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Julia on Loan

By: Serafina1210



This novella, like several of my other stories ("Julia and Mr. Page," "Slave Girl Emily," "Pipit," and "Kitten and the Wolf," to put them in chronological order) is set in a fictional circle of BDSM practitioners in New York. It is not necessary to read the other stories to enjoy this one, which is designed to stand on its own. If you like this and decide to read more, you should probably start with "Julia and Mr. Page." Length: 21,863 words. Tags: Obedience, Objectification, Whipping, Group sex, Anal sex, Straight sex, Lesbian sex, Oral sex, Toys, Mature.

*****

1. In the lobby

"There's Arthur Page and his trophy wife," sniffed Mrs. Woodruff to her husband as Julia entered the theater lobby on Mr. Page's arm. "She's the daughter of that hedge fund operator Lindstrom. You remember - it was quite the scandal about three years ago when they found out his fund was a Ponzi scheme à la Madoff, and he committed suicide. He left her broke, desperate, and an orphan, just twenty-one years old. Page scraped her out of the gutter and married her."

"No need to ask what he saw in her," observed Mr. Woodruff, who fancied himself a connoisseur of willowy young blondes.

"Or what she saw in him," said Mrs. Woodruff. "They say he's worth a hundred million."

"So I've heard," said Mr. Woodruff, carefully concealing his envy of Mr. Page from his wife. "Something of an aging playboy."

"Aging and ailing," said Mrs. Woodruff. "She can look forward to a big payoff when he dies."

His envy abating somewhat, Mr. Page said, "That explains her smile."

He was wrong about that. The correct explanation of Julia's smile - and Mr. Page's too, for that matter - was that they'd just spotted the friend they'd arranged to meet here.

The Woodruffs were wrong about a good bit else, too. In the first place, Julia wasn't looking forward to Mr. Page's death. On the contrary, his dying was the thing she feared most in the world, though she worried about it less now than she had when their relationship was new. Then, his leukemia had been accelerating; now, with careful management and a change of medication, it was under control and his symptoms were mild.

But "under control" and "cured" were very different things. She imagined the disease as a lion crouching in the brush, waiting for its moment to pounce. When it did, she'd be devastated, because - and here was another subject on which the Woodruffs were way off the mark - she loved Mr. Page with a passion so profound that she could scarcely fathom it herself. Sometimes, when she looked at her husband, she felt herself growing faint, heartbeat slowing, blood pressure dropping, her soul dimming within her, and she wanted her personhood to disappear, entirely subsumed in his, so that she could become a thing he owned, like his house or furniture.

Julia knew Mr. Page loved her as much as she loved him, but his love was different from hers, as two interlocking puzzle pieces are different. She wanted to be possessed, he to possess; she wanted to be his thing, and his pleasure was to treat her like a thing. Here the Woodruffs were at least somewhere in the neighborhood of correct about the Pages: she was his fuck-toy. But that respectable if somewhat catty couple would have been surprised, and probably shocked, too, to learn what Julia's being a fuck-toy meant to the two of them, and how Mr. Page played with his toy.

At this moment Julia was kissing Mistress Ai's cheek and glancing curiously at the young woman standing beside her, whom she had never met. All of them were making a show of being more or less conventional people. If Julia absolutely had to call Mr. Page by name while in public, she would call him "Arthur" - a thing she'd never presume to do at home - and Mr. Page would refrain from referring to her as "slut" or "slag." They would not talk in public about their private games. But after they'd watched the play, Mr. Page would say to Mistress, "Why not come back to our place for coffee, Ai?" Or maybe she'd invite them to her place. And when they got there, well, something interesting would happen.

The last time they'd been out with friends, it had been with two men of Mr. Page's generation - college pals, in fact. One was a man she didn't know well named Daniel, beside whose vast wealth Mr. Page's fortune was a child's piggy bank savings. The other was a heavy, coarse investment banker named Teddy, whom she'd met all too often. They'd gone to Masa, where she'd sat silent for the whole meal, stunned by the amount of money they were spending and nervous about what would come after.

As she'd known he would, Mr. Page had invited both men home after their dinner. No sooner had he closed the front door behind them than Mr. Page had seized Julia by the throat and shoved her up against a wall of the foyer. Pushing his scowling face within an inch of hers, he snarled, "What are you? Tell us what you are!"

Wide-eyed, she whispered, "A cunt, Sir."

"Louder. My friends can't hear you."

She forced herself to say "A cunt, Sir!" in a loud, clear voice as Daniel looked on with interest and Teddy leered obscenely.

"Not just any cunt," Mr. Page said, holding her tighter and lifting so she had to stand on tiptoe.

"I'm Mr. Page's cunt," she whined in a strangled voice.

Within seconds, he'd torn her dress off. He plunged his fingers into her and, fucking her with his hand, said, "What are you good for, cunt?"

"Being fucked, Sir." It was what he always wanted her to say.

He took his fingers out of her and, whipping off his belt for a makeshift collar and leash, hauled her into the elegant living room, where he threw her down onto the oriental carpet among the Federal period antiques. They all took her there - a brutal, impersonal fuck that you'd call a gang rape if you didn't know the men were meeting Julia's needs as much as she was satisfying their appetites.

You see, just as some people are into pain, others into humiliation, and still others into excreta and other kinks, Julia was into objectification. She was never more alive and aroused than when her sexual partners treated her like an insentient thing designed only to give them physical pleasure. She needed to believe that they cared nothing at all about her, and as they exploited her passive body, she wanted no shows of affection or kindness or respect to break the illusion that she wasn't there for them as a human being entitled to be treated with human dignity.

Don't make the mistake of thinking she enjoyed this gangbang - she didn't, at least not in the ordinary sense of the word "enjoy." She was fastidious: she found both the male and the female genitalia distasteful, and she didn't like getting her hair and makeup mussed. What she did enjoy - this was the flip side of her kink - was obeying Mr. Page, and if what he demanded of her was difficult, so much the better. That Daniel was a near-stranger and Teddy repugnant made obedience that much sweeter. She was Mr. Page's thing, and when it was time for them to play, his pleasure always became her urgent need. On this night, his pleasure was to share her body with a couple of old friends - and so she needed them to fuck her.

That's what they did, Mr. Page and Daniel and the vile Teddy: they took turns fucking her mouth, pussy, and ass, sometimes all three at once, and after a half hour of this they one by one jerked off into her open mouth, and she choked down their semen. Afterwards they left her to lie on the rug, an abandoned toy, curled up and whimpering, belt still loose around her graceful neck, while they poured themselves drinks and chatted about business, politics, and sports over her naked body.

