gasped for air and moaned as she thrashed in her bonds, pulling at the ropes and contorting her torso to try and escape the leg restraints. Her upper body was all that moved, and as she fought the pleasure it only made the vibrations feel more intense. Her pierced tits bounced wildly as she squirmed, her hair tasseling and saddle squeaking under the movement. This was unlike anything she had felt before, the machine was prying out some impossible pleasure held deep down within.

“Let’s go over a few rules, just to remind you. Maybe this time they will stick through that thick head.” Dixie squealed as the looming climax began to creep up on her. Wracked with mind-bending pleasure, she felt herself squirting hot wet juices along the ridge and felt aroused by herself as it dripped down and further lubricated the rubber surface. The way the ecstasy ripped through her body was like some drug. Inescapable.

Peg chuckled, then wound back down on the valve, manipulating it. The vibrations slowed for a few moments, enough for the climax to slip out of reach, then the thrumming increased again. “First off, I'm your Mistress. You will obey all my orders or you will be punished. Do you understand?”

Dixie grunted as her muscles loosened, and again as the buzzing returned and her arms locked, the black ropes creaking as she pulled on them. She could hear herself whimpering pathetically as each climax was pulled away from her, leaving her breathless and frustrated. The stopping and starting was creating a strange craving sensation in the pit of her stomach. It felt like hunger. A desperate angry hunger that itched and caught in her throat. Her eyes were sealed shut, trying to concentrate on the sensations and will herself over the edge to the ecstasy she'd felt before.

“Second, you will always present yourself in my presence. You will walk behind me and when I'm seated you will kneel on the floor by my feet. You will always keep your gaze lowered, and you will also speak only when spoken to.”

The pleasure only grew and grew, and with each rejection, the pressure inside the squirming setter rose. As though the threshold for orgasm was rising, and each time she was given more vibration than before. Dixie stretched out her toes, the heels clicking as her feet wiggled, gripping the saddle with her legs and pressing her fingers into the leather as she soared up towards the pinnacle, near enough to taste it, only to have it torn away again. She struggled to collect her thoughts as the vibrations returned to their lowest level.

Peg left the valve closed, so that only a low hum came from underneath the bound and gagged diva. The madam reached for one of the many implements hanging on a pegboard on the wall, a black riding crop. “Third, there are other things here, dearie. Quite a few whips, clamps, gags, spreaders and chains. These aren't very nice things, are they?"

“Mummmm.” Dixie exhaled sharply, but after a moment she nodded. Peg swore she saw an attempt at a smile behind that big red ball. 

“Good girls, they understand discipline, dignity, and courtesy,” Peg walked around Dixie, holding the crop and examining it, feeling its weight in her hand. “Bad girls, they get punishment.”

Dixie was silent until she felt the fret of the crop press at the base of her right breast, like a leather tongue licking her skin. With a tiny groan, she shuddered as the crop found her defenseless nipple, flicking the ring up and down with the fret. The diva recoiled but couldn't dislodge it, the fret slipping into the ring and giving a slow but firm tug. 

“And you, Sugartits,” Peg smiled, giving the lustrous nipple a gentle yank before slipping the fret back out. She stood behind the bound bitch, just out of eyesight. “--are a bad girl.”

Dixie screamed out with surprise as the black leather crop swung down and smacked her right ass cheek with a loud crack. The show-tune increased in rhythm. She shrieked at the piercing pain, turning her head awkwardly to try and see the source, only for the ropes and knots to hold her firm, back arched and feet wiggling. It hurt a lot more than the setter had expected, though only for a few seconds before it became a more manageable throbbing sensation. The pain was a little more than the diva had bargained for, but not any more than she could stand, and Peg was making it clear that this was what she deserved for her impudence. Her tail hiked back, muzzle wrinkling around the gag.

“You are no longer your own woman, and you must learn to submit with grace and respect.”

Dixie steadied her breathing as yet another onslaught of vibration assaulted her tight, wet, little pussy. Peg’s fingers twirling the valve wide open. It carried her again higher and higher, to the edge of the sky and she prepared angrily to be left there again, clutching at the ropes in expectant anguish. The thrumming was so fast and intense now, her whole pelvis was trembling under the force.

The madam’s fingers wrapped around Dixie’s muzzle, thumb and forefingers clutching that shivering jaw so that Peg could feel the huffs of air escaping between the diva’s lips and the ballgag. The gagged woman was drooling again, and breathing heavily to catch her breath. The fret of the crop was drawn up a leg, and around the straps of those black heels to dance around Dixie’s ankle before tapping its way along her open toes.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Peg’s eyelids fluttered as she whispered into the shaking bitch’s rose-red ear. “and plenty of time to do it.”

Peg kissed Dixie’s cheek and swatted the bitch hard with the crop once, twice and then again and again. The Irish setter shrieked, blasted into rapture, her body shaking as her eyes rolled back and her head still held in Peg's grip, stretched upwards and back. Dixie’s thighs, asscheeks, and hips all became targets. Each impact sent the flesh rippling and jiggling with a crack of leather, and left a long thin line that bisected the honey tone of the woman’s bound body. It hurt a lot more than she had expected, though only for a few seconds before it became a more manageable throbbing sensation. Every nerve being inflamed in pure bliss. The vibrations didn't relent, and kept her barreling towards that enormous orgasm at top speed.

“It's okay sug, you may cum.” With a twist of her wrist, Peg brought the crop down between Dixie's spread legs to bite at where her clit was pressed against the rumbling rubber. The hot kiss of the fret launched the diva out of reality and then suddenly released her.

Dixie screamed into the ballgag as a mind-blowing orgasm blinded her, the non-stop whipping only adding to her blissful release. The climax hit her hard, Dixie's body convulsing as it was overtaken with ecstasy, releasing hot wet juices all over the saddle. She twisted and contorted every which way as the bonds held her firmly in place. Peg gave one final swat across the shivering diva's breasts, the whole shaft of the crop cutting across both pierced tits as the madam used it like a switch, then pushed Dixie's head away. She reached for the handle, and wound it down. The high-pitched humming of the motors slowly dropped into low thud.

Every muscle in Dixie's body tautened as she squirted all over the saddle, twitching with the aftershocks as the vibration finally subsided.

“Good girl,” Peg chuckled, lifting her head back so that her large bang would roll to the side and grant her an unobstructed view of the show. “Very good girl.”


			*****************

Peg’s heels clicked on the hardwood of the stair treads as she ascended up the main staircase of the always bustling Hotel Marceline. She had just paid the information counter a visit, and made the dossier aware that she was ready to meet with the hotel’s owner in her parlor. A shawl was draped across her shoulders to help make her a little more respectable among the patronage of such a fine establishment. Not that she didn’t catch a few quick glances here and there from eyes that got close enough to see through the fabric. Always one to advertise her services, the Pekinese would smile and give a gentle bob of her head in return. Those who lingered ever longer might receive a wink, or even a blown kiss. A silent invitation to perhaps drift her way and make an acquaintance.

Stepping off the staircase on the third floor, the madam found herself in the center of the hotel’s main atrium. Out its large front windows, she could see the street and the railroad’s depot across the tracks. The location of the establishment took full advantage of the throngs of travelers by rail. The town of Marceline itself was located almost dead center on the route of the W&A, and the railroad was its lifeblood. Walking across the thick oriental rugs that covered the landing, Peg noted the number of hunting dogs with gun-cases, and the number of women who surely had Tam-o'-Shanters and plaids concealed within their luggage, ready for the forests. It was spring, and the time was right for a wholesale flight from the warm south to the cool north.

The Hotel Marceline was as lavish as it was convenient. Peg’s tail was swaying in a gentle arc as she entered a dining room and lounge that was located to one side of the landing. Fans set in the high ceiling with its plaster moldings kept the air moving and, while open window transoms ventilated cool fresh air. One thing Peg liked about the Hotel Marceline was how cool and welcoming it was on a spring day. She made her way through the room and around the many tables to a small alcove where a wooden door stood bordered by potted palms.

On the other side of this door, it was silent. The sound of the hustle of the hotel was replaced by a current of cool air. Another wooden staircase, much smaller and far less grand climbed to the top floor. The main staircase bypassed this floor entirely. Access was only found through this out of the way entrance that had Peg’s heels clicking and clacking as she climbed. This was her world now, and the simple door that stood at the fourth-floor landing was the gateway to her palace of pleasure.

At the top of the stairwell she found herself inside a small and strangely furnished front parlor. Several purple velvet-upholstered couches surrounded a stone fireplace and the walls were covered in damask silk wallpaper in red and gold while the floor was covered in a mishmash of rugs. The place was dark, its windows, with their top transoms open to draw in the cool breeze, covered with black crape, and low-level gas lighting that when coupled with the red silk wallpapers cast the whole room in an eerie amber glow. The air was thick with the scent of opium, and Peg felt the shawl loosen as she walked across the parlor.

To the rear of the parlor was a hallway, which led to a set of private rooms and chambers for the guests. The parlor was a place where one could receive a guest, establish the rules and boundaries before drifting off to one of the many private rooms. The parlor also provided a comfortable space to make monetary transactions and perform the business that came with such vice. Already, there were a few guests seated on the room’s many armchairs and cushions. Two dogs, a light gray basset hound and a gray furred husky, knelt with their hands in front and heads bowed, having assumed the position as the madam entered the room. They were nude save for the thick collars around their necks. After Peg passed, they both rose to tend to other businesses, having given their respect.

There was another woman sitting in this private enclave. Her long legs were tucked under her as she lay astride a fainting couch, while a mug of coffee was gripped in one paw and a newspaper was spread in the other. The brown afghan hound raised her thin muzzle in Peg’s direction as the madam settled into a love-seat. Unlike the others, she neither assumed a position, nor was she fully nude. She was topless, however. Her teardrop shaped breasts spilled out over a golden camisole, with her dark nipples standing out against the deep hue. Despite wearing a collar, she did not avert her gaze, and instead met Peg eye to eye.

“Well hello there, Dollface. You look like you’ve had a busy morning.” She folded the newspaper and set it aside. “I’ll take it that Dixie was her usual cantankerous self?” 

Peg chuckled. “Oh, nothing that couldn’t be handled, Ruby. She’s a lot of noise and hot air without a lot of substance. Had her drooling within the first twenty minutes. She still has a long way to go before her session is up. But her master is an old friend, and I owe him a few favors.”

“That dog has more bark in her than bite. Favors are favors, but you should charge extra for the trouble.” Ruby took a long swig of her coffee, the collar around her bare neck glinting in the flickering light from the gaslamp behind her.

Peg grinned. There was no beating around the bush when it came to the domiantrix’s most trusted pet. When Peg wasn’t holding court over her own palace, it was Ruby who stood behind the helm. Originally collared after she answered an ad Peg had put for a show girl, but unable to pay off the expenses of travel, the hound had become a staple of Marceline’s more deviant community. That is, after having paid off her debt.

“It wasn’t any real trouble. She’ll be hanging around with us tonight. Mostly by her ankles,” the madam reaffirmed with a wave of a hand. “Who do you have lined up tonight?”

“Just a few today, if you feel up to it.” Ruby slipped a hand between the folds of her gilded corset and pulled out a small leather-bound notebook. “The two back rooms are rented, as is the big parlor. The winch has been serviced in the grand saloon and it’s got an occupant this evening after dark.”

Peg nodded. She knew what Ruby meant by listing each room’s occupancy. It was the nature of the business that all her staff did was provide rooms to rent. What happened in those rooms was the personal arrangement of the client.

“I could go for a ply of the craft.” Peg said with a small grin. “Have a little fun, like old times.” 

“Ah, I think I know what you’re after.” Ruby closed the book. “First of the month and all.”

“Whatever could you mean?”

“They always rent the red room on the first of the month.” Ruby’s tone dropped into a deep octave. “Your old friend and his wife. You want me to keep her busy while you try your hand at wooing him once more?”

“Now Ruby!” Peg laughed. “I ought to spank you for such a suggestion.” 

“It’s my job to know where all the bones are buried. Don't tell me you haven't thought about the one who got away.” 

“Perhaps a little dinner and some charm,” The Madam said with a small grin. “Ain't no telling what sort of trouble that dog brings to the table. But it’s always fun to find out.” 

“You’ll have to tell me after the fun. His wife is a tough little cookie.” Ruby snorted a laugh. “Good thing you’re taking on some of the riff and the raff. I’ll need all afternoon to prep for her. And that’s after balancing the books following rent.”

Peg’s eyebrows arched as she heard the sounds of footfalls on the staircase. The madam leaned closer to Ruby, and spoke from one side of her mouth in a hushed tone; “Speak of the devil and he shall come. Look alive dearie.”

The Pekingese pursed her lips and blew her thick bangs out from in front of her eyes as a spotted male casually paced towards them, a hand reaching into his coat pocket to pull out a small notebook. The dalmatian had a strong outline, firm shoulders and square muzzle, all common to his breed. His white and black spotted coat contrasted with the dark brown of his trousers and gilded vest, the stick of a tail quivering behind him. His smile might have seemed a little awkward, perhaps even goofy, to some. Yet to Peg, there was a wholesomeness to the male and she welcomed his presence with a smile as she rose from the sofa. 

“Hello Pongo,” Peg extended her hand to the dalmatian. “How’s the misses?”

“In good health, and putting up with the likes of me.” Pongo took her hand and brushed his lips briefly on the top of her palm. “And yourself? I presume the two of you have been doing well?”

“As right as rain and a fair bit drier,” Peg tipped her head. Never a dull moment around these parts.”

“Jolly good.” He spoke with the light English accent of an immigrant who had been in the states long enough for his native dialect to start to wane. The madam suspected that in another few years, it might vanish entirely. “I hope you’ll understand if I must be brief today. The hotel is packed tonight, and Perdi’s alone in the office right now.”

“Not to worry, dearie. I saw the crowd when I was downstairs and it looked like a tornado had hit the office. We won’t keep you for too long.” Peg turned to her companion. “Ruby, won’t you be a dear and fetch Mr. Radcliff his pittance from the safe?”

Ruby kicked her legs out and slipped off the sofa, her long satin red skirt tumbling down to cover those equally long limbs. “Mmm-hmm. Don't you two go anywhere or get up to anything until I get back.”

The madam chuckled, “Oh, don’t fret, Pongo here isn’t into our sort of game. Isn’t that right?”

“It’s your gaff, Miss Peg. I just keep the lights on and the gas burning.” He opened his notebook and hastily diverted his eyes from Ruby’s bare chest as she slipped past him.  

“So modest.” The madam said with a light grin. “You really are a family man.”

Somewhere from down the hallways, a heavy smack was heard. Pongo’s eyes shifted uneasily towards it, then re-centered on Peg. He offered her an embarrassed glare, which she laughed off with no small amount of pleasure.

“You have been nothing but a wonderful host, Pongo dearie. Don’t worry about what happens up here. Momma keeps a tight ship.”

The dalmatian’s cheeks flushed, but he nodded. “That’s a right honest truth. Of all the long term guests, you’ve always been one of my better tenants.” 

“Things that chaotic this season?” 

“More like unreasonably complex.” Pongo rubbed his temple. “Take this morning for example. We have a woman from Atlanta, some high society faff who can’t help but show herself off.” 

“Let me guess, a fine turned paw who thinks the sun sets between her ears?”  

“Righto. She’s been a thorn in my hip since she waltzed through the front doors. Thankfully my darling has the patience and the finesse to handle her.”  

“That guest wouldn’t happen to be a poodle, would it?” 

The dalmatian's ears perked. “Possibly an acquaintance?”

“Hardly likely. Let’s just say I know of her type, and Perdi has a lot more patience than I.”  

“She’s a gem when it comes to multitasking. Mind you, were you to see the size of our family, you'd understand why.”

“Oh, I have an idea. Ninety nine of them in fact.” Peg snorted a laugh.

Pongo’s eyes drifted to a nearby glass case up against the wall. Its shelves were lined with whips, hoods, and a few nasty looking crops with thick frets. His lower lip rolled as he examined the objects. Peg had seen that look plenty of times from the uninitiated. She pushed back her bang and her face softened to a warm smile.

The heavy thud of a door closing announced Ruby's return. Pongo averted his gaze as best he could without seeming like he was openly ignoring the woman as she walked across the parlor, her bare breasts still on display. As she slipped past, a package wrapped in brown paper slid into his hands. He placed it under his arm as Ruby settled back down on her fainting couch. “Should be all there, spots. Yah wanna open it up and count them?”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary,” Pongo replied, balancing the package while quickly jotting down a note in his pad before returning it to its pocket. “Peggy is always as good as her word. As much as I would love to stay and chat, I must return before the misses starts to wonder. Peg, you will join us for tea sometime, won’t you?” 

“Ah, not tonight sweetheart. My schedule is rather full.” The madam winked. “Perhaps tomorrow night?”
  
Pongo nodded, and started towards the staircase. “Fair deal, tomorrow night it shall be.” 

The two women watched the dog vanish down the flight of stairs, waiting until they heard the gentle thud of the door that led back into the hotel proper. Once they were sure they were alone, Ruby turned to Peg, and smiled. “You wanna fuck ‘im, doncha?”

The Pekingese put a hand over her heart and let out an exaggerated gasp of false offense. “Who me? Why never!” 

Ruby laughed. “Yeah, sure. What is it they say about the attraction of the unobtainable?” 

“He would look very cute spread over a horse.” Peg's muzzle was split by a sly smile. “But I have a feeling I know what his answer would be.” 

“Have you popped an invitation on him?”

“Oh, of course! The second we met and got this deal arranged. Alas, he and his wife prefer to keep their acts secluded to each other.” Peg chuckled. “From what I’ve seen of her, Perdi can be a delicate sort. I think the ropes and chains alone would properly scare her.”

“It’s not for everyone.” Ruby agreed. “Goose and the gander and all that. Some can handle it, others can’t. You know the game.” 

Peg did indeed know the game. She had started out as a young girl in the dog and pony shows, and she had seen plenty of admirers come and go. The madam nodded, being sure that Pongo had long departed before leaning towards her assistant.

“Pongo noted that he has a rather feisty guest. Did Georgette book a room again?”  

Out came the little book, and Ruby nodded in confirmation. “She has the parlor suite this evening. Seems she found a new boy-toy to play with.”

“That’s a fly in the ointment.” The madam frowned and her right ear perked. “We need to keep an eye on her. I wasn’t impressed with her the last time she was here. You recall what happened?”

“How could I forget?” Ruby snapped the book shut. “How that young dalmatian stayed on as her assistant after that, I’ll never know.” 

“We honestly should have blacklisted her. I figured banning her from using our own pets would chase her away. But last time she just dragged that assistant in.” Peg curled her lip. She would give her crew their protection, a safe place for them to indulge and work. Even in a house where captivity and sex was the item to sell, the madam had her morals. “I told Miss Fifth Avenue she had one last chance.”

“I wonder where she found this new toy. I hope he can stand up to her if she tries to push things.” 

“Just the same, dearie. There’s a difference between consent and coerced. You can do a lot without breaking that rule but that’s a definite line. It’s why I don’t really approve of any under-the-table changes to an in-progress contract.” 

“I’ll keep tabs on her. If she steps over that line, you’ll know.”

“I know I can count on you. Hopefully it won’t come to that.” The Madam nodded, and with a satisfied giggle, peered down the hallway. A grandfather clock sounded out the hour. “With Dixie on our hands tonight, I’m not sure I have room to punish two loud mouthed divas.”


				***********


Peg crossed her arms under her bosom and tilted her head at the sight. She had to admit, she was impressed as soon as she set her eyes on him. While many males had come and gone her way, clients or otherwise, there was a sort of roguish charm that came from this one. One that she silently admired, and looked forward to whenever he drifted her way.

 Yes, he was indeed a fine specimen. His soft white body glistened in the shaft of sunlight cast over him from a skylight that his bound form was positioned below. Outside the gentle creaking of the leather belts that secured him, the naked Jack Russel terrier produced little noise. That is, aside from the muffled sigh of exhalation and saliva squeezing past the dark red ball gag every couple of seconds. His lips were wrapped around its shining smooth surface in a wide “O” shape.  