After Mr. Page had seen Daniel and Teddy out, he came to her, seized a forelock to lift her face to his, and growled, "Fucking slut."

This was her moment, the best moment, when she was a thing for him alone. Impossibly aroused, she wept, "I love you, Mr. Page."

"I know that," he snapped. He unzipped his pants and pulled himself out; then, taking his wife's head in his hands, he turned her face downwards and pushed her into his lap with greater force and ferocity than he ever allowed his friends to use with her. This was one of the games they reserved for themselves, a face-fuck so extreme they were flirting with the loss of a seven-hundred-dollar dinner despite Julia's expertise as a cocksucker, cultivated over three years. She choked and drooled and made a mess of his pants, and by the time he'd come deep inside her, it was unbearable, how her body was ablaze with desire.

He raised her face to his with two hands, kissed her, and told her he loved her. He swung her round so her head was on the carpet and her bottom in his lap, grasped her thighs, raised her pussy to his lips, and brought her to orgasm with his mouth. Deep in subspace, she rested in his arms till bedtime.

Julia was as sure of Mr. Page's love as she was of anything in the world. Mr. and Mrs. Woodruff were ill-equipped to understand such a love, which was founded, to be sure, on Mr. Page's lust for Julia's lithe, youthful body and her blond good looks, but also on some indefinable thing in her that filled him with a far greater and more savage joy, when she became his fuck-toy and complied with his demands, than he'd ever felt in the company of any other woman.

The Woodruffs would have found it even more incomprehensible that Mr. Page's respect for his wife was as great as his lust and his need to dominate her. He loved her wit and her intelligence, and he believed fiercely that there was greatness in her. She was a writer, and a dedicated one, though as yet unpublished.

When Mr. Page hurled her to the floor or bound her in some obscene posture and took his pleasure with her body or shared her with his friends as he would an after-dinner port, he had no wish to subdue or crush her. In fact, he saw her as a free spirit, considered it his mission in life to nurture that spirit of freedom in her, and believed, as she did, that their play - even sex with Teddy, which she hated - liberated her and deepened both her emotional and intellectual responses.

A city council member reputed to have mob ties drew the Woodruffs' jaundiced eyes away from the Pages just as Mistress Ai was saying, "Arthur and Julia, this is my friend Emily Burnham."

Julia sized Emily up quickly and decided she didn't like her. She was about the same height as Julia and more generously proportioned, with lively green eyes and a sunny smile. She was, indeed, altogether too pretty to suit Julia, who was more than a little vain and competitive, at least with women she judged to be like herself in age and status.

And then, Julia and Emily had very different ideas about personal presentation. Emily's hair was dyed black with a purple streak, and she was made up to be pale, with dark eyes and dark red lipstick. She had a silver ring in her right nostril and wore black pants, a black and purple top, and black boots with purple laces. Where Julia carefully cultivated a natural, untended look, Emily flaunted her artificiality.

Even worse, Mistress Ai had introduced Emily as a "friend," a word that, to Julia's way of thinking, conveyed that Emily was much more than a slave or sub to her. Mistress Ai had never, in almost three years of acquaintance, introduced Julia as a friend, but always as "Arthur's sub."

Finally, and perhaps worst of all, Emily compounded the sin of being Mistress Ai's friend by losing interest in Julia after a desultory greeting.

And so Julia's first reactions to Emily were envy, jealousy, and wounded pride. She concealed her hostility until Mr. Page and Mistress Ai were deep in conversation, then stepped closer to her and said, "I thought I'd met all Mistress Ai's slaves."

Emily was startled. She'd been lost in her own thoughts and paying little attention to Julia. You could hardly blame her for some deficiency in sociability, for her life was rather a mess at the moment, and she spent much of her free time brooding about the complexities of her situation. Little more than a week ago, she'd gone through a cataclysmic breakup with her master, and together with her friend, lover and slave Amanda, had moved in with the billionaire Daniel and his wife Karen, a grand lady with a toilet kink. Soon after that move, Emily had been approached by Frederick Sullivan, another master from her past, who swore he loved her and wanted her back. He was gorgeous, and masterful, and so sexy, but she wasn't sure she could trust him.

She'd had dinner with him a few days ago, with Karen and Daniel as chaperones, and he'd seemed genuine enough. She hadn't played with him, though: she'd believed, no doubt correctly, that she'd be unable to make a rational decision about him if she did. It was hard enough to think clearly with memories crowding in of the way he used to tie her in some painful pose, whip her for some minor infraction, but really just because he wanted to, and finally fuck her silly. Thinking about it made her wet.

Emily looked at Julia and smiled. She was quick to take a liking to people, and she saw no reason not to like Julia, who seemed brittle somehow, but very pretty and with a sweet smile. She said, "Oh, I'm not Mistress Ai's slave, just a friend. I am a slave, though - sometimes."

Some predatory instinct in Julia saw an opening in that. "Not right now?" she asked.

"I guess you could say I'm between masters," Emily replied, still smiling.

"It must be frustrating," said Julia. "Good dominants can be hard to find. A lot of would-be subs never manage to impress a dominant who's the real thing."

Emily looked at Julia warily: perhaps this girl wasn't as sweet and harmless as she'd thought. "I have one or two possibilities I'm thinking about," she said.

"Maybe a change of style would help," said Julia. "Emo seems kind of . . . I don't know, yesterday."

Emily flushed with anger and searched for something to say, but she was often maddeningly tongue-tied when she most needed a clever response. Meanwhile Julia, by way of twisting the knife, said, "I'd be glad to help you with that. I love doing makeovers." 

Then the words Emily wanted popped into her head. "If I decide to go for the dumb blond look, I'll get in touch."

The lights blinked, Mistress Ai and Mr. Page turned towards them, and they had to behave.

They entered the theater together, Mr. Page and Mistress leading the way followed by a fuming Julia and a smiling Emily.

2. After the play

The play was about a woman who abandons her family to go on a cross-country trip. It was funny and sad, and it left Julia in a fragile mood. She didn't want to be an abandoned toy tonight: she wanted to go home, cuddle with Mr. Page, and talk about the play.

But Mistress Ai said, "Why don't we go to my place for refreshments and play? My slaves have been too idle: they'll be glad for something to do."