The terrier was secured in a device that looked like an upside down “T” made from iron pipe and secured atop a three-legged frame bolted to the floor. His wrists were locked tightly together behind his back with a leather belt around each wrist at the junction of the “T”, keeping his arms secured to each side of the metal pole and pulled down enough to put a slight backwards curve to his torso. The very top of the bar was just at his neck, and a belt at its point wrapped around his throat like a collar. Similar belts wrapped around his torso at his chest, and just below his navel. He hung like this, suspended in the air from the pole, his slender body spread along its shape.

The madam stood there for a minute, watching as a bead of sweat rolled down his brown furred forehead from between two floppy ears. It slid down his tousled furred muzzle, only to drop from his chin and come to rest on his neck. His legs were spread horizontally to each side of him, ankles belted tightly to the extreme ends of the “T” so that his bare paws hung uselessly in space, keeping his legs firmly in situ pulled up and spread. His dark gray toes wiggled, alongside his stubby tail.

 But there was more to this naked and bound figure than was immediately apparent. Between his legs, his pink skinned cock bobbed in simi-erection. At average size, it was nothing to write home about, but Peg felt she could quickly remedy that. His eyebrows hiked and his head tilted as he stared at the approaching blonde furred woman, both of his floppy ears hiking forward at the sound of Peg’s solid heels clicking on the bare floorboards. Unlike the lavishly appointed room that Dixie had been bound in, with its many toys and playthings, this room was almost empty, save for a single wood cabinet and the frame. The paneled walls were otherwise devoid of wallpaper, furnishings, or gilt. Only the skylight and three windows that lined the outside wall cast in shafts of clean natural light. 

“Well, now isn’t this a pretty picture,” Peg chortled. She knew she had to be careful not to allow the built-up tension to subside; he had already clocked up a good ten minutes strapped there without any stimulation. She tapped her finger against the side of her own chin, “Dodger, was it?”

“Muhumph!” Dodger groaned, his mouth rippling around the gag while his head lolled back. She damn well knew his name. But the tease was more than enough to humble him. A deep, muffled moan emerged from his throat as one of Peg’s hands hooked into a hip, just above his crotch and started to gently drag her fingers along the crotch line where his raised leg met his pelvis. She caught the wafting scent of rose shampoo off his shivering body.

“There is one rule while I'm in this room, Dodger, dearie. You'll cum, and it will be the most pleasurable experience of your life, but you will do it only when given permission.” She ran the tip of her finger over his crotch, and his hips shook briefly while he released a heavy grunt. “Not one second before. Your job is to hold on for dear life. Understood?"

She let go of his hip and Dodger groaned a loud “Mm-hmm” in acknowledgment before his groan morphed into another low moan. He shut his eyes and began thrashing, pumping his buttocks in the air as best he could against the straps. His glans bobbed up and down as his shaft began to perk. The madam didn't want to touch it yet. The next stage was very important.

Peg picked up a bottle from inside the cabinet. Inside was a combined formula containing silky-smooth lube and a stimulant designed to seep into penile tissue and reach the very core of the glans and shaft. While the toys were incredibly fun to use, when it came to these sessions with a male, what Peg enjoyed more than anything was to test her own skill at edging. Making sure that her back was to the bound Jack Russel, she dumped a generous amount onto her palm. Her thick tail swayed side to side behind the roll of her ample rump.

Dodger let out a low gurgle as the Pekinese returned to him and began massaging it into his hardening organ. The terrier's pelvis jerked towards her, thrusting into her hand. She wondered if it was on purpose. She gave it the tiniest squeeze in return, and it flexed in her hand. The madam had intentionally placed him at a good height for her to bend over and blow him, but decided he needed more manual stimulation before he was ready for that. With both hands, she clutched his shaft and began slowly but firmly working all the way downand up across his entire glans. A smile split Peg’s face as the stimulant lube magnified the sensitivity of his already-sensitive areas.

The terrier released his most primal moans yet, more saliva falling to the floor as he failed to stop himself drooling at the sudden increase in pleasure. Dodger’s cock pulsated in her hands, dripping with more precum which quickly got mixed into the lube. Peg pumped harder, trusting him to continue holding back.

“Holding up, big boy?” The madam’s voice was low and sultry. Her hair and ears bobbed from the motion her arms made as she started heavy and long pumps, forcing him to moan louder with every stroke. “Think you can handle it?”

Dodger began vocalizing, attempting to beg, but all that came out was a stream of incomprehensible moans and low grunts coming from deep within his throat. To each side and behind his back, his toes and fingers curled and his stiff tail was quivering in growing anticipation. Peg could tell that while he thought he was unable to hold off for much longer, the reality was quite different. The sounds he was making; the way he was thrusting into her hands; the amount of precum he was leaking: she knew he had plenty of fight left in him. 

She did one final glide of both her hands, from the base of his shaft to cup the head in a palm, and then released him. Dodger's head hung forward, panting quickly through his nose and chin slumped downwards as he tried to recover from the experience. The terrier scrunched his muzzle and grunted as Peg slapped one of his ass cheeks before leaving him to slump in the restraints.

While he hung on the iron pipe rack, the madam turned to the cabinet and reached for another toy. Opening the door, she retrieved what looked like a couple of pieces of glass. He raised his head and blinked as she approached him and held the device up for him to examine.

The two pieces of glass were connected on one side by a couple of hinges and there was a hole in the middle of both pieces. Opposite the hinges were two screw assemblies. Dodger realized what they were to be used for
	
“Do you know what this is?” She asked him.

“MumPH! Muhump!” His face turned red and his eyes became the size of dinner plates.

“I should have known better. Of course, you would.” 

The domme started to attach the device to his cock and balls. The touch of her hands as she guided his cock through both holes was light and gentle. She knew that the excitement that had built up had him light headed. Though his cock was allowed to penetrate both pieces of glass, his egg white balls were placed between the two pieces. Dodger closed his eyes and groaned as pressure was gently applied to his balls by her slowly turning the screws.

Dodger grunted with pain as the pressure made him wince. Peg stopped turning the screws at that point, finishing her task by gently tickling his sandwiched testicles. His eyes fluttered open just in time to see Peg slip a strip of black satin around his head. Stealing his vision away behind a strap that reached from the bridge of his muzzle to just under his eyebrows.
	
“Gotta keep all those puppies swimming around in there busy." She pursed her lips and blew on the head of his cock. "How was that?"

“Mmmhhmmm!” Dodger let out a long, deep groan in reply. His entire length emerging from the glass was shimmering with a mixture of lube and precum.

“Good boy!”

The vibrating wand was an expensive toy, and the madam was very careful who was allowed to use it. Its galvanized rubber head came from British-held India, and its mechanical properties were encased within a shaft made of brass. Peg inserted a key into a slot at its base and wound it. After a few turns, the rubber ball at the head buzzed into life, activated by the wound springs of its internal clockwork.

She pushed the toy against his bulging head and started it off at a low speed. It was geared in such a way that only a few turns of the key would keep it buzzing for twenty minutes or so. He immediately began bucking his hips upward, desperate to escape this new and unexpected torture. His tail began whipping the side of the pipe. She knew he could take more, though, so she increased the speed.
	
“Mmmmmm…” His jaw clinched upon the red rubber ball.
	
“Oh, that’s music!” The madam’s big fluffy tail swayed.
	
She knew it was one of the most intense feelings Dodger was capable of feeling. She moved the buzzing ball around the edge of his knob, enjoying the sight of his shaft humming in sync with the toy’s motion. At this point he was dangerously close to orgasm, but she still trusted him to keep his end of the deal. She could see his penis throbbing up and down before she finally decreased the speed, leaving him grunting like a hog while dribbling saliva from around the gag and down his chin.The dominatrix watched his shivering shaft and compressed balls jerk up and down in the cool air with each thrust of his hips. At this point she had massaged and rubbed him enough that the lubricant had faded away and his cock's own precum was all that was glistening.

Peg turned off the toy, removed the key and placed them on the ground like an offering before an altar. Her soft hands trailed down his body, coming down to rest on each hip. The madam bent over and hiked her rump so that her muzzle came in line with his member. Closing her eyes, she let her head drop in close and cupped him in a gentle kiss, which was followed by a soft roll of the lips. The first kiss of many. 

Each kiss caused Dodger's length to bounce and the terrier whimpered and moaned as she worked. His sensitive member felt every press of the madam's lips, making it throb more. But it wasn't just the fact that she kissed his cock, it was in how she kissed it. Each smooch was planned and targeted. The Pekinese pressed her lips upon the glands, then upon the underside of the head and along the shaft, then back again. Soft moans left her throat as she dragged her lips upon the full gamut of his shaft.  

The madam switched tactics, and her tongue rolled out of her maw to course upon his cock, wrapping around the shaft and drawing across the sensitive flesh. Not to her surprise, he tasted good. The perfect mixture of salty spice and bitter twang. Dodger was a feast, and Peg was eating well, licking up and down the bound terrier's shivering dick. She drew her lips all the way up to his head, and cupped the knob again with her mouth. It was time to stop teasing and get to work.  

The head of his penis slid into her maw, giving her his incredible taste. With her hands on his thighs, she wiggled her rump a little to steady herself, then puffed her cheeks to start taking him into her mouth. Up and down, Peg's head bobbed, sucking and blowing upon his cock. And all he could do was--

“Muuum! Mwaaamph! Mwaaaa!” Dodger's ears were pinned back and his head was craned up, muzzle pointed to the ceiling. 

His powerful, deep moans... they sounded like the sweetest of music for Peg's fluffy ears. The base, the deep boom, the way it reverberated out of his throat and into the ballgag; sheer ecstasy for the dominatrix. It was a reward for a job well done. It wasn't that she was just good at sucking, she was good at pushing down too and taking his cock right into her tight throat. All the way down so her lips pressed against the glass. 

One of her hands slid down to draw the fingers between the glass sandwiching his ball, tickling them and flicking against them inside their compressed prison. She knew he was a bit of a pain-slut, and the added stimulation of his hypersensitive sac made him buck and twitch and throb into her mouth. He was just about ready to blow his load, and she was careful to keep him riding that razor thin edge. 

Before she pushed him too far, Peg pulled her lips off of Dodger's penis in one flawless movement, and rapidly began jerking the rest of it all with her skilled hands. Lathered and polished with her spit, her digits stroked upon it with great ease, up until the moment there came a soft knock on the door.

“Hump?!” Dodger's ears perked.

Peg licked her lips, enjoying the remaining taste. The Jack Russell was bucking furiously, straining against the belts that held him tight to the iron frame. The belts creaked as they took the tension of his light body, yet they held him in an unyielding grip. His ears flopped back and forth as he rocked his head back, shaking it side to side in frustration. Gray furred fingers dug into palms within clenched fists secured behind his back, and his feet wiggled in midair. 

“Hold onto that thought, hot stuff.” Peg’s heels clicked on the wooden floor as she walked towards the door. “I said it would be the most pleasurable experience of your life, but just not yet. Don’t you dare let it go.” 

“Muuummmmm!”
	
She opened the door and stepped into the hallway, muffiling Dodger’s anguished plea with the gentle click of the door latching shut. However, she stayed by the door, in order to hear should something go wrong. The madam ran a hand through her disheveled hair in order to cast some of it back into place. She brushed off her skirt and exhaled a deep breath, closing her eyes. Closing the door was like taking off a coat, and Peg felt an immense relief that her job was now over.  

When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by a powerful male Doberman rising from a chair that was pressed against the wall. The dog’s body was firmly built, and it stretched the material of his dark red frock coat. He rose over her and she was forced to look into his chiseled features and sharp muzzle. Despite his intimidating presence and the scowl he maintained, he held his felt bowler hat anxiously in both hands. 

“You’re late, Roscoe. Do you know how long he’s been waiting?” 

“I couldn’t help it!” Roscoe grumbled. “My coach split a hub and the damn omnibus I was forced to catch got held up by a freight train.” 

“Well, your boyfriend has been in there for the last 30 minutes.” The madam pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “I kept him busy. But it's never safe to leave someone alone when they're in a session.” 

The Doberman’s pointed ears, one of which had a jeweled piercing, pinned back against his skull. “Shit. Has he noticed?”

“I don’t think so, no clock in there.” Peg cocked her muzzle and gave a little snort. “The cabinet is stocked with your favorite playthings, your boy-toy is primed and ready, all that was missing is you.”
	
Roscoe winced. “I’ll make it up to yah.”  

“Don’t make it up to me, make it up to him.” She put her hands on her hips. “I should pop you for some extra coin for having to personally keep him company. You’re lucky he and I go a fair way back. So, I’ll consider it a favor.”

Roscoe visibly deflated, his shoulders slumping down. “I owe yah, Peg.”

“I’m just a sucker for a cute couple is all,” She tossed him the shiny brass room key, which she had been keeping in the cleavage of her bust. “Do yourself a favor, Mr. Sykes…promise me you’ll take him out for dinner when you’re done. Poor lad came riding the rods on a freight train this morning. His sexual appetite isn’t all that will need appeasing.”  

Peg had to admit how adorable it was to see the Doberman’s sharp cheeks glow red in embarrassment. He rubbed the back of his neck, before nodding in the affirmative. “Yeah, I’ll do that. I gave the dumb bastard more than enough kickback to ride the plush.” 

“He wouldn’t ride a passenger train even if you tied him to the seat.” Peg smirked as she slipped past him, for he took up a considerable amount of the hallway. “How long have you two been seeing one another?”

The doberman turned his muzzle towards the floor, averting his gaze. “A few months now. We just sorta clicked.”  

“I've known Dodger for years. He sometimes works here when he needs the extra dough. He's a friend.” Peg crossed her arms. “That’s a free spirit you somehow snagged, lover boy. Unique in every way. Try not to screw this one up. There’s a difference between a dungeon and a date.”

“I’ll remember that…” The Doberman grunted as he turned the handle on the door. Despite the hard exterior he wore, Peg could see his thin tail wagging away merrily.


						*********  

Peg examined the rolling hips and thick thighs of the bassist hound that walked in front of her. The madam’s experienced eyes were impressed by the firm and disciplined way the other woman trotted. She slipped her hand between the hound’s wrists and gave a tug on the rope that bound them behind her back. Their journey down the hallway wasn’t far and the pudgy hound walked with her head held high and eyes closed, for she knew every inch of the Palace.

“You’re losing weight, Dipsy,” Peg complimented, pulling back on the leash that led up to the woman’s neck, where a heavy black collar sat around her throat. “Soon I’ll have to find something other than that slapable tush to advertise you with.”

“Who, me? Not a chance.” Dipsy grinned Other than the collar, she was completely nude. Her heavy breasts jiggled with each step. “Big mamma knows what keeps them coming. This rump is goin’ nowhere.”

Peg raised her brow. “You’re not having trouble affording meals again, are you? I remember how rough it was before you started working for me.”

The hound shook her head, her ribbon-like ears tumbling down upon her bare shoulders. “Not at all. You keep me well fed. Or can’t you tell by my backside?”

After testing Dipsy’s bonds, Peg slid her hand along the swell of that nude ass, and gave the sub a healthy swat. “Still smackable as always. I won’t have to fear false advertising.”

Dipsy shivered from the impact, and slowly opened her eyes. She looked over her shoulder at the madam and commented; “You always tend to go for the ass.” 

“It’s a habit of mine, dearie. Call it a personal evaluation among my employees.”

Peg gave a slight tug on the collar to Dipsy’s head down. The brown furred hound was one of the Palace’s professional subs. They stayed in a few hotel rooms and worked for the dominant customers who needed a playmate. They also performed tasks around the hotel to help pay for their keep.

“Maybe I should try and lose a few of these pounds. Give you something new to evaluate.”

“Then don’t think I haven’t spotted you sneaking jerky while you clean the plates in the kitchen.” Peg giggled, “Shame Pongo wouldn’t stand for you working in the nude. It would keep you from hiding vittles in that maid outfit.”

“What can I say, I like a good snack.”

The madam led her sub down the hallway, towards a room with the door ajar set at the very back of the Palace. She stopped the hound just before they entered. After undoing Dipsy’s bindings, she turned the sub around to face her. Dipsy had been one of her regulars when Peg was just first developing her Palace; a transplant from the north who came to Marceline to start a general store on Main Street. The pekineses had to admit she was quite fond of the humble female.

“Alright dearie. And our safe word for the day is?” 

“Yukon Jack.” The hound snickered, rubbing her freed wrists. “Who comes up with these?”

“Ruby, mostly.” Peg cupped the other woman’s chin and tilted her head side to side, quickly examining Dipsy’s face. “I’ll be with you for this one. I know how he tends to get a little rough.”

The subs often requested the observation of a Dom or Domme during a session. Due to the vulnerability their job placed them in, this could especially be important should an overactive customer turn a session into un-agreed upon prostitution.

“Working in front of the boss! I hope I don’t get performance anxiety!”

Peg lowered her grip and cupped a heavy breast, gently squeezing it. “Just give it your best.” 

Dipsy closed her eyes and sighed as the blonde canine dipped her head down and wrapped her lips around the hound’s teat. A gentle suck and a light tug with the teeth were given before the madam moved onto the other breast to repeat the action. The result got the collared woman’s nipples hardened and presented. It was a little touch, but one that Peg knew this customer liked. 

“Alright, showtime.” Peg swung the hound around and marched her through the door.

The customer was already waiting. He was a large Bengal tiger who immediately pushed Dipsy down onto the bed. His knots were quick and simple, binding the bassist hound to the bedposts. Dipsy lay on her stomach, her arms stretched out with each wrist tied to a post, while her ankles were lashed together and tied to the foot-board. Her body spread out in a “Y” atop the sheets. Peg watched the proceedings with a half-hearted smile and a lazy sway of her tail. Many casual Doms regarded rope as a means to a goal rather than the art Peg found in knot work. The heavyset dog might have been able to get out of the knots, but making a customer feel inferior was terrible business.
	
The tiger drew a braided whip from a wall hook and gave it a few practice cracks to evaluate the heaviness and range; this time he impressed Peg slightly; he certainly understood how to handle a whip properly. He left Dipsy ungagged, relishing in the sound of her whimpering cries. Carefully-controlled strokes sent the taught leather chord smacking into the dog's flesh, producing whacks and cracks that left her wriggling and whimpering.
	
He glanced over at Peg often while he worked over the hound. She couldn't be sure if it was interest in her that drew his eyes or the fact that her presence kept him from going further with the bound hound. Judging by his eyes, he either wanted to dominate her or defy her control of the bound girl...or both.
	
Whipping seemed to be all he felt the need for. Peg knew this customer, and his tendencies to go for the ‘bare necessities’ as he liked to call it. The cat put the whip up and left wordlessly, no thanks or praise to anyone. Peg knew it was his final way of showing her that, in his book at least, he was in control. He hadn't even untied the abused Dipsy, leaving the madam to do it herself. Peg had witnessed more than her fair share of dom disputes while chaperoning the subs, and she always let them leave with the impression that they were in charge.

“You okay, dearie?” Peg sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed the shivering canine’s back. 

“Oh yeah, n-never better.” Dipsy shuddered, her body still recovering from the intense whipping. “He sure gave you a look, didn’t he?”

“Mr. Shere Khan is like that.” The madam ran her hands over the hound’s shoulders. “He once offered a lot of money to have a session over me.”

The hound looked over her shoulder, one eyebrow hiked. “Why don’t you take him up on it? You’ve done personal sessions before. He’s such a dish!”

“I wouldn’t even if I wanted to. It’s to retain balance. Lord forgive me if he starts to walk in here thinking he’s in charge.”

“He’s not all bad. I got a loan from the bank to restart my store thanks to him.”

Peg looked surprised at that. Dipsy had first started visiting Peg when her former boyfriend left town following a nervous breakdown, then started working as a sub to help make ends meet when her general store began to falter. Unfortunately, the store had gone bankrupt at the start of the year.

“Mr. Khan isn’t known for his generosity. You must have impressed him.”

“He wants part ownership. Plus, I think he likes me.” Dipsy rocked her reddened hips. “Says I have promising assets.”  