Mr. Page agreed, of course: Julia had never known him to turn down an invitation from Mistress Ai. One may well wonder what Mr. and Mrs. Woodruff would have thought of the scene that ensued within the hour, in Mistress Ai's playroom, as Julia lay at the others' feet, wrists and ankles tethered with soft ropes to rings inset in the floor. She was naked except for a harness that consisted of a leather belt and, attached to it, two straps holding in place a wand vibrator which rested lightly against her pussy, so close to her clitoris that the slightest movement would make the vibrator bump her there, and she'd scream with the sudden stimulation. Julia whined and struggled not to squirm as Mr. Page looked on with pleasure. This was his work: the vision had come to him during the taxi ride from the theater, and he had stripped and tied Julia minutes after they'd arrived.

Meanwhile, the others were discussing how they should proceed with their play. Three of Mistress's slaves, two men and a woman, squatted by a wall, looking on with interest and ready to serve if required.

"There are so many of us," said Mistress Ai, "we almost make a play party. Emily, you're our switch: what role would you like tonight?

With a tight little smile whose precise meaning was lost on everyone but an anxious and overstimulated Julia, Emily said, "If it's all right with Arthur, I think I'd like to top with Julia. We've only known each other a few hours, but I feel like we're already becoming good friends."

Julia now regretted the way she'd needled Emily. She didn't have to let this happen, of course, but it would be awkward to say no: she'd probably have to own up to her bad behavior in the theater and risk punishment. Whipping was one of her hard limits: Mr. Page would never do that. But he'd been known to confine her in a cage, restrict her diet to bread and water, or make her sleep alone. These punishments were unpleasant, and so, all in all, she thought it best (though thinking was hard with a vibrator buzzing between her legs) to put up with whatever Emily had in mind. The bitch! She must have known perfectly well that Julia wouldn't be in a position to refuse.

Emily studied Julia with amusement as Mr. Page recited her limits. When he was finished, she unsnapped her pants. Holding Julia's eye, she undressed. She liked undressing, being naked, and being looked at, and despite everything, she liked Julia, who looked magnificent spreadeagled at her feet, a slender Viking goddess trying so hard not to squirm, but unable to hold still. Oh, Emily had been there herself - she could sympathize.

As her arousal mounted, Julia was having trouble keeping Emily in focus, but she could make out a colorful rose vine, complete with thorns, that crept around from her back above her waist and up between her breasts; another climbed over her right shoulder and dangled above her right breast. She had a ring in her left nipple and one in her clitoral hood. Julia liked body modifications, but Mr. Page didn't; that's why she didn't have any of her own. She envied Emily's tattoos and piercings.

Emily said, "I'm so looking forward to getting to know you better, Julia." She stepped over her head, parted her bare labia with black-nailed fingers, and sat down, completely covering Julia's pert nose and pink mouth with her pussy and ass. She wriggled to settle herself more firmly and rested much of her weight on Julia's face.

Emily was not the first person ever to do this to Julia - it was one of Mistress Ai's favorite things. Anuses didn't bother her a lot either: she'd often rimmed Mr. Page and his friends. She didn't like the acts themselves - the slipperiness, the smell, the closeness and heat between the cheeks of an ass - but she loved Mr. Page making her do them, or having the acts forced from her when restrained, as she was now.

But this felt different. She could sense hostility radiating from Emily as she rocked heavily on her face, stimulating herself. And that wasn't all. Emily had skillfully positioned herself so that her pussy covered Julia's nose, and her anus was tight against her mouth. Julia could draw a little air as Emily moved, but not nearly enough. This was revenge sex, to be sure: she tried to turn her head, but Emily reached down to hold her in place and punished her for struggling by pulling her hair hard. Meanwhile, the vibrator was splintering the world around her, and she couldn't form a coherent thought.

Emily wasn't really feeling hostile, though: she was capable of anger, but it tended to die away quickly, like a match that flares and burns out. She was having fun. The sensations of Julia's lips on her anus and her nose pressing against her clitoris were divine: she often did this to Amanda, and neither of them ever got tired of it. Emily had sometimes bottomed with Mistress Ai just this way, and she loved it - the loss of control, the vague sense of being punished for something you couldn't remember doing . . . she was sure Julia would like it too.


Julia on Loan



Julia's heart raced and she yanked hard at her ropes, trying vainly to free herself. She tried to protest, but without enough air she could only emit feeble squeaks. Where was Mr. Page? Why was he letting this happen? She couldn't even see him. Julia was suddenly convinced that he didn't care what happened to her, or maybe he'd left the room. Why would he do that? He didn't love her or want her anymore - he was abandoning her, like the woman in the play, like her parents and everyone else in her life! Panic seized her: with a huge effort she wrenched her head around, freeing herself from Emily's suffocating crotch, and screamed "Red!"

Emily instantly felt horrible - she'd misjudged Julia again, and she'd gotten the situation all wrong. In a second she was off her and kneeling beside her, petting her cheek and saying, "I'm so sorry, Julia! I didn't mean . . ."

But Julia cried, "Where's Mr. Page?" and looked around wildly. There was Mistress Ai with her slave Shita, his blissful face in her pussy; there were the slaves Inkei and Asoko looking on, and there, on a chair by the wall, was Mr. Page, unnoticed by them all - face pale and clammy, gasping, staring at nothing, mouth open.

"Mr. Page!" Julia screamed, and everyone turned to look. "Get me loose!" she shouted. She was tied with slip knots, and Emily had her loose in seconds. Julia tore off the vibrator and scrambled to Mr. Page's side.

Mr. Page said, "It's okay. I'll be okay. It'll pass."

"No!" Julia had obsessively read a thousand web pages so she could be ready for anything that might go wrong with her dominant.

Mistress Ai joined Julia now. "It could be a heart attack," she said.

"It's probably just something I ate," Mr. Page protested.

"It is a heart attack!" Julia had memorized the symptoms, and even though she knew it could be just a bad case of heartburn, she was taking no chances. She ran for her purse, pulled out her phone, and called 911.

3. Take a lover

Mr. Page had suffered a heart attack - not a massive one, but significant, and very likely connected to his leukemia medicine, which would have to be changed. The physicians praised Julia for insisting that he go to the hospital and getting him there quickly, and Mr. Page himself admitted grudgingly that she'd done well.

During the four days Mr. Page spent in the hospital, he and Julia learned how their lives would change over the next weeks and months. His cardiologist outlined a program of gradually increasing exercise: sexual intercourse could be resumed after about four weeks if he was making good progress towards recovery.

Mr. Page's kink-friendly doctor, however, advised against resuming their kinky activities for at least two months. The kind of play they were used to was much more strenuous and risky than what the vanilla cardiologist was talking about.

Julia, who had read extensively about heart attacks, was expecting this kind of news. Four weeks without sex and another month without kink would be dreary, but she could do it. She would spend her time nursing Mr. Page and catching up on her reading and writing.

Mr. Page was concerned, though. The day he got home from the hospital, he talked to her about it over the heart-healthy lunch Suzy Lombardi the housekeeper had made for them. "Like most kinky people," he said, "you have a high sex drive. I can't ask you to live without sex and kink for two months: it wouldn't be fair. You must have a lover."

"I don't want a lover, Mr. Page. I've lived without sex before, and I can do it again." Julia smiled and added, "I can always masturbate."

"Still, I want you to do this. We have several friends who are between subs and wouldn't mind having a temporary one. Eric, Christopher, Teddy . . ."

Eric was a handsome young architect and Christopher was an NYU professor in his forties: Julia had played with both of them.

"Teddy? Really, Mr. Page!"

"Teddy's manner is a bit unpolished, but he'd be a perfectly good dominant for you."

"Please don't make me do this, Sir," Julia pleaded.

He got up from the table. "I have to rest now. I'll tell you when I've selected a lover for you."

Julia sat alone at the table and stewed. When she played with Mr. Page and his friends, they were all Mr. Page, and it was that much better, but she didn't like having sex without her dominant present. When he'd made her do it, she'd felt bad afterwards.

She was trying to think up arguments to make to Mr. Page when she got a text message from Mistress Ai: "May I visit?"

"Yes, please," she replied. If she had to take a lover, Mistress Ai would do better than either Eric or Christopher, though she was hardly likely to agree to it.

Mistress lived in the Village, not far away from Gramercy Park; it was just a half hour before Julia ran to open the door to her and was surprised to find Emily with her.

Julia knew better than to blame Emily for Mr. Page's heart attack, but she associated her with the scary events of that evening - and their quarrel was still unresolved. Julia suppressed a prick of anger, welcomed them as warmly as she could manage, and took them to the kitchen, where she busied herself making tea while Mistress Ai questioned her about Mr. Page's condition.

"He's recovering well, Mistress," said Julia, "but he's got this idea that I have to have a lover. He doesn't think I can go a couple of months without kink."

"I'm sure you can, Julia, but Arthur has a point. Just because your partner is temporarily disabled doesn't mean you have to live like a nun."

"I'm not going to turn into a nun, but it doesn't feel right to have sex when Mr. Page isn't with me - and I don't want any of his friends. In fact, I can't think of a single man I want. I just want to take care of him."

Mistress Ai looked thoughtful. "Perhaps," she said, "it's time for me to have my visit with him."

Julia tiptoed upstairs to see if Mr. Page was awake. He was, and she sent Mistress Ai up to him while she and Emily sipped their tea in the kitchen.

Emily said, "I'm sorry for the other night - for what I said and did. And I'm really, really sorry about Arthur. I hope he's going to be all right."

Julia was a little mollified, but she had a lot on her mind and felt burdened by the necessity of conversing with this woman she cared nothing about. She said, "Thanks. I think he'll be fine. He just needs time to recover." She sipped her tea.

Emily put up with the silence as long as she could; at last, desperate to find some common ground, she said, "I know it's hard, being without your dominant."

"I have a dominant," said Julia shortly.

Emily had said the wrong thing. She tried again. "I should have said without play. I mean, it's hard for me."

"Well, it's not for me," Julia snapped.

Emily gave it up. She concentrated on her teacup and waited for Mistress Ai to return so they could go.

But when Mistress Ai finally reappeared, she said, "Emily, Arthur would like a word with you. Could you come with me?"

Puzzled, Emily glanced at Julia, who was staring stonily into space. She got up and followed Mistress Ai out of the room and up the stairs to the library, where Mr. Page was sitting in a large leather chair with a book in his lap.

He looked up as they entered, but it was Mistress Ai who spoke. "Arthur is concerned about Julia. He doesn't want her confined here at home with him during his convalescence; he wants someone to make sure she gets the kind of activity she needs. As you saw, Emily resists the idea. She finds the prospect of being taken over by another man, even temporarily, repugnant. I suggested a woman instead, and in particular you."

"Me?" Emily laughed. "Sure, but there are just two problems. One, I'm not a dominant. Two, Julia hates me."

Mistress Ai said, "I know you prefer the role of slave to that of mistress, and I'm sure you'll find the right master soon. But you also know how to function as a dominant: you've done a marvelous job with Mouche" (calling Amanda by her scene name).

Emily said, "Amanda is the world's most submissive person. Obedience is like breathing to her. It's no trick at all to be her mistress."

"It's never easy to manage another person," Mistress Ai replied, "no matter how submissive she is. You may prefer submission, but you have a talent for dominance as well."

"As for her not liking you," said Mr. Page, "that will make the experience of obeying you better for her. It's an aspect of her kink: submission is more pleasurable for her when it's difficult. And I promise she will obey you if I tell her to."

"Okay," said Emily. "Now tell me why I should do this. Maybe it's selfish to ask, but what's in it for me?"

"You have a lot of time on your hands," said Mistress Ai. "Daniel has lined up a job for you, but that won't begin till next month. Meanwhile, you're spending too much time stewing about whether to get back together with Frederick. In the end, your decision will come easier if you've kept busy and haven't obsessed about it. Doing this will help."

"I'm not asking you to devote all your time to Julia," said Mr. Page. "Just take her overnight once a week for maybe three or four weeks. Arrange some activities for her. You won't find it difficult to persuade Daniel and Karen to help out. Use her body yourself: whether she likes you or not, she'll serve you well, and she'll get more out of it than you expect."

"And who knows?" said Mistress Ai. "You may end up liking each other."

"Not likely," said Emily. Julia was vain, shallow, and irascible. Emily didn't want to have sex with her, and she didn't look forward to spending hours in her company. Still, she liked projects and challenges. She said, "But I'll try it once, if she agrees. If it works out, then we can do it again."

"She'll agree," said Mr. Page. "Would you send her up to me on your way out, Ai?"

A few minutes later, Julia was saying, "I don't like her, Mr. Page, and I don't think she likes me. And I don't want to leave you, Sir."

"I can't make you do this," said Mr. Page, "but I do think it would be good for you. And you're not leaving me. You're spending one night away from home. If it's unbearable, you don't have to do it again. We'll make being lent to Emily Burnham a hard limit. But I don't think you're going to find it unbearable."

Julia wasn't so sure, but it was just one night, and she did want to obey Mr. Page, so she said, "Okay, Sir. I'll try it once."

"On Saturday at three o'clock in the afternoon. You'll spend the night and return to me in the morning."