“I’m sure he found your assets very promising.” The dominatrix gave an amusing laugh and smacked Dipsy's naked ass, which sent the hound squirming. Her buttocks were already plenty tender and the slap drew a sharp groan. “All that aside, I’m pleased for you, my little pet!

There came a commotion of raised voices from the hallway. Peg’s ears perked up and her head whipped towards the door, her fluffy tail going rigid. The rooms were fairly soundproofed, although it wasn’t uncommon to hear an occupant if things got very heated. They worked to schedule sessions so that they wouldn’t overlap with each other for this reason. There was only one other session in progress, and Peg already had an idea what was going on.

“Can you free yourself?” Peg quickly asked.

“Nothing too it!”

The madam hurried to the door and swung it open. She jogged down the hallway to the only other occupied room. It was one of the larger suites, with both a parlor and a private bedroom set up for play. She reached for the master key which hung from a chain attached to her bodice, but found the door to the room already ajar. Inside the room’s parlor, Ruby was standing, hands on her hips and muzzle turned down in a deep snarl. Peg stepped into the parlor and quickly spotted the light furred poodle wearing a corset much like her own. She was smirking as the madam pushed past and entered the suite’s bedroom, her perfectly manicured blueish hair glistening in the low light.

Inside she found a male husky on his chest, his body naked save for the pattern of ropes that kept him bound and the black ballgag in his muzzle. She found him an attractive canine, with a pelt of red and cream fur. He was bound with his arms drawn between his legs and tied to his ankles, so that his rear was hiked in the air. A wonderfully bushy red tail hanging over him like a feather.

His own equipment was locked inside a chunk of iron that the dominatrix quickly gathered was a chastity cage. His bare ass shivered, the already red fur crisscrossed by bright red stripes. The madam could practically feel the heat coming off such an intense caning just from the sight. His wheezes for breath were unmistakable and around his neck was a long strip of leather. Peg could also quickly see a spot where the fur on the back of his head had been compressed. A spot that seemed to match the profile of one of the poodle’s sharp heels. The poodle had put her foot against the back of his head to hold him in place, while she tugged on the strap from behind. The madam’s eyes narrowed and she looked over her shoulder at Ruby.
 
“Georgette here was garroting him. He was on the verge of passing out when I arrived.” Ruby answered the unspoken question.  

“How dare you accuse me of such!” the poodle snapped as she strutted into the center of the parlor. “Why, I was merely heightening his experience. Kodi here is new to our game and he only required…”

“His face was blue.” Ruby interjected.  

Peg looked between Georgette and Kodi quickly, gauging the relationship of power. The leather clad poodle was silent and hostile, while the nude husky was shivering and whimpering. “Did he agree to breath-play?” 

“My dear, Kodi is a pain-pup. He agreed with his body.” Georgette waved a hand dismissively.   

“With his body? What on earth does that even mean?” Peg cocked her muzzle before looking to her assistant. “Tend to the poor boy, Ruby. Georgette and I need a talk.”

“Excuse me?” Georgette said, her face shifting to a deep frown.

Ruby slipped between the two mistresses and into the bedroom, where she dropped to her knees and set about untying the russet furred husky. The door between the bedroom and the parlor was partly shut, leaving Peg and Georgette alone.

“Miss Peg, I must protest this rude intrusion.” Georgette crossed her arms under her leather clad bosom. “Coming in here in the middle of my session, which I’ve paid for, and telling me how to handle myself. You are overstepping your bounds.”

“My bounds? This whole place is my bounds!” Peg saw through her bravado easily. “Paid or not, your methods are far too harsh for someone new.”

“He knelt down for me as soon as he saw what I could do.” The poodle looked at Peg with forced contempt, trying to make her feel belittled. Simple tricks for a domme. “Curiosity may kill the cat, but my satisfaction will bring it back.”

“The first session is a chance to explore and gain comfort. He’s not a masochist like some of the other subs, and he can’t be treated like one. Not until he knows what he wants.”

“Are you dense? Kodi is my pet, my slave,” The poodle batted her eyelids, her crooked smile promising a fight. “My slut.” She held the word long enough to force Peg to wince from the annunciation of it. “He doesn't need to know what he wants. I know it for him!”

“If you had less sadistic tendencies and treated him right, then I wouldn’t have had an issue with you.” Peg took a step toward the poodle. Dressed in the black latex and with her fur bristling, Georgette would have been imposing if the madam weren't already used to dominating subs larger than herself. “But you violated his trust and from the moment I got here you’ve shown that you only see him as something to torment. I can’t allow that.”

“But that’s his position! Tormenting him is exactly what I paid you for. What's the problem, Peg?” Georgette stepped right up to Peg, hands on her hips and fluffy tail shaking, “Not good enough for you? I mean, do you even know who I am?”

“You're just a child playing with a child's notions of power.” Peg hissed.

“This mutt is a sub, tart! He wants – no, needs – a big, strong personality to perfect him!” Georgette's laugh was triumphant. “And perfection, my dear, is me!”

“Like I said; a child with a child's notions of power.” Peg turned to walk away.

“Don't you fucking talk to me like that!”  

Peg heard it in her voice. Georgette had been pushed too far and, like a child, she was going to lash out. The madam was already bracing for the impact even as she put her back to the enraged dominatrix. Just as she turned far enough to see the poodle recoil an arm back, Georgette suddenly staggered back, confused and off kilter.

“Mind where you step!” Ruby snarled, having swept the poodle’s legs out from behind.

Georgette’s eyes dilated and she dropped to her back with a cry. She hit the floor with a thud that knocked the air out of her and made the madam cringe from the impact. Spluttering and gasping, Georgette attempted to pull herself up, only to find one of Ruby’s knees pressed into her chest to pin her against the oriental rug. Peg saw Kodi standing in the doorway to the bedroom. The conversation between the two dommes had been hard to miss.

“Sorry I’m a little late to the punch,” Ruby placed her legs to each side of Georgette’s body, and used her body weight to pin the stunned canine to the floor. A hand placed tight over the poodle’s mouth kept her silent. “Couldn’t let her get away with that.”

“I’m glad you did. It would have been bad for business if I was to be seen with a black eye.”

While Ruby dealt with their guest to the floor, Peg turned her attention to the husky, stepping over the squirming figure on the carpet. The male was standing with his legs pressed together and a hand covering his crotch. Now that he was standing, Peg got a chance to look over his handsome figure. He had a strong muzzle and firm face enhanced by lovely brown eyes. Yet there was something gentle about his body’s smooth lines and rolling curves. He wasn’t muscular, but there didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat on his body. Something about him seemed familiar, and she belatedly noticed a similarity to another of her clients. She made a mental note of this. 

“Kodi, was it?” 

“Uh, yes maim?” He said, unsure of what to call the pekineses. He kept his gaze lowered. “Kodiak Seppila is my real name. But my friends call me Kodi.”

“Kodi it is then. We’re all friends here.” Peg said with a small grin. “How are you holdin’ up, hun?”

“I’m fine.” He raised his head and let out a soft chuckle. “Although I don’t think I’m going to be sitting down for a while.”

“Pass me some of that rope she had you trussed with, if you please.” 

The rope was retrieved and tossed over to Ruby, who quickly set about rolling Georgette onto her stomach. The afghan hound paused for a second to fish out a handkerchief from a vest pocket, wadding it up and stuffing it into Georgette’s mouth to silence her. The poodle’s arms were forcibly pulled behind her until they were only a couple inches apart, then rope looped around her wrists. As Ruby slipped the rope around the poodle's arms, she padded down Georgette’s body until she found the little brass key.

“I’m dreadfully sorry about all this.” Peg frowned, taking the key. “We have rules on how we behave. A fledgling like you should have been broken in gently.”

The madam dropped to a knee. The male’s penis was still locked away, and he moved his hand to the side to allow Peg to unlock the cage. He let out a sigh of relief as his genitals were released from the device. A light pink shaft and two egg-shaped balls hung free while Peg let the chunk of iron drop to the carpet next to Georgette’s head.

“That’s much better,” The husky’s tail curled between his legs and he pressed his hips together upon it. Using the appendage and a hand to retrieve a little modesty.

“Not a problem dearie.” Peg rose to her feet and slipped the key into her cleavage. “That was a wicked looking thing. Not something I would whip out on the first date.”

“Honestly, it wasn’t too bad.” Kodi’s cheeks flushed.

There came a muffled squeal from Georgette’s stuffed maw. Ruby had wrapped more rope up the woman’s arms until satisfied that Georgette wouldn't be budging her elbows even a little. The poodle could twist and squirm in place but couldn't shift position, she could only glare up and curse in a garbled low growl.

“I’m not refunding her lease,” Ruby dryly remarked as she fed the rope through those on Georgette's wrists. The rope was turned sideways and she began wrapping it around the coils between the limbs until they were securely cinched. She didn't stop tightening until Georgette’s arms were held rigidly in place, her shoulders and arms pulled toward each other.

“She didn’t pay for it,” Kodi’s ears tipped forward. “She and I met through a friend, and she convinced me to give this a shot. Coming here was her suggestion, but I put up the cost.”

“To which you will be returned every penny,” Peg stated firmly. Her tone left no room for argument, and while Ruby was the banker in their relationship, the afghan hound knew her place.  

Georgette writhed as Ruby rose to her feet, keeping a heel planted between the poodle’s shoulders. Kodi looked at his former mistress, “What will you do with her?”

“I think we might have a suitable punishment for her. It’s not exactly legal, but we care a lot about our real customers.” The hound chuckled, pressing her foot hard into the other woman. “Not like she’ll have an alternative should she not want charges pressed against her for assaulting the madam.”  

“Georgette was crazy, but she had a way of seducing you.” Kodi rubbed the side of his neck, feeling the tender skin where the strap had dug in. “But when she slipped the strap around my neck I sort of started to regret her charms.”

Peg slipped a hand under her own chin, and tapped the side of her muzzle. “Well, if the experience hasn’t shaken you too much, we can arrange a substitute domme.”

The husky’s tail relaxed and curled back. “Maybe another time. I think I’ve had enough experimenting for one evening.”  

The madam’s tail wagged. “That’s quite alright. There is no harm in waving the white flag.” She took a step towards him and reached out to run a finger down his furry chest. Kodi’s tail fluttered and his cheeks blushed. “But when you do decide, hot stuff, come and find me. First one’s on the house and I’ll ‘personally’ handle you.”

“Y-yes.” The husky shuffled his feet and the lone remaining hand couldn’t cover his growing arousal. “You’ll be the first to know.”

The timing was convenient, for Ruby had found where the poodle had stashed his clothing, and Kodi quickly snatched his trousers from her waiting hands and began threading one leg through the pants. Peg shielded her mouth with a hand to hide a grin. She watched as the husky hopped on one foot as he tried to dress himself while both avoiding her gaze and settling down his growing erection at the same time.   

While Kodi donned his clothing, Peg turned to Ruby and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, sugar. You've been a big help.”

“Nothing to it,” The hound rolled her eyes playfully. “We have to look out for each other. Your trouble is my trouble.” 

Peg looked down at the floor as a soft moan came from the poodle. Georgette was running out of steam and lay forlorn, face down. “Now let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

The madam took Kodi by the arm to escort him out of the room and to the main stairwell. His bushy tail curled around one of her legs as she gave him her complete attention. Her actions weren’t just for his own benefit, as anyone who was in the parlor would be distracted by her presence. They wouldn’t notice the sight a few moments later of Ruby guiding a bound, gagged, and blindfolded Georgette out of the room’s parlor by a leash.


						*********
  

The big parlor was empty of customers, although the faint scent of incense still hung in the air. Peg drew the drapes open on the exterior windows and looked down. The sky outside was growing dark, and already the madam could spy the lamp lighters on the street below setting about the job of lighting each street lamp. The benzine gas-lamps gave off a soft yellow glow, the flames flickering inside their glass housings. Pulling the red fabric shut, she closed her world off from the outside.

Though there were no set business hours, Ruby insisted that they wave away anyone off the street after eight. There was something about the late hour that gave a level of decadence to the acts that occurred behind those red drapes. This was a fact that Peg knew well, and encouraged to an extent. Some of the more public of her events would be purposely held in the witching hours. It wasn’t unheard of for the dungeon to stage games of chance and luck over the outcome of some trussed-up tart. Tonight however, the dungeon was silent. Other than a session in one of the larger parlors, which Ruby had more than under control, the hidden floor of the Hotel Marceline was empty.

Well, almost empty.

Peg sat her ample rump down in a chair next to the stone fireplace with its cold hearth, and crossed one leg over the other in order to lace up one of her boots. Her fingers had just gotten to the tongue, when the chair shifted slightly underneath, causing the madam’s legs to slide apart. Rolling her eyes, she raised her hand to give a healthy smack to the side of the piece of furniture, and looked down and back into the narrowed brown eyes of an Irish setter.

“Gwumph.” Dixie grunted underneath the flat panel gag that lay across her face. Her red hair tumbled backwards towards the floor as she looked up from underneath the madam’s ample rump.

The chair that the dominatrix occupied consisted of a four-legged base, with a flat piece of wood on top. The diva doggie had been forced onto her back atop it. In this position, the nude canine’s legs were bent back onto her chest, and her lower legs pointed straight up. Her arms were strapped to her legs. The bottom of her upper legs formed the seat while the underside of her calves became the back support. Red straps tightly latched all around ensured that Dixie was locked firmly into position. Her tail hung underneath the chair, trapped between the four legs and brushing along the rug.

“Easy there, sugartits.” Peg soothed, running a finger along the diva’s quivering thigh. “You only have an hour or so to go. Cash should be back to bring you home before the bewitchin’ hour.”

“Mwumm.”

“Yes, that’s right.” 

Having settled her chair, Peg hiked her leg back up and finished binding the lace. Despite her rope-skills, she always seemed to have trouble with the thin red bootstraps. The session that was going on would be a few hours, and it was close to dinnertime. She pulled a small leather-bound notepad from a hidden pocket in her brassier, and took a moment to review the day’s schedule. Ruby had the current session, and there was one final appointment at midnight. Oh...and Dixie’s master would be there to pick her up. Just enough time for her dinner date. The occupant of the current session occasionally brought her mate along, and he was an old friend whom she had not seen in a few months. Their career often kept them from both being available at the same time.

Pleased with her work, the madam returned the notepad to its hiding place and stood up. She made sure to give the set of brown padded paws that made up the chair’s headrest a little tickle, then threw a shawl that was hanging off a coat rack across her bare shoulders.

Her heels made a hollow click with each step as the madam gracefully descended the stairwell and towards the lower landing. Through the wooden doors she emerged into the dimly lit dining room of the hotel. Crossing that threshold felt like entering a whole other world. The relative peace and serenity of her bubble was burst by the sound of a piano and the gentle conversations of dinnertime. The white tablecloths and fine china and silverware all betrayed a sense of normality that juxtaposed with the activities that went on just above their heads.

The many tables were occupied with weekday travelers, so no one seemed to notice the madam's arrival upon the red carpeted floor. That is, save for one soul, who was checking the time on his pocket watch when she had emerged from her shelter. He tipped his head at her and slipped the watch back into a threaded vest pocket. Peg couldn’t hide her wide grin and there was an exaggerated sway to her voluptuous hips as she waltzed up to the gray mutt.

“Well, if it isn’t the Tramp. Hiyah, handsome.” She held a gloved arm out.

The terrier that greeted her took her outstretched hand and brought it to his lips. His triangular gray ears bobbed as he dipped his head and gently planted a kiss atop her wrist. “Carry on like this, and someone might mistake us for respectable society.”

“Nothing about what I do is respectable.” Peg pursed her lips and blew a straggled lock of hair out from in front of her face before giving him a lopsided grin.

“Do you secretly own this place? I wouldn’t be surprised if you had the proprietor eating out of your palm.”

A lamented sigh escaped her lips. “No. He's happily married and immune to my charm.”

“Good, then he won’t mind if I give you a little gift, from both Pidge and myself.”

Tramp cupped the underside of her chin, and gently tipped her head back so that he could plant a kiss on the madam’s lips. Peg slid up into his embrace, placing her hands on his shoulders and responded to the kiss. Far from a peck on the lips, she held it for a few seconds, rolling her jaw to allow him to feel the warmth of her mouth before she pursed her lips and let him slowly slide off. Peg caught her breath, her voice low and husky.

“Well, aren't you frisky tonight.”

“Just greeting an old friend with a helping dosage of nostalgia.” Tramp said with a small grin.

“You always were a tease.”

“It’s not all from me. That one was Pidge’s idea!”

“That so? You really did find yourself a keeper!” Peg allowed him to slip his arm over her own and escort her towards an empty table set in a private alcove. He pulled a chair out for her before sitting at the table himself. “Bless me, it wasn’t all that long ago when it seemed your paws wouldn’t stop moving.”

“We were both like that. I recall a girl that twirled and sang who couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble.” He waved a hand to the room. “This is a far cry from The Junkyard Dance Hall.”

Around them, the restaurant was humming with the sound of conversations, plates clattering, doors opening, and the gentle tune of the piano. But between Tramp and Peg, the moment was quiet.

“A far cry and far more comfortable.” A light smile split her muzzle as she placed her arms atop the table, hands folded just under her chin. “That two-bit dog and pony show was just an advertisement to meet us girls out back for a romp. No class or self-respect, but glory was it a fun ride…even when it occasionally ended with a night in the pound.”

“I do recall having to spring you from the paddy wagon once or twice.”

“What can I say, I had a hard time staying out of trouble.” She wrinkled her nose and looked at the lit candle in the table’s center. “Although you weren't around to rescue me when it all crashed.”

Tramp’s eyes softened. “I heard some whispers that you had a bit of time in the slammer. I had hoped they were just talk.”

“About a year.” Her mouth dipped into a frown. “I did the crime, so I served the time. It wasn’t long after you vanished from the sawdust-trail.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.” Tramp curled his lower lip. “After Pidge became pregnant, I grew roots on the W&A and there I stayed.”

“It’s alright hun.” Peg said with a satisfied smile. “I had a friend who really helped me. Bailed me out and let me stay with her while I got back on my dainty paws.”

Tramp’s brow rose and his muzzle cocked slightly. “Anyone I know?”

Peg hummed softly and gave her head a little shake. “I doubt it. I have a few lives that you’ve yet to wonder into. She’s a part of one of them. She actually taught me this business.”

“Oh? I always figured you just took your natural talents and seeded the field. You always were a little trickster behind closed doors.”

“That might have been the case, but she took me from a two-bit street girl and gave me a satin bed to lay down on. I might be a gussied up and silver-polished sinner, but I’m still a sinner nonetheless.”

Before Tramp could inquire more, their waiter drifted by. She was a young female fox with warm brown eyes, and held a silver-plated pad tightly against her bosom. Peg had eaten here enough to both know the young Vixy by first name, as well as what her preferred meal would be. While Tramp had to quickly browse the menu as the madam placed her order first.  

As the fox retreated toward the kitchen, Tramp returned his attention to Peg. “Well, little sinner. Do you still dance on the stage?”

“Not anymore. I sometimes sing just for fun, and Ruby thinks I could make it big if I put myself back out there again.” Peg looked across the room, her gaze seeming to cut through the walls and to a far away memory. “But those days are gone.”

“That doesn’t sound like the fun-loving Peggy I know. Do you at least dance in private?”

“You’ll have to ask your wife,” The madam clicked her tongue. “She and I have done a few dances since she started making her visits. They are a little one-sided of course, given the condition I tend to leave her in, but she keeps up.”

“Pidge never was one to leave a partner hanging.” His ears cocked back. “And that’s not the kind of dance I was thinking about.”

“But it’s the one I’m sure you wanted to know about.” Peg’s smile dug into her cheeks, and she folded her fingers under her chin. “If that kiss was anything to go by. Getting a little nostalgic?”

“Oh, it’s been a long time since we’ve done that sort of dance.” Tramp’s tail fluttered. “And I’m sure you have plenty of other partners to practice with.”

“And all the imitators can’t touch the original.”

“Well, the original has a few forgotten muscles.”

“We can wake them up. I would love to have you upstairs for a night, yah know that invitation is always open.”

“How many times have you asked me that?” Tramp wore a sly grin.