To fill the days until Saturday, Julia supervised Mr. Page's medications, negotiated dietary changes with Suzy, and had a treadmill installed in the library. Mr. Page grumbled about his bossy sub and the invasion of his space, but he took his meds and used the treadmill a little more each day. Julia was pleased that he was approaching the work of rehabilitation with seriousness and discipline.

In her free time, Julia worked on her fiction. In college, she'd become fascinated with the life of New York's homeless people and had written several stories set among them. Since then, she'd read everything she could find about the homeless, and she'd stopped to talk to them on the street when they'd asked her for money. She'd visited homeless shelters and had even visited one of their makeshift camps in a vacant lot - her revulsion at the conditions there had been far greater than her fear of the people, for whom she had not only compassion, but also respect. She called them the Abandoned People, because . . . well, that's what they were.

She had found that the homeless had stories, like everyone else. They worked, they loved, they tried to raise kids and the kids grew up; and their stories were all the more compelling because they lived on the edge - invisible to the respectable people of the city.

Julia had written a dozen stories set in the city's camps and shelters but had never attempted to publish any of them. Mr. Page pleaded with her to let him help her - he had contacts everywhere - but she wouldn't hear of it. She told him she'd publish in her own good time, but the truth was that she was sure her stories would be as unwelcome in the genteel New York publishing world as the characters who populated them would be in an upper East Side drawing room.

She spent the week working on her latest, a story about a ten-year-old girl and her mother, both homeless, who get separated. The girl must survive a number of dangers to find her way back to her mother. Mr. Page loved it, but she worried that he wasn't the most impartial of readers.

By the time Julia had to leave on Saturday afternoon, she had a complete draft, but it needed a good bit of revision. She copied it to her phone, where she could make notes when she had a free moment, and packed a printout in her overnight bag along with her toiletries and a change of clothing. She took a taxi to 740 Park Avenue and at three o'clock precisely, rang the bell of an apartment on an upper floor.

4. Playing for stakes

Julia got home again at around eleven on Sunday morning. She found Mr. Page in the library.

"So you survived," he said.

"Yes, Sir - I suppose."

"It wasn't easy?"

"She really doesn't like me, Sir."

"And you don't like her much."

"I guess not, Sir."

"Sit and tell me everything," he said, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of him.

Julia sat cross legged on the carpet and began. "Okay, Sir. I've never been inside that building before. Their place really blew me away: I never imagined there were apartments that size in the city."

"Back up," he said. "Start with knocking on the door. Tell it like a story."

"All right, Sir. I was on time, the way you've taught me to be. I wasn't surprised that the woman who opened the door was naked, but I'd never seen anybody quite like her before. She was maybe a few years older than me, ghostly pale and starved-looking, with large brown eyes and black hair. The nipples of her tiny breasts were pierced with little barbells, she had a tattoo of a fly above her left breast, and on her right side a large one of a sad girl holding a bleeding heart."

"That was Mouche," said Mr. Page. "I've seen her."

"Emily calls her Amanda, though hardly anyone else does," said Julia. "She opened the door and stared at me for a few seconds with solemn curiosity. Then she said, 'Do you like piss?'

"Nobody had ever asked me a question like that before, so I had to stop and think. I don't mind piss, as long as it's where it belongs and the toilet flushes properly, but I was pretty sure that wasn't what Amanda was talking about, so I said, 'Not a bit.'

"That must have been the right answer, because she smiled and said, 'Come in.'

"She led me into a living room that reminded me of rooms I'd seen in English palaces. Emily, dressed in tight black yoga pants and a black tee, was sitting on a sofa with a large woman in a colorful tent of a dress - she had to be Karen. They both got up as Amanda led me to them.

"Emily smiled at me and said, 'Hello, Julia.'

"'Hi,' I said, feeling kind of awkward and scared.

"Karen said, 'So this is Julia, Arthur's fuck-toy. She's beautiful. Such a slender, lovely figure! Such a flawless face! How I long to get a close look at her naked body! You are going to share her, aren't you, dear?'

"'Arthur asked me to share her,' said Emily, 'and I suppose I will, but I think I may keep her to myself for a while first.'

"'That's too cruel of you, Famula, and selfish, to deny me the enjoyment of a treasure like this.' Famula is Emily's scene name, Sir. Karen always calls her that.

"Emily gave her a wounded look and said, 'Selfish, Karen! That stings. I'll tell you what: you can play me for her.'

"Karen smiled. 'Blackjack, dear?'

"'I deal,' said Emily. 'Usual rules.'

"Karen said, 'Mouche, dear, run and get the card table and a fresh deck.'

"Amanda ran from the room, and while she was gone Karen asked about my limits.

"Emily said, 'No toilet kinks - sorry, Karen. No whipping. Otherwise it's all stuff none of us here do.'

"'Daniel fucked her a couple of weeks ago,' said Karen. 'He's still raving about her, and I can see why. Her mouth is so pretty, I almost wish I had a cock so she could suck it.'

"Do you remember how red I used to get when you talked about me that way, Sir? Like I was a picture or a statue that couldn't hear you talking about me?"

"I remember. You used to get very embarrassed and very turned on."

"I still get turned on, Sir, but maybe not quite as embarrassed. I could tell they were already playing.

"Before long, Amanda returned lugging a folding card table and holding an unwrapped deck of cards between her teeth. She set the table up in the middle of the room, pulled two ornate side chairs up to it, unwrapped the cards, separated out the jokers, and set the deck face down on the table. Emily and Karen sat in the chairs.

"Emily pointed to a spot about three feet from the table and said, 'Stand there, Julia.' I stood where she'd pointed. I was getting shivery with anticipation. Emily dealt two cards to Karen face up and two to herself, one up and one down. Karen's cards were a ten and a three; Emily's up card was a nine.

"'Hit,' said Karen, and Emily dealt her a six.

"'Ah!' said Karen.

"Emily turned her card; it was another nine.

"'Stand,' said Emily. 'You win.'

"'Right boot,' said Karen.

"Emily said, 'Take off your right boot, Julia.'

"I took off my right boot. While I was doing that, I counted my articles of clothing: black pants and a pink top, two socks, two boots, bra, panties. Eight pieces if they weren't counting jewelry.

"Emily won the next hand with twenty to Karen's eighteen. 'Put your boot back on, Julia,' she said.

"I was starting to think the game might go on for a long time.

"On the next hand, Emily dealt Karen an ace and a ten.

"'Blackjack!' Karen exclaimed. 'Both boots.' She watched as I took off my boots. She was just about licking her lips."

"I don't think I've ever met anyone as sexually omnivorous as Karen," said Mr. Page. "And her kinks are notorious."