“Enough to know what my chances are. But it never hurts to try.” Peg leaned back in her chair. She pursed her lips and blew a lock of her hair to the side. “You can't convince me that ‘The Tramp’ settled down with some well-turned paws and they aren't having some fun.”

“What can I say, it’s a short life and a merry one. But I’ve settled down quite a bit. I just know what makes my mate tic and tok.”

“Now that’s not the Tramp I know. I’ve had my hunches since I first wrapped a harness around that quiet little marionette that there’s more to you two. And the more I see of her, the more I think I understand.” Peg softly replied, a hint of playfulness in her tone. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you two are swingers.”

Tramp’s brow shot up and he tilted his head to the side so that one ear stuck up at an odd angle. “What makes you so sure of that bit of tattle?”

“That kinkster you call a wife, who is a regular customer of my bordello, says some interesting stuff at the bite of a crop. It wasn’t that hard of a conclusion to make.”

“Well how do you like that!” Tramp scoffed playfully. “Little Pigeon is a songbird.”

“Don’t worry dearie, she hasn’t said with whom, and I’m not about to pry. That's bad for business.”

"One would think poking in the first place is bad for business."

“When it's just you, it's not business. It's personal. You know, you'd be surprised who frequents my parlor. Often it's the most powerful who want to give up control for an hour or two. Money, power, influence. But never have I felt envy for any of them…” She raised two fingers. “Except for two. What is it she did to catch The Tramp?”

“I couldn’t tell you even if I tried.” He said softly. “There's kindness and honesty, a comfort of sorts. I know she’ll always be there for me, and I’ll be there for her. It's just what I know to be true.”

“And that truth is why I will never get anything more than a kiss from my old friend. Even though he knows his wife is inside a devil’s den, sweating her heart out in the establishment of one of his old flames.” Peg smiled from behind a bang of headfur that fell in front of her face, her head leaning on her arm wistfully. “In fact, I can almost hear her cries as we sit here. Ruby is very skilled in getting exactly what she wants.”

“And knowing Pidge, she’s making her work for every gasp.” He held his head with pride. “Pidge and I have no secrets. I do nothing without her approval, and she without mine. If you wanted to spend the night, I’m sure she would be open to talking.”

“Is that so?” Peg tilted her head up quizzically. “She knows your thoughts on that particular matter?”

“Indeed, she knows that each time we have dinner during one of her sessions, you flutter your eyes and test these waters.” He leaned back in his chair, his ears perked and a sly grin plastered on his face. “And that each time, I just get a warm meal and you have a satisfied customer upstairs. Seems like she and I are the real winners in this deal.”

“You really are a scoundrel!” Peg laughed, dropping her arm down to the table. “A right rounder, and a cad!”

“Coming from you, that’s a compliment.” The mutt nodded. “You know, even back when you were with that Dog and Pony show, I could see you in this role. You never were one to sit on your laurels and let someone else tell you what to do.”

“Neither were you, dearie.” Her tail fluttered against the side of the chair. “I’m always amazed that you can ride to the end of the line on the Western & Atlantic, and not long to see what lay beyond.”

“I have everything I want right here.” There was a softness in his brown eyes. "And believe me, it's still an adventure."

Peg’s tail fluttered through the gap in the back of the chair. “And speaking of finding adventure. Your wife has been seeking my services for how long now? Little over a year?”

“A year and some change.” The mongrel chuckled lightly. “She speaks very highly.”

“And I’ve yet to see either of you at one of my public sessions,” Peg said with a small grin.

“Well, that’s really Pidge’s decision to attend one.” The mutt matched her grin but raised his brow in curiosity. “Unless it’s me you’re wanting to showcase, in which I will sorely disappoint. I don’t do well in crowds. Let’s call it performance anxiety.”

“Gee, pity that one! But I had other thoughts in mind, now that I know the score.”

At Tramp’s quizzical expression, Peg leaned closer. Her fingers slipped into the same pocket of her brassiere where she kept her notepad, tugging the top down just enough to bare a little more cleavage. She produced a small envelope and slid it across the table.

“What’s this?”

“For you and your misses. An open invitation to a game, of sorts.”

“Well now, what do you make of that?” Tramp held the envelope between a thumb and forefinger. It was small and light, and the surface blank to keep its contents hidden. Peg watched his expression shift from concerned to intrigued. “Should I open it now or wait until Pidge is seeing straight enough to read?”

“Oh handsome, knowing Ruby your little Lady won’t be able to sit on her own rump until tomorrow morning," the madam soothed. “But do wait until she is present. And donchu fret about getting me an answer right away. Our little game doesn’t start until next month.”

Tramp tucked the envelope into a vest pocket, patting it to be sure. Peg could see by the way his hand lingered over the pocket for a second that he was already trying to puzzle out its contents. “Oh, I think I already know her answer. But I’m sure no matter what, Lady will appreciate the invitation.”

Peg brushed one of her long locks of head fur over her shoulder once again. “Excellent. Now, I’m hungry. Where’s that waitress?”


				***************

The Hotel Marceline had begun to wind down by the time Peg bid Tramp and his wife goodnight. The madam personally walked her guests to the foyer and stayed with them until they caught a streetcar. Peg got no small pleasure at the sight through the streetcar’s windows of the graceful cocker spaniel standing, despite the many open seats nearby. Returning through the foyer the madam climbed the main staircase through the hotel’s center, and turned into the dining room. The Hotel’s cavernous interiors were growing silent as the many guests retired for the night.

Peg’s heels clicked as she walked towards the door that led to the Palace. The dining room would soon close for the night, and the once bustling room was mostly empty, with the gas lamps drawn to a dim light. Empty, that is, save for a lone spaniel that sat slouched at the end of the bar, a hefty pint glass in her hand, who was gazing morosely into the amber liquid that half-filled it.

The madam stopped at the door, and looked at the other woman with a gentle frown and a raised eyebrow. She wasn’t sure what stood out more, the spaniel's distinct lavender fur colors, or the way she was slumped forward at the bar, one hand idly clutching as a stein. The pekineses knew a sad drinker when she saw one.

“Hey,” Peg called out to the bartender as she approached the counter with its hand carved furnishings. “Give me a round to finish the night. I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

The purple furred spaniel looked up from her glass at the wooden scrape of the stool beside her. “I’m not exactly in the mood for talkative company tonight.”

“Oh, I’m not here to talk to you, or cheer you up. I can already tell you’ve got something going on.”

“I’ve got nothing going on.” The woman tugged a black Dutch cap lower over her slate blue hair, and took another deep gulp of her cider. “I’m just having a drink, alone…emphasis on alone.”

Peg leaned against the bar and picked up a freshly-delivered stein. “Good. Then I’m also just here to drink. I presume you’ve had at least one already. Tell me if I need to catch up.”

The spaniel choked, a snort of alcohol shooting up her nose. “Can’t a girl just drink in solitude? Or does the whole world just need to pick into her business!”

Peg’s gaze was calm, and her expression unruffled. “Sweetie, there’s only two things that cause this sort of drinking. It’s either how much cash did you lose, or what was the other fellow’s name?”

The lavender spaniel turned her attention back to her glass, her lips pressed tightly together. Peg took a sip and studied the younger woman’s petite features. Her hair was bisected by a rose stripe, and her bright blue eyes dominated her face with its tiny muzzle. It was impossible to miss the mixture of frustration and concern etched into her half-lidded eyes. A vibrant carpetbag lay at the spaniel's feet at the base of the bar, and she wore a green saloon dress that complemented her fur colors by design. A few seconds went by, and Peg watched the girl’s shoulders slowly sag.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts. What’s your name?”

“Zoe. Zoe Trent” she said shortly. Her tail curled along her hip, its bright color contrasting with the dark color of her skirt.

“What a pleasure, Miss Trent. Now, why don’t you tell Mama Peg all about what’s troubling you?”

The scowl was reflexive and immediate. “Why? I don’t even know you, and I can’t see how you could possibly help me.”

“I’m a good confident, and I’ve been around the block a few times.”

“Oh, sure.” 

“Yeah, see that door over there? That leads to a parlor on the floor above us.” Peg brought her stein to her lips and drained it in one long series of swallows, pushing it away empty. “It’s where I run my Palace of Pleasure and Ill-repute.” She looked at the barkeep. “Delightful. Another, please.” 

“Wait. Palace?” Zoe looked up, confused.

“Just some curb appeal. I work in a profession that specializes in horizontal refreshment. Palace just makes it sound more regal than what it really is.”

“You mean a bordello.” A hint of color graced Zoe’s cheeks. “Figures I would stumble onto a scarlet woman.”

“Scarlet women are good at keeping secrets.”

The lavender spaniel looked away, scowling at the wooden wall panels, as though challenging them to contribute. Heaving an exasperated sigh, she emptied her glass, then gestured for another. “I was a singer, a performer! I used to draw in crowds and it was fabulous! Used to, past tense.”

“I think I see the picture. Let me take a stab at the rest. Styles changed, crowds dwindled, and you found those stage lights drifting away.”

“I came to Marceline to answer a newspaper ad.” Zoe pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Used what little my former managers didn’t take to pay my debt on the train tickets.”

“And this new opportunity turned their nose up at you.”

“I even performed naked.” Zoe gasped. “Can you believe that...naked on a stage!”

“Oh, I can imagine.” Peg rolled her eyes. “Remember my profession, dearie.”

“I’ve never been so desperate.” The spaniel groused, gazing down into her empty glass as though she'd find sanctuary there. “And it was for nothing. Now, here I am. Out of money, and out of luck. I have just enough to either get a hotel room for a night or two, or return to Atlanta.….another glass please!”

“Or, drink away into a stupor. The way you’re carrying on, you won’t have much left for either option.”

A glassy thud beside them signaled the arrival of another two steins. Zoe stroked a finger morosely along the rim of the one closest to her, looking at its contents. “Hey, my plan is to drink until I either forget about all this...or my inhibitions to dip enough to go home with the first man to come my way.”

“There’s not many men here, dearie.”

“Then the first woman.” Zoe rested her chin on the palm of her hand, her elbow upon the bar, and gave a sarcastic smile. “Which would be you. Any takers?”

“And a few moments ago, you were playing the cold shoulder.” Peg snorted a laugh.