"Yes, Sir. I know. So Emily dealt Karen a king and a four. 'Hit,' said Karen, and Emily dealt her a six. Karen said, 'Stand.'

"Emily's cards were an eight and a seven. She drew a four and said, 'Stand.'

"'Left sock,' said Karen. I lifted my foot and took it off.

"Emily got blackjack on the next turn. 'Sock back on,' she said.

"Now the rules were coming into focus. If Karen got blackjack or Emily busted, Karen could make me take off two pieces of clothing, but if Emily got blackjack or Karen busted, Emily could only make me put one back on."

Mr. Page said, "A Vegas game is rigged in the dealer's favor. It sounds like this one was rigged the other way."

"It's a good thing too, Sir," said Julia. "If it hadn't been, we might have been playing all afternoon, but as it happened it only took me about a half hour to get naked."

"It's an ingenious game," he said.

"Amanda told me later that they perfected it over the weeks after Emily and Amanda moved in. Amanda hates wearing clothes: she likes to be available for sex at a moment's notice, and she spends a lot of time masturbating without caring who's around. In fact, the whole time we were playing she was sitting on the floor, back against a chair, watching us and fingering her pussy. But they sometimes make her put on clothing - underwear and everything - and then play Blackjack and slowly strip her."

"Sounds like fun."

"It was fun, Sir. As each bit of me was revealed, Karen would comment. 'What a lovely little nipple!' she'd say, or 'The curve of her belly is so tasty!' After something more than a half hour of play, I was wearing nothing but a sock on my right foot when Emily busted and said 'Damn!' Karen shouted, 'I win! Take off that sock, Julia!'




Julia on Loan



"I took off my sock and wondered what would come next now that the game was done.

"But the game wasn't done. Emily handed the deck to Karen, who dealt out another hand. Karen won this, turned to stare at me, and said, sort of meditatively, 'Now what shall I do with her?'

"I was nervous but tried not to fidget.

"'I know!' Karen exclaimed. 'Mouche, come here!'

"Amanda scrambled to her feet and stood on the other side of the table from me.

"'You've been playing with yourself, haven't you, girl?' Karen demanded.

"'Yes, Mistress,' said Amanda sheepishly.

"'Put the fingers you were masturbating with in Julia's mouth. Let her taste you,' said Karen.

"'Yes, Mistress,' said Amanda, and rounded the table to stand in front of me. She gazed into my eyes - I don't know when I've seen such a soulful look. She whispered, 'I like your lip gloss,' and raised her hand to touch my lips with one slender finger. I could smell pussy on her hand."

"How did that make you feel?"

"A little queasy, Sir, but I parted my lips, and Amanda slid that finger in, then another, and two more - all the fingers she'd been masturbating with. I closed my eyes and sucked her fingers, trying to imagine that you were there. In a way you were, Sir, since you had delegated your power to Emily. The humiliation was delicious; my arousal had been building during the slow strip, and now it went up another notch.

"They let me suck Amanda's fingers for a couple of minutes. Then Karen said, 'Lovely,' and Amanda took her fingers out of my mouth.

"Karen turned back to Emily and dealt another hand of Blackjack. Emily won this one and said, 'Give Julia a kiss, Amanda. A nice long one - I'll tell you when to stop - and be sure to use your tongue.'

"Amanda's a good three inches shorter than me: her eyes danced as she stepped closer, looked into my eyes, and touched my cheek with the fingers she'd just had in her mouth. 'You're really pretty,' she whispered, stood on tiptoe, put her hands on my shoulders, and kissed me.

"I thought Amanda was pretty, too - beautiful, in fact, in an uncanny, melancholy way - but her intensity was unnerving, and I also knew that she was the one who serviced Karen's toilet kink. I wanted to pull away but didn't dare - I told myself I could wash thoroughly later. So I just stood there while her soft tongue probed between my lips.

"Even though I was feeling queasy, I couldn't help responding to the sweet, insistent kiss of this otherworldly creature. I opened my lips to let her in, and at that moment, when I surrendered to the situation and to her, my toes curled, my body sang, and my senses came alive: I became aware of Amanda's little nipples brushing the skin of my breasts, the faint odor of some perfume mingled with soap and mouthwash, the sound of her breathing. My arousal was like sunlight, warming me all over."

"Are you getting turned on, telling this now?" asked Mr. Page.

"Yes, Mr. Page."

"Take your clothes off and touch yourself as you tell your story."

"You shouldn't get too excited, Sir . . ."

He gestured at a pill bottle on the table by his chair. "I have my nitroglycerin here. Now do as I say."

Julia stood and stripped; then she sat down again, put a hand between her legs, and touched herself delicately as she continued.

"Emily stopped Amanda kissing me then, Sir. She said, 'Very good, Amanda, - you can sit down now.'

"They went on with their game. Karen dealt Emily two eights. Emily said 'Hit,' and Karen dealt her a ten.

"'Shit,' said Emily.

"'Something for me, then,' said Karen, and turned to study me. I blinked nervously and wished I were still kissing Amanda. Finally Karen got up and pulled her dress over her head. She had no underwear on underneath."

"She considers underwear unhealthy," said Mr. Page. "She's always giving loud lectures on the subject in restaurants and galleries."

"So suddenly she was naked," Julia said. "She was substantial, not quite fat, and, for a woman of nearly seventy, gave an impression of health and vitality.

"She sat down heavily and took one of her breasts in her hand: it was large and pale, with a vast areola. She said, 'Come and suck my tit, Julia.'

"You've never had me play with a woman that age or size, Sir, so I was kind of scared. I stepped to the side of Karen's chair, bent over, and put my mouth over Karen's big nipple. I gave it a little suck.

"Karen scolded me: 'Not like that, girl.' She took me by the waist, swung me around so I was between her legs, and crushed me to her so my mouth was smashed against her nipple and my breasts pressed into her swelling stomach.

"She's a good dominant, Sir. Not as commanding as you are, but good. I liked the way she handled me and made me do this. I sucked and nibbled her, and soon she was emitting strangled moans of pleasure and squirming in her chair.

"After a couple of minutes, Karen gasped, 'Other tit,' but Emily said, 'No, no, Karen. Other breast is another thing.'

"Karen glared at her and let go of me. I stood up and waited. The rule for this stage of the game seemed to be that the winner of a hand could make me do something, but she had to win with Blackjack or a bust to get me to do something for her.

"Emily won the next hand and said, 'Do for Amanda what you just did for Karen.'

"Amanda had retreated to her post by the chair. I went to her, kissed her mouth, and bent lower to suck one of her pierced nipples. This was lovely: her nipple was hard almost instantly, and as I worked I could see her fingering her pussy and sense her breath coming harder. But when I thought she must be about to come, Emily said, 'That's enough, Julia,' and I had to stop. Amanda whimpered, and I sat back on my heels.

"I was really turned on now, Sir. I just stared at Amanda and paid no attention to Karen, who was dealing the next hand. But I didn't dare to touch her without being told.

"Karen exclaimed, 'Blackjack!' and soon I found myself sucking her other big nipple. She was breathing hard, her breast rising and falling as I sucked. She must have been really aroused. I know I was.

"Karen won the next hand and said, 'Turn your back to us, bend over, and hold your ankles, Julia.'

"I did as I'd been told.

"'Spread your legs, dear,' said Karen.

"I did that, displaying my pussy and ass to them. I could feel their stares even though I couldn't see them.

"'Lovely,' said Karen, and Emily said, 'Uh uh, no touching.'

"'You're cruel, Famula,' said Karen. 'Mouche, come lick Julia's ass.'

"'That's another thing,' said Emily. 'Stop trying to get away with stuff.'

"'I only had Julia bend over to get her ready for this,' Karen protested. 'Come here, Mouche.'

"Emily snorted in disgusted resignation and Amanda made a strange sound like a cat's meow. Soon I saw Amanda's feet between my legs, then her knees as she knelt. I felt Amanda's soft hands on my ass, and soon afterwards the heavenly touch of her wet tongue, stimulating my sensitive nerve endings. I sighed with the pleasure of it, and Amanda responded by closing her lips over my anus and giving me a wet kiss. She made love to my bottom with her lips and tongue, meanwhile stimulating my clitoris with light touches (I suppose this was another thing strictly speaking, but they didn't stop her).

"I went from whining to hyperventilating, and I was sure I was about to come when Karen said, 'That's enough, dear,' and Amanda stood up, gave my bottom a caress, and retreated to her place.

"'You can stand, Julia,' said Emily, and I stood and turned around. I was distracted for a moment by Amanda rubbing her pussy with one hand and licking the fingers of the other, and I almost missed it when Karen dealt Emily a ten and a king, and herself a two face up.

"'Hit me,' said Emily.

"Karen said, 'But Famula - '

"'Hit me, Karen,' said Emily very firmly.

"Slowly, Karen slid a card over the table and turned it face up: it was a five.

"Karen took several deep breaths, her great breasts rising and falling. 'You're a wicked girl,' she said, 'but a good friend to this old lady. Are you sure she can't . . .'

"'She can't, Karen.'

"'Oh well,' she said, turned to me, and said, 'Come here, girl.'

"You know what she was going to make me do, don't you, Sir?"

"Mm Hm," said Mr. Page. "Lie down and show me your pussy while you talk."

Julia lay down, spread her legs, and stroked herself as she continued her story. "Karen was still naked, Sir. My heart was pounding, and my skin was prickling all over. She seemed so big - such vast expanses of white flesh, such massive breasts. Her legs were still closed, wide thighs concealing her sex.

"'Kneel,' she said, and I knelt: all my limbs were trembling with arousal and fear, and my stomach was churning. Karen slid forward on her chair and opened her legs wide, and her pussy fell open. I had to stare, it was so awe-inspiring: it was gray-haired with outer labia pale and big: the pink parts were already engorged and shiny with damp. Karen spread herself with her fingers, and her cavernous vagina gaped wetly.

"'Eat my cunt, dear,' she said.

"Mistress Ai is the only woman you've ever made me go down on, Sir. I thought with yearning of her tidy pussy and its lovely bush of soft black hair. Oh, what I wouldn't have given to be staring at that now instead of this monster! I shuffled forward on my knees, as close as I could come, sat back on my heels, and leaned forward.

"Up close, Karen's pussy seemed so enormous! It was irresistible . . . what was the name of that great whirlpool, Mr. Page?"

"Charybdis."

"Yes! A Charybdis of cunt, Sir, and I was sure it would suck me down, and I'd be lost forever."

"The metaphor is a bit over the top, Julia."

"Have you ever gone down on her, Sir?"

Mr. Page gave her an annoyed look. "No, Julia - but I have seen young women do it. And - okay, you have a point. It looks like a perilous thing."

"Thank you, Sir. I touched my lips to Karen's wide slit, just over the urethra, and breathed through my nose."

Julia rubbed herself harder as she described going down on Karen. Mr. Page kept his eyes on her pussy; his own hands rested on his thighs, but he didn't touch himself.

"Karen was wet and slick, and her smell and taste were strong. I ran my tongue lightly up and down the flat of her swollen pink folds. I sucked them and licked from her hollow vagina downwards as far as I dared - then up again till I was near Karen's big clitoris, which I circled with my tongue, pleasuring it indirectly.

"Karen rested a jeweled hand on the back of my head and pulled me into her. 'Such a dear, dear, girl,' she sighed, and twisted one of her nipples as I wrapped my arms around her fleshy thighs.

"In the corner of my vision, I could see Amanda crawl to Emily, peel down her yoga pants, and start to do for her what I was doing for Karen. I felt a stab of envy - why did Amanda deserve the younger, prettier pussy? But then it seemed to me that Karen's was the greater one, being more ancient and riper in experience, a canyon worn wide and deep by a lifetime of kink. It was a gross, awful thing, but so hot!"

"You're very poetic today, Julia!" said Mr. Page.

"Probably because I'm masturbating, Sir. I was overcome by a surge of passion. I gave myself over to Karen's pussy and immersed my face in it - chin, lips, and nose. I licked from the bottom, where her wetness was pooled up, to the top, where I closed my lips over her big clitoris and stimulated it with my tongue - varying jabs, swirls, and soft licks.

"'Oh, my dear!' Karen cried, pulled me fiercely to her, and humped my mouth as best she could, being so bulky and seated so firmly.

"'Mmmm,' I moaned and massaged Karen's thighs as I sucked - and suddenly Karen cried out and her body spasmed. Oh! Sir! May I come?"

5. A quiet evening

"You can have your orgasm when you've finished the story," said Mr. Page. "So she came?"

"She did, Sir," said Julia, panting a little though her fingers were moving slower over her pussy, "and just then a male voice shouted, 'All right!'

"I looked around to see Daniel grinning and clapping his hands.

"'Beautiful orgasm,' he said as I retreated from the table and knelt on the floor nearby, 'but don't I get to play with Arthur's fuck-toy?'

"'You could have,' said Emily, a little breathless since Amanda was still hard at work between her legs, 'but you got here too late for Blackjack. Maybe we'll give you a turn later.'

"'Damn,' said Daniel with mock exasperation. We all watched till Amanda had given Emily an orgasm.

"Daniel questioned me about your condition, Sir, while their cook, a woman named Mae, took drink orders from everyone except Amanda - I think maybe she doesn't drink."

"Like Dracula," said Mr. Page, smiling, "she doesn't drink . . . wine."

Julia's fingers rested lightly on her pussy. Her body was calmer now. "After such a strenuous afternoon, I was grateful for a glass of wine, though I would much rather have had an orgasm. Amanda seemed to feel the same way, because she sat on the floor near me, stared at me fixedly, and resumed her masturbation. I shifted about uncomfortably under her gaze until, after a short time, she came with soft squeaks which no one but me seemed to notice - but to me, each one was like a finger flicking my clitoris. 

"I wish I could be as unselfconscious as Amanda, Sir. I guess no one would have minded if I'd masturbated, but I couldn't bring myself to do it with all those people around. Meanwhile, Amanda sucked her fingers and went back to staring at me.

"Mae announced that dinner was ready, and I followed the others to a grand dining room, still naked because no one had told me I could dress. A long table was set with three places at one end. Puzzled, I looked around, and my heart sank when I spotted two newspapers spread out side by side along a wall with a dog bowl on each one - one silver with 'Mouche' engraved on the side, and the other red plastic.

"Emily came up beside me and said, 'It's a rule of the house. Don't use your hands. If you do, I'll tie them behind you.' She lowered her voice to a whisper. 'If you want to make Karen and Daniel happy, make loud chomping and slurping noises while you eat and hold your ass up high so they can see your pussy and anus. If you want to make them even happier, give me permission to let them touch you.'

"Would you have let them touch me, Sir, if you'd been there?"

"Yes," breathed Mr. Page. "I would have encouraged them to touch you while you ate."

"I thought so, Sir. I could still smell Karen's pussy on my lips, and the memory of the fatty taste of Daniel's semen, the night you let him fuck me, was still fresh in my memory: so I thought, what difference did it make? 'I guess it's all right,' I said, and I felt a twinge down below, anticipating the humiliation.

"Amanda took my hand and led me to the bowls. 'We don't have to wait for the others,' she whispered, got down on her elbows and knees, sank her face into her bowl, and ate noisily.

"I got down beside her in the same pose. The food in the bowl was some kind of hash - it looked as much like pet food as it did people food. I picked out a few bits with my teeth and lips, trying not to make a mess of my face, and found that it was actually quite good. Of course, Karen and Daniel would have only the best.

"Meanwhile, Mae was coming and going with wine and the various courses for Daniel, Karen, and Emily, who were chatting over their meal.

"'It's such a pleasure to have Julia with us,' Karen announced in her big voice. 'I thought Daniel was exaggerating when he called her cunt a wonder, but he wasn't, even a little. Look at it! So smooth and symmetrical, and the same pale pink as her lips. How did it feel to fuck it, Daniel?'

"'Well, I had to wear a condom, of course,' he said, 'but it was snug - not one of your fucked-half-to-death cunts. But her mouth was even better - didn't have to wear a condom for the blowjob, either. I'll never forget the sight of those beautiful lips wrapped around my cock.'

"'Yes,' said Karen. 'She's a first-rate cunt-licker. too - so talented with her mouth. I understand she plays with Ai regularly - she's an excellent teacher. Have you tried her, Famula?'

"'Not really,' Emily replied. 'Just a few seconds the night we met.'

"'Well,' Karen said, 'you should have plenty of opportunities while dear Arthur is recovering. I have a toy here - do you mind if I just . . .'

"'Go right ahead,' said Emily."

Julia slid a finger of one hand into her pussy and rubbed her clitoris with the other. "I was getting really hot, listening to them talk about me that way, but I was worried about the toy. A few seconds later I felt something cool and slick pressing against my ass, then into it. After a moment of resistance it popped in. It was a bead, nicely lubricated. Then another bigger one, then another and another and another, till I felt stretched and full. I love anal beads, as you know, Sir, when you push them into me and pull them out."

"Mmmm," said Mr. Page, who had leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"But then my ass started to vibrate, and I realized that these weren't just anal beads, but little vibrators. Suddenly it was hard to eat, the stimulation was so great; I had been in a state of arousal almost since I'd gotten there, and I'd had no relief at all.

"'Oh, God!' I moaned, wondering if I dared to touch myself.

"Karen's stout legs appeared by my head. 'Are you all right, dear?'

"I said, 'Yes, Mistress, but . . .'

"'Eat your dinner, then,' said Karen, and shoved my face down into my bowl. I felt like crying, the humiliation was so great; but I got hold of myself and went on picking at my dinner with teeth and lips, though my face was surely a mess. There was no need to hurry: Amanda was now sitting up, apparently finished, but the others were just starting with the main course.

"Between the difficulty of eating from a dog bowl and the beads vibrating inside me, I only managed a few more bites before everyone else was done with dinner. Mae took my bowl away, and Karen came over, turned off the beads, and slowly pulled them out of me - I was so aroused that the stimulation of my anus expelling each one came close to making me come.

"Karen handed the beads to Amanda and said, 'Mouche, dear, take these to the bathroom and clean them off. I'll join you there in a minute.' Amanda took the beads and scampered away with a sunny smile on her face, and Karen swept off towards the kitchen.

"Daniel cleared his throat, said, 'I've got some calls to make,' and left, leaving Emily and me alone.

"I said, 'May I dress?'

"'No,' she said. 'You can masturbate if you want.'

"I said, 'Does watching get you off?'

"'I don't particularly want to watch you masturbate,' said Emily. 'I just thought maybe you could use some relief.'

"'I'm okay,' I said, though I wasn't really. If I'd been by myself or with you, Sir, I would have had my fingers in my pussy in a second, but I didn't want to seem weak in front of her."

"You weren't treating her like your dominant," said Mr. Page.

Julia's hand had stopped moving: her fingers covered her. "I know, Sir, but she was so cold, like she didn't want me there at all."

"Still, she was your dominant, and you shouldn't have hidden your need from her."

"I'll remember that, Sir."

"Move your hand so I can see your pussy, and go on with your story."

"Yes, Sir. We sat there for a few minutes not saying anything. Her coldness made me uncomfortable. The more I thought about her behavior that afternoon, the more annoyed I got about the way she'd been avoiding me. Finally I said, 'Why did you give me to Karen this afternoon?'

"'What do you mean?'

"'You deliberately busted so it would be Karen that played with me, not you.'