“I’ve been here for a while.” Zoe dropped her arm onto the bar with a thud. “The line between revealing my personal interests to you and merely passing out isn't nearly as far away as you may think.”

“Listen Zoe, there’s a lot of cute muzzles with talented voices out there.” Her smile faded and her hand tightened around her glass. “Everyone is a singer and a dancer until they’re not.”

 “You sound like you know…”

The madam took a deep breath, shoving the growing memories back down, then went on quietly, “It’s a road I’ve been down a few times.”

“Even the naked bit?”

“Especially the naked bit,” Chuckled the madam, nodding once as she glanced over at the spaniel. “Look, I’m not going to tell you that things will be easy. You may have a decent voice, and you definitely look the part.”

Zoe picked up her stein and considered it, turning it this way and that. “Then, what am I doing wrong?”

“Hun, this town is full of saloon girls and dancers that look and sound exactly the same. There’s also a financial panic going on, so the coin isn’t as loose as it once was. Being fabulous just isn’t going to cut it.”

Zoe’s mouth stayed open for a moment of simple, blank surprise, then she tried to speak, but hesitated, then took another gulp of her cider instead. Draining her glass without tasting it, she pushed it away. “Another drink, please...I’m not hammered enough for this.”

A wistful smile tugged at the Madam’s lips. “Alright, here’s my good deed for the day. Tonight, you’re staying in my Palace.”

“Staying at your Palace?” Zoe arched a brow. “Performing in the bare fur was too much. I appreciate it, but I...”

“Nah, keep your clothes on dearie. You’re just spending the night. No strings attached.” Peg cut in, taking the handle of her own glass.

“Are you being straight with me? A free room?” Zoe blinked, stunned by the enormity of the revelation. “And I don’t have to spread my legs?”

 Peg picked up her glass stein and nodded calmly “Just a place to rest your head. Tomorrow, once you're all good and sober, we’ll talk about things.”

“But, why?”

“Let’s just say I know when I’m looking in a mirror.” The madam replied, a wry smirk on her lips. “C’mon. I’m not asking you to be one of my courtesans. Just catch you before you make worse decisions then drink what’s left of your savings away.”

Zoe hesitated, then looked down at her glass. Her tail curled upwards, and she flipped her empty stein upside down atop the counter.

“Well, looks like I’m going home with you after all.”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be the first.” Peg drained her stein in a series of quick swallows, then dumped a small handful of coins on the counter. Enough to cover her own drinks, and whatever else Zoe had packed away. “I know the mutt who runs the Lucky Nugget dance hall. Once you can stand straight, we’ll have a little chat with him. See if we can get you back on your own two feet.”


                                                         ***************
					

	
Peg slipped the key into the lock of her own private residence. The sitting room and bedroom she called home also occupied the fourth floor of the Hotel Marceline, albeit on the public side of the wall that separated her private enterprise. Opening the door, the domme stepped into the darkened sitting room, its size just big enough to contain a single armchair that faced the window. A gramophone and coat-rack stood in opposite corners of the room just inside the door.  It wasn’t one of the larger or more lavish sets of rooms available. In fact, it was smaller than most of the rooms in her own Palace.

Closing the door, she turned the little brass knob on the wall lamp, illuminating the room with a deep glow and the faintest scent of gas. She took off her shawl, and draped it upon the coat-rack, making sure to not cover the shivering set of white-furred tits that were positioned underneath.

The coat-rack itself was little more than a vertical post of slightly padded wood anchored to an intricately carved base. Georgette had been forced to stand on the tips of her bare toes on a spot carved into the base, with built-in iron cuffs binding her naked body to the post, making her a part of it. With the ankle, wrist, waist, and throat cuffs locked firmly in place, black straps were wound around the post. They crossed the woman’s soft body in broad, black “X”s and secured both flesh and wood pieces together. The final touch came with a leather hood secured around Georgette’s head, blinding, deafening, and gagging her.

Peg cupped her hand along the underside of the bound bitch’s heaving breasts, gently caressing them. The ends of her mouth turned up in a sly smile at the muffled whimper and gentle jiggle her touch created. Around the immobilized canine’s neck, four brass rods jutted from the collar to form the coat hooks. She suddenly noticed a second coat hung from the poodle's neck, just as fresh cigarette smoke reached her nostrils.

Her heart leaped into her throat, but she managed to raise her head.. A hand pushed her heavy bang out from in front of her eyes, and she turned around to face her guest.

“Have to admit,” came a cool, oily, voice. “I like your taste in furniture.”

The woman, a lanky lioness with a broad muzzle, lounged in the armchair, green smoke rolling from an opera-length cigarette holder held in her fingers. Her gloves and pearls looked sophisticated and chic. The bustier around her torso fit perfectly, the black satin decorated with minimal lace and frills. Her appearance was dark, and as the lioness kicked one booted foot into the air, legs crossed, the silver heel glinted in the dim gaslight.

Peg immediately slid her heels together, feet at an angle, her weight on one leg with her back straight and shoulders back. Her tail went rigid and she hiked her head so that her neck was exposed. “Hello, Miss Zira. Do you usually like to sit in the dark? Or was this a theatric just for me.”

“You're a pretty dog, Peg,” Zira cooed. "What a shame that you spend so many nights alone.”

“Some of us enjoy solitude. We can't all be like you, Madam Zira.”

After two years of sleeping under her roof, Peg still called her "Madam," even when she was not on the job. It was an impossible habit to break, and the canine winced slightly hearing the word in her own voice

“Like me?” Zira repeated innocently, shifting to raise a leg into the air and point the toe of a boot at the other woman. “What do you mean by that? I can prowl in my own building if I so choose. Or did you forget who really owns everything here? Pongo might run the Hotel, but this building is mine. His name out front, my name on the deed, and you off the streets and performing as I taught you.”

She raised one eyebrow and waited. The pekineses took a careful step forward, then slowly dropped down to her knees. She hesitated, then bobbed her head, her breathing somewhat too fast. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and brought her mistress’s raised ankle in one hand. Planting a kiss right on the toe.

 “That’s a good girl. I’m glad you remembered.” Zira took a deep drag on her cigarette, and exhaled a green cloud into the air, aimed right at Georgette’s hooded figure. “If it wasn’t for me, you would have remained locked away in the pound.”

Peg placed kiss after kiss over the top of Zira’s boot, starting at the toe and working her way up to the ankle. She tucked her legs underneath her, so that she was sitting on her own calves and went to work. Holding onto the sole, she tilted the shoe slightly and started to run her tongue along the side of the ankle. Leaving a glossy trail in her wake.

"That's it.” Zira paused. “You can be a good girl when you want to be." One corner of the lioness’s mouth twitched, in just the vaguest hint of a grin. The twitch was echoed by the end of her slender tail.

“Rent was due today,” Peg’s breath fogged the surface of the boot. “Pongo was paid upfront, like we agreed.” 

“Punctual, as always.” The mistress waved a hand nonchalantly. She had never even met the dalmatian face to face. Only having arranged the lease through a third party. “But I would expect no less from one of my own. Tell me, how long are you planning on keeping the poodle like that?” 

“Just for the night. She’s learning a lesson.” 

“Oh, it warms my heart to see you taking on all that I’ve taught you. Such diligence and creativity. My investment in you is bearing fruit, don’t you agree?” 

Something in her tone raised goosebumps on the back of Peg’s neck. She pursed her lips around the toe and gently drew it into her mouth, her heart pounding in her chest. Her maw formed an “O” around Zira’s foot, then slowly Peg closed her mouth and pulled her head back at the same time to draw the shoe out and finish with a light kiss at the very tip of the toe. “Yes, and I’m paying for it, dearly.”

“But look at all you’ve accomplished.” The mistress leaned forward and slid a hand under Peg’s muzzle, cupping her chin even as her finger gave her throat a gentle squeeze. “Your record has been cleared. Your business has been set up. Why my dear, I’ve given you all you could have asked for.

“And a few things I never did.” Peg’s tail fluttered.

“Mm, you never had to.” The mistress gave the dog’s muzzle  firm squeeze. “I know what you want just as easily as you know your customers."

“It's not quite the same thing…” Peg shivered when she felt those fingers grip under her chin, holding her head up.

“Well, you’re a businesswoman. You know nothing is truly free.” Zira took a drag and exhaled a cloud of green smoke. This time, directly into Peg’s face. “Yet, you sound like you've wondered before, girl. Have you? What kind of dirty thoughts have been keeping you awake at night?"

“You. Lurking like a ghost.” Peg’s nose wrinkled at the sudden assault of second-hand smoke. “A ghost that I’m forced to serve.”

"The world is filled with people looking for something to serve, something to dedicate themselves to. Marriages, families, careers, religions? Sure. For now. Today. But for a woman, a lady, a queen?" Zira smirked and shrugged. “I’m just giving you an outlet for that. Much as you provide for others.”

“And you? What do you serve?”

The mistress slowly rose from the chair, pulling the dog off her knees in the process to stand before her. Outside, the muffled wail of a steam whistle could be heard as a late night freight train rolled into town. “I serve my craft. As many have discovered before you, and many yet to come.” 

Zira spoke like she hung souls around her neck like trophies, stringing them like so many lustrous pearls. She held Peg’s head in her hands, watching as she closed her eyes. Peg felt the softness of the gloves caressing her, sinking into the enjoyment of the moment. She opened her eyes and stepped back as those hands fell away. The dog fixed her gaze onto Zira, and Zira held it. Peg had seen that look enough times to know what the lioness was thinking. How she was looking at what was possible, at what Peg could become if she followed the mistress's path and appraising whether or not the dog wanted to become that. As well as deciding just how far she could be pushed, and what else the mistress could get out of her.

Zira slipped her fingers into the lace of her pet’s corset, and with practiced ease, loosened the garment to pull down the top. Peg’s lower lip quivered as her ample breasts were exposed, the rosy nipples quickly hardening in the warm air of the room. 

“Bed, on your back.” Standing in front of her, Zira flicked the brass clasps to undo her bustier and let it tumble to the floor. She revealed a firm body with full breasts, complete with dark nipples that were each pierced by a bronze D ring. “It’s time to collect what you owe me.”








Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine