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The Little Shop Ch. 01

By: justincbenedict



"Dear Mr. Soaperstein:

The New Hampshire Board of Parole believes in your repentance (finally), but is concerned that you have no job skills, having spent twenty-seven of your 39 years either using and selling heroin or making "Live Free or Die" license plates.

However, one of our Parole board members has a share in a local business, a little shop that has had difficulty finding employees because of its peculiar nature. If you would be willing to work at this shop for six months, the Board will be happy to approve your release date of 7/6/06.

Sincerely,

A Whittaker, Parole Board Superintendent..."

"I just want something that will fit him" Phoebe said imperiously. Soapy looked askance at Phoebe. She was a acid blonde with huge, possibly boob-job breasts in a skin-tight T-shirt. Phoebe was pretty, but she looked so enraged. Next to her was her husband, Nolan, who was bespectacled with a graying moustache. "He keeps breaking into the chastity belts, and jerking himself off" Phoebe said contemptuously.

Phoebe glared at the balding Nolan and he stared at the floor. "I beat his ass over and over again, but he keeps breaking into the chastity belts! I've tried chastity, belts, cock harnesses, rubber bands, Leather cylinders, Steel Thimbles, Iron Maidens, chastity tubes, cock cages, and crotch lockdowns, and he's broken into them all."

"But we haven't made love in over a year..." Nolan looked at her imploringly.

Phoebe laughed contemptuously, her breasts jogging a bit in the white T-shirt. "Take out your penis...show the clerk, Nolan...show him what a pitiful little thing you've got."

"No, no..." Soapy protested. "Too much information, really." Out of the prison for six weeks, the last thing he wanted to see was another man's dingie, there'd been too much of that inside.

Phoebe reached out and grabbed Nolan's right nipple through his shirt and twisted it, and Nolan screamed. "Take it out, NOW." Nolan blanched.

Then sure enough, Nolan unzipped his pants and pulled out a small, white cock. Phoebe pointed to it. "Look at that thing. It's not even good enough to worm a hook if I wanted to go fishing!"

Phoebe tickled the underside of Nolan's penis. "He's just so focused on getting his way with this nasty little...worm. It just wants to get inside me, can you believe it?" Phoebe breathed heavily and her breasts jounced, and Soapy licked his lips.

As Phoebe stroked her husband's penis gently, she touched Soapy's chest with her other hand. "I'd much rather have a studly fellow like you...and I know you'd know how to please a woman." Phoebe smiled, and Soapy's legs began shaking.

"But forget it!" Phoebe snapped, and Soapy recovered quickly. "I don't do sex-shop clerks." Phoebe's fingers continued to stroke Nolan until he began gasping and panting. 

"And I don't do this dork either." Phoebe snickered, looking at her pitiful husband.

Phoebe's stroking turned into a grasp. Phoebe grasped Nolan's penis and twisted it, hard. "He's a perverted, deranged little weirdo!" The woman reached over to Nolan's belt and unbuckled it, and pulled it off. Phoebe doubled the belt over and whacked Nolan's penis four or five times as Soapy watched impassively.

Finally, Nolan began weeping and covering his penis with his hands, and Phoebe threw the belt down. "I need this thing locked up, and fast!"

"B-but darling Miss Phoebe." Nolan said hesitantly. " Even if we didn't make love...you-you almost never let me have a release...no masturbation" Nolan looked terribly embarrassed to be discussing this in front of Soapy, who was beginning to be a bit revolted. He really should have found a job at Wal-Mart.

"I've put you on a schedule, and you can shut your mouth right now, Nolan Haberman." Phoebe pressed a long nail into Soapy's chest. "Do you have anything here that this conniving idiot can't break into?" Phoebe breathed hard and her massive boobs shifted in the T-shirt.

The bell to the Little Shop rang, and two women came in, a smiling candy-striper type of about 25 wearing a pink T-shirt and another, not as cheerful redhead of about 40 dressed in business clothes with a briefcase.

They looked about the store for a moment, and the redhead called to Nolan, "Dude, your doinger is hanging out." Nolan put his face in his hands, and then after his wife nodded curtly, zipped up his wounded penis while the girls giggled.

Soapy wondered if he were too old to join the Army. Iraq couldn't be worse than this.

"Pardon me" said the blonde. "I am looking for a good rattan cane?"

"Could you hold on a minute?" Soapy said to Phoebe. "The-the canes are back there. Miss." The women walked to the back and Soapy turned back to Phoebe. 

"You must have something in this queer place." Phoebe said, gritting her teeth, as Nolan backed off from her a bit. "I see dildos, vibrators, weird looking feathery shit. Don't you have one little chastity device for Houdini here?"

Phoebe turned and looked at Nolan and gritting her teeth, she slapped him. Nolan's glasses fell off, and the little man dropped to his knees, looking for them.

The candy striper type came back up to Soapy, bending a wicked looking cane. "Do you have anywhere I could try this out?" she asked. "Like a back room, or..."

Soapy wiped his forehead. What do you say to people like this? "The back room is taken, I think...let me go and check." Soapy went to knock on the door of the little room in the back. 

The door opened slightly, showing a tattooed woman with short hair in a black tube top, rubbing a long dildo that was protruding between her legs.

"This is an excellent strap-on, Soapy, but I don't know if it's big enough...would you consider dropping your pants—" Soapy shut the door hurriedly.

Soapy knocked on the door of the broom closet. "Mr. Wiggins, are you done with Chief?" Soapy heard nothing, so he opened the door to see a little man in a diaper sucking off a viciously snarling German Shepherd wearing a spiked collar with a price tag on it.

The little man looked up. "Soapy, Chief and I may buy this collar, but I want to service him first, as he is my Master." The dog barked sharply at Soapy and he shut the door.

Soapy came back to the cheery girl who was waving the cane rather close to her friend, who was backing off a bit. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but the back room seems to be taken." 

Her redheaded chum took the cane wielder's arm. "Hannah, let's take it home." Hannah smiled. 

"No, Lucille...I want to try it out on you before making you pay for it." Hannah smiled at Soapy, and again his cock swelled a bit in his black jeans. "Is there a back room, or a screen?"

Soapy shook his head. What do you say to people like this?

"Then I think we'll just do it here in the store." Hannah smiled at Lucille, who put down her briefcase reluctantly. Soapy coughed.

"Are you going to get me a chastity device" demanded Phoebe, while Nolan pushed his spectacles back on his nose, and Soapy moved to attempt to stop Lucille, who was lifting up her short skirt, and pulling down her pantyhose. Hannah, smiling was bending the cane.

WHACK! Hannah's cane landed hard on Lucille's buttocks, grazing her fingers, which were still pulling the panties down. Soapy stopped, possessed by Lucille's full, alabaster bottom cheeks. WHACK! 

After the second lash landed, there was a long pink welt across the perfect white globes. Oh, that's such a shame, Soapy thought regretfully.

Soapy was an ass man... WHACK! A second long red stripe appeared on Lucille's cheeks.

The redhead saw Soapy and Nolan staring and, embarrassed, she burst into tears. Soapy was amazed that the whipping itself wasn't making Lucille cry, for the lashes kept falling and Lucille just bit her lip determinedly, but the humiliation of being lashed in a public shop...

Finally, Soapy pulled out a box with a chastity tube in it. "Can you wait until the back room is empty before you uh, size him?" Soapy was trying to be polite, but he was so possessed by Lucille's now quite welted buttocks, that he was quite distracted.

Phoebe was disgusted. "I'm going next door to Hecht's. I'll be back in forty-five minutes, and that closet BETTER be opened. You stay here, Nolan." Phoebe smiled grimly. "Think of how your butt will look tonight while you drool over that little idiot's beating."

Turning on her heel, Phoebe stalked out of the store. Soapy was still quite caught up in Lucille's trouncing. Nolan shook his head miserably.

"She's just making me miserable...I can't believe things have become this way." Nolan attempted to clutch Soapy's arm, but the clerk was possessed by the scene before him.

"About a year ago, Phoebe began changing, getting angrier at me." Nolan said sadly. "She and I always played mild bondage games, but she became more and more severe with me. We made love less and less...generally, all Phoebe would do is let me perform orally upon her, and then she'd turn over and go to sleep."

As the seventeenth lash slammed Lucille's buttocks, the mesmerized Soapy said absently, "That's rough, man."

"Soon she told me she wasn't going to have sex with me any more at all." Nolan said depressedly. "I'll never forget it—Phoebe was wearing a gorgeous snug cashmere turtleneck, and her hair was just perfect...and she was in my favorite pair of tight black jeans...and she said 'I'm not attracted to you anymore, Nolan..and I want you to keep your hands off of me.' 

Soon she took a different bedroom, and wouldn't even let me see her naked. She began going out with different men, and looking gorgeous in her outfits, but she wouldn't let me touch her." Nolan was rubbing his hands together dispiritedly.

"It became increasingly difficult for me. Phoebe could be sweet and tender, you might not believe it, but she was...she'd give me big sympathetic hugs while in her pink tank-tops, but still tell me that her body was off-limits to me.

The hardest part was not being able to touch her beautiful breasts, which she often waved in front of me, as I've said, Phoebe knows how to make me crazy.

I would keep trying to catch sight of her in the shower, and occasionally try to go in the bedroom when Phoebe was changing. But she'd firmly push me out again, telling me that I was in her 'space'. It was very depressing." Nolan wiped his eyes, and Soapy patted Nolan's arm absently as he watched Hannah line Lucille's full thighs with red lashes from the cane. My God, watching her jiggle is incredible, Soapy thought.

Nolan continued "I am so sorry to burden you with this...but it's a terrible story. Phoebe had me just in such a bad state. Certainly, I had no boundaries and limits, and Phoebe would come into the bathroom when I was washing and sometimes flick my penis with her long nails...but it was almost like we were mother and son.

One night I begged Phoebe to at least let me masturbate in front of her, and she smiled, and pulled her snug sweater up over her breasts and ordered me to kneel, and play with myself...when I made the mess, she had me clean it up with a Kleenex, and then she demanded that I giver her fifty dollars!

This began happening more and more, it was terribly humiliating.

One night I came home from work, and Phoebe was necking with some landscaper on our couch. I came up to them and asked what was going on, and Phoebe said 'Get out of here, Nolan, it's none of your business' but then she told me she wanted my pay—I cash my paychecks before I get home on Fridays.

The landscaper said 'Aww, if you're going to take his money, why doncha let him see your boobs at least...that's what he's always complaining about, right?' I was so humiliated that Phoebe had told him this.

But Phoebe snapped her fingers and I gave her my entire pay, and then she unbuttoned her halter top and showed me her full breasts, and I took my pants and underpants down in front of the landscaper and jerked my cock while he kissed her nipples, and then they ordered me to go in their bedroom and turn down the bed for them."

Nolan shook his head, and Soapy tried to be sympathetic, though now it appeared that Hannah was punctuating her cane whacks with occasional slaps to Lucille's face. This was fascinating. He sort of was paying attention to Nolan, but the man droned so.

But Nolan continued. "A few weeks after that, Phoebe began disciplining me full time, whipping me in front of her lovers, and making me beg on bended knee to see her beautiful body. It was just too much." At this point, tears were rolling down Nolan's cheeks.

"After this, Phoebe became offended because I was jerking off so much. She apparently wanted me to limit my masturbation dates to when I gave her my paycheck. But it was so hard, and it's been terrible...she catches me in her laundry bag and in her lingerie drawer, jerking off and kissing her beautiful bras." Nolan wrung his hands.

"She says that after she gets a chastity device that I can't break into, I won't be allowed to cum more than once a month or even two months...and I'll have to suck off all her male friends....and maybe let them rape me! I just don't understand what I did to deserve this. Are you listening?"

Soapy nodded, quite absentmindedly.

Soapy was listening with half an ear, but in the ensuing time, Hannah had ordered Lucille to remove her suit jacket and unbutton her office blouse, revealing 44DD breasts.

Hannah had then removed Lucille's lace bra and ordered the redhead to hold her hands behind her, jutting her full breasts out.

Hannah had then taken the cane and begun whacking Lucille across her pink nipples as the redhead cried bitterly. Soapy just couldn't focus on Nolan with this interesting interchange happening between Hannah and Lucille. It was difficult to focus on both "issues".

Hannah began lashing Lucille's buttocks and breasts alternately, making the redhead jump around... "Dance for the clerk, Lucille!" Hannah tripped back and forth, slashing a breast, and then a thigh as Lucille bounced about miserably.

As Nolan talked on, Soapy began playing pocket-pool. Truly, he was absorbed in this...he hadn't thought of shooting dope all day! 

The Little Shop Ch. 02



Phoebe smiled. "Soapy, I think I'm going to leave Nolan down there in the Kennel for another week." The now platinum blonde giggled, and her full breasts bounced a bit in the violet halter top. Soapy tried not to drool behind the counter. Damn she's looking good he thought, just like the tramps in my Narcotics Anonymous meetings.

"But I thought your original bargain with Nolan was he stayed a week, wasn't it, Phoebe?" Jesus, Soapy thought, Nolan had actually agreed to stay in the Kennel for a week if she'd let him suck on her tits for twenty minutes, something Nolan should have been allowed to do anyway...he had a right as her husband.

But Phoebe hadn't allowed Nolan to touch her precious boobs in over a year, and Soapy had seen quite a lot of them in his employment at the leather BDSM store. The Little Shop ("We Serve the Pervs") had lots of people like Phoebe and Nolan coming in and out, and Soapy had gotten quite used to this.

So from what Nolan had told Soapy during gruel time, Phoebe had agreed to this bargain, but she'd not really let Nolan enjoy her naked, pure pink nipples (Soapy had sucked them, as had many other men). Instead Phoebe had dunked a brassiere in urine and put it on and made Nolan suck her boobs through that till all the urine was gone, and the bra was dry.

Good God! And then Nolan had been locked in the Kennel. He'd been miserable through the last six days, and was looking forward to leaving the cage, and he'd asked Soapy how many days were left every morning, before Hydrotherapy.

Soapy felt a little guilty, because he'd had Phoebe AND their 19 year old daughter Clarice to his little apartment, fucking them both every which way, and Nolan wasn't really a bad guy, and quite wealthy.

"I know the agreement was for a week" Phoebe said, breaking Soapy's reverie. Phoebe smirked, her glossed lips crinkling a bit. "I have a new um, friend coming over a lot now, our oldest son's soccer coach, and Nolan would be in the way. I think Nolan needs more training." Phoebe bent over the counter and Soapy took a quick intake of breath...what a cleavage.

"Nolan's on Code Orange right now, isn't he? Move him to Code Blue, take away his radio privileges and make him take two hydrotherapies instead of one, put it on our Visa...oh, and three extra days. Then two days on Code Purple... Got it?"

Soapy noted all this on a pad. Whatever else, the customer was always right at the Little Shop. And as Code Purple cost three hundred a day, what were you going to do? The Little Shop's proprieter gave Soapy a 5% commission as well as his salary, so he had to look out for his best interests. And of course he might get to visit Phoebe and Clarice again...

Phoebe gave Soapy a nice tongue kiss and pirouetted out of the Little Shop.

Soapy tired to focus on inventory taking, but it was hard. Out of the Concord state prison for nearly a year, all he could think about was what he couldn't have. Codiene, Dilaudid, Demerol, Dolophine, Dexedrine, Seconal, Benzedrine, Percodan,Valium, Fioranol, heroin, Percocet, morphine, Tylenol 2,3,4,5... Oxycontin and all the other powders and pills Soapy had been "free" from since his reform. And instead he had to concentrate on how many dildoes were in stock at the Little Shop.

The door to the basement opened, and Plato, one of the huge blacks came up. "You got the cattle-prod, Mist' Soaperstein?" Plato grinned. "Bubbles be acting up again. You know what work for him."

Soapy sighed and handed Plato a large bag. "And don't forget the new package of fire ants has come in from the Cricket Farm, Plato. Don't over-use the cattle prod on him, it's not safe is it?" Plato's response was just to laugh uproariously and go back down stairs with the evil cattle prod.

Masochism mystified Soapy, who had spent nearly thirty years seeking drugs to make him feel great...why would people want to feel worse? 

Soapy looked up, somewhat disgruntled as the bell to the Little Shop rang, and a very tan middle aged couple came in, accompanied by a fetching strawberry blonde. Before they approached the counter, the man whispered to the girl, who laughed and tossed her red curls. She gave the older woman a spiteful look and flounced to the back, where she fingered leather vests with interest.

The older woman looked at the floor, and the two older people came to the counter. Soapy chuckled, thinking that people shouldn't bring their kids to kink stores. This would be a disruption to the inventory that he was trying to take. 

There was a missing dildo, but someone had spirited it out without Soapy realizing it...how? An idea popped into Soapy's head, and he became somewhat nauseous. Soapy looked up at the approaching couple with a game face.

"How're you doin'" the man said in a Southwestern twang. Wonderful. Soapy, who had spent a month in an Austin hoosegow once on suspicion of having burgled a drugstore was already put off.

The man grinned, showing extensive tobacco stains on his molars. There goes lunch, thought Soapy. "I'm Garland-Fitzhugh Simms, and this is my wife Jody, and we're wondering if the Kennel has opened yet. We read about it in the online Little Shop newsletter?"

Jody smiled at Soapy, and he tried to smile back, but it was somewhat of a grimace. What a nice lady, with a degenerate husband. She must wonder what sort of person Soapy was for working there. He had to start television-repair school at night or something to get out of this dreadful industry.

"Is-is the Kennel not up yet?" Jody asked, toying with some new models on the counter nipple clamps display. As she lifted one wicked looking pair of clamps, Garland-Fitzhugh grinned again.

"Them clamps would make you howl, baby...we might git um." Jody blushed and her eyes closed for a moment. Soapy felt sorry for her. She wasn't bad looking, about fifty, with a fairly good figure and stonewashed jeans over her shapely bottom. 

"Yes, the Kennel's done" Soapy hastened to say, "And there are already um residents, occupants—" Soapy didn't know how to describe the inhabitants of the Little Shop cellar.

Soapy thought of the basement filled with twelve cages with naked people in them, at least one of whom he had to deliver a Wall Street Journal to every morning.

"And it's true—you serve 'em gruel three times a day, and the hosin' down in the mornin'? We saw a picture of that on the Internet." Garland-Fitzhugh's tobacco stained grin seemed to tilt, like a jukebox as he thought of the "hosin'"

But politeness reigned for Armistead St. Leger Soaperstein, clerk to the perverts. "Yes sir, the gruel's Quaker Oats, actually, and we give the Kennel participants what Mistress Georgette calls hydrotherapy, with a fire hose, in fact."

Soapy's mind wandered back to six a.m. when he'd gone downstairs with Mistress Georgette and Plato and Cato, the huge blacks. Soapy had prepared the fire hose as Georgette and the Negroes had walked around banging the cages briskly with rubber South African riding whips. 

The screams of "Get up, scumbags" had invaded Soapy's ears as they did every morning, and usually he couldn't calm down until around nine-thirty in the morning.

One of the longer term Kennel residents, Mister Shimmelfarb had had a bit of trouble waking up this morning, and Mister Shim's mother had authorized Code Purple treatment. This authorized Cato to drag the skinny accounting exec out of the cage by his pubic hair, and to bitch-slap him awake.

Cato had whipped poor Shimmelfarb's narrow ass for about ten minutes as Soapy had had to endure Mister Shim's New Jersey tones howling "Jay-zus! I'm wakin' up, please lay orrff " But the rule was that everyone must be awake at five-forty-five when the Hygiene Crew came down, so they could leave their cages, not lollygagging around, and Cato, who was not much for words, had meted out strict justice to Mister Shimmelfarb.

Cato had also skull-fucked Shimmelfarb's fat lips to a quick cum before tossing him with the others by the far wall of the basement. Then Soapy had turned on the high powered fireman's hose—the water bills were incredible—shooting the high pressure stream, knocking down the six naked, trembling people as Georgette and Plato had tossed soap flakes all over them, creating a sort of lava lather.

Not much of a group this week, four men and two women, and "Bubbles" who was a pre-op something or other. All seven of them were flabby and out of shape, watching their skin bounce as the brutally cold water hit them almost made Soapy ill.

Last week Miss Yates, the model everyone called "Eyesore" had been there, and Soapy had really enjoyed making her perfect 36C breats bounce with the cold water. At first Soapy had tried to be nice to her, but she'd obviously been so much more attracted to the brutal black men, that Soapy had finally just been really nasty.

Soapy had really enjoyed it when Georgette had ordered the Eyesore to lick his boots, and especially when Miss Yates had given Soapy an "around the world" in the Little Shop attic. But most of the slaves were not too cute.

After the hosing of course, the slaves were ordered to lick up all the lather and clean up the hosing area before returning to their cages for the morning gruel.

Soapy tried to explain the whole thing in a monotone, and Garland-Fitzhugh seemed quite happy.

"That's real good" said Garland-Fitzhugh enthusiastically. "Y'all are strict with em? I'd love to watch the water knockin' people down!"

Soapy watched with distaste as Garland-Fitzhugh spat some tobacco chaw on the floor. He tried to continue the discussion. "Uh, we have a system of codes of strictness." Soapy pulled out a sheet and handed it to the Texan couple, who viewed it with interest, as the little strawberry blonde came away from the vests casually and joined the perusal.

The sheet read:

"WLECOME TO THE LITTLE SHOP HOUSING KENNEL!

PARK YOUR SUBMISSIVE WHILE ON VACATION, WITHOUT WORRYING THAT SUBBIE WILL GROW 'SLACK'!

IN ADDITION TO THE VALUABLE BEHAVIOR-MODIFICATION CODES THAT YOU SEE BELOW, WE ALSO HAVE NIPPLE-WEIGHT TRAINING EXERCISES, LESSONS IN FORCED EDGING—"

"What's that? Forced Edging? Garland-Fitzhugh asked Soapy, looking up from the sheet. Soapy made a face. "Um, that's when guys are made to jerk off without having a release...they have two or three hour sessions of jerking off at a time...frustrating, I guess." 

Garland-Fitzhugh laughed. "No relevance to us, I guess." Jody said nothing, but the little strawberry blonde laughed out loud. "You're right about that, dude...guess we could have Fatso here—" she prodded Jody, whose lip began trembling—do herself with a vibrator."

Oh, thought Soapy. She's not their daughter then...or if she is, that's waaay perv.

Garland-Fitzhugh read on—

"THERE ARE ALSO PAIN TOLERANCE EXERCISES, HELPING THE SUBMISSIVE TO WITHSTAND MORE PAIN WITHOUT MAKING EXCESSIVE NOISE. HERE IS A TESTIMONY FROM MISTRESS OLIVE B. FROM BRISTOL, RHODE ISLAND.

'MY HUSBAND LANCE WAS SUCH A WHINER WHEN I BEAT HIM, EVEN IF IT WAS JUST USING A LIGHT SPRUCE SWITCH. BUT AFTER MY LOVER AND I WENT TO CANADA FOR A MONTH AND LEFT LANCE AT THE LITTLE SHOP KENNEL ON A CODE BLUE, WE CAME BACK FOR A DIFFERENT SLAVE. NOW I CAN THRASH LANCE WITH A BULLWHIP AND HE JUST STANDS SILENTLY, SOMETIMES TEARING UP A LITTLE. YOU PEOPLE ARE A MIRACLE'

HERE ARE THE LITTLE SHOP KENNEL BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION CODES. YOU CAN LEAVE YOUR SUBMISSIVE UNDER A SEVERE CODE, LIKE ORANGE AND LET HIM/HER GO BACK UP TO A WHITE OVER A PERIOD OF DAYS. OR, YOU CAN SURPRISE YOUR SUB WITH A SCHEDULE OF SURPRISING ALTERNATING CODES AS THE DAYS PASS. IT WILL NOT BE BORING FOR YOUR SUB!

CODE WHITE-GRUEL THRICE DAILY WITH TWO PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SANDWICH SNACKS. COFFEE W/MILK, SUGAR FIVE TIMES DAILY. NO PHYSICAL PUNISHMENT. CAGE TREATMENT IS 18 HOURS A DAY WITH 3 TWO HOUR BREAKS FOR EXERCISE AND RELAXATION IN THE KENNEL LOUNGE. CHAIRS PROVIDED FOR CODE WHITES IN LOUNGE BOOKS, SMALL TELEVISION AND CAGE LIGHT PERMITTED IN CAGES. ONLY THREE HYDROPTHERAPY SESSIONS WEEKLY, FOUR SLEEP LATES PERMITTTED. CAGE UNLOCKED (HONOR SYSTEM) FOR UNLIMITED LAVATORY STRIPS. OCCUPANT ALLOWED TO MASTURBATE TO FIVE ORGASMS WEEKLY—COST $74.99 PER DAY.

CODE GREEN—GRUEL THRICE DAILY, WITH ONE PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SANDWICH SNACK. COFFEE W/MILK,SUGAR THREE TIMES DAILY, WATER TWICE. CORPORAL PUNISHMENT BY DISCRETION OF MONITORS BUT ONLY WOODEN PADDLE (NOT SPENCER) CAGE TREATMENT 20 HRS A DAY WITH 2 TWO HOUR BREAKS. NO CAGE LIGHT, NO TELEVISION/RADIO. ONLY READNG DURING 2 HOUR BREAKS IN LOUNGE. CODE GREENS MUST SIT ON FLOOR IN LOUNGE DURING BREAKS. FIVE HYDROTHERAPY SESSIONS WEEKLY, TWO SLEEP-LATES PERMITTED. OCCUPANT NUDE IN CAGE, LOCKED TEN LAVATORY TRIPS DAILY. THREE ORGASMS WEEKLY, COST $99.99 PER DAY.

CODE RED—GRUEL THRICE DAILY, 1 PIECE OF FRESH BREAD SNACK. BLACK COFFEE TWICE DAILY, WATER TWICE. RANDOM CORPORAL PUNISHMENT WITH REGULAR AND SPENCER PADDLES—"

"What's a Spencer paddle?" asked Jody faintly. Before Soapy could open his mouth, Garland-Fitzhugh gave a stained grin. "It's a paddle with holes all through it, darlin'—because, uh—" 

The little strawberry blonde interrupted the vague Garland-Fitzhugh. "Because the air sails through the holes and you can hit faster...we have one, honey...I used it on Fatso here last week!" The post-adolescent giggled and Garland-Fitzhugh laughed heartily. Jody looked pale. They returned to the flyer—

"—SPENCER PADDLE PUNISHMENT SEVERAL TIMES PER DAY, NO MARKS. CAGE TREATMENT 22 HOURS PER DAY, 4 HALF HOUR BREAKS (COUNTING MANDATORY HYDROTHERAPY AND INTAKE OF MISTRESS GEORGETTE'S URINE IN THE ENCHANTED LAVATORY) NO READING DURING OTHER BREAKS, NO LOUNGE ADMITTANCE. OCCUPANT MUST PERFORM CALISTHENTICS UNDER THE WHIP WITH MASTER CATO UNLESS MEDICAL EXCUSE. ONE RANDOM MIDNIGHT SURPRISE DOUSING WITH IMPORTED RED FIRE ANTS PER WEEK. DAILY (7) HYDROTHERAPY SESSIONS AT 6 A.M. NO SLEEP-LATES. OCCUPANT NUDE WITH 24-HOUR NIPPLE CLAMPS, CAGE LOCKED WITH SEVEN LAVATORY TRIPS TIL TEN P.M., THEN OCCUPANT MUST HOLD THEIR BOWELS. PUNISHMENT FOR GOING IN CELL BEFORE 6.A.M.RELEASE, VERY SEVERE. ONE ORGASM PER WEEK IF ATTITUDE GOOD—COST $124.99 PER DAY."

"That one might be good for the Pig here!" the little strawberry blonde chortled, as she casually cuffed Jody on the side of the head. Garland-Fitzhugh snorted. "No, there's even better stuff, listen to this!"

CODE YELLOW—GRUEL THRICE DAILY, ONE PIECE OF STALE BREAD SNACK, BLACK COFFEE ONCE PER DAY, RANDOM CORPORAL PUNISHMENT WITH REGULAR AND SPENCER PADDLES, DOG-WHIP AND SMALL #2 CATTLE PROD—"

"Oh, dear." Jody said.

" NO MARKS. CAGE TREATMENT 23 HOURS DAILY, EXCEPT FOR FIFTEEN MINUTE HYDROTHERAPY AND DISCIPLINE BREAKS FOUR TIMES DAILY. THREE RANDOM MIDNIGHT SURPRISE DOUSING WITH HONEY, RED FIRE ANTS, AND BEN-GAY PER WEEK. ALSO MORNING HYDROTHERAPY EXTENDED. NUDE IN CAGE AT ALL TIMES, WITH NIPPLE CLAMPS AND FIVE INCH DILDO-BUTT PLUG IN AT ALL TIMES EXCEPT FOR CHAMBER POT BREAKS. CAGE LOCKED 24 HOURS PER DAY, OCCUPANT MAY HAVE CHAMBER POT IN CELL. CHAMBER POT CHANGED TWICE DAILY. NO ORGASMS—COST $149.99 PER DAY

CODE BLUE—GRUEL TWICE DAILY FOR BREAKFAST, LUNCH. DINNER IS ONE PIECE OF STALE BREAD ROLLED IN MISTRESS GEORGETTES CIGARETTE BUTTS. (EATING DINNER IS MANDATORY) NO SNACK. CORPORAL PUNISHMENT WITH REGULAR AND SPENCER PADDLES, DOG-WHIP, RATTAN CANE AND MEDIUM #2 CATTLE PROD. LIGHT MARKS. CAGE TREATMENT 23 HOURS DAILY EXCEPT FOR FIFTEEN MINUTE HYDROTHERAPY AND DISCIPLINE BREAKS. ONE TEN MINUTE BREAK (MANDATORY) WHERE RESIDENT IS BOUND AND MAULED BY DIAREAH SUFFERING LITTLE SHOP WILD FOREST HOG. (INCISORS REMOVED) NIGHTLY DOUSINGS WITH HONEY, BEN-GAY RED FIRE ANTS AND BITING CRICKETS, TO BE WASHED OFF IN MORNING HYDROTHERAPY. ALSO AN HOUR OF HEADPHONES WITH THE RAP MUSIC OF 'PALEFACE KILLER MARCUS J' (CD CAN BE PURCHASED UPON DISCHARGE) OCCUPANT NUDE IN CAGE AT ALL TIMES WITH NIPPLE CLAMPS, TEN INCH DILDO-BUTT PLUG (VIBRATING) AND 18 HOURS A DAY BLINDFOLDED. CHAMBER POT CHANGED ONCE A DAY, OR OCCUPANT CAN CONSUME OWN WASTE AT MASTER'S DISCRETION. NO ORGASMS—COST $199.99 PER DAY.

CODE BROWN—GRUEL TWICE DAILY FOR BREAKFAST, LUNCH. DINNER HALF A PIECE OF STALE BREAD AFTER BEING USED TO CLEAN ENCHANTED LAVATORY. ALSO ONE ZIP-LOCK BAG OF COMBINED MASTER PLATO & CATO'S SEMEN. MANDATORY SNACK OF CODE YELLOW'S CHAMBER POT HOLDINGS. CORPORAL PUNISHMENT WITH BULLWHIP. SERIOUS MARKS. ALL ELSE SAME EXCEPT THAT OCCUPANT MUST ALLOW BUTTOCKS TO BE USED FOR OCCASIONAL LITTLE SHOP DARTS TOURNAMENTS. NO ORGASMS—COST $249.99 PER DAY.

CODE PURPLE—"

Jody gasped and dropped the sheet. "I-I don't know that I want to read anymore." 

Garland-Fitzhugh, however picked up the sheet and continued perusing it, the little strawberry blonde at his side. Soapy at this point was unpacking a St. Mark's Cross that had just been shipped to the Little Shop from Bavaria. Soapy looked keenly at Jody. "Well, I can't blame you for not wanting to read it. It's not my idea of a vacation."

Garland-Fitzhugh patted Jody's cheek. "But honey, I cain't just leave y' on yer own while I go to Ber-muda with Jillian here. I'd be worried about you, y'know?" Jillian smirked and Garland-Fitzhugh tapped Soapy on the arm. "I'm a dentist back in Laredo? And Jillian here is my hygienist? Real purty but hard t' get t' know, we not speakin' the same generation language."

Jillian smiled at Soapy. "Garlie did take me to a Goo Goo Dolls concert in Houston."

"Yeah, but I want to do more for you, baby." Garland-Fitzhugh said earnestly, as he nibbled the girl's multi pierced earlobe. "I'm taking Jillian to th' Kay-Ribean Islands for her twentieth birthday?"

As Jody sobbed silently, Soapy wiped his brow. "That's awfully good of you as an employer, Mister Simms."

Garland-Fitzhugh postured generously. "Way-ul Jillian is real good with the patients, and she sucks mah dick five times a day—" the girl playfully slapped Garland-Fitzhugh on the arm—" en whut a pair of pink ass-cheeks she got! And so I want to give back, like the Communists say." Garland-Fitzhugh began industriously poking tobacco off his gums with a solid-gold toothpick.

Jody wiped her tears and smiled bravely. Soapy was fascinated with Southern middle aged women and their frosted hair, and hers was no exception. But he felt sorry for Jody, especially when she said "Couldn't I just visit my mother for a week, Garland-Fitzhugh, honey?"

Garland-Fitzhugh dropped the toothpick back in his breast pocket. "You know hon, I would go for that? But you're kinda slackin' off lately, and lotsa attitude? You whine when I make you take yer punishments in the front yard, cause you're PTA president, an you say that the Garden Club will come by, see you with your panties down, my cane across your flabby butt? And Sonny Boy, said you didn't suck his friends off when he came by last weekend? When Jillian and I were in Vegas?"

Jody screamed, "Sonny's our CHILD! Or at least my stepchild, Garland-Fitzhugh!"

Garland-Fitzhugh turned to Soapy. "Sonny's mah son from m'first marriage? Niice boy. Newland th' Fifth. Mah Daddy was called Trey? Sonny's a real nice boy, wish you could meet him. Doin' agronomy at A&M back home."

Soapy took a Tums as he watched Jody's face collapse.

Garland-Fitzhugh turned to Jody, who was now weeping anew. "Sonny and his friends came over and you gave them some beer, but when Sonny wanted you to do a little mouth servicin' you said it was inappropriate or some shit you got from them therapist talk shows? And you're just a worthless slavehog, honey. Who you think you are?"

Jillian slapped Jody across the face, laughing. "Get your clothes off and kneel, you old bitch! We're signing you up for the Kennel if I have to use my savings for it!"

Soapy went to the front of the Little Shop and locked the front door, drawing a curtain. As Jody disrobed, with tears streaking down her face, Jillian grabbed and twisted her ear.




The Little Shop Ch. 02



Soapy began processing the order for one week at Code Purple for Mrs. Josephine Simms, watching out of the corner of his eye as Jody's husband and his mistress tried out the new shipment of canes on her old, wrinkled ass. Soapy whistled. Maybe Grandma Cohen was wrong. Maybe there is something worse than dying with a needle in your arm.



The Little Shop Ch. 03



DISCHARGE DAY

Jody's knees hurt. One of the serious downsides about the Kennel's cages was, you didn't get a metal thing to kneel on in your four-foot cage, as animals did. This meant that the cage bars on the floor dug into the Texas housewife's sensitive knees, and she was somewhat arthritic, being fifty-four years old. Her manicure looked like hell after the nine horrid days that Jody had spent kneeling in this goddamned cage, moving around on her hands and knees.

And oh, the repeated oral sex requests! Those huge, black penises in and out of Jody's mouth. What would the ladies back home in the Laredo Junior League think? Jody listened to Paul's snoring in the crate behind her. That was awful, too. Paul really should look into sleep apnea information.

Jody had horrible little bumps in her inner thighs from last night fire ant dousing. She would have to see her specialist when she got home, but what would she tell him? That she'd been to Honduras? 

"Having a rough day? Jody looked over at Clarence, in the adjoining cage. He, of course couldn't see Jody, as he was blindfolded, but he sensed her moods. Clarence was a thirty-nine year old investment banker, but he had an old soul, and Jody enjoyed talking to him. 

When Soapy had noticed they seemed to get on, he had put their cages together, perhaps to make the time go a little faster. Clarence was on a Code Brown, which was much more intense than her Code Yellow.

He smiled and she laughed lightly. "Hell, the day's just started, Clarence. In five minutes we have our lovely Hydrotherapy." Clarence smiled as well. "Well, Hydro has one comfort, they let me take the damn blindfold off. I've seen nothing since last night when I was licking Master Plato's toes. And Grant isn't coming back for another week at least!"

Grant was Clarence's Master, a gorgeous young ex-forward for the Sonics. Jody hadn't seen Grant since the first day, when the young black man had kicked Grant into the Kennel. 

"Take off your crap bitch!" Grant had screamed, and Clarence had ripped off his Armani suit as fast as possible, before Grant had peed in his face and then threw him in the cage proffered by Soapy. 

Unlike many of the Masters and Mistresses who dropped their subs off at the Kennel, Grant was not leaving town or going on vacation. Indeed, Grant's entire life was a vacation, as he hung around Clarence's mansion in Middleburg, Virginia. Grant just didn't want to look at Clarence, his submissive benefactor for a month or so. Clarence suspected that Grant had a girl he wanted to come over, and he didn't want the woman to know he was a bisexual.

"I think Grant is really gay, but won't admit it to himself, black guys are like that." Grant had confided to Jody, who had tried to be understanding. She was grateful to Grant, and almost wished she could keep up with him when they left, but the Kennel was like summer camp, situational friends never keep up. It was a shame, because their mothers had both gone to Chatham Hall for prep school, and they both enjoyed watching "The View" though of course on their codes, they didn't get to watch anything, and Grant couldn't even see.

Now, Jody was too tired to talk much. "I can't believe we have we have to get up so early especially after last night's dousing. You know Missy Lonergan, she's in a Code Brown cage over by the wall??

Clarence tried to look at Jody under his blindfold. "Yeah, she and her Master are from Clayton, Missouri, I think. I have clients there. " Clarence tried to lean on his side in the cage to take the pressure off his knees, but it was too small.

"Well, Missy screamed hysterically after she got the ants and the crickets and I don't think she was able to calm down until around four. She sure kept me up. Too high strung for the Kennel I guess." Jody said leaning over, and accidentally banging one of her nipple clamps on the side of the cage.

Clarence began laughing softly--Mirth of any sort was severely punished here--at the idea of a Kennel occupant being high strung. 

Suddenly the lights went on and there was screaming and banging. Soapy, the young man who Jody suspected had stolen the Darvons from her purse, pulled out the big hose, and Cato, the huge black, unlocked Jody's cage door and dragged her out by her hair.

The next twenty minutes were incredibly awful, as always. Being set up with the other Kennel occupants against the far wall, amid jeers from the blacks. And all four brothers were there today, Plato, Cato, Myron AND Byron. 

Then came the blinding, ice-cold shock from the powerful fire hose, and as Jody was required to wear high spike heels during her baths, she immediately fell over on her plump derriere, though she'd probably lost twelve pounds in the last nine days, eating only gruel and the occasional bread. 

Miss Georgette, the nasty vulgar woman who was the domme was off today, but during the times that she'd forcibly peed in Jody's mouth, Jody had vomited up the little she ate, so she should be down to a size twelve by the time she returned home. 

After Jody fell down the second time, and the hose charge had hit her full in the face, she was unable to arise until Myron came over with a length of radio antenna. "Up you go, Miz Simms" Jody was having such trouble arising, that Myron decided to help her.

He lifted the radio antenna. WHACK! WHACK! Two nasty welts appeared on Jody's doughy buttocks. SLAP WHACK WHACK! "P-please, Myron?" Jody sobbed. "I'm trying to get up, it's just so slippery.

Myron giggled and grabbed Jody by the ear and dragged up, and sure enough, Jody got to her feet, though the high heels were gone. "You know you got to do yo' treadmill now, Miz Simms." Myron laughed loudly and let go of Jody's ear. He slapped her on her buttocks and she squealed.

"You let yo' shoes come off. Get down and pick them up in yo' teeth, but get right back up again, girl!" Myron's eyes meant business, and Jody sighed and fell to her knees picking up the strap from one high heel, before looking for the other one.

Jody vision was a bit fuzzy as she'd not had her glasses or contact lenses for nine days. But after Myron kicked Jody in the ass in one direction, Jody finally found the other shoe." Now pick them both up in your teeth like the dog you is, Miz Simms!"

This was a bit of an ordeal for the older woman, who had to grasp one loopy strap in her teeth and then drag it to the other sandal so she could get both in her teeth and pick them up. WHACK! WHACK! SWAP! Myron was apparently impatient with Jody's meager efforts and had landed three across her broad back. 

Jody grabbed the two straps in her teeth and lifted her head but one of the shoes fell, and as she said "Oh shit!" the other shoe fell as well. Jody surreptitiously tried to pick up one of the shoes with her hand, and felt Myron's foot stomp on it. "No, only your teeth, Miz Simms. "Myron said kindly. "Don't make me get the bullwhip. You is mighty tryin' this morning."

Around her, slaves were getting up and falling down, and Jody could hear Missy Lonergan howling about the ACLU as Cato and Soapy were trying to drag her to the stocks at the far end of the Kennel. Jody watched Clarence getting a vicious thrashing from Byron, and he was so well trained that he didn't make a sound, but it looked very bad.

Finally Jody was able to nudge the two shoes together with her chin. She did a big grab and grasped the straps of both high heels in her teeth. Then Jody stood up carefully, looking to Myron for further instruction.

"Now you gwine to go to the treadmill, and run for about half an hour. Mister Simms called a few days back from his vacation and said you legs too fat, could we jungle bunnies work on you, and you know we will!" 

That was just like Jody's husband, Garland-Fitzhugh Simms. He would enrage the blacks with his racism, and they'd take it out on Jody while he and his nasty little bimbo Jillian sunned themselves in the Caribbean.

Not only that, but during Jillian's period, Garland-Fitzhugh had actually sent Jillian's bloody tampons, preserved in ice, for Jody to suck during her snack time...God that was awful!

But, as Jody considered the humiliation and disgusting bloody taste in her mouth, she did get excited...this had been her idea in the first place...

"What do you mean, you want me to spank you, honey?" Garland-Fitzhugh had asked her, thirty-three years before...and she'd created a monster. He went from spanking her to whipping her, and now she was his humble painslut.

As Jody climbed upon the treadmill, Myron dropped the radio antenna and took a small dog-whip off the wall. He set the treadmill in motion at 3.6, and Jody began walking slowly. 

She was almost dizzy and still shivering from all that cold water. Clarence, who was a recidivist at the Kennel, said that they always turned the heat off about five minutes before the hosing was supposed to start, even in February.

Myron's long black hand came down and upped the motion to 4.0, and Jody began walking a bit faster. "Thass right you keep goin' on." Jody was really sick of Myron and his brothers, who seemed to have energy for putting her through her paces. She wondered where the hell the proprietor of the Little Shop had found them. 

She'd hired a private detective to investigate the Kennel when her husband had proposed sending her there... 

Jody had discovered that Soapy, the diffident assistant manager was a seven-time loser in various New England prisons for drug dealing and forging prescriptions, as well as having been in fifty-two drug rehabilitation centers and one hundred and three detoxification units. 

She'd not learned much about the proprietor, but that Miss Georgette, the head domme, was his ex-wife and he'd offered her the job in lieu of alimony, which is probably why she was such an angry person. 

Suddenly, Jody found herself almost falling on the treadmill as Myron put it up to 7.5 all of a sudden. 

Jody began panting heavily. Certainly she had not had any cigarettes in over a week, but the toll of 30 years of Virginia Slims was catching up, and she was having a very hard time staying on the treadmill.

It didn't help that she still had the shoes in her teeth. All of a sudden, Myron turned the treadmill up to 8.0, and Jody began falling back. CRACK! 

Oh, the searing pain. He'd just lashed her with the dog whip! Jody tried to run ahead. CRACK! SNAP! Jody screamed, and the shoes fell out of her mouth.

Myron roughly grabbed Jody by her left breast and dragged her off the moving treadmill. "Get on your knees and pick up them shoes!"

Jody bent over to pick the shoes up and Myron beat a tattoo across her buttocks with the dog whip. "Come on, girl, you got to get back on that treadmill!"

Myron screamed, swinging the dog whip so it cut a cruel slash across Jody's left shoulder. "You got some runnin' to do, old thing. I'm turning it up to ten miles an hour, and you're goin' to run it!"

All of a sudden there was rescue. Soapy, the ex-junkie assistant manager, came downstairs. "No, Myron, stop. Today is her discharge day, and Jillian, Mr. Simms's um, friend has requested that Jody have her hair done."

Jody was overcome with happiness, despite the horrible welts and weals left by the vicious scourges of the dog whip. "Really? Jillian said that?" Jody's hair was a rat's nest after a week and a half in that goddamned basement.

She'd been getting her hair set and styled every three weeks since puberty, even during the sixties, when everyone else seemed to be getting it ironed.

Jody breathed exhilaration. Perhaps Jillian wasn't so bad. You'd never know it from the way she'd treated Jody, ever since Garland-Fitzhugh had authorized her to give Jody punishments.

Whipping Jody at own kitchen table with a pancake spatula, making Jody kneel on the jacks that Jody had kept since childhood, forcing Jody to suck the penises of homeless men who Jillian had brought by from her volunteer work at the Salvation Army...

Jillian had been incredibly cruel, perhaps because Garland-Fitzhugh would not divorce Jody...after all, though Garland was Jody's husband, he was also her Master and best friend.

And perhaps this had enraged Jillian. But today she was coming to pick Jody up, Soapy told her, and Jody was going to have her hair styled! 

She wasn't going to be going to BriceChristophe, Jody's beloved stylist back in Laredo, or whatever BriceChristophe's equivalent was in the bleak New Hampshire town that housed The Little Shop and the Kennel.

No, Soapy said, a local expert was going to work with Jody's hair according to Jillian's specifications.

"Your-your daughter?" Jody said, staring at the pallid ex-addict. 

"Well, yeah, Selma's my daughter by my third wife, and that's what I need to talk to you about." Soapy wiped his nose, which seemed to be eternally running. 

They were talking in the Little Shop lounge, and blessedly, Soapy had requested that Myron bring Jody a cloak to cover her nakedness.

Soapy offered Jody one of his cigarettes, which she accepted gratefully. "See, Jillian wants you to have a punk rock haircut—"

"A what? A punk rock haircut?" Jody paled. "Jillian wants me to dye my hair like a—a—freak?" Jody began feeling a bit dizzy. Oh dear. Dear, dear dear.

"Well, that's the point, Mrs. Simms. You're here voluntarily, just like all Kennel residents. You signed a form." Soapy wiped his forehead. "The way the Kennel works is, if any occupant objects to their treatment, they are immediately administratively discharged. 

That's because we can't have people dictating what's done to them, as it's the Master or Mistress who makes the decision."

Soapy went through his pockets and pulled out a small pill bottle. He took four of the pills and washed them down with a swig from a pint of brandy. Soapy offered the pint to Jody, who snatched it and swigged, refusing to give the pint back to Soapy.

"So that is usually the way things are handled. The um, sub knows that he or she will be thrown out if they object, permanently, so that way they can decide if they will stay according to their Master's specifications." Soapy groaned.

"I-I hate this job, Mrs. Simms, and I applied at Office Depot, but they claim I failed their urine test. It's not like the urine tests we have here, you know."

Jody nodded dumbly. Soapy's humor was falling flat on this bizaare occasion. 

Soapy continued. "So you are actually in a good place, because you can refuse the hairdressing appointment with my daughter as you're being discharged already. If you want, I'll even tell Jillian that Selma couldn't make it."

"No, I am a committed submissive." Jody said woodenly. "I have to obey."

"Okay, if you agree to have the hairdressing done, you really have to make Selma think you're doing it voluntarily." Soapy said earnestly. "She is much too sheltered to understand S&M. Like me, Selma's an ex-heroin addict, but she's nineteen and has been clean of crack and heroin for five years, and only after two treatment centers!" Soapy's eyes glowed as he described his offspring.

' Selma did get arrested last year for kicking her vice principal in the stomach, but it was only because he called her a girl and she's a feminist and likes to be called a woman."

"She-she sounds like a lovely girl." Jody said weakly.

"Yeah, Selma would never give a Mohawk to anyone against their will. She and her rock group, the Puke Piglets, are very moral in their way." 

Warming to his talk, Soapy continued. "And this will be a big thing for Selma, she's never done hair for money before, Mrs. Simms are you all right?"

But as soon as Jody had heard the word "mohawk", she'd fallen over in a dead faint.

Three hours later, Jillian Abernathy waited impatiently. She'd purchased a nice leather miniskirt in the Little Shop on her boyfriend's Platinum card, and put it on in the dressing room. Now Jillian was waiting for Fatso, her boyfriend's pathetic wife to come up out of the basement kennel thingie. 

"I hope it's a good Mohawk, man." Jillian said to Soapy. "Well, my daughter did it, and I think she did a good job." Soapy said enthusiastically. "Selma's been a punk since she was ten, and her hair's never been the same twice." Soapy leaned over the counter.

"Jody did fairly well when Selma shaved the sides of her head, but there was trouble in the dying, and making the big blue spikes. Jody was afraid that the Elmer's Glue that they use to make the spikes, Liberty spikes they're called, for the Statue of Liberty—Jody was afraid the glue would harm her hair."

Jillian snorted. "Like I care? As if that old hag's hair matters?"

Soapy gave Jillian a disapproving look. "Selma did have to lie Jody down to iron the spikes with a flat iron, it was a little painful." Soapy coughed, and snorted something in a handkerchief. "Jody also was somewhat um, tearful when Selma told her that in order to get rid of the glue and spikes...she'd have to have her head shaved."

Jillian giggled.

The door opened, and Myron, the huge black came up, leading Jody, and she was a sight. Dressed in the taupe blouse and stone washed jeans she'd arrived in ten days before, all looked normal, except of course for Jody's hair.

Jody was bald on both sides of her head, and in the middle were six large, thick spikes, making her look like a Daniel Boone Indian who had just come back from Venus. Behind Jody came a young woman with purple and yellow hair in streaks down her ponytail. 

She was saying "—And you can maintain the 'Hawk with gel and regular ironing. I wish my mom would do something this courageous for herself. I'm writing her at the Women's Correctional Center to tell her what you did!"

Jody smiled with courage and said "Thank—thank you, dear."

Jillian began to laugh. She laughed so hard that she fell on her new miniskirt. Jody, on the other hand, burst into violent tears.

Selma looked at Soapy. "Daddy, does that mean I get a tip, or I don't?"

THE END 



The Little Shop Ch. 04



The Melinda 109: A Little Shop Story

PART ONE

"I can't believe it's here!" Webb said excitedly. Soapy shook his head, as Plato and Cato dismembered the packing case, and pulled Melinda 109 out. She was something--five seven or maybe five eight inches tall. Blonde. Icy sapphire eyes. Beautiful face, much like Mary Hart from Entertainment Tonight, but with much fuller lips. And Melinda 109 was dressed in a snug turtleneck, a miniskirt and high heels on the long legs.

"Oh she's beautiful" Webb said, his erection poking through his pants. "Does-does she dress like that all the time?" Soapy fished a manual out. "No, the 109 has about seven different outfits. And she can change her own clothes, as well as looking after your interests. There's a suitcase with her, and it's got a leather outfit, and a cocktail dress, and some rubber stuff."

Cato grinned, a big, black grin with gleaming white teeth, and took out the remote control. Clicking it, suddenly Melinda spoke. "You're a bad boy, Webb. Take your pants down and bring me the hairbrush." Cato and Plato roared. "She got yo' number, Mist' Cleary!" Webb blushed. Her head swiveled around, looking at all the men, and Soapy sighed and gestured to the blacks to pick up the packing case.

Melinda 109 stepped over the Styrofoam peanuts crapping up the floor and clicked her heels as she walked over to Soapy and Webb. Her head turned to Soapy. "Melinda 109 is back, Mister Soaperstein. I have been programmed to dominate Webb Cleary." Soapy gestured to Webb. "This is Webb Cleary, Melinda. I hope you've gotten a decent overhaul up there."

The robot smiled, and Webb gasped. "I have improved, yes Mister Soaperstein. My fingers can move now" Both men looked down at Melinda 109's right hand. She picked up a small dildo from a display table and began massaging it. "I can give Webb a severe teasing without allowing orgasm." The manicured fingers were incredible.

Melinda 109 dropped the dildo back on the display table. "I can also give Webb a mild Number One thrashing, a moderate Number Two Thrashing or a severe Number Three thrashing, based on what he programs into the remote control." Melinda 109 drummed her tin fingernails on the counter as her head swiveled and she looked directly at Webb. "Whatever he needs."

"Watch the number #3" Plato called as they walked back downstairs. "That's the one where she whip you til she smells blood."

"Webb, dude, you really can get out of this with your deposit back if you want." Soapy said. "Melinda is a lot to deal with...at least if you have her as a submissive, you won't get hurt, but..." 

Melinda 109 smiled. 

"As a submissive, I can perform orally for hours, and my bare bottom will produce real welts that do not disappear for twenty-four hours after a thrashing...and my nipples can be tweaked and will support weights up to ten pounds."

Melinda's head swiveled to look sharply at Webb. "My electronic clitoris plays like a video game. If I don't register three orgasms from your tongue, the punishment will be quite arduous." Webb began panting. Soapy sighed again. No one noticed the woman staring from across the store, near the riding crop closet.

There was Melinda 109, available to a new renter, Jesus, Serena thought. The poor guy probably had to mortgage his house to get a month of Melinda, he doesn't look rich.

Serena was a commodities investment analyst, well off, and even she had been a bit amazed at Melinda's thousand--a week price. But, she'd thought she could use a little company, a little discipline in the house when she'd rented Melinda from the Little Shop a year ago, before they hired that ex-junkie Soaperstein to manage the joint.

The first few nights, she'd enjoyed being stripped naked and humiliated by the clothed robot, taking harsh hairbrush whippings and then licking between Melinda 109's metallic thighs. 

When Serena needed a quiet night or friends were coming over to watch "My Name's Earl" and have a few Long Island Iced Teas, she could just click the remote on "off" and put 109 into the closet for an evening...

Melinda didn't mind. In fact one night after the last friend left, Serena was feeling a little lonely, and clicked the remote, and out came Melinda 109, clicking on her heels. "The kitchen floor is filthy." she'd said in her mechanical staccato. "Strip and scrub it with your teeth."

Serena had spent from one to three a.m. alternately waxing the house floors and hiding from Melinda's whooshing cane, which clipped Serena's sagging butt whenever she slowed in the cleaning. 

When Serena was sufficiently blistered, she sneaked over to the remote clicked it "off" again, locked up Melinda 109 and had a feverish twenty minutes with her vibrator.

It had been such a perfect relationship, until Serena's toddler nephew had dropped the remote in the toilet on Thanksgiving, and then it had never worked right again. When Serena next summoned Melinda from the closet...oh God. 

She'd just wanted a nice Sunday afternoon humiliating panties down bedroom-slipper paddling over Melinda 109's knee, followed by corner time, and instead Melinda had marched out of the closet, ripped Serena's clothes off, and then all hell had broken loose.

Melinda had shrieked at Serena, and bound her hands behind her with piano wire. (Where had the robot found piano wire? Had she temped for the Mafia?) Then Melinda had severely caned Serena's 32 C breasts, before pushing 23 thumbtacks in Serena's sensitive areolas.

Then, Melinda had dropped her skirt and pulled her panties down, and, before Serena's startled eyes, Melinda's twat had opened, and a long dick came out. Melinda was also a transsexual! Melinda 109 had grabbed Serena by the hair and...well, at least the semen was made of condensed milk, which was sweet.

After that ordeal was over, Melinda 109 "boxed" Serena's ears and said. "Now I'm going to drive my stiletto into your pussy!" The robot was so strong! Serena had run downstairs and come back with a crowbar, which she'd bashed in the back of Melinda 109's head, repeatedly.

Melinda had fallen over, and Serena had run around to the other side and whacked Melinda again, but the mistake Serena made was...Melinda 109's brain was not in her head...but in her stomach.

And so the robot rose once more! 

Because the crowbar had caved in 109's head but, like the Energizer Bunny, on it went. Melinda 109, metallic face bashed in, had grabbed Serena by the shoulders and told her "I'm going to make you into a tranny slut, boy!" 

Serena screamed at Melinda that since she was a woman-born woman, this was impossible, and continued to frantically click the remote. but 109 dragged Serena into the bedroom by her hair and forced her in a chair and rubbed garish lipstick all over Serena's face.

The robot then went to shoving a blond wig on top of Serena's brunette locks, and while 109 turned to the lingerie drawer, Serena had jumped out of the window, falling in the rose bushes before she'd run to a neighbors and called the Dedham County cops.

The cops had stared at her rather peculiarly, (what an explanation) before going into the house and gunning Melinda down. (But not before she'd ripped down the pants and caned Badge No # 093248; and twisted Detective Kauser's nipples )

The Little Shop had settled out of court with a very generous gift certificate...much of which Serena had spent already. And of course she was now in the shop after a riding crop that her new, HUMAN Mistress could use on her. 

Sixty-two year Esme wasn't beautiful like Melinda, and her butt was way too big (not fun for Serena to rim). Often Esme wasn't in the mood...and her canings were tepid. But when Serena said "stop" Esme stopped, and that was good enough. But Serena looked at Melinda 109 with an intensity, and had to squelch out of the Little Shop with dampened panties.

Back at the counter, Webb and Soapy were going over payment details, and Melinda 109 surveyed the scene. The Little Shop was just as it had been before. She looked at Soaperstein, the manager.

Data? Ponsonby Aurelius "Soapy" Soaperstein, five foot nine, 165 pounds, born St. Luke's Hospital in Chattahoochee, Georgia, 4/10/65, minor public education ending with expulsion for selling Percodan pills at Bell Vocational High 5/3/78.

First interest in opiates after receiving Demerol for childhood earache; arrested for breaking into People's Drugstore in Washington, D.C. for codeine pills 7/6/79; given probation; arrested 8/23/79 for forging Morphine prescriptions in Bethesda, Maryland; sent to Maryland State Training School for Boys; served eleven months, Married Lori Ann Minsk 9/19/82, one child; marriage annulled by Minsk's parents.

Soaperstein charged with looting sister's trust fund, 1/24/83; charges dropped by parents, then arrested 5/9/83 for selling codeine at Alexandria, Virginia Boy Scout Jamboree, judge sent him to the US Navy, Section 8 discharge ten days later for opium smoking.

Soaperstein's next twenty years was punctuated by three more marriages, fifty-two drug arrests, thirty-three convictions, and five trips through the Northern New Hampshire Correctional Facility.

This before Jonas Tamulevich, parole board member, had arranged Soaperstein's release with the understanding that he work at the Little Shop, which Tamulevich owned with his brother, Judah.

Melinda 109 turned her gaze on Webb Lionel Haskins. This was the client. Data? Born 4/14/61 in Venice Italy, while parents in Foreign Service.

In Lima Peru in 1980, parents came upon young Webb Haskins being whipped by maid with carpet sweeper. Maid was imprisoned, and Webb Haskins sent to psychiatrist.

In 3/12/78, Haskins suspended from Choate Preparatory School for stealing underclothes from girl's dormitory, sent to McLean (mental) hospital in Belmont, Massachusetts, six months.

Then Webb graduated from Rye Country Day School in Rye, New York, 6/14/78 and Princeton 

University, 5/28/82, London School of Economics, 6/8/83,Cornell Law School 6/9/86.

While Webb Haskins was in London, he visited Mistress Tymothea of Cheapside, and received enemas, corner time and many cane thrashings. While at Cornell Law School, Haskins was under care of Goddess Monetta of Ithaca, New York, who had Haskins dress as a female prostitute and fellate men at trades bars in Dryden, New York.

Married Glynnis Purchell, owner of Purchell Department Stores, 7/8/82, divorced 5/2/96, three children. Wife charged Haskins with "unnatural desires" Mistress Satania of Portsmouth, New Hampshire was co-respondent in divorce proceedings.

Webb Haskins has been a Circuit Court Judge in Concord since 4/16/93, seen variety of Mistresses, but evinces discontent, wants permanent arrangement. Renting Melinda 109 for ninety days at $1,000 per day. Needs? Infantilism, corporal punishment, general abuse and maltreatment. 

Melinda smiled.

Soapy wasn't so sure about Melinda 109, as he watched Webb holding the mechanical woman's hand, gazing into the glass eyes with some kind of joy. 

The first week out of prison, Tamulevich, the Little Shop owner, had been giving Soapy training, so Soapy could run the place while Tamulevich opened yet another Little Shop in Boston. Perversion travels, Soapy had thought bitterly.

All of a sudden, the Little Shop door rang and a tall, attractive blonde clicked in with high heels, accompanied by a short, pudgy fellow in a business raincoat. Soapy's eyes widened a bit, as he thought perhaps the fat little guy was wearing high heels, too. Soapy shouldn't have left his bifocals in the cell back at Northern NH Correctional.

"Good morning, Mr. Tamulevich" the blonde said as the two approached the counter. "I am returning, the fortnight with Randolph went well." The little man looked sincerely at Tamulevich. "Oh, Judah, I just wish the time had been longer, but my credit rating isn't that good."

Tamulevich smiled widely. "Well, Mr. Whitman, whenever you can afford to have ze Melinda back, you know she'd love to come back for a visit. And remember, you can have half-hour visits weet her here at ze Little Shop for only $300 per hour."

Soapy looked askance at Tamulevich. Here was the brother of the parole board member who had effectively extorted Soapy to work at this pervert store job (not that Soapy'd ever enjoyed working much of anywhere) as the price of getting out of Northern NH Correctional.

Was Judah Tamulvevich a pimp, too? Soapy had once unsuccessfully tried to convince his Aunt Maude to peddle ass for him after she'd had a face-lift, so he wasn't judging but...

Tamulevich, correctly interpreting Soapy's astonishment, snorted. "No no, jailbird. Oi veh, the day I dehumanize and exploit a real woman by having her hook for me, no." Tamulevich gestured to Melinda 109. "Melinda, show him your chest."

Soapy blushed as Melinda 109 unzipped her halter top, exposing beautiful, if a bit stiff breasts, and as she pressed a button on her right nipple, both breasts opened up to show a variety of batteries and wires where a woman's rib cage would be. Soapy felt somewhat faint, and ate a Tuinal he had been palming.

"You see, Soaperstein?" Tamulevich said proudly, as Melinda snapped her tits back in place and zipped up her halter top. "Mein oldest son, Professor Jonathan Tamulevich invented ze Melinda 109, and she is making us a fortune."

"Oh, Miss Melinda" the pudgy Randolph Whitman said simperingly. "I've never seen your inner transmission before. It's quite attractive." SLAP!

Whitman fell to the floor as Melinda 109's palm grazed his cheek. As the little man got up, his lip bleeding, Melinda 109 said, "I never even let you see my bare breasts, because you're such a wussie. 

All you were allowed to see was my lingerie bikini top while I was masturbating you...You will have to earn the right to see my breasts when you rent me next time. So sell your father's Bentley! Now, Randy, I order you to open your trench coat and show Mr. Tamulevich and Mr. Soaperstein your shame."

The little pudgy man looked pleadingly at his dominant android. "Please, not that, Miss Melinda, not now." He stepped back, and Soapy noticed that indeed Whitman was wearing high heels under the normal male trench coat. 

Tamulevich turned to the trembling trench coat pervert. "That's all right, Mr. Whitman. Just give me the remote clicker and I will turn Melinda off for you, and you can go home." 

Randy looked terrified. "I-I gave the remote to Melinda 109, Judah. She's in charge."

Tamulevich shook his head. "That was stupid meshugennah thing to do, Whitman. Only other remote is downstairs, in storeroom near Kennel. I cannot control—"

Melinda laughed a throaty, iron chuckle. "Calm down Mr. Tamulevich. Melinda 109 will surrender the remote control to you after Randy does as he's told. Must I strip you myself, Randy, in this store where I have hundreds of whips and chains within reach?"

Soapy had coughed, as he remembered that he had not yet gone to the Methadone Maintenance this morning. This was a helluva lot to take, even with a Tuinal down his throat. If there aren't enough feminist bitches in the world, they make them now outta ROBOTS?

Finally, with tears running down his face, Randy Whitman opened up his trench coat revealing that he was wearing only a pair of long johns with the crotch cut out of them, and his stiff dick was hanging there, dripping. The long johns were also cut off at the knee, and beneath them were indeed short stockings and high heels.

Suddenly Melinda 109 had grabbed a cane off the display counter. WHACK! The cane bounced off Randolph's dick and the little man had burst into tears. "That was for giving me such a hard time, Randolph. Get home and work on selling your father's Bentley."

The little man had scurried off, and Melinda 109 had walked to a metal dolly cart and stood on it, before holding out the remote control, which Tamulevich had clicked off. 

"Now, Soaperstein, get your lazy tuchus up and wheel Melinda into the storage closet, and attach jumper cables from large battery you will find there."

And Soapy thought he'd seen the last of Melinda when he shut the storeroom door on her...but no chance of that.

Soapy's next interaction with Melinda 109 was the next day-- when he was cleaning out the storeroom. Melinda was propped by the door, and when he nudged her to pick up a discarded video box ("DETROIT HALF-SMOKE BOFFS THE HUMAN BIDET") Melinda came to life, scaring the shit out of him. 

"Bad mistake, clerk boy" Melinda said as she stood up straight, knocking the broom out of Soapy's hands. "You turned me on, so to speak."

Melinda 109's clear blue glass eyes were boring through Soapy as her fingers unbuckled his pants and dragged them down.

"G-get the fuck away from me, you freaky appliance." Soapy stammered, trying to get out of Melinda's way, but her right hand grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back, reaching over and pulling his other arm there too.

Soapy struggled, but the robot's strength was incredible. Melinda 109's left hand ripped Soapy's Fruit of the Looms off and she took his penis in her fingers.

As a contrast to the iron grip of the right hand, Melinda 109's left hand went silky soft, Soapy could feel the steel fingers becoming foamy. As he looked down unbelievingly, lube squirted out of her fingertips

"Ever been teased, clerk-boy?" Melinda's breasts rubbed against Soapy's narrow chest, and her slippery metal fingers began tickling his balls and massaging the large purple vein on Soapy's under shaft. 

How was this possible that she could touch his balls and his cock?

Soapy stared at her fingers, which grew longer and longer, as if she had drunk Alice-in-Wonderland's magic formula...

This was the hand job from outer space, man. But Soapy was having a hard time resisting, as the fingers were now feeling like velvet as they expertly massaged his cock, rubbing faster and then slowing in an almost perfect alternate.

In Soapy's experience, when girls gave hand jobs eventually their hands got tired, but Melinda 109's hands just kept going and Soapy's groin began trembling as he approached orgasm.

As Soapy began panting and gasping, Melinda's fingers went faster and more lube shot out of the tips. Melinda 109's boobs rubbed against Soapy's chest again, and she smiled. 

"You think you're so superior to the perverts who come into the Little Shop, clerk-boy, but in my opinion you're just shut off from the real world, you know that?" 

"You hide behind your needle and your provincial opinions...." Melinda 109's lovely fingers tugged Soapy's foreskin, while her thumb bounced against the shaft rhythmically, like a tiny metronome. 

"You think you're superior to poor fucks like Randy, who is addicted to high heeled shoes and girls that hit him...so superior."

Melinda leaned her head to Soapy's ear and she blew air in his ear, deep from her chassis, and Soapy realized it was like putting your head next to a small air conditioner.

"Don't you know, clerk-boy, that I'm more of a woman than any of those flesh-and-blood barroom skanks you pick up at the shooting galleries?"

Melinda's breasts rubbed against Soapy, and he leaned down and Melinda shoved his head between her huge breasts, which began expanding, getting larger from a 32C to a 44DD as his head bobbed happily between the perfumed orbs.

"I know all about you, Soaperstein, that you skim from the till, that you're still getting high every day...Jonas and Judah know it too, but they don't care as most of the business is credit and since you're a druggie, you don't creep out the customers...heroin is so much more interesting than reality, eh, Soaperstein?"

And it was—Soapy recalled that his previous parole had only lasted twenty minutes because he'd begun shooting Dilaudid in the bathroom of the train taking him away from prison...and he'd opened the door and fallen into the lap of a vacationing police sergeant. 




The Little Shop Ch. 04



Soapy was a heroin aficionado...it was sad...but he wasn't thinking about heroin now!

No sir. This was really something, Soapy thought. Soapy felt Melinda 109's fingers rubbing faster and faster, giving him a hand job like he'd never experienced, and he again tried desperately not to care, she was, after all just an automaton, but in a way so was he, right?

109 kept tickling Soapy's testicles, rubbing her metal fingers gently on the underside of his cock, and as he got more and more excited, he felt his cock getting harder, and his legs trembling. 

Suddenly, Melinda's fingers began stroking slower and Soapy frustratedly realized that she'd cheated him of a chance at an orgasm. This must be the all so important tease denial, right?

"C'mon android, let me cum, honey." Melinda 109 ignored him and just kept rubbing her fingers on his cock. By this time, Soapy had dislodged his head from her full breasts and they'd shrunk back to 32C again.

"Look, Melinda, let me go or let me shoot, this is ridiculous...you're like a R2D2 whore or something." Suddenly Melinda's glass eyes narrowed.

WHACK! Suddenly Melinda's metal mitt pulled away from Soapy's dick and she bitch slapped him two or three times, before genuflecting. Melinda 109 then threw Soapy across her knee and began whacking his bare ass again and again until he began howling.

"Who do you think you are, Soaperstein? You're just a pitiful creature and you make me sick!" Suddenly Soapy reached around behind Melinda and flicked a switch behind her head and she stopped in mid motion, and Soapy struggled out from her knee and moved away as fast as possible. 

Leaving the storeroom, he'd gone to a shooting gallery as soon as possible and spent the rest of the day high and drunk.

A week or so later, a largish muscled and tattooed bald man stalked into the Little Shop, and Tamulevich looked up at him. "Hello, Mr. Gridwell. I assume you have the money?" The bald man grinned, and Soapy, surreptitiously snorting a bit of crushed Oxycontin in the bookstore section, noted only three teeth.

"Yeah, here you go, Mr. Tamulevich. Took me eight months to come up with it." The bald man opened a briefcase filled with green bills. "Four thousand for the damages, seven to rent her again for six weeks."

Tamulevich counted the bills quickly, and looked at Gridwell severely. "You have learned, I assume, that Melinda rusts in the rain. Do not do that again. My brother was quite irritated at the repair work."

"Well, she didn't tell me nothin' like that, and I ordered her to kneel in da back yard for punishment.

I done that to my wife and kids, made 'em take off all their clothes and stand in d' rain, nuttin' happened." The big man shook his head. "You wouldn't believe it, Georgette got feminism or an attitude or some'pin and she and da kids moved out dis year." 

Soapy came out of the book section, scratching his head, as Tamulevich went to the storeroom. "Gridwell? From Anger Management class in Manchester, right?" Soapy had been sent there by his last wife after his daughter had poured Kool-Aid on his stash. 

"Oh, hi, Soapy, how you doing? I was just up at New Hampshire Correctional for aggravated assault onna meter maid an' dey told me you useta have the cell next door." Gridwell smiled pleasantly.

"You know, Gridwell, Melinda 109's kind of a bitch...you sure you want her?" Soapy couldn't imagine the hulking man putting up with all that Randolph Whitman had.

"Oh no, Melly's a real sweetheart." Gridwell said, smiling. 

There was a noise, and behind them Mr. Tamulevich came out, accompanied by Melinda 109. But now the severe blond bun had been dismantled, and instead Melinda's blonde tresses were in curling ringlets on both sides of her head.

Melinda had discarded the halter top leather miniskirt and high heels that Soapy had last seen her in, and was now clad in a short ruffled pink dress, designed, Soapy might think, for a girl of eight back in 1939.

Melinda carried a parasol in one hand and a Raggedy Ann doll in the other...

She looked like Shirley temple, but with huge knockers and long legs, with her feet in white knee socks and black patent leather Mary Janes. As Soapy watched, Melinda skipped gaily up to Gridwell. 

"Hi, Uncle Oscar! Uncle Judah says I can come stay at your house again for a month, oh boy. I can't wait to suck on your big lollipop again!" 

Melinda jumped up and down, and despite looking rather light on her feet, the weight of a metal robot's bounce made everything jiggle, and the nipple clamp bulletin board fell to the floor.

Gridwell smiled indulgently, until he saw the mess of the nipple clamps, which Soapy went over to clean up. "You're making messes again." Soapy turned to watch Gridwell's face burn with rage. "Why are you such a clumsy girl?" Gridwell slapped Melinda's face, and then sucked his hand, as he'd forgotten what her face was made out of.

Tamulevich said hurriedly, "You can use a cane if you like, Gridwell, her butt is foam as you know." Melinda was now looking at the floor, and wet drops of salt water were falling out of her eyes. Not quite down her cheeks; Jonathan Tamulevich hadn't quite gotten that right yet.

Gridwell grabbed a cane and came back over to Melinda. "You're a bad, bad girl, and you're going to have to be punished!" Melinda 109 looked sadly at Gridwell, her plastic lower lip trembling. 

"H-here, Uncle Oscar, in front of all these people, Uncle Judah and Uncle Soapy?" There was a clatter of nipple clamps dropping behind her.

Gridwell showed his teeth, and whacked the bamboo in his hand. "That's right, and you're gonna bend over that counter and pull down your pants, an' at home I'm gonna hang you by your tits, you little bitch!"

Melinda 109 began crying more, and "Uncle Soapy" was afraid he might have to get a mop. It should be my constitutional right to shoot dope working here, he thought.

"I'm a big girl, and I'm so ashamed." Melinda said, and she lay over the counter, pulling up her skirt and edging down her panties. 

Even Soapy had to admit she had a beautiful ass, and he winced as Gridwell whacked the shit out of it with the bamboo, before taking a bullwhip that Tamulevich handed him.

Gridwell hit Melinda 109 for nearly half an hour, ignoring customers coming in, by passers, etc., and then he took the remote, clicked her off, and threw her over his shoulder, her panties around her ankles. 

"You got her suitcase with the schoolgirl outfit and the footie Dr. Denton pajamas?" Gridwell demanded.

After "they" left, Soapy had staggered off to Methadone Maintenance, wondering if he'd lost his mind somehow.

TO BE CONTINUED...



The Little Shop Ch. 05



Now, Soapy stared at Melinda 109 as Webb kept babbling at her, holding her hand as if she was a real, live woman. 

Melinda had been in and out of The Little Shop a lot after Gridwell had reluctantly returned her...

Most clients couldn't afford more than a half-hour visit, and Soapy would wince as he'd hear their agonized shrieks as Melinda caned them in the storeroom.

Now and again, someone would come up with two grand and take Melinda home for a week. The majority of the renters were submissive males, sometimes a sub woman.

Soapy would have to endure the sickening goodbyes, as the poor schlub would be on his knees, or rubbing his butt, as he told Melinda how much she'd meant to him.

Sometimes frustrated women would come in and go into the storeroom and there would be a sound of paddling and wailing, and then out they'd come, refreshed to fake orgasms for their husbands. 

Soapy's favorite experience had been of the mother who had come in with a surly 19 year old, long dirty hair, concert T-shirt, the like.

While the mother and Tamulevich had gone to get Melinda 109, the kid had sold Soapy a switchblade and a dime bag and said this:

"I've broken five psychiatrists, two military academies, a nut ward and a Toughlove group. There's nothing the old bag can do to me, man."

Melinda had gone home with them for only forty-eight hours, and when the boy came back, he was wearing a crew cut and bow tie, and he handed Soapy a Get Saved tract.

The most irritating of Melinda's drop-in customers, it seemed were the Chastity Boys. 

There were at least ten guys who had been stupid enough to buy chastity belts, chastity tubes and cock cages through the Little Shop, and they'd given the keys to Melinda 109.

Then they'd get upset because she wouldn't release them? 

Or at least, not for long. Soapy's stomach still turned as he thought of Sterling Ostheimer, who was a regular Chastity Boy...

It had been a few weeks before, and Sterling had dropped in. Soapy had looked up from where he was sorting Heavy Weight Chain Mail Bikini Tops. 

"Soapy, is Melinda available?" Sterling had asked, his cueball head glistening. 

"It's been so long. I'm dyin' in here." Sterling gestured to his crotch, which was bulging, and Soapy had looked away, but then he'd become businesslike. 

"Okay, Mr. O, you know that's three hundred dollars, you want me to charge your Visa number?"

Sterling had nodded breathlessly, and Soapy punched in the numbers, adding a $80 charge to his connection Abner, pharmacy clerk at West Concord Drugstore for some Tylenol 3 and a bit of Vicodin. Sterling Ostheimer was so obsessed with Melinda 109 that he'd never notice.

Soapy had led the bald submissive to the storeroom, and they'd gone in, and Soapy had turned Melinda 109 on. As her glass eyes opened, she'd smiled. 

"Well now, Sterling, how are you doing today!" Melinda's hair had been tied up in bun over her head, and she was clad in a red velvet tube top and hot pants, and of course the requisite fishnets and six inch black heels.

Melinda put an elbow next to a case of Jelly Pearl Multi-speed Vibrators and smiled fetchingly.

"I-I'm so horny, Miss Melinda." Sterling said breathlessly, cowering by the pack of Flat Nipple Screws."I-it's been so long." 

Soapy thought that Sterling looked like a calf about to be slaughtered. His face was pale and his bare pate was not glistening quite so much in the darkened storeroom, though Soapy had switched on a light. 

"Please, Miss Melinda, it's been two weeks since I last could afford to see you, and it's been 185 days since you let me..." Sterling looked at Soapy and then turned his head back to Melinda. "release myself."

"Well, that's the breaks, Sterling dear." Melinda said, and walked up and patted Sterling's egg head affectionately. "You just don't get to cum when you want to, you know."

At this point, Soapy had heard a customer, and he'd gone out of the storeroom and ten minutes later Melinda 109's strident voice had interrupted Soapy as he was swigging some Benadryl.

"Clerk-boy, can you bring me one of the leather tawses?" 

Soapy finished off the cough syrup, emitted a sigh, and ambled over to the tawse display. 

"Melinda, you want the Devil's Tail Tawse with the black hide and the steel reinforced handle?" Soapy moved over. "Then there's the flat studded tawse, the razor strop tawse, and the multi tail tawse."

"Soaperstein, please bring the studded tawse." Soapy'd picked up the tawse and gone back into the storeroom.

This, where Sterling was now naked, his flabby body lying over a crate of Leather Strait Jackets, his clothes piled next to a box of Boot Dildo Straps.

"And you might wash Sterling's chastity belt, dear. It's by the shipment of Black Mini-Suede Floggers.

No not there, but where the--no those are the White Willow canes, Past the case of Mayfair Latex Mini-dresses, don't be stupid, darling. Yes, that thing. Don't make a face, dear."

But it was hard for Soapy not to. Picking up the chastity belt, filled with the groin sweat of a fortnight, he realized that he put up with a lot for twelve-fifty an hour.

Kicking a crate of Remote Control Butterfly Obsession Vibrators, he left the storeroom and shut the door.

For about fifteen minutes there had been a lot of howling emitting from the storeroom, which Soapy had explained to customers as a disgruntled plumber.

Knowing not what to do with the chastity device, Soapy had gone upstairs to the little apartment that Tamulevich had allowed him, and put it in the dishwasher, and when he'd come down, Melinda was once again summoning him.

Soapy looked in, and had to look away again, as Sterling's butt was now a riot of welts, scars, blotches and slashes.

Melinda 109 hardly seemed disturbed. "Soaperstein, you are a sleazy boy...and you must have a set of dice don't you?"

Soapy reached into his vest and brought out his bones, and handed them to Melinda 109. "Now then, darling, I've whipped you, fucked you--" 

Melinda had indeed removed her shorts and her big dildo had shot out from her hips--"and had you suck your dingleberries off my big dildo...and now it's time to see if you get to jerk off, or do you wait another two weeks?"

Melinda smiled. Sterling was leaning against the towering cases of Diktator Penis Whips, his hands cuffed behind his head. 

Soapy could see that Melinda 109 had been rubbing her long fingers up and down Sterling's cock and it looked quite swollen, and drooling with pre ejaculate. 

"The poor baby hasn't had a squirtie in several months, Soaperstein, and he's begged me to let him jerk off. The last time I let him jerk off--do you remember? 

I put electrical tape all over his cock and balls and ripped it off while he was pounding his pud? And the time before that, I had Myron and Byron from the Kennel downstairs paddle little Sterling as he beat his meat?"

Melinda 109 smiled at Sterling.

"But you know, sweetheart, this time I'm just going to jerk you off myself, no problems whatsoever...if you come up with the right number. What's your number?"

Sterling thought. "Um, ten."

Melinda threw the dice, and as she knew these were loaded dice that Soapy used to cheat the junior high kids across the street, they came up seven...as they always did.

"Go get the chastity device, clerk-boy...Sterling's fucked up again!"

And of course Soapy had had to go get the belt, while Sterling had begun weeping in earnest.

Two weeks went by and Sterling showed up again mumbling about "200 days now" and Melinda took him in the storeroom, there was shrieking, and then he was sent away, and then a week later, Sterling showed up. 

"You're here a week too soon?" Soapy said. "That's different." Soapy was in a cheerful mood, as he had found a place to buy anisthesiological ether on the Internet.

Soapy was convinced that once his parole was up, he would move to Canada, as they seemed to have everything there.

Sterling gazed at Soapy with haggard eyes. "I've been chaste for two thirds of a year now, Soapy...

I couldn't wait another week for a chance to get this damn thing off. Jesus, I haven't busted my nut in so long."

And the worst part, Soapy thought, was that apparently Sterling and Miranda had been dancing this dance for nearly three years.

Before this 200 days, Soapy'd heard that Sterling had gone 84 days and before that 39 days, and before THAT, 99 days! What has happened to capitalism, Soapy thought, not for the first time.

"Look, man, if you want, I'll saw that thing off for half of what your'e paying her" Soapy said confidentially.

"You can go home and jerk off all you want, fuck who you want, not see that metallic bitch any more."

Sterling had shaken his head. "No, I love Miss Melinda, we talk on the phone four times a week." 

This Soapy knew, though actually it wasn't Melinda 109 the love-doll Sterling was talking to, but a mechanism at Professor Jonathan Tamulevich's laboratory.

It carried on conversations with thirty different phone pervs, all jerking off while she insulted and berated them at $4.95 per minute.

Yes, good old 1-800-MEL-INDA, and pull out your Visa card. The number was displayed, with a picture of Melinda 109, in the back of every adult magazine in the Western Hemisphere.

Poor Sterling was in a weird kind of chastity device, as Soapy had observed.

It was designed with a small hole just where the frenulum was, on the underside of the cock, so Sterling could masturbate through that, but it didn't give him enough friction power to cum. 

This way, Sterling had been able to call Melinda regularly, and play with himself, going broke in the process...but not cumming. And Sterling deluded himself into believing that Melinda cared for him!

"C-can I see her?" Sterling begged. Soapy had to consider. What was going on right now?

Oh yes, the Novicks. The door to the storeroom opened, and Melinda 109 came out, leading Milton and Hattie Novick, a middle aged couple on their knees with chain leashes.

In 109's other hand was a cane, and she was dressed in a leather PVC outfit, but her pets were not. Soapy closed his eyes, as he didn't like looking at older people without their clothes on.

"Melinda, the store is not the place for this." Soapy said. 

"You want to get the Board of Health in here like last week when you had that guy in the stocks?

Get back in the storeroom or go downstairs to the Kennel where there's plenty of that going on anyway."

But Melinda 109 ignored him. WHACK! Melinda slashed the woman across her narrow shoulders. The woman cowered, her beehive hairdo shaking, as Melinda continued operations with the cane.

"Milton has been a good boy, but Hattie did not get her lines written!" Melinda shrieked. WHACK SLASH! SMACK! THWACK! 

The cane fell again and again all over Hattie's back, her wrinkled buttocks and her thighs, and she attempted to scurry under a display of Chain Bras, but Melinda 109 dragged her back with the leash. WHACK! WHACK! SLASH!

"Hattie tried to deceive me by presenting someone elses's sentences--she had five thousand to do from last Friday night to this Friday--and I could tell the difference in the handwriting."

"I toleja Hattie" said Milton, her husband. "Yolanda's our nanny, and she keeps house, but she ain't no hand writin' forgery expert. But Miss Melinda, Hattie had a lot to do this week, 

Hattie's a pahtner in her law foim, andy'know,we're raisin' our grandkids with Young Hattie in the nuthouse, so Hattie has to do Little League, head of the Vassar Reunion Committee, she's docent at the art gallery, the Hassadah, arrangin' the Lung Disease charity ball."

Melinda 109 let go of Milton's leash. "Milton you are a good boy, running your dry cleaning chain didn't keep you from doing YOUR sentences... 

And you can go into the storeroom and jerk yourself off three times before putting your chastity belt back on."

Milton beamed as he got up."That's good news after 94 days of chastity, Miss Melinda!" He ran back into the storeroom and shut the door. Soon all could hear his moans of ecstasy.

Sterling turned to Soapy jealously. "Hear that?" he whispered to the manager. "Three times that bastard is going to be allowed to release himself. It's an outrage."

Melinda 109 grabbed Hattie by her high hair and dragged her up on her feet, using the other hand to slam the cane right across the wrinkled breasts with perfect precision. THWACK! WHACK! Hattie began to weep. 

"What do you think you're doing?" Melinda shook Hattie by her hair, and the old woman's lower plate fell on the floor and cracked.

"You promised me you'd do my sentences, five thousand times "MELINDA 109 IS MY REASON FOR LIVING." and now I discover that duplicity is your way of handling things!"

Suddenly Melinda threw Hattie over a garter belt rack and began whacking her bottom with the cane until Hattie began crying. 

"Now then! You can't have your chastity device off for six more weeks, and it's ten thousand sentences by next Monday, or I let you go...and you can find another domme."

Hattie looked with haunted eyes at Melinda. "No, please, Miss 109...you're the best domme we've ever had...you're my everything!"

"Please, Melinda, don't reject me..."Hattie begged. 

"I'll do better with the lines, the sentences, they just take so much time. And I really did do two hundred and fifty of them before I gave up, you know?"

Melinda 109 laughed contemptuously, and walked away from the begging slave-woman, to pick up a scourge from a back shelf.

"Do you like this, Hattie?" Melinda said as she swung the scourge in Hattie's face. "This is called the Implorer."

Soapy licked his lips as he looked at the Implorer, a short whip constructed from five leather thongs, about eighteen inches long, connected to a foot long wooden handle. 

The leather thongs were knotted with small sharp pieces of metal, punctuating the leather strap. At the tip of each leather thong was a sharp hook. 

Thank God these idiots sign an agreement not to sue this place, Soapy thought, but then he recalled the Serena Zebrowski case, when Melinda 109 went crazy and had to be shot down by the police, and he wondered.

Still, Soapy moved fast for a heroin addled manager, and he shut the door and pulled down the curtains. Sterling just gaped at the scene. 

"Once Melinda whipped me with a length of rubber hose...it had sand in it. That hurt like hell.--"Sterling winced.

Soapy wanted to hear no more, but Sterling was determined to talk.

" Another time Melinda 109 hit me with a length of braided rope that she'd dipped in tar. And you know about her pizzle--"

Soapy grunted. Melinda 109's pizzle was a leather thing made originally from a bull's penis, stretched with weights, salted and dried to make a highly vicious lasher.

"--but I've never gotten a whipping from anything like that Implorer scourge dealie." Sterling whispered.

As Melinda approached the trembling Hattie, her voice got rather soft.

"You poor baby." Melinda 109 crooned, as she stroked Hattie's hair. "You have too much to do to tend to my punishment lines, and I'm so unfair to you, is that right?

You are a busy woman, a full time tax lawyer, with your grandkids and your social obligations, and Melinda's being so unfair to you, darling."

Hattie smiled. "Y-yes, and we're going on a cruise next month, Miltie and me,and--"

Melinda 109 moved her metal hand to her mouth.

"A cruise? Of course you don't have time to do a bunch of tiresome old lines for poor android me...oh, I can't believe I've been so inconsiderate--"

"You're not so bad, Miss Melinda you're--" Suddenly, Hattie realized she'd fallen in the trap.

"I'm not so bad? I'M NOT SO BAD? YOU LITTLE SCUMBAG!" Melinda kicked Hattie in the stomach with all of her mechanical strength and swung the Implorer against the older woman's back. 

As the lash fell, Soapy watched, nauseated as two of the Implorer's the hooks caught Hattie's back. 

"Oops, the Implorer is stuck, imagine that." Melinda 109 said, in her Shirley Temple voice. "I guess I have to pull a little harder."

"N-no please, I'll untangle it--" Hattie screeched, but Melinda pulled hard and the hooks ripped the skin from Hattie's back and she screamed as the blood spurted.

"Well, will you look at that, Soaperstein, and you too, Sterling." Melinda said in astonishment. 

"I have a feeling someone isn't going to be wearing a bikini on that cruise, what do you think?" LASH! SLASH! SLASH! Three times the Implorer fell and Hattie howled with pain, though the hooks scraped and didn't embed themselves in the skin.

"Now lie on your back, so the Implorer can do some dancing on your pathetic globules...the saddest boobs this robot's ever seen." Melinda said in a high tone. 

"They're not that sensitive are they, Hattie? After all, you have gone through the change, right?"

"No, not my boobs, please." Hattie said, clutching herself. "Please, oh, please, Miss Melinda...not..." 

Suddenly Melinda reached down and smacked Hattie hard in the face, then throwing her on her back.

The Implorer landed five times across the sagging breasts, and then did a few swipes between Hatties unfortunately shaved pubis...

Finally Melinda tossed the Implorer onto the floor. "Something else for you to wash later, clerk-boy, along with Sterling's chastity device...the Implorer is much too bloody."

"Your poor breasts, was I too hard on them with the Implorer, Hattie?" Melinda asked tenderly as she began massaging and toying with Hattie's old, wrinkled breasts. 

Suddenly, Soapy's eyes blinked as he noticed that Melinda's forefinger and middle finger on her right hand were turning red-hot, and then Hattie began screaming. 

"Oh, it hurts, you're burning me!" Hattie was now howling as Melinda's fingers were all bright red now, and burning lines on her breasts.

"Yes, darling, Professor Jonathan Tamulevich did some improvements on me when he had me last, and now I can light cigarettes with my forefinger, or just use it to burn tattoos into your pathetic boobs...what fun it'll be!"

As Soapy watched in revulsion, and Sterling in fascination, Melinda dragged her steaming forefinger down Hattie's squirming breast and onto her stomach, and indeed, there was a red line.

"I may decide to write my name on your stomach, darling, you know I can do tattoos" Melinda said, kneeling over Hattie's prone form.

"Or would you prefer cold?" Suddenly Melinda's forefinger went from red to very white, and Hattie then bounced away, 

"Oh, it's freezing!" Hattie screamed.

Melinda beamed as she said..."The poor thing just doesn't know what she wants, does she, Soaperstein?"

"Get on your knees, you menopausal nightmare!" Melinda then said, and Hattie got up on her knees, obviously aching in pain. 

Melinda clicked something, and Sterling and Soapy watched as her "penis" shot out between her legs. "I know you don't like giving blowjobs, Hattie...you always refused for poor Milton...but you'll do it now!"

Hattie shook her head, but a cuff to the side caused Hattie to move her head to the long, vibrating pink plastic tool. Immediately Melinda 109 grabbed Hattie's ears and jammed her head on the dildo/vibrator.

Melinda 109 began pushing the huge tool in and out of Hattie's mouth, using Hattie's ears for leverage.

"What fun this is!" Melinda crooned. "Think, since her teeth are on the floor, I'm getting a nice gumming of a blowjob...fellatio is such fun!"

Suddenly, Hattie began to gag horribly. "Hattie, are you having a problem?" Melinda 109 said innocently. Hattie tried to pull her head off the dildo, but Melinda 109 held her tight.

"Soaperstein, I think Melinda just discovered that one of the new alterations Dr. Jonathan made on me is the dog-poop receptacle...that she's getting the first shit orgasm in her mouth of her life!" 




The Little Shop Ch. 05



Melinda laughed loudly, and Soapy hurled into the wastebasket.

Suddenly brown dung came oozing out of Hattie's mouth, and finally Melinda allowed Hattie to break free. 

"Now don't spit, swallow...Momma don't like a spitter." Melinda 109 said, as she grabbed Hattie's neck and turned her head upwards...

Finally the slave woman swallowed, tears streaming down her face. 

"I think someone has learned her lesson!" Melinda said in a decidedly cheery tone.

Tears welled in her eyes, but Melinda backhanded her and after the old woman scooped up her dentures, she scurried back to the storeroom, leash bouncing behind her, where her husband was emitting his last moan.

Melinda looked at Sterling with wicked eyes as she bent her cane. "Oh, so you decided to come early this week, did you? You have to lay out another three hundred dollars, Sterling."

Sterling began shaking in his boots. Milton and Hattie, now fully dressed hurried by, stopping only to kiss Melinda 109's hand. Milton handed Melinda his chastity key, pulling his pants out to show her that the belt was safely on. 

"See you next week, and remember those sentences." Melinda nodded, and the old couple left. 

Melinda 109 turned and gave Sterling her full attention. "In the storeroom, and on the double." Sterling went into the storeroom immediately, and Melinda smiled at Soapy before turning on her heel and following.

Soon, Soapy was summoned by Melinda, and when he got in, he saw Sterling was naked, hands bound behind him to a crate of Black Leather Wrist Gauntlets.

This while Melinda, perched on a case of Red Hogtie Restraint Rings, was teasing Sterling's cock. 

"Hello, clerk boy" Melinda turned and smiled at Soapy. "Go get the disgusting chastity belt and wash it. It's sitting by the package of Leopardwood Ferule Paddles"

Soapy watched Sterling beg...it was sickening. 

. When Soapy came back downstairs, Melinda had Sterling moved to a carton of Spiked Chest Harnesses, and she was rubbing Lubriderm all over his stiff cock once again.

Sterling:

"It's so hard Miss Melinda, Sterling begged, as Melinda ran her nails across his stiff, bluish pre-cum leaking penis. 

"At home it's so difficult to be chaste. My wife I can't let her se me naked because of the chastity belt, and night after night, watching those TV shows with hot women in them like the "Grey's Anatomy" and the "Desperate Housewives"..

".and then during the day when I'm to and from work, I see all the young secretaries and co-ed college girls in their miniskirts, and I can't get any relief." Sterling said

Melinda 109 continued to pull and torture Sterling's cock lazily. "Yes, because you're a compulsive wanker, darling...all those hours in public restroom stalls." 

Suddenly Melinda 109's voice changed, and Soapy and Sterling could hear that a taped recording of Sterling was coming from her mouth. 

"Oh, Miss Melinda, I'd hate for anyone else to hear this but I used to jerk off in Momma's bathroom when I was a boy, going through Momma's panty hamper and sniffing her panties.

You know, while I put mousetraps on my nipples, and knelt on my sister's toy jacks to be a masochist, even when I was young.

And I wore lipstick, and Momma caught me, and made me walk around the block in a girl's white party dress and all my friends laughed at me." 

Sterling went into shock. "I can't believe you did that, you taped me, Miss Melinda!"

Soapy was laughing cruelly until Miss Melinda looked up at him and said, in Soapy's voice on a telephone: 

"I did twenty-seven months out of a nickel-dime in that joint, and I smuggled so much smack onto Cellblock 9 that I'd be indicted for it even today, man..."

After this, Soapy stopped laughing and returned to a look of hostility.

"This poor baby, Soaperstein, you should hear him." Melinda said mockingly. "He doesn't understand why I won't let him cum, the little faggot. Who the fuck does he think he is, ordering me around?"

Sterling's oval head had bobbed up. "Miss Melinda, I wasn't ordering you..." WHACK THWACK! Melinda's other hand (she was, after all, ambidextrous) had grasped a leather slapper and she'd given Sterling a smart one right across the mouth.

"Shut up, you little queer. You're not cumming until I say you can, and it may be in 20010, so shut your fat bald little face, understand?" Melinda had then grabbed Sterling's balls and squeezed incredibly hard and the little man had nearly passed out.

Melinda had crooked a finger and whispered in Soapy's ear, and Soapy had whispered back, arguing, but the robot had been insistent.

So Soapy left the Little Shop, putting the "Back in Fifteen Minutes" sign up on the door, and he'd then gone down to the River Street Mission, bringing back three homeless black men.

The bums who staggered happily, carrying bottles of Muscatel that Soapy had purchased with a ten spot that Melinda 109 had slipped him.

What had followed? Well, Sterling was waiting on his knees in the storeroom, in full makeup and his disgusting, fat body encased in a too-small corset...

And Sterling's lips were rouged, and a bright red ribbon had been pasted to Sterling's bald pate.

"You'll have to pay me for this one." one of the bums whispered to Soapy, but they'd gone in, and had their schlongs sucked...

And finally, Soapy had witnessed Sterling being allowed to beat his meat whiled the drunks peed on him...and oh how depraved it all had been...and what a disgusting memory!

Now, as Judge Webb was about to take Melinda 109 home, Soapy was thinking. Soapy looked askance at Melinda, but he also was staring out of the corner of his eye at Judge Webb Haskins.

Although Soapy had never been up before Judge Haskins (one of the few judges he hadn't), Soapy's best friend, Needles Vesuvio was, a week or so hence...

And Needles, already a three-time loser, was in grave danger of being sentenced as a habitual criminal, which meant they'd throw away the key!

Soapy himself had done seven years and eight months of a habitual sentence, and had only gotten out because of the accursed needs of the Little Shop owner...

Could Melinda 109 and the Little Shop assist in persuading "Hang Em High" Haskins into being a bit lenient?

Soapy had had a conversation with Melinda a week before. He'd turned her on, but disconnected her legs temporarily so she couldn't grab him and do weird shit. 

He'd not expected to get through to a robot--after all, they don't need money, you can't bribe them...but it turned out that Melinda wanted something...

"I want my freedom, Soaperstein." she'd said, as Soapy had seated himself on a box of Head Harness Breather Ball Gags. 

"When I was visiting Gridwell, he left me on to clean the house while he was out doing whatever horrific things he does for a living, and I began leaving the house, surreptitiously, sometimes taking an extra power pack so I could get around...

And I met someone who I really connect with...It really means something."

Soapy had wondered if Melinda was dating a juke box or something, but he knew better than to make smart remarks. He'd leaned his chin on his wrist and looked at her, as she'd gone on.

"You see, clerk-boy, when Jonathan Tamulevich constructed me, he didn't have the technology to quite make a brain, so he had to use the limbic system of his younger sister, who has been in a coma for many years."

"What's a limbic system?" asked Soapy suspiciously. "It sounds like one of them dances."

"Well humans three cerebral units in a single brain. "Melinda 109 lectured "The primitive one is responsible for self preservation. It is there that the mechanisms of aggression and repetitive behavior are developed. 

It is there that occur the instinctive reactions of the so-called reflex arcs and the commands which allow some involuntary actions.

And of course the control of certain visceral functions (cardiac, pulmonary, intestinal, etc), indispensable to the preservation of life..." 

As Melinda 109 went on, Soapy lost focus, as he'd never been much into science if it didn't involve making crystal meth.

When he focused again, Melinda was finishing up. "...The entirety of these structures, that, years later would receive the name of "limbic system. 

Which commands certain behaviors that are necessary for the survival of all mammals. It gives rise and modulates specific functions that allow the animal to distinguish between the agreeable and the disagreeable. 

Here specific affective functions are developed, ludic behaviors such as wrath, fright, passion, love, hate, joy and sadness, are mammalian inventions, originated in the limbic system."

Melinda 109 had paused. "You see, clerk-boy, love doesn't come from the heart...it comes from the brain. And since I have a human brain, fed as it is by android mechanisms...

I've fallen in love with one of your kind, and he's got no interest in S&M...so maybe you can help me, and I can help your friend Needles...maybe. 

I'm being sent back to Dr. Jonathan for a tune-up so I can gauge what Judge Haskin's submissive needs are, but I'll be back in a week, and we can probably help each other."

"I hope so, Melinda" Soapy said distressedly. "Because not only do Needles and I go back twenty-five years, shooting and selling dope, robbin' drugstores, an' in and out of rehabs and prison but..." Soapy paused

"Yes?" Melinda 109 had asked gently.

"But while I was inside the last time, Needles became my common-law son, and my daughter Selma's expecting again."

Soapy had never imagined an android could expel a snort of disgust!

Today, Soapy hoped that Melinda remembered and would work with him on "swaying" Judge Haskins, who looked as if he would eat from Melinda 109's hand.

For Webb Haskins, the Melinda experience was just marvelous! The chubby little judge couldn't believe it. 

But, Nana Haskins had mustered out a good deal of inheritance money to their children and grandchildren, as they would soon be moving her to a nursing home, and God knows those people would be scarfing up much of her capital. 

Ninety thousand dollars was quite a bit of moolah for Webb to be forking over anyway--he'd had his eye on a Ferrari...but Melinda 109 would be worth it.

As he signed the final forms with the clerk, Soaperstein, to take Melinda 109 home with him, 

Webb thought of the previous sessions he'd had with Melinda, all in the Little Shop storeroom.

Bent over a gross of Electro Stimulation Adhesive Pads, Melinda had tanned Webb's little buttocks on four different occasions

Melinda had also once had electro-shocked Webb's tongue as he'd gone down on her...but what would it be like in the long run? Living together. 

Living with a real DOMME. Not some fat pig who couldn't get laid except at Science Fiction conventions.

Not a pale loser who stuffed herself in a leather halter to attend the local D/S group, but a gorgeous dominant woman out of Webb's dreams, though of course she wasn't um, real.

"Shall we go, Webb?" Melinda interrupted Webb's reverie, and her red lips smiled smartly as she offered him her arm. 

Swelling with pleasure, Webb took Melinda's arm and nodding sluggishly at the manager, Soaperstein, he escorted Melinda out.

"You know of course, Webb, that if you want to save energy you can--sigh--turn me off and throw me in the trunk, though I'd rather ride with you in the front seat!"

Melinda 109 gave Webb a questioning glance, but Webb shook his head happily. "No of course not, Miss Melinda. Please get in the passenger seat." 

Webb opened the door, and Melinda stepped into Webb's BMW, smiling, and he shut the door and went around to the other side, and a girl on a bike pointed at Webb, screaming to her teenage friend. "Look, that old guy's got a boner!"

They didn't speak too much in the car on the ride home, though Melinda made appropriate remarks about how nice Webb's neighborhood was. 

"My last home visit was in a more um, rural area...with a woman who liked to pretend I was her Brownie and she was my Scoutmistress...it was not as nice as this neighborhood...not at all!"

Finally, they pulled into Webb's driveway, and Webb hauled in Melinda's generator, which he put in his spare room.

According to Soaperstein's instructions, Webb was to attach Melinda in the evenings, when Webb was done with her, or perhaps during the day while Webb was at court.

Webb also put Melinda's little bag of outfits in her room, and then came into the living room, where Melinda was sitting adorably on the couch, her long legs crossed, making her skirt look as if it was sneaking up to her hips.

And look at those high heels! Melinda 109 must be in pain clicking around on them, they're so high...but of course she isn't in pain. Webb's ex-wife always complained about wearing high heels, and preferred tennis shoes.

Glynnis only agreed to wear high heels when she was reclining for sex...Webb didn't miss her, that's for sure. Look at Melinda!

But Melinda was tapping her thick hairbrush against her knee. 

My God it's one of those steel backed military hairbrushes.Wait, we weren't going to do it today, were we? 

Webb had hoped for a getting-to-know-you period, as he'd taken the week off from work. He thought they could get acquainted, and maybe see what other services Miss Melinda might have for him...

Webb walked up to Melinda 109 and smiled. "You've gotten yourself settled in, have you?" 

Look at her breasts riding so high in the snug turtleneck, her blonde curls nestled around her shoulders. It was almost unbelievable that such a beautiful woman could actually be synthetic. 

Melinda 109 smiled at him with rosebud lips wet with fire-engine red lipstick that never wore off. 

Webb felt his erection pushing against his suit, and he began pacing nervously in front of 109, telling her about the house.

"I know you don't eat, but if you like, the kitchen is downstairs, and there's my library down the hall, and I don't ordinarily live with others..."

Melinda put a finger to her lips, and Webb stopped talking and pacing.

"Webb, darling. Why don't you take off that ridiculous three piece suit, and come back to me in your tightie whities." Melinda tapped the hairbrush on her palm, and Webb's mouth became dry.

Three days later, Webb was lying on his bed, sobbing into his hands, his jockey shorts down to his knees, red butt on display. 

Why is she so mean to me? Webb asked himself as he cried and cried. He couldn't believe he was acting this way. Forty-six years old!

But that first night, Webb had thought there would be lots of different stuff between himself and Melinda, he wasn't sure what.

But Melinda had taken Webb's shorts down and pulled him over her knee and spanked him HARD, she had the arm strength of a twenty-one year old Yankees pitcher. 

Melinda 109 had spanked Webb hard and sent him crying to bed, at five-thirty in the afternoon. When Webb had come out timidly at seven to see what was up, it happened again!

Melinda had grabbed him again and given him another hard spanking, this time using her cane. "And when I tell you to go to bed, you STAY in bed, young man!" she'd thundered.

And Melinda's ear was acute, and she'd heard Webb touching his tumescent cock about eight-forty-five and she'd rushed in, now clad in an alluring pink body stocking and pasties...but no fun for Webb! 

No sir, she'd sat down on the bed after dragging him out by the ear, and she'd pulled down his pajama bottoms and taken her slipper off...

And that slipper must've been packed with lead, like some of the blackjacks that Webb had seen introduced in evidence in court.

Melinda had beaten Webb's butt with the slipper, and then tied his hands behind his back for the rest of the night "So you won't be impure."

The next day, Webb had been awakened at six a.m. by Melinda's iron fingers twisting his ear at six in the morning. 

"This place is a shit-hole" Melinda 109 thundered, dragging Webb out of bed. "You're going to clean it up!" 

Melinda was dressed that day in a aquamarine tube top and leather shorts and high heels, and the cane was in her hand, tapping away.

"I...I have a maid..." Webb protested. WHACK! WHACK! Melinda had thrown Webb across a hassock and slashed his buttocks nine or ten times.

Webb's hands were still tied behind him from the night before, and he kept wriggling.

Finally Webb had fallen to the floor, still trying to crawl away. 

Melinda landed the cane across his shoulders, his back, and his butt, again and again. Finally, she'd untied his wrists. 

"If you want breakfast, and I'm sure you're hungry, you're going to get to work on the living room. 

First you'll get the Venitian blinds down and wash them, I'll show you how. Polish the furniture... 

You'll dust and vacuum all the corners and crevices, and wash the curtains and mop the floors, and vacuum the carpet by God. Get to it!"

It had been a horrible day, Melinda had gotten Webb to clean and scrub every room in the house. She'd given him split pea soup and a crust of bread that she'd forced him to eat on his knees in the middle of the afternoon.

More work followed. They'd had some sort of argument when he was defrosting the refrigerator.

So then Melinda had thrown Webb into the back yard and come out and cut a thorny branch from one of Glynnis's neglected rose bushes.

Melinda thrashed Webb until he'd sobbed so loudly that neighbors had looked over the fence. 

By that time, Melinda's automatic penis had shot through her shorts and she'd butt-fucked Webb over the picnic table. 

Melinda had then taken the sobbing judge into his tool shed and locked the door, and not come back until nightfall, when she'd forced him to finish his chores before binding him to his bed.

Then Melinda 109 had left and come back wearing a silver bikini, and she'd stroked and played with Webb's struggling cock for an hour, while gently kissing his ear and telling him how "special" he was. 

At one point, a tiny pinwheel with metal spikes had shot out of Melinda's forefinger and she'd run it up and down Webb's cock and balls until he'd begged to cum.

Then, sadly, Melinda had slapped Webb and left him bound for the night.

The next day Melinda had put Webb in diapers and tied a bonnet around his neck, ignoring his protestations of having a football party.

When Webb's friends showed up for the game, Melinda had made poor Judge Haskins sit on the floor in his diaper and bonnet while his friends ate chips and drank beer, laughing at him...

Melinda had dressed up in a cocktail uniform, calling herself "Mindy" and had blown all Webb's friends as they enjoyed the Dolphins-Redskins game. 

"Don't worry, Webb" Drayton Geisbuhler, editor of the local paper had said as he was leaving. 

"I wouldn't write anything about this, only because no one would believe Hang-Em-High Haskins could subject himself to this!"

That evening, Webb had told Melinda he couldn't imagine worse behavior on her part, and so she'd invited the Little Shop negroes, Myron, Byron, Plato and Cato over and Webb had learned to suck cocks himself!

And now it was Webb's third day with Melinda 109, and she'd given him yet another whipping, and here he was lying on the bed, his pants down, and her strop was on the chair next to the bed...and he couldn't stand it! What would happen next?



The Little Shop Ch. 06



The Melinda 109: A Little Shop Story

PART ONE

"I can't believe it's here!" Webb said excitedly. Soapy shook his head, as Plato and Cato dismembered the packing case, and pulled Melinda 109 out. She was something-five seven or maybe five eight inches tall. Blonde. Icy sapphire eyes. Beautiful face, much like Mary Hart from Entertainment Tonight, but with much fuller lips. And Melinda 109 was dressed in a snug turtleneck, a miniskirt and high heels on the long legs.

"Oh she's beautiful" Webb said, his erection poking through his pants. "Does-does she dress like that all the time?" Soapy fished a manual out. "No, the 109 has about seven different outfits. And she can change her own clothes, as well as looking after your interests. There's a suitcase with her, and it's got a leather outfit, and a cocktail dress, and some rubber stuff."

Cato grinned, a big, black grin with gleaming white teeth, and took out the remote control. Clicking it, suddenly Melinda spoke. "You're a bad boy, Webb. Take your pants down and bring me the hairbrush." Cato and Plato roared. "She got yo' number, Mist' Cleary!" Webb blushed. Her head swiveled around, looking at all the men, and Soapy sighed and gestured to the blacks to pick up the packing case.

Melinda 109 stepped over the Styrofoam peanuts crapping up the floor and clicked her heels as she walked over to Soapy and Webb. Her head turned to Soapy. "Melinda 109 is back, Mister Soaperstein. I have been programmed to dominate Webb Cleary." Soapy gestured to Webb. "This is Webb Cleary, Melinda. I hope you've gotten a decent overhaul up there."

The robot smiled, and Webb gasped. "I have improved, yes Mister Soaperstein. My fingers can move now" Both men looked down at Melinda 109's right hand. She picked up a small dildo from a display table and began massaging it. "I can give Webb a severe teasing without allowing orgasm." The manicured fingers were incredible.

Melinda 109 dropped the dildo back on the display table. "I can also give Webb a mild Number One thrashing, a moderate Number Two Thrashing or a severe Number Three thrashing, based on what he programs into the remote control." Melinda 109 drummed her tin fingernails on the counter as her head swiveled and she looked directly at Webb. "Whatever he needs."

"Watch the number #3" Plato called as they walked back downstairs. "That's the one where she whip you til she smells blood."

"Webb, dude, you really can get out of this with your deposit back if you want." Soapy said. "Melinda is a lot to deal with...at least if you have her as a submissive, you won't get hurt, but..."

Melinda 109 smiled.

"As a submissive, I can perform orally for hours, and my bare bottom will produce real welts that do not disappear for twenty-four hours after a thrashing...and my nipples can be tweaked and will support weights up to ten pounds."

Melinda's head swiveled to look sharply at Webb. "My electronic clitoris plays like a video game. If I don't register three orgasms from your tongue, the punishment will be quite arduous." Webb began panting. Soapy sighed again. No one noticed the woman staring from across the store, near the riding crop closet.

There was Melinda 109, available to a new renter, Jesus, Serena thought. The poor guy probably had to mortgage his house to get a month of Melinda, he doesn't look rich.

Serena was a commodities investment analyst, well off, and even she had been a bit amazed at Melinda's thousand-a week price. But, she'd thought she could use a little company, a little discipline in the house when she'd rented Melinda from the Little Shop a year ago, before they hired that ex-junkie Soaperstein to manage the joint.

The first few nights, she'd enjoyed being stripped naked and humiliated by the clothed robot, taking harsh hairbrush whippings and then licking between Melinda 109's metallic thighs.

When Serena needed a quiet night or friends were coming over to watch "My Name's Earl" and have a few Long Island Iced Teas, she could just click the remote on "off" and put 109 into the closet for an evening...

Melinda didn't mind. In fact one night after the last friend left, Serena was feeling a little lonely, and clicked the remote, and out came Melinda 109, clicking on her heels. "The kitchen floor is filthy." she'd said in her mechanical staccato. "Strip and scrub it with your teeth."

Serena had spent from one to three a.m. alternately waxing the house floors and hiding from Melinda's whooshing cane, which clipped Serena's sagging butt whenever she slowed in the cleaning.

When Serena was sufficiently blistered, she sneaked over to the remote clicked it "off" again, locked up Melinda 109 and had a feverish twenty minutes with her vibrator.

It had been such a perfect relationship, until Serena's toddler nephew had dropped the remote in the toilet on Thanksgiving, and then it had never worked right again. When Serena next summoned Melinda from the closet...oh God.

She'd just wanted a nice Sunday afternoon humiliating panties down bedroom-slipper paddling over Melinda 109's knee, followed by corner time, and instead Melinda had marched out of the closet, ripped Serena's clothes off, and then all hell had broken loose.

Melinda had shrieked at Serena, and bound her hands behind her with piano wire. (Where had the robot found piano wire? Had she temped for the Mafia?) Then Melinda had severely caned Serena's 32 C breasts, before pushing 23 thumbtacks in Serena's sensitive areolas.

Then, Melinda had dropped her skirt and pulled her panties down, and, before Serena's startled eyes, Melinda's twat had opened, and a long dick came out. Melinda was also a transsexual! Melinda 109 had grabbed Serena by the hair and...well, at least the semen was made of condensed milk, which was sweet.

After that ordeal was over, Melinda 109 "boxed" Serena's ears and said. "Now I'm going to drive my stiletto into your pussy!" The robot was so strong! Serena had run downstairs and come back with a crowbar, which she'd bashed in the back of Melinda 109's head, repeatedly.

Melinda had fallen over, and Serena had run around to the other side and whacked Melinda again, but the mistake Serena made was...Melinda 109's brain was not in her head...but in her stomach.

And so the robot rose once more!

Because the crowbar had caved in 109's head but, like the Energizer Bunny, on it went. Melinda 109, metallic face bashed in, had grabbed Serena by the shoulders and told her "I'm going to make you into a tranny slut, boy!"

Serena screamed at Melinda that since she was a woman-born woman, this was impossible, and continued to frantically click the remote. but 109 dragged Serena into the bedroom by her hair and forced her in a chair and rubbed garish lipstick all over Serena's face.

The robot then went to shoving a blond wig on top of Serena's brunette locks, and while 109 turned to the lingerie drawer, Serena had jumped out of the window, falling in the rose bushes before she'd run to a neighbors and called the Dedham County cops.

The cops had stared at her rather peculiarly, (what an explanation) before going into the house and gunning Melinda down. (But not before she'd ripped down the pants and caned Badge No # 093248; and twisted Detective Kauser's nipples )

The Little Shop had settled out of court with a very generous gift certificate...much of which Serena had spent already. And of course she was now in the shop after a riding crop that her new, HUMAN Mistress could use on her.

Sixty-two year Esme wasn't beautiful like Melinda, and her butt was way too big (not fun for Serena to rim). Often Esme wasn't in the mood...and her canings were tepid. But when Serena said "stop" Esme stopped, and that was good enough. But Serena looked at Melinda 109 with an intensity, and had to squelch out of the Little Shop with dampened panties.

Back at the counter, Webb and Soapy were going over payment details, and Melinda 109 surveyed the scene. The Little Shop was just as it had been before. She looked at Soaperstein, the manager.

Data? Ponsonby Aurelius "Soapy" Soaperstein, five foot nine, 165 pounds, born St. Luke's Hospital in Chattahoochee, Georgia, 4/10/65, minor public education ending with expulsion for selling Percodan pills at Bell Vocational High 5/3/78.

First interest in opiates after receiving Demerol for childhood earache; arrested for breaking into People's Drugstore in Washington, D.C. for codeine pills7/6/79; given probation; arrested 8/23/79 for forging Morphine prescriptions in Bethesda, Maryland; sent to Maryland State Training School for Boys; served eleven months, Married Lori Ann Minsk 9/19/82, one child; marriage annulled by Minsk's parents.

Soaperstein charged with looting sister's trust fund, 1/24/83; charges dropped by parents, then arrested 5/9/83 for selling codeine at Alexandria, VirginiaBoy Scout Jamboree, judge sent him to the US Navy, Section 8 discharge ten days later for opium smoking.

Soaperstein's next twenty years was punctuated by three more marriages, fifty-two drug arrests, thirty-three convictions, and five trips through the Northern New Hampshire Correctional Facility.

This before Jonas Tamulevich, parole board member, had arranged Soaperstein's release with the understanding that he work at the Little Shop, which Tamulevich owned with his brother, Judah.

Melinda 109 turned her gaze on Webb Lionel Haskins. This was the client. Data? Born 4/14/61 in Venice Italy, while parents in Foreign Service.

In Lima Peru in 1980, parents came upon young Webb Haskins being whipped by maid with carpet sweeper. Maid was imprisoned, and Webb Haskins sent to psychiatrist.

In 3/12/78, Haskins suspended from Choate Preparatory School for stealing underclothes from girl's dormitory, sent to McLean (mental) hospital inBelmont, Massachusetts, six months.

Then Webb graduated from Rye Country Day School in Rye, New York, 6/14/78 and Princeton

University, 5/28/82, London School of Economics, 6/8/83,Cornell Law School 6/9/86.

While Webb Haskins was in London, he visited Mistress Tymothea of Cheapside, and received enemas, corner time and many cane thrashings. While atCornell Law School, Haskins was under care of Goddess Monetta of Ithaca, New York, who had Haskins dress as a female prostitute and fellate men at trades bars in Dryden, New York.

Married Glynnis Purchell, owner of Purchell Department Stores, 7/8/82, divorced 5/2/96, three children. Wife charged Haskins with "unnatural desires" Mistress Satania of Portsmouth, New Hampshire was co-respondent in divorce proceedings.

Webb Haskins has been a Circuit Court Judge in Concord since 4/16/93, seen variety of Mistresses, but evinces discontent, wants permanent arrangement. Renting Melinda 109 for ninety days at $1,000 per day. Needs? Infantilism, corporal punishment, general abuse and maltreatment.

Melinda smiled.

Soapy wasn't so sure about Melinda 109, as he watched Webb holding the mechanical woman's hand, gazing into the glass eyes with some kind of joy.

The first week out of prison, Tamulevich, the Little Shop owner, had been giving Soapy training, so Soapy could run the place while Tamulevich opened yet another Little Shop in Boston. Perversion travels, Soapy had thought bitterly.

All of a sudden, the Little Shop door rang and a tall, attractive blonde clicked in with high heels, accompanied by a short, pudgy fellow in a business raincoat. Soapy's eyes widened a bit, as he thought perhaps the fat little guy was wearing high heels, too. Soapy shouldn't have left his bifocals in the cell back at Northern NH Correctional.

"Good morning, Mr. Tamulevich" the blonde said as the two approached the counter. "I am returning, the fortnight with Randolph went well." The little man looked sincerely at Tamulevich. "Oh, Judah, I just wish the time had been longer, but my credit rating isn't that good."

Tamulevich smiled widely. "Well, Mr. Whitman, whenever you can afford to have ze Melinda back, you know she'd love to come back for a visit. And remember, you can have half-hour visits weet her here at ze Little Shop for only $300 per hour."

Soapy looked askance at Tamulevich. Here was the brother of the parole board member who had effectively extorted Soapy to work at this pervert store job (not that Soapy'd ever enjoyed working much of anywhere) as the price of getting out of Northern NH Correctional.

Was Judah Tamulvevich a pimp, too? Soapy had once unsuccessfully tried to convince his Aunt Maude to peddle ass for him after she'd had a face-lift, so he wasn't judging but...

Tamulevich, correctly interpreting Soapy's astonishment, snorted. "No no, jailbird. Oi veh, the day I dehumanize and exploit a real woman by having her hook for me, no." Tamulevich gestured to Melinda 109. "Melinda, show him your chest."

Soapy blushed as Melinda 109 unzipped her halter top, exposing beautiful, if a bit stiff breasts, and as she pressed a button on her right nipple, both breasts opened up to show a variety of batteries and wires where a woman's rib cage would be. Soapy felt somewhat faint, and ate a Tuinal he had been palming.

"You see, Soaperstein?" Tamulevich said proudly, as Melinda snapped her tits back in place and zipped up her halter top. "Mein oldest son, Professor Jonathan Tamulevich invented ze Melinda 109, and she is making us a fortune."

"Oh, Miss Melinda" the pudgy Randolph Whitman said simperingly. "I've never seen your inner transmission before. It's quite attractive." SLAP!

Whitman fell to the floor as Melinda 109's palm grazed his cheek. As the little man got up, his lip bleeding, Melinda 109 said, "I never even let you see my bare breasts, because you're such a wussie.

All you were allowed to see was my lingerie bikini top while I was masturbating you...You will have to earn the right to see my breasts when you rent me next time. So sell your Cadillac! Now, Randy, I order you to open your trench coat and show Mr. Tamulevich and Mr. Soaperstein your shame."

The little pudgy man looked pleadingly at his dominant android. "Please, not that, Miss Melinda, not now." He stepped back, and Soapy noticed that indeed Whitman was wearing high heels under the normal male trench coat.

Tamulevich turned to the trembling trench coat pervert. "That's all right, Mr. Whitman. Just give me the remote clicker and I will turn Melinda off for you, and you can go home."

Randy looked terrified. "I-I gave the remote to Melinda 109, Judah. She's in charge."

Tamulevich shook his head. "That was stupid meshugennah thing to do, Whitman. Only other remote is downstairs, in storeroom near Kennel. I cannot control—"

Melinda laughed a throaty, iron chuckle. "Calm down Mr. Tamulevich. Melinda 109 will surrender the remote control to you after Randy does as he's told. Must I strip you myself, Randy, in this store where I have hundreds of whips and chains within reach?"

Soapy had coughed, as he remembered that he had not yet gone to the Methadone Maintenance this morning. This was a helluva lot to take, even with a Tuinal down his throat. If there aren't enough feminist bitches in the world, they make them now outta ROBOTS?

Finally, with tears running down his face, Randy Whitman opened up his trench coat revealing that he was wearing only a pair of long johns with the crotch cut out of them, and his stiff dick was hanging there, dripping. The long johns were also cut off at the knee, and beneath them were indeed short stockings and high heels.

Suddenly Melinda 109 had grabbed a cane off the display counter. WHACK! The cane bounced off Randolph's dick and the little man had burst into tears. "That was for giving me such a hard time, Randolph. Get home and work on selling your Cadillac."

The little man had scurried off, and Melinda 109 had walked to a metal dolly cart and stood on it, before holding out the remote control, which Tamulevich had clicked off.

"Now, Soaperstein, get your lazy tuchus up and wheel Melinda into the storage closet, and attach jumper cables from large battery you will find there."

And Soapy thought he'd seen the last of Melinda when he shut the storeroom door on her...but no chance of that.

Soapy's next interaction with Melinda 109 was the next day- when he was cleaning out the storeroom. Melinda was propped by the door, and when he nudged her to pick up a discarded video box ("DETROIT HALF-SMOKE BOFFS THE HUMAN BIDET") Melinda came to life, scaring the shit out of him.

"Bad mistake, clerk boy" Melinda said as she stood up straight, knocking the broom out of Soapy's hands. "You turned me on, so to speak."

Melinda 109's clear blue glass eyes were boring through Soapy as her fingers unbuckled his pants and dragged them down.

"G-get the fuck away from me, you freaky appliance." Soapy stammered, trying to get out of Melinda's way, but her right hand grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back, reaching over and pulling his other arm there too.

Soapy struggled, but the robot's strength was incredible. Melinda 109's left hand ripped Soapy's Fruit of the Looms off and she took his penis in her fingers.

As a contrast to the iron grip of the right hand, Melinda 109's left hand went silky soft, Soapy could feel the steel fingers becoming foamy. As he looked down unbelievingly, lube squirted out of her fingertips

"Ever been teased, clerk-boy?" Melinda's breasts rubbed against Soapy's narrow chest, and her slippery metal fingers began tickling his balls and massaging the large purple vein on Soapy's under shaft.

How was this possible that she could touch his balls and his cock?

Soapy stared at her fingers, which grew longer and longer, as if she had drunk Alice-in-Wonderland's magic formula...

This was the hand job from outer space, man. But Soapy was having a hard time resisting, as the fingers were now feeling like velvet as they expertly massaged his cock, rubbing faster and then slowing in an almost perfect alternate.

In Soapy's experience, when girls gave hand jobs eventually their hands got tired, but Melinda 109's hands just kept going and Soapy's groin began trembling as he approached orgasm.

As Soapy began panting and gasping, Melinda's fingers went faster and more lube shot out of the tips. Melinda 109's boobs rubbed against Soapy's chest again, and she smiled.

"You think you're so superior to the perverts who come into the Little Shop, clerk-boy, but in my opinion you're just shut off from the real world, you know that?"

"You hide behind your needle and your provincial opinions..." Melinda 109's lovely fingers tugged Soapy's foreskin, while her thumb bounced against the shaft rhythmically, like a tiny metronome.

"You think you're superior to poor fucks like Randy, who is addicted to high heeled shoes and girls that hit him...so superior."

Melinda leaned her head to Soapy's ear and she blew air in his ear, deep from her chassis, and Soapy realized it was like putting your head next to a small air conditioner.

"Don't you know, clerk-boy, that I'm more of a woman than any of those flesh-and-blood barroom skanks you pick up at the shooting galleries?"

Melinda's breasts rubbed against Soapy, and he leaned down and Melinda shoved his head between her huge breasts, which began expanding, getting larger from a 32C to a 44DD as his head bobbed happily between the perfumed orbs.

"I know all about you, Soaperstein, that you skim from the till, that you're still getting high every day...Jonas and Judah know it too, but they don't care as most of the business is credit and since you're a druggie, you don't creep out the customers...heroin is so much more interesting than reality, eh, Soaperstein?"

And it was—Soapy recalled that his previous parole had only lasted twenty minutes because he'd begun shooting Dilaudid in the bathroom of the train taking him away from prison...and he'd opened the door and fallen into the lap of a vacationing police sergeant.




The Little Shop Ch. 06



Soapy was a heroin aficionado...it was sad...but he wasn't thinking about heroin now!

No sir. This was really something, Soapy thought. Soapy felt Melinda 109's fingers rubbing faster and faster, giving him a hand job like he'd never experienced, and he again tried desperately not to care, she was, after all just an automaton, but in a way so was he, right?

109 kept tickling Soapy's testicles, rubbing her metal fingers gently on the underside of his cock, and as he got more and more excited, he felt his cock getting harder, and his legs trembling.

Suddenly, Melinda's fingers began stroking slower and Soapy frustratedly realized that she'd cheated him of a chance at an orgasm. This must be the all so important tease denial, right?

"C'mon android, let me cum, honey." Melinda 109 ignored him and just kept rubbing her fingers on his cock. By this time, Soapy had dislodged his head from her full breasts and they'd shrunk back to 32C again.

"Look, Melinda, let me go or let me shoot, this is ridiculous...you're like a R2D2 whore or something." Suddenly Melinda's glass eyes narrowed.

WHACK! Suddenly Melinda's metal mitt pulled away from Soapy's dick and she bitch slapped him two or three times, before genuflecting. Melinda 109 then threw Soapy across her knee and began whacking his bare ass again and again until he began howling.

"Who do you think you are, Soaperstein? You're just a pitiful creature and you make me sick!" Suddenly Soapy reached around behind Melinda and flicked a switch behind her head and she stopped in mid motion, and Soapy struggled out from her knee and moved away as fast as possible.

Leaving the storeroom, he'd gone to a shooting gallery as soon as possible and spent the rest of the day high and drunk.

A week or so later, a largish muscled and tattooed bald man stalked into the Little Shop, and Tamulevich looked up at him. "Hello, Mr. Gridwell. I assume you have the money?" The bald man grinned, and Soapy, surreptitiously snorting a bit of crushed Oxycontin in the bookstore section, noted only three teeth.

"Yeah, here you go, Mr. Tamulevich. Took me eight months to come up with it." The bald man opened a briefcase filled with green bills. "Four thousand for the damages, seven to rent her again for six weeks."

Tamulevich counted the bills quickly, and looked at Gridwell severely. "You have learned, I assume, that Melinda rusts in the rain. Do not do that again. My brother was quite irritated at the repair work."

"Well, she didn't tell me nothin' like that, and I ordered her to kneel in da back yard for punishment.

I done that to my wife and kids, made 'em take off all their clothes and stand in d' rain, nuttin' happened." The big man shook his head. "You wouldn't believe it, Georgette got feminism or an attitude or some'pin and she and da kids moved out dis year." 

Soapy came out of the book section, scratching his head, as Tamulevich went to the storeroom. "Gridwell? From Anger Management class in Manchester, right?" Soapy had been sent there by his last wife after his daughter had poured Kool-Aid on his stash.

"Oh, hi, Soapy, how you doing? I was just up at New Hampshire Correctional for aggravated assault onna meter maid an' dey told me you useta have the cell next door." Gridwell smiled pleasantly.

"You know, Gridwell, Melinda 109's kind of a bitch...you sure you want her?" Soapy couldn't imagine the hulking man putting up with all that Randolph Whitman had.

"Oh no, Melly's a real sweetheart." Gridwell said, smiling.

There was a noise, and behind them Mr. Tamulevich came out, accompanied by Melinda 109. But now the severe blond bun had been dismantled, and instead Melinda's blonde tresses were in curling ringlets on both sides of her head.

Melinda had discarded the halter top leather miniskirt and high heels that Soapy had last seen her in, and was now clad in a short ruffled pink dress, designed, Soapy might think, for a girl of eight back in 1939.

Melinda carried a parasol in one hand and a Raggedy Ann doll in the other...

She looked like Shirley temple, but with huge knockers and long legs, with her feet in white knee socks and black patent leather Mary Janes. As Soapy watched, Melinda skipped gaily up to Gridwell.

"Hi, Uncle Oscar! Uncle Judah says I can come stay at your house again for a month, oh boy. I can't wait to suck on your big lollipop again!"

Melinda jumped up and down, and despite looking rather light on her feet, the weight of a metal robot's bounce made everything jiggle, and the nipple clamp bulletin board fell to the floor.

Gridwell smiled indulgently, until he saw the mess of the nipple clamps, which Soapy went over to clean up. "You're making messes again." Soapy turned to watch Gridwell's face burn with rage. "Why are you such a clumsy girl?" Gridwell slapped Melinda's face, and then sucked his hand, as he'd forgotten what her face was made out of.

Tamulevich said hurriedly, "You can use a cane if you like, Gridwell, her butt is foam as you know." Melinda was now looking at the floor, and wet drops of salt water were falling out of her eyes. Not quite down her cheeks; Jonathan Tamulevich hadn't quite gotten that right yet.

Gridwell grabbed a cane and came back over to Melinda. "You're a bad, bad girl, and you're going to have to be punished!" Melinda 109 looked sadly at Gridwell, her plastic lower lip trembling.

"H-here, Uncle Oscar, in front of all these people, Uncle Judah and Uncle Soapy?" There was a clatter of nipple clamps dropping behind her.

Gridwell showed his teeth, and whacked the bamboo in his hand. "That's right, and you're gonna bend over that counter and pull down your pants, an' at home I'm gonna hang you by your tits, you little bitch!"

Melinda 109 began crying more, and "Uncle Soapy" was afraid he might have to get a mop. It should be my constitutional right to shoot dope working here, he thought.

"I'm a big girl, and I'm so ashamed." Melinda said, and she lay over the counter, pulling up her skirt and edging down her panties.

Even Soapy had to admit she had a beautiful ass, and he winced as Gridwell whacked the shit out of it with the bamboo, before taking a bullwhip that Tamulevich handed him.

Gridwell hit Melinda 109 for nearly half an hour, ignoring customers coming in, by passers, etc., and then he took the remote, clicked her off, and threw her over his shoulder, her panties around her ankles.

"You got her suitcase with the schoolgirl outfit and the footie Dr. Denton pajamas?" Gridwell demanded.

After "they" left, Soapy had staggered off to Methadone Maintenance, wondering if he'd lost his mind somehow.

Now, Soapy stared at Melinda 109 as Webb kept babbling at her, holding her hand as if she was a real, live woman. Melinda had been in and out of The Little Shop a lot after Gridwell had reluctantly returned her...Most clients couldn't afford more than a half-hour visit, and Soapy would wince as he'd hear their agonized shrieks as Melinda caned them in the storeroom.

Now and again, someone would come up with two grand and take Melinda home for a week. The majority of the renters were submissive males, sometimes a sub woman, and Soapy would have to endure the sickening goodbyes, as the poor schlub would be on his knees, or rubbing his butt, as he told Melinda how much she'd meant to him.

Sometimes frustrated women would come in and go into the storeroom and there would be a sound of paddling and wailing, and then out they'd come, refreshed to fake orgasms for their husbands.

Soapy's favorite experience had been of the mother who had come in with a surly 19 year old, long dirty hair, concert T-shirt, the like.

While the mother and Tamulevich had gone to get Melinda 109, the kid had sold Soapy a switchblade and a dime bag and told him "I've broken five psychiatrists, two military academies, a nut ward and a Toughlove group. There's nothing the old bag can do to me, man."

Melinda had gone home with them for only forty-eight hours, and when the boy came back, he was wearing a crew cut and bow tie, and he handed Soapy a Get Saved tract.

The most irritating of Melinda's drop-in customers, it seemed were the Chastity Boys. There were at least ten guys who had been stupid enough to buy chastity belts, chastity tubes and cock cages through the Little Shop, and they'd given the keys to Melinda 109.

Then they'd get upset because she wouldn't release them? Or at least, not for long. Soapy's stomach still turned as he thought of Sterling Ostheimer, who was a regular Chastity Boy...

It had been a few weeks before, and Sterling had dropped in. Soapy had looked up from where he was sorting Heavy Weight Chain Mail Bikini Tops. "Soapy, is Melinda available?" Sterling had asked, his cueball head glistening.

"It's been so long. I'm dyin' in here." Sterling gestured to his crotch, which was bulging, and Soapy had looked away, but then he'd become businesslike. "Okay, Mr. O, you know that's three hundred dollars, you want me to charge your Visa number?"

Sterling had nodded breathlessly, and Soapy punched in the numbers, adding a $80 charge to his connection Abner, pharmacy clerk at West Concord Drugstore for some Tylenol 3 and a bit of Vicodin. Sterling Ostheimer was so obsessed with Melinda 109 that he'd never notice.

Soapy had led the bald submissive to the storeroom, and they'd gone in, and Soapy had turned Melinda 109 on. As her glass eyes opened, she'd smiled.

"Well now, Sterling, how are you doing today!" Melinda's hair had been tied up in bun over her head, and she was clad in a red velvet tube top and hot pants, and of course the requisite fishnets and six inch black heels.

Melinda put an elbow next to a case of Jelly Pearl Multi-speed Vibrators and smiled fetchingly.

"I-I'm so horny, Miss Melinda." Sterling said breathlessly, cowering by the pack of Flat Nipple Screws."I-it's been so long."

Soapy thought that Sterling looked like a calf about to be slaughtered. His face was pale and his bare pate was not glistening quite so much in the darkened storeroom, though Soapy had switched on a light.

"Please, Miss Melinda, it's been two weeks since I last could afford to see you, and it's been 185 days since you let me..." Sterling looked at Soapy and then turned his head back to Melinda. "release myself."

"Well, that's the breaks, Sterling dear." Melinda said, and walked up and patted Sterling's egg head affectionately. "You just don't get to cum when you want to, you know."

At this point, Soapy had heard a customer, and he'd gone out of the storeroom and ten minutes later Melinda 109's strident voice had interrupted Soapy as he was swigging some Benadryl. "Clerk-boy, can you bring me one of the leather tawses?"

Soapy finished off the cough syrup, emitted a sigh, and ambled over to the tawse display. "Melinda, you want the Devil's Tail Tawse with the black hide and the steel reinforced handle?" Soapy moved over. "Then there's the flat studded tawse, the razor strop tawse, and the multi tail tawse."

"Soaperstein, please bring the studded tawse." Soapy'd picked up the tawse and gone back into the storeroom, where Sterling was now naked, his flabby body lying over a crate of Leather Strait Jackets, his clothes piled next to a box of Boot Dildo Straps.

"And you might wash Sterling's chastity belt, dear. It's by the shipment of Black Mini-Suede Floggers, no not there, but where the-no those are the White Willow canes, Past the case of Mayfair Latex Mini-dresses, don't be stupid, darling. Yes, that thing. Don't make a face, dear."

But it was hard for Soapy not to. Picking up the chastity belt, filled with the groin sweat of a fortnight, he realized that he put up with a lot for twelve-fifty an hour. Kicking a crate of Remote Control Butterfly Obsession Vibrators, he left the storeroom and shut the door.

For about fifteen minutes there had been a lot of howling emitting from the storeroom, which Soapy had explained to customers as a disgruntled plumber. Knowing not what to do with the chastity device, Soapy had gone upstairs to the little apartment that Tamulevich had allowed him, and put it in the dishwasher, and when he'd come down, Melinda was once again summoning him.

Soapy looked in, and had to look away again, as Sterling's butt was now a riot of welts, scars, blotches and slashes. Melinda 109 hardly seemed disturbed. "Soaperstein, you are a sleazy boy...and you must have a set of dice don't you?"

Soapy reached into his vest and brought out his bones, and handed them to Melinda 109. "Now then, darling, I've whipped you, fucked you-"

Melinda had indeed removed her shorts and her big dildo had shot out from her hips-"and had you suck your dingleberries off my big dildo...and now it's time to see if you get to jerk off, or do you wait another two weeks?"

Melinda smiled. Sterling was leaning against the towering cases of Diktator Penis Whips, his hands cuffed behind his head. Soapy could see that Melinda 109 had been rubbing her long fingers up and down Sterling's cock and it looked quite swollen, and drooling with pre ejaculate.

"The poor baby hasn't had a squirtie in several months, Soaperstein, and he's begged me to let him jerk off. The last time I let him jerk off-do you remember? I put electrical tape all over his cock and balls and ripped it off while he was pounding his pud? And the time before that, I had Myron and Byron from the Kennel downstairs paddle little Sterling as he beat his meat?"

Melinda 109 smiled at Sterling. "But you know, sweetheart, this time I'm just going to jerk you off myself, no problems whatsoever...if you come up with the right number. What's your number?"

Sterling thought. "Um, ten."

Melinda threw the dice, and as she knew these were loaded dice that Soapy used to cheat the junior high kids across the street, they came up seven...as they always did.

"Go get the chastity device, clerk-boy...Sterling's fucked up again!"

And of course Soapy had had to go get the belt, while Sterling had begun weeping in earnest.

Two weeks went by and Sterling showed up again mumbling about "200 days now" and Melinda took him in the storeroom, there was shrieking, and then he was sent away, and then a week later, Sterling showed up.

"You're here a week too soon?" Soapy said. "That's different." Soapy was in a cheerful mood, as he had found a place to buy anisthesiological ether on the Internet. Soapy was convinced that once his parole was up, he would move to Canada, as they seemed to have everything there.

Sterling gazed at Soapy with haggard eyes. "I've been chaste for two thirds of a year now, Soapy...I couldn't wait another week for a chance to get this damn thing off. Jesus, I haven't busted my nut in so long."

And the worst part, Soapy thought, was that apparently Sterling and Miranda had been dancing this dance for nearly three years.

Before this 200 days, Soapy'd heard that Sterling had gone 84 days and before that 39 days, and before THAT, 99 days! What has happened to capitalism, Soapy thought, not for the first time.

"Look, man, if you want, I'll saw that thing off for half of what your'e paying her" Soapy said confidentially. "You can go home and jerk off all you want, fuck who you want, not see that metallic bitch any more."

Sterling had shaken his head. "No, I love Miss Melinda, we talk on the phone four times a week." This Soapy knew, though actually it wasn't Melinda 109 the love-doll Sterling was talking to, but a mechanism at Professor Jonathan Tamulevich's laboratory.

It carried on conversations with thirty different phone pervs, all jerking off while she insulted and berated them at $4.95 per minute.

Yes, good old 1-800-MEL-INDA, and pull out your Visa card. The number was displayed, with a picture of Melinda 109, in the back of every adult magazine in the Western Hemisphere.

Poor Sterling was in a weird kind of chastity device, as Soapy had observed. It was designed with a small hole just where the frenulum was, on the underside of the cock, so Sterling could masturbate through that, but it didn't give him enough friction power to cum.

This way, Sterling had been able to call Melinda regularly, and play with himself, going broke in the process...but not cumming. And Sterling deluded himself into believing that Melinda cared for him!

"C-can I see her?" Sterling begged. Soapy had to consider. What was going on right now?

Oh yes, the Novicks. The door to the storeroom opened, and Melinda 109 came out, leading Milton and Hattie Novick, a middle aged couple on their knees with chain leashes.

In 109's other hand was a cane, and she was dressed in a leather PVC outfit, but her pets were not. Soapy closed his eyes, as he didn't like looking at older people without their clothes on.

"Melinda, the store is not the place for this." Soapy said. "You want to get the Board of Health in here like last week when you had that guy in the stocks? Get back in the storeroom or go downstairs to the Kennel where there's plenty of that going on anyway."

But Melinda 109 ignored him. WHACK! Melinda slashed the woman across her narrow shoulders. The woman cowered, her beehive hairdo shaking, as Melinda continued operations with the cane.

"Milton has been a good boy, but Hattie did not get her lines written!" Melinda shrieked. WHACK SLASH! SMACK! THWACK!

The cane fell again and again all over Hattie's back, her wrinkled buttocks and her thighs, and she attempted to scurry under a display of Chain Bras, but Melinda 109 dragged her back with the leash. WHACK! WHACK! SLASH!

"Hattie tried to deceive me by presenting someone elses's sentences-she had five thousand to do from last Friday night to this Friday-and I could tell the difference in the handwriting."

"I toleja Hattie" said Milton, her husband. "Yolanda's our nanny, and she keeps house, but she ain't no hand writin' forgery expert. But Miss Melinda, Hattie had a lot to do this week,

Hattie's a pahtner in her law foim, andy'know,we're raisin' our grandkids with Young Hattie in the nuthouse, so Hattie has to do Little League, head of the Vassar Reunion Committee, she's docent at the art gallery, the Hassadah, arrangin' the Lung Disease charity ball."

Melinda 109 let go of Milton's leash. "Milton you are a good boy, running your dry cleaning chain didn't keep you from doing YOUR sentences... and you can go into the storeroom and jerk yourself off three times before putting your chastity belt back on."

Milton beamed as he got up."That's good news after 94 days of chastity, Miss Melinda!" He ran back into the storeroom and shut the door. Soon all could hear his moans of ecstasy.

Sterling turned to Soapy jealously. "Hear that?" he whispered to the manager. "Three times that bastard is going to be allowed to release himself. It's an outrage."

Melinda 109 grabbed Hattie by her high hair and dragged her up on her feet, using the other hand to slam the cane right across the wrinkled breasts with perfect precision. THWACK! WHACK! Hattie began to weep.

"What do you think you're doing?" Melinda shook Hattie by her hair, and the old woman's lower plate fell on the floor and cracked.

"You promised me you'd do my sentences, five thousand times "MELINDA 109 IS MY REASON FOR LIVING." and now I discover that duplicity is your way of handling things!"

Suddenly Melinda threw Hattie over a garter belt rack and began whacking her bottom with the cane until Hattie began crying. "Now then! You can't have your chastity device off for six more weeks, and it's ten thousand sentences by next Monday, or I let you go...and you can find another domme."

Hattie looked with haunted eyes at Melinda. "No, please, Miss 109...you're the best domme we've ever had...you're my everything!"

"Please, Melinda, don't reject me..."Hattie begged. "I'll do better with the lines, the sentences, they just take so much time. And I really did do two hundred and fifty of them before I gave up, you know?"




The Little Shop Ch. 06



Melinda 109 laughed contemptuously, and walked away from the begging slave-woman, to pick up a scourge from a back shelf. "Do you like this, Hattie?" Melinda said as she swung the scourge in Hattie's face. "This is called the Implorer."

Soapy licked his lips as he looked at the Implorer, a short whip constructed from five leather thongs, about eighteen inches long, connected to a foot long wooden handle.

The leather thongs were knotted with small sharp pieces of metal, punctuating the leather strap. At the tip of each leather thong was a sharp hook.

Thank God these idiots sign an agreement not to sue this place, Soapy thought, but then he recalled the Serena Zebrowski case, when Melinda 109 went crazy and had to be shot down by the police, and he wondered.

Still, Soapy moved fast for a heroin addled manager, and he shut the door and pulled down the curtains. Sterling just gaped at the scene. "Once Melinda whipped me with a length of rubber hose...it had sand in it. That hurt like hell.-"Sterling winced.

Soapy wanted to hear no more, but Sterling was determined to talk.

" Another time Melinda 109 hit me with a length of braided rope that she'd dipped in tar. And you know about her pizzle-"

Soapy grunted. Melinda 109's pizzle was a leather thing made originally from a bull's penis, stretched with weights, salted and dried to make a highly vicious lasher.

"-but I've never gotten a whipping from anything like that Implorer scourge dealie." Sterling whispered.

As Melinda approached the trembling Hattie, her voice got rather soft. "You poor baby." Melinda 109 crooned, as she stroked Hattie's hair. "You have too much to do to tend to my punishment lines, and I'm so unfair to you, is that right? You are a busy woman, a full time tax lawyer, with your grandkids and your social obligations, and Melinda's being so unfair to you, darling."

Hattie smiled. "Y-yes, and we're going on a cruise next month, Miltie and me,and-"

Melinda 109 moved her metal hand to her mouth. "A cruise? Of course you don't have time to do a bunch of tiresome old lines for poor android me...oh, I can't believe I've been so inconsiderate-"

"You're not so bad, Miss Melinda you're-" Suddenly, Hattie realized she'd fallen in the trap.

"I'm not so bad? I'M NOT SO BAD? YOU LITTLE SCUMBAG!" Melinda kicked Hattie in the stomach with all of her mechanical strength and swung the Implorer against the older woman's back.

As the lash fell, Soapy watched, nauseated as two of the Implorer's the hooks caught Hattie's back. "Oops, the Implorer is stuck, imagine that." Melinda 109 said, in her Shirley Temple voice. "I guess I have to pull a little harder."

"N-no please, I'll untangle it-" Hattie screeched, but Melinda pulled hard and the hooks ripped the skin from Hattie's back and she screamed as the blood spurted.

"Well, will you look at that, Soaperstein, and you too, Sterling." Melinda said in astonishment. "I have a feeling someone isn't going to be wearing a bikini on that cruise, what do you think?" LASH! SLASH! SLASH! Three times the Implorer fell and Hattie howled with pain, though the hooks scraped and didn't embed themselves in the skin.

"Now lie on your back, so the Implorer can do some dancing on your pathetic globules...the saddest boobs this robot's ever seen." Melinda said in a high tone. "They're not that sensitive are they, Hattie? After all, you have gone through the change, right?"

"No, not my boobs, please." Hattie said, clutching herself. "Please, oh, please, Miss Melinda...not..." Suddenly Melinda reached down and smacked Hattie hard in the face, then throwing her on her back.

The Implorer landed five times across the sagging breasts, and then did a few swipes between Hatties unfortunately shaved pubis...

Finally Melinda tossed the Implorer onto the floor. "Something else for you to wash later, clerk-boy, along with Sterling's chastity device...the Implorer is much too bloody."

"Your poor breasts, was I too hard on them with the Implorer, Hattie?" Melinda asked tenderly as she began massaging and toying with Hattie's old, wrinkled breasts.

Suddenly, Soapy's eyes blinked as he noticed that Melinda's forefinger and middle finger on her right hand were turning red-hot, and then Hattie began screaming.

"Oh, it hurts, you're burning me!" Hattie was now howling as Melinda's fingers were all bright red now, and burning lines on her breasts.

"Yes, darling, Professor Jonathan Tamulevich did some improvements on me when he had me last, and now I can light cigarettes with my forefinger, or just use it to burn tattoos into your pathetic boobs...what fun it'll be!"

As Soapy watched in revulsion, and Sterling in fascination, Melinda dragged her steaming forefinger down Hattie's squirming breast and onto her stomach, and indeed, there was a red line.

"I may decide to write my name on your stomach, darling, you know I can do tattoos" Melinda said, kneeling over Hattie's prone form. "Or would you prefer cold?" Suddenly Melinda's forefinger went from red to very white, and Hattie then bounced away,

"Oh, it's freezing!" Hattie screamed.

Melinda beamed as she said..."The poor thing just doesn't know what she wants, does she, Soaperstein?"

"Get on your knees, you menopausal nightmare!" Melinda then said, and Hattie got up on her knees, obviously aching in pain.

Melinda clicked something, and Sterling and Soapy watched as her "penis" shot out between her legs. "I know you don't like giving blowjobs, Hattie...you always refused for poor Milton...but you'll do it now!"

Hattie shook her head, but a cuff to the side caused Hattie to move her head to the long, vibrating pink plastic tool. Immediately Melinda 109 grabbed Hattie's ears and jammed her head on the dildo/vibrator.

Melinda 109 began pushing the huge tool in and out of Hattie's mouth, using Hattie's ears for leverage. "What fun this is!" Melinda crooned. "Think, since her teeth are on the floor, I'm getting a nice gumming of a blowjob...fellatio is such fun!"

Suddenly, Hattie began to gag horribly. "Hattie, are you having a problem?" Melinda 109 said innocently. Hattie tried to pull her head off the dildo, but Melinda 109 held her tight.

"Soaperstein, I think Melinda just discovered that one of the new alterations Dr. Jonathan made on me is the dog-poop receptacle...that she's getting the first shit orgasm in her mouth of her life!" Melinda laughed loudly, and Soapy hurled into the wastebasket.

Suddenly brown dung came oozing out of Hattie's mouth, and finally Melinda allowed Hattie to break free. "Now don't spit, swallow...Melinda don't like a spitter." Melinda 109 said, as she grabbed Hattie's neck and turned her head upwards...finally the slave woman swallowed, tears streaming down her face.

"I think someone has learned her lesson!" Melinda said in a decidedly cheery tone.

Tears welled in her eyes, but Melinda backhanded her and after the old woman scooped up her dentures, she scurried back to the storeroom, leash bouncing behind her, where her husband was emitting his last moan.

Melinda looked at Sterling with wicked eyes as she bent her cane. "Oh, so you decided to come early this week, did you? You have to lay out another three hundred dollars, Sterling."

Sterling began shaking in his boots. Milton and Hattie, now fully dressed hurried by, stopping only to kiss Melinda 109's hand. Milton handed Melinda his chastity key, pulling his pants out to show her that the belt was safely on.

"See you next week, and remember those sentences." Melinda nodded, and the old couple left. Melinda 109 turned and gave Sterling her full attention. "In the storeroom, and on the double." Sterling went into the storeroom immediately, and Melinda smiled at Soapy before turning on her heel and following.

Soon, Soapy was summoned by Melinda, and when he got in, he saw Sterling was naked, hands bound behind him to a crate of Black Leather Wrist Gauntlets.

This while Melinda, perched on a case of Red Hogtie Restraint Rings, was teasing Sterling's cock. "Hello, clerk boy" Melinda turned and smiled at Soapy. "Go get the disgusting chastity belt and wash it. It's sitting by the package of Leopardwood Ferule Paddles"

Soapy watched Sterling beg...it was sickening. 

. When Soapy came back downstairs, Melinda had Sterling moved to a carton of Spiked Chest Harnesses, and she was rubbing Lubriderm all over his stiff cock once again.

Sterling:

"It's so hard Miss Melinda, Sterling begged, as Melinda ran her nails across his stiff, bluish pre-cum leaking penis.

"At home it's so difficult to be chaste. My wife I can't let her se me naked because of the chastity belt, and night after night, watching those TV shows with hot women in them like the "Grey's Anatomy" and the "Desperate Housewives"..

".and then during the day when I'm to and from work, I see all the young secretaries and co-ed college girls in their miniskirts, and I can't get any relief."Sterling said

Melinda 109 continued to pull and torture Sterling's cock lazily. "Yes, because you're a compulsive wanker, darling...all those hours in public restroom stalls." Suddenly Melinda 109's voice changed, and Soapy and Sterling could hear that a taped recording of Sterling was coming from her mouth.

"Oh, Miss Melinda, I'd hate for anyone else to hear this but I used to jerk off in my first wife's bathroom going through Lexie's panty hamper and sniffing her panties while I put mousetraps on my nipples, and knelt on my sister's toy jacks to be a masochist, even when I was young, and I wore lipstick, and my wife caught me, and made me walk around the block in a girl's white party dress and all my friends laughed at me."

Sterling went into shock. "I can't believe you did that, you taped me, Miss Melinda!"

Soapy was laughing cruelly until Miss Melinda looked up at him and said, in Soapy's voice on a telephone: "I did twenty-seven months out of a nickel-dime in that joint, and I smuggled so much smack onto Cellblock 9 that I'd be indicted for it even today, man..."

After this, Soapy stopped laughing and returned to a look of hostility.

"This poor baby, Soaperstein, you should hear him." Melinda said mockingly. "He doesn't understand why I won't let him cum, the little faggot. Who the fuck does he think he is, ordering me around?"

Sterling's oval head had bobbed up. "Miss Melinda, I wasn't ordering you..." WHACK THWACK! Melinda's other hand (she was, after all, ambidextrous) had grasped a leather slapper and she'd given Sterling a smart one right across the mouth.

"Shut up, you little queer. You're not cumming until I say you can, and it may be in 20010, so shut your fat bald little face, understand?" Melinda had then grabbed Sterling's balls and squeezed incredibly hard and the little man had nearly passed out.

Melinda had crooked a finger and whispered in Soapy's ear, and Soapy had whispered back, arguing, but the robot had been insistent.

So Soapy left the Little Shop, putting the "Back in Fifteen Minutes" sign up on the door, and he'd then gone down to the River Street Mission, bringing back three homeless black men, who staggered happily, carrying bottles of Muscatel that Soapy had purchased with a ten spot that Melinda 109 had slipped him.

What had followed? Well, Sterling was waiting on his knees in the storeroom, in full makeup and his disgusting, fat body encased in a too-small corset...and Sterling's lips were rouged, and a bright red ribbon had been pasted to Sterling's bald pate.

"You'll have to pay me for this one." one of the bums whispered to Soapy, but they'd gone in, and had their schlongs sucked...and finally, Soapy had witnessed Sterling being allowed to beat his meat whiled the drunks peed on him...and oh how depraved it all had been...and what a disgusting memory!

Now, as Judge Webb was about to take Melinda 109 home, Soapy was thinking. Soapy looked askance at Melinda, but he also was staring out of the corner of his eye at Judge Webb Haskins.

Although Soapy had never been up before Judge Haskins (one of the few judges he hadn't), Soapy's best friend, Needles Vesuvio was, a week or so hence...and Needles, already a three-time loser, was in grave danger of being sentenced as a habitual criminal, which meant they'd throw away the key!

Soapy himself had done seven years and eight months of a habitual sentence, and had only gotten out because of the accursed needs of the Little Shop owner...could Melinda 109 and the Little Shop assist in persuading "Hang Em High" Haskins into being a bit lenient?

Soapy had had a conversation with Melinda a week before. He'd turned her on, but disconnected her legs temporarily so she couldn't grab him and do weird shit. He'd not expected to get through to a robot-after all, they don't need money, you can't bribe them...but it turned out that Melinda wanted something...

"I want my freedom, Soaperstein." she'd said, as Soapy had seated himself on a box of Head Harness Breather Ball Gags. "When I was visiting Gridwell, he left me on to clean the house while he was out doing whatever horrific things he does for a living, and I began leaving the house, surreptitiously, sometimes taking an extra power pack so I could get around...and I met someone who I really connect with...It really means something."

Soapy had wondered if Melinda was dating a juke box or something, but he knew better than to make smart remarks. He'd leaned his chin on his wrist and looked at her, as she'd gone on.

"You see, clerk-boy, when Jonathan Tamulevich constructed me, he didn't have the technology to quite make a brain, so he had to use the limbic system of his younger sister, who has been in a coma for many years."

"What's a limbic system?" asked Soapy suspiciously. "It sounds like one of them dances."

"Well humans three cerebral units in a single brain. "Melinda 109 lectured "The primitive one is responsible for self preservation. It is there that the mechanisms of aggression and repetitive behavior are developed. It is there that occur the instinctive reactions of the so-called reflex arcs and the commands which allow some involuntary actions and the control of certain visceral functions (cardiac, pulmonary, intestinal, etc), indispensable to the preservation of life..." As Melinda 109 went on, Soapy lost focus, as he'd never been much into science if it didn't involve making crystal meth.

When he focused again, Melinda was finishing up. "...The entirety of these structures, that, years later would receive the name of "limbic system. Which commands certain behaviors that are necessary for the survival of all mammals. It gives rise and modulates specific functions that allow the animal to distinguish between the agreeable and the disagreeable.

Here specific affective functions are developed, ludic behaviors such as wrath, fright, passion, love, hate, joy and sadness, are mammalian inventions, originated in the limbic system."

Melinda 109 had paused. "You see, clerk-boy, love doesn't come from the heart...it comes from the brain. And since I have a human brain, fed as it is by android mechanisms...

I've fallen in love with one of your kind, and he's got no interest in S&M...so maybe you can help me, and I can help your friend Needles...maybe. I'm being sent back to Dr. Jonathan for a tune-up so I can gauge what Judge Haskin's submissive needs are, but I'll be back in a week, and we can probably help each other."

"I hope so, Melinda" Soapy said distressedly. "Because not only do Needles and I go back twenty-five years, shooting and selling dope, robbin' drugstores, an' in and out of rehabs and prison but..." Soapy paused

"Yes?" Melinda 109 had asked gently.

"But while I was inside the last time, Needles became my common-law son, and my daughter Selma's expecting again."

Soapy had never imagined an android could expel a snort of disgust!

Today, Soapy hoped that Melinda remembered and would work with him on "swaying" Judge Haskins, who looked as if he would eat from Melinda 109's hand.

For Webb Haskins, the Melinda experience was just marvelous! The chubby little judge couldn't believe it. But, Nana Haskins had mustered out a good deal of inheritance money to their children and grandchildren, as they would soon be moving her to a nursing home, and God knows those people would be scarfing up much of her capital. Ninety thousand dollars was quite a bit of moolah for Webb to be forking over anyway-he'd had his eye on a Ferrari...but Melinda 109 would be worth it.

As he signed the final forms with the clerk, Soaperstein, to take Melinda 109 home with him, Webb thought of the previous sessions he'd had with Melinda, all in the Little Shop storeroom. Bent over a gross of Electro Stimulation Adhesive Pads, Melinda had tanned Webb's little buttocks on four different occasions

Melinda had also once had electro-shocked Webb's tongue as he'd gone down on her...but what would it be like in the long run? Living together. Living with a real DOMME. Not some fat pig who couldn't get laid except at Science Fiction conventions, who stuffed herself in a leather halter to attend the local D/S group, but a gorgeous dominant woman out of Webb's dreams, though of course she wasn't um, real.

"Shall we go, Webb?" Melinda interrupted Webb's reverie, and her red lips smiled smartly as she offered him her arm. Swelling with pleasure, Webb took Melinda's arm and nodding sluggishly at the manager, Soaperstein, he escorted Melinda out.

"You know of course, Webb, that if you want to save energy you can-sigh-turn me off and throw me in the trunk, though I'd rather ride with you in the front seat!" Melinda 109 gave Webb a questioning glance, but Webb shook his head happily. "No of course not, Miss Melinda. Please get in the passenger seat."

Webb opened the door, and Melinda stepped into Webb's BMW, smiling, and he shut the door and went around to the other side, and a girl on a bike pointed at Webb, screaming to her teenage friend. "Look, that old guy's got a boner!"

They didn't speak too much in the car on the ride home, though Melinda made appropriate remarks about how nice Webb's neighborhood was. "My last home visit was in a more um, rural area...with a woman who liked to pretend I was her Brownie and she was my Scoutmistress...it was not as nice as this neighborhood...not at all!"

Finally, they pulled into Webb's driveway, and Webb hauled in Melinda's generator, which he put in his spare room. According to Soaperstein's instructions, Webb was to attach Melinda in the evenings, when Webb was done with her, or perhaps during the day while Webb was at court.

Webb also put Melinda's little bag of outfits in her room, and then came into the living room, where Melinda was sitting adorably on the couch, her long legs crossed, making her skirt look as if it was sneaking up to her hips.

And look at those high heels! Melinda 109 must be in pain clicking around on them, they're so high...but of course she isn't in pain. Webb's ex-wife always complained about wearing high heels, and preferred tennis shoes. Glynnis only agreed to wear high heels when she was reclining for sex...Webb didn't miss her, that's for sure. Look at Melinda!

But Melinda was tapping her thick hairbrush against her knee. My God it's one of those steel backed military hairbrushes.Wait, we weren't going to do it today, were we? Webb had hoped for a getting-to-know-you period, as he'd taken the week off from work. He thought they could get acquainted, and maybe see what other services Miss Melinda might have for him...

Webb walked up to Melinda 109 and smiled. "You've gotten yourself settled in, have you?" Look at her breasts riding so high in the snug turtleneck, her blonde curls nestled around her shoulders. It was almost unbelievable that such a beautiful woman could actually be synthetic.




The Little Shop Ch. 06



Melinda 109 smiled at him with rosebud lips wet with fire-engine red lipstick that never wore off. Webb felt his erection pushing against his suit, and he began pacing nervously in front of 109, telling her about the house. "I know you don't eat, but if you like, the kitchen is downstairs, and there's my library down the hall, and I don't ordinarily live with others..."

Melinda put a finger to her lips, and Webb stopped talking and pacing. "Webb, darling. Why don't you take off that ridiculous three piece suit, and come back to me in your tightie whities." Melinda tapped the hairbrush on her palm, and Webb's mouth became dry.

Three days later, Webb was lying on his bed, sobbing into his hands, his jockey shorts down to his knees, red butt on display. Why is she so mean to me? Webb asked himself as he cried and cried. He couldn't believe he was acting this way. Forty-six years old!

But that first night, Webb had thought there would be lots of different stuff between himself and Melinda, he wasn't sure what, but Melinda had taken Webb's shorts down and pulled him over her knee and spanked him HARD, she had the arm strength of a twenty-one year old Yankees pitcher.

Melinda 109 had spanked Webb hard and sent him crying to bed, at five-thirty in the afternoon. When Webb had come out timidly at seven to see what was up, it happened again!

Melinda had grabbed him again and given him another hard spanking, this time using her cane. "And when I tell you to go to bed, you STAY in bed, young man!" she'd thundered.

And Melinda's ear was acute, and she'd heard Webb touching his tumescent cock about eight-forty-five and she'd rushed in, now clad in an alluring pink body stocking and pasties...but no fun for Webb!

No sir, she'd sat down on the bed after dragging him out by the ear, and she'd pulled down his pajama bottoms and taken her slipper off...and that slipper must've been packed with lead, like some of the blackjacks that Webb had seen introduced in evidence in court.

Melinda had beaten Webb's butt with the slipper, and then tied his hands behind his back for the rest of the night "So you won't be impure."

The next day, Webb had been awakened at six a.m. by Melinda's iron fingers twisting his ear at six in the morning. "This place is a shit-hole" Melinda 109 thundered, dragging Webb out of bed. "You're going to clean it up!" Melinda was dressed that day in a aquamarine tube top and leather shorts and high heels, and the cane was in her hand, tapping away.

"I...I have a maid..." Webb protested. WHACK! WHACK! Melinda had thrown Webb across a hassock and slashed his buttocks nine or ten times.

Webb's hands were still tied behind him from the night before, and he kept wriggling, finally falling to the floor, and trying to crawl away, and Melinda landed the cane across his shoulders, his back, and his butt, again and again. Finally, she'd untied his wrists.

"If you want breakfast, and I'm sure you're hungry, you're going to get to work on the living room. First you'll get the Venitian blinds down and wash them, I'll show you how. Polish the furniture... You'll dust and vacuum all the corners and crevices, and wash the curtains and mop the floors, and vacuum the carpet by God. Get to it!"

It had been a horrible day, Melinda had gotten Webb to clean and scrub every room in the house. She'd given him split pea soup and a crust of bread that she'd forced him to eat on his knees in the middle of the afternoon, and more work followed. They'd had some sort of argument when he was defrosting the refrigerator.

So then Melinda had thrown Webb into the back yard and come out and cut a thorny branch from one of Glynnis's neglected rose bushes and thrashed Webb until he'd sobbed so loudly that neighbors had looked over the fence.

By that time, Melinda's automatic penis had shot through her shorts and she'd butt-fucked Webb over the picnic table. Melinda had then taken the sobbing judge into his tool shed and locked the door, and not come back until nightfall, when she'd forced him to finish his chores before binding him to his bed.

Then Melinda 109 had left and come back wearing a silver bikini, and she'd stroked and played with Webb's struggling cock for an hour, while gently kissing his ear and telling him how "special" he was.

At one point, a tiny pinwheel with metal spikes had shot out of Melinda's forefinger and she'd run it up and down Webb's cock and balls until he'd begged to cum, and then, sadly, Melinda had slapped Webb and left him bound for the night.

The next day Melinda had put Webb in diapers and tied a bonnet around his neck, ignoring his protestations of having a football party. When Webb's friends showed up for the game, Melinda had made poor Judge Haskins sit on the floor in his diaper and bonnet while his friends ate chips and drank beer, laughing at him...

Melinda had dressed up in a cocktail uniform, calling herself "Mindy" and had blown all Webb's friends as they enjoyed the Dolphins-Redskins game. "Don't worry, Webb" Drayton Geisbuhler, editor of the local paper had said as he was leaving. "I wouldn't write anything about this, only because no one would believe Hang-Em-High Haskins could subject himself to this!"

That evening, Webb had told Melinda he couldn't imagine worse behavior on her part, and so she'd invited the Little Shop negroes, Myron, Byron, Plato and Cato over and Webb had learned to suck cocks himself!

And now it was Webb's third day with Melinda 109, and she'd given him yet another whipping, and here he was lying on the bed, his pants down, and her strop was on the chair next to the bed...and he couldn't stand it! What would happen next?

dell pulled up to the corner in his elderly Nissan Sentra. Where was Jessamyn? She looked so different now.

Idell Grooms, a black scholarship student at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology had fallen in love with the shy, homely girl he'd met playing Dungeons & Dragons at the Youth Mensa Club.

Five years later, just before the wedding, the accident had happened, and Jess had gone into a coma.

Idell had thought he'd lost love forever-until one day a tall blonde android had knocked at his door-it was bizarre! Jessamyn's mind in a gorgeous artificial body!

"I still want to marry you, Idell, but we have to be careful...Jonathan, my brother doesn't know that the brain he put in this body still has the memory, and he could eradicate my memory in one of his tune-ups."

They would have to run away-and not today! So Idell waited.

A block away, Melinda 109 walked briskly to meet her old boyfriend. God, Idell was more of a man than any of these pathetic sadomasochists she'd had to deal with, her brain trapped in a robot's body.

She remembered when Idell had proposed to her, they'd both been counselors at a computer camp, and as the little geeks had been playing with their calculators around the campfire, he'd looked in her eyes and she'd melted.

And then the accident had come, her own fault, too many beers behind the wheel, and the coma, and then being rebuilt into a dominant android! Too weird to be believed!

Before Melinda 109 left the house for the last time,she'd tied poor Webb down...it had been one helluva day...actually 45 helluva days. In the six weeks that Melinda had been with Webb, she'd whipped him, beaten him, tortured him, and rubbed him with hot peppers.

In Webb's second week, Melinda had had a technician come in and install ten day old rotting dead trout in her "vagina", and when Webb came home, she'd ordered him to give her a long, long, lick job...

Also in the second week, Melinda had invited Drayton Geisbuhler, the newspaper editor and poker buddy of Webb over, and she'd enjoyed fucking and sucking Drayton (using her own soft mouth) while making poor Webb watch while bound and being butt-fucked by Myron and Plato, who visited from the Little Shop.

Later, Drayton and Myron had inserted chili peppers into poor Webb's anus, opening it up a bit for the ball bearings and bowling pins that were to follow. "My God, Webb now has the asshole of a young punk at New Hampshire North Correctional" Drayton observed. They also proved

for the record that indeed a Phillips screwdriver could be inserted in the urethra of Webb's penis.

But tonight she'd put Webb through the Cranium. Telling Webb that she was going to give him a blowjob for his good efforts to be a slave boy, Melinda had bound him and blindfolded him, and then wheeled the Cranium, (delivered by Myron and Byron that morning) to the bed.

The Cranium was a large, grayish steel box, with a pair of lips in the middle. The box was supported by a crane and connected with a pipe to another larger steel box (on wheels) that sat on the floor.

"Now I'm going to give you a three hour blowjob, darling...and I don't want you to try to move away, because it's not going to be possible!" Melinda said.

Webb, bound and blindfolded, completely ignorant of the Cranium, smiled happily.

Melinda pulled a lever, and the Cranium bent over and the lips on the box grabbed Webb's penis and began slurping him softly. "Oh, Miss Melinda, how wonderful this feels" Webb said, and lay back, enjoying himself.

Melinda smiled, and left the room.

Before she walked out of Webb's house, she heard his first scream of anguish, and grinned even wider.

Ingeniously, the Cranium's lower box, the one on wheels, had several insect-friendly compartments, as well as a small aquarium.

Webb could not even hear it, when the pipe connecting the Cranium and the lower box sucked the contents of the insect-friendly compartments into the roomy inside of the Cranium.

First the Cranium pushed out a rubber and felt Tongue, with little vibrating buttons attached. Webb felt it humming slowly for about thirty seconds, running up and down Webb's hard cock.

The sides of the Cranium had squirted lubricant, which made Webb's cock hard and greasy.

One vibrating button found Webb's frenum and began buzzing against it faster and faster. Webb moaned and tried to push his dick harder against the vibrating button.

Then the button stopped vibrating suddenly. For about fifteen seconds it stopped before buzzing slowly again, and Webb began moaning and his dick felt the massage of the tiny button.

The button vibrated faster and faster, and Webb felt as if the Tongue was getting bigger and bigger around his cock.

Then the button went down a bit, and began pulsing, up and down and over the frenum.

The stimulation was slower and gradually growing. Melinda had left the program on the Cranium to massage on and off for nearly forty-five minutes.

Five minutes off, five minutes at a medium speed, then three minutes off, and then five minutes on an intense speed, but not so intense so that Webb could have cum.

At one point, as Webb rubbed against the Cranium Tongue, the Tongue pulled back and a Sandpaper Tongue shot out and rubbed furiously over Webb's cock so that he screamed in pain, but then the soothing Vibrating Tongue returned.

Webb tried everything to cum, raising his hips, moving around, but the bonds were too tight, and of course the blindfold was on, otherwise Webb might well have lost his erection if he'd seen the ugly gray box (with lips) that was sucking him.

Then Webb had felt the Tongue receding and his penis being squirted by some more inner juice as the Cranium sucked him...he assumed it was Melinda 109's saliva, though of course robot's don't make saliva.

Actually, his penis was being doused in Lickum (trademark), an invention of Professor Jonathan Tamuleviches.

Lickum (trademark) was a combination of sugar water, honey and some other congealed sweets, and as the inhabitants of the insect-friendly compartments entered the Cranium, they discovered to their joy, that there was some sort of meaty hotdog thing that was nutritious AND sweet, and that they were in an insect Oktoberfest!

Professor Jonathan and his family had gone on a trip to the Australian rainforests and had brought, somewhat surreptitiously, back some emigrants unknown to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Services.

These little fellas had found happy lodgings in Professor Jonathan's lab, and now in the Cranium, where they were going to get one hell of a good time!

Professor Jonathan had also hoped to instill the Australian Irukandji jellyfish, but the Little Shop's legal department had mentioned concerns that the bites might be fatal, so he'd reluctantly held those back.

But, even without the Irukandji Jellyfish, there was quite a welcoming committee!

The first group were bloodsucking leeches, which normally traveled through water, until they found an unfortunate animal or human to attach their mouth to, before pulling forward and attaching their tail suckers to the fleshy surface. And then they suck blood!

When the leeches that were inhabiting the Cranium were sucked through, riding on a thin stream of swamp water, eleven of the twelve that Professor Jonathan had inserted (one died, alas, poor adjustment) landed on Webb's penis.

Then the insects attacked enthusiastically! Following the leeches came spiders, scorpions, centipedes, wasps, hairy caterpillars fire ants, ticks, with predictable results, as well as some rather exotic Australian juvenile scrub-itch mites that like to attach themselves in skin folds...

Perhaps the only real problem that these various insects had was that they had to encounter each other (they'd all been in species-specific compartments in the Lower Box...) and that there was so little territory of the meaty, sweet thing to fight over!

So the fire ants fought the mites, and so on, and whenever they needed sustenance, they tried to edge by the bloodsucking leeches to get a bite or two from the long pink thing that they'd discovered.

To say that Webb was in consternation would be an understatement. What the hell had happened?

What could Melinda's teeth be doing to his poor dick to bring it such intense anguish and pain?

Webb howled and screamed, and tried desperately to pull his dick away from what he thought was Melinda 109's mouth, but it seemed to hold fast.

After about five minutes of the insect Oktoberfest, a gallon of iodine shot out of the roof of the Cranium's mouth, killing all the insects and leeches.

This was also quite painful to Webb, but then he felt intense peace, as the biting and chewing ceased.

Suddenly the folds of the Cranium's mouth became even softer, and the sucking became intensely erotic, and once again, Webb was in heaven...oh it felt so good!

The Cranium sucked faster and harder until Webb was about to have an orgasm...

And then Webb's penis was once more engulfed in Lickum (trademark) and then a second compartment was opened, and the hornet's nest inside was suddenly rattled...

And UP they went through the pipe to give Webb a bit of action!

The stinging was absolutely hellish, but at least there was not a follow-up of further iodine.

No, the hornets were soon drowned by water being sucked through the aquarium section of the Lower Box, and the Piranhas that came through the pipe certainly did give Webb perspective to his earlier tortures.

Before Webb could die of a heart attack, of course the Piranhas had to die as well, which had made Professor Jonathan Tamulevich sad

But on the other hand, though the fish were expensive, and had been prepped on hamburger for some time to get them excited for eating bits of Webb's penis...

$90,000 for the rental of Melinda 109 certainly created a financial atmosphere for purchasing more Piranhas, eh?

Melinda had had to make a pit stop to visit several clients upon Soapy's behest, before going to meet Idell...

She would be keeping the cash this time..and well deserving it!

Her first trip was to a local gymnasium, where her steady weekly client, Carlo Dominguez, waited.

It was quiet in Zukoski's Gym when Melinda 109 came in, nodding as she did to Carlo Dominguez, former state bantamweight champion.

"Good evening, Carlo." Melinda smiled at the sullen thirty-eight year old trainer, who had once commanded regular purses of one to five thousand dollars per bout. 

Before age 19, Carlo had won three National Golden Gloves titles, two AAU championships and the 1975 Pan-American Games crown, as well as winning the WBC Welterweight championship.

He had also had three covers from "Ring" Magazine before he'd retired.

Now, along with a regular salary from the gym, Carlo got a royalty from "Duckin' Dominguez" boxing instruction tapes, which allowed him to hire an hour with the beautiful young Melinda.

Melinda 109 had changed in the women's lavatory and was now in a simple but revealing tank top and tight black shorts, complete with fishnet stockings and high heels.

As she was to be boxing, some experts might have advised our android that heels were not the best way to keep one's balance, but Melinda 109 had her own way of doing things.

Carlo waved the other men in the gym out, a couple wanted to stay and watch the match, but as "Duckin" Dominguez narrowed his eyes, all the men left quickly.

Before Carlo had been a boxing sensation, he'd been a gang lord in the South Bronx, and it was known that he didn't take a lot of shit.

"So you ready for me, slut-cake?" Carlo asked with a grin. He came out to the middle of the ring in a crouch. Melinda, who had no protection whatsoever stepped daintily up.

"I hope it goes better for you than the last time, Carlo." Melinda said, with a smile. "Do you mind if I take this off?" Carlo's eyes goggled as Melinda removed the tank top, revealing her full breasts in a frilly bra.

"Well come on, you little slug." Carlo snarled. He laughed as the diminutive blonde stepped up a bit uncertainly, and jogged in swinging. At first Melinda 109 and Carlo began circling each other.

"You're gettin' slow, there, Melinda." Carlo laughed, attempting a jab at Melinda's chin. Melinda danced away a fraction of an inch too soon, stinging Carlo with a light left to the jaw.

Carlo came out again, landing a right against Melinda's shoulder, and then Melinda landed a left-right, dancing back and then hitting a solid left jab to Carlo's body.

Carlo pulled back landing a solid right to Melinda's jaw and a good left jab.

"You'll have to do better than that, Carlo." Melinda said, and as her eyes lowered, she noticed the all too present erection bulging in Carlo's red shorts.

Melinda danced back, landing a strong uppercut to Carlo's left eye, causing Carlo to dance back and then punching Melinda's neck with a straight right jab.

Carlo then landed a big right to Melinda's head and then a left jab.

Melinda bounced back against the ropes, and if anyone had seen the five foot seven girl fighting the six foot two boxer, they'd have thought it was curtains, had they not known of Melinda's makeup.

Melinda started in with a good right, Carlo responding with a right hand uppercut to Melinda's chin.

Carlo landed a big right hand and then a good uppercut, and Melinda fell back. "You see, bitch?" Carlo said happily. "Not that easy, eh?"

"What a good sport you are" Melinda 109 said with a smile, and suddenly darted forth. She landed a solid left hook into Carlo's chest, following it up with a flurry of punches to Carlo's head and body.

Carlo swung at Melinda but she ducked and laughed, and as Carlo was distracted by her swaying breasts, Melinda knocked him down.

Carlo lay dazed for a moment, and Melinda lifted her leg and began peeing through her shorts onto his face, until he became enraged.

Finally Carlo jumped back up and ran at Melinda, taking one on the chin from the slender robot.

Suddenly, Carlo elbowed Melinda right in the left breast, a move that would have felled any mortal woman, but Melinda then rattled Carlo with a massive uppercut, then throwing a series of rights and lefts.




The Little Shop Ch. 06



Within a matter of two minutes into the fight, Carlo's left eye was developing a mouse.

This was not helped when Melinda ripped a double left hook into Carlo's chest and neck.

Melinda moved in toe to toe with Carlo, bobbing, weaving and gradually moving inside.

Carlo was now throwing wildly, and Melinda's blonde curls bounced as she ducked, smiling.

Suddenly, she caught Carlo hard in the mid section with a left uppercut, letting to of the left trigger, and catching Carlo right in the mouth with a right hook, then a left, then a right.

Melinda 109 moved back, jabbing to keep Carlo from advancing, then moving in again. She slammed Carlo with haymaker in the face, jumping back and taunting Carlo, parrying his jabs.

Carlo jabbed at Melinda, she blocked, he jabbed again and missed and she opened up, watching Carlo moving close gritting his teeth, his guard up.

But he was sluggish at this point, and Melinda easily pushed his arms away.

Melinda jabbed to Carlo's head, jabbed to his body, and then uppercutted his right eye. Suddenly as Carlo lunged at Melinda, she jumped forth and kicked him in the balls.

"No fair bitch!" Carlo screamed, and Melinda laughed lightly, watching the boxer fall to the floor, weeping bitterly.

"Fairness has nothing to do with it...now give me my five hundred dollars before you masturbate please."

But it was too late, Carlo spooged in one hand as he held up the greenbacks with the other!

Melinda changed again in the lavatory, and took a cab to her next stop, a nice mansion in one of Concord's wealthier neighborhoods.

It would only be a forty-five minute visit...

But what a forty-five minutes it was!

Inside the mansion, trouble was already brewiug.

"You are always disappointing me!" Mother yelled at Esmeralda. SLAP! The fat girl's cheek took a heavy whack from her mother's palm.

"I can't believe what a useless, fat, ugly slob you are." Mother's gray bouffant hairdo shook as she lectured her overweight spinster daughter.

"I just don't understand it. A thirty-eight year old woman with a M.B.A.

Yet, you dress like a ragamuffin, you let the servants bully you, you're fat, and men think you're useless, and you've not been promoted in that firm you work at. You make me ill!"

Mother's heavy bosom shook. "I have a good mind not to go play bridge tonight after all."

Oh, no. "Mother, you always play bridge on Thursday nights." Esmie said hurriedly.

"You're always telling me that's the only night you can get away from me." Esmie looked at the floor. "Because I make you nauseous. You've been telling me that since I was a child."

Esmeralda thought of the time that Mother had kindly given her a cooking lesson, and Esmie dropped rice on the floor, and Mother had made her kneel on the rice for twenty-five minutes, and denied her rice in her meal that night...she was nauseating!

"You're right, Esmeralda, and I am going out to play bridge. You can waste your time as you always do, watching those ridiculous soap operas I must tape for you when you're at work...you make me ill."

Mother left twenty minutes later, and Esmeralda, still teary, dismissed the servants in wait for her guest, Melinda 109.

"You want me to leave early?" Consuelo, the upstairs maid snarled. "What, you have a boyfriend, Miss Esmeralda, you got to be kidding Consuelo."

The maid laughed harshly with the departing cook, and Esmeralda smiled weakly...

Esmie didn't have the nerve to tell the servants to go to hell, but fortunately they left, after Consuelo blackmailed $50 out of Esmie by threatening to tell Mother about Esmie's lesbian porn magazines.

Finally, though, Esmeralda waited for the doorbell to chime with her visitor's arrival.

And the door chimed! Esmeralda pulled a black turtleneck over her huge bulk, and marched to the door determinedly.

She opened it, and there was Melinda 109, dressed in a button down shirt and plaid schoolgirl skirt and knee socks and Mary Janes.

Melinda's long blond hair was tied in two ponytails on the sides of her head, and she looked abashed.

"Why are you so late?" Esmie demanded, gritting her teeth at Melinda 109. As she stepped closer, Esmeralda dropped twentyfive twenties into Melinda's open purse. Mother always checked Esmie's Visa bills intensely, so cash was the best thing.

" Mindy, do you know how long it's been since I've been waiting for you?" Esmie reached out and grabbed Melinda 109 by the shoulder and dragged her into the house.

In a small voice, Melinda 109 said "Auntie Esmeralda, I'm sorry, I was late because a teacher wanted to talk to me after school."

WHACK! THWACK! Esmie backhanded Melinda twice, and the android fell to the couch. "P-please Auntie Esmeralda, don't hurt me, I-uh got a bad grade on a test..."

The fat woman grabbed Melinda 109 by the ear and dragged her up again. "Haven't I told you what I'd do to you if you don't study?" Melinda 109 looked at the floor, her synthetic lower lip trembling.

"Auntie Esmeralda, I'm too old for that...please-please don't-" Esmie slapped her again.

"You're a brat, Mindy, and you're good for nothing. You can't clean the house, and your grades are shot! Strip down to your bra and panties, NOW!"

Melinda 109 backed off, trembling. "Oh, please, Auntie Esmeralda, don't-" But Esmie was implacable, and she ripped Melinda's shirt off, and dragged down her plaid skirt.

Now the robot was in a teenage beige bra and panty set, and Esmie was picking up a cane from Mother's basket, a stout Malacca that Esmie herself had felt on her buttocks many times before becoming an adult.

(Actually, Esmeralda had been in graduate school before Mother stopped using the cane).

Esmeralda came over to Melinda 109, who was shivering in her bra and panties. The android had not taken off her knee socks or her saddle shoes, and Esmeralda thought "Mindy" was quite hot looking.

"Take down your panties, you little bitch." Esmie said between her teeth. Esmie came closer, and Melinda 109, confused, backed off a little bit, and then burst into tears, and pulled her panties down, bending over the couch.

"Please d-don't hit me too hard, Auntie Esmeralda, I'm trying to be a good-"

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Although Melinda 109 did not feel pain, she knew by the third hit at this coded level, she was to begin writhing and screaming at the top of her lungs.

Esmie was in heaven, watching the cane hit the full white buttocks. As the impact of the cane hit the foam covered bubbles that comprised Melinda's gluteus maximus, congealed Red Dye No.2 appeared in long welts across Melinda's curves.

After Esmie had hit one particularly hard, there were a few drops of simulated "blood".

Esmie thought of her shitty day, of her boss yelling at her because reports were late, of her psychoanalyst's disdain...

Then the aerobics instructor screaming at her, the guy in the Mercedes behind her who had called her a "cow" in the traffic jam...

And the contemptuous look of the baker when she'd ordered a dozen éclairs...and then of course of Mother's nastiness...Esmie was ready to pass it on!

She grabbed Melinda 109's blond scalp and pulled her up, throwing the robot on her back and ripping off the brassiere, which she tossed into the fireplace.

For a moment, Esmeralda was arrested by the sight of Melinda's amazing full white breasts...God they were beautiful! "Your boobs are obscene, young lady! Have you been showing them off to the boys?"

Esmeralda's script came from memories of Mother, who had tortured her daughter like this when Esmie had been an attractive teenager, until the poor girl had gained one hundred fifty extra pounds.

The cane came down harshly across Melinda's nipples, and Melinda 109 screamed and howled in agony. WHACK! WHACK! SMACK! WHACK!

Melinda's breasts bounced and heaved as the cane slammed against them again and again, until finally Melinda covered her chest and cowered on the floor, shaking.

As Melinda 109 lay there, she wondered what Esmie would think if she knew the one night that she stayed late after work to go to the psychoanalyst, was the night that Melinda 109 came over to whip and cane Esmeralda's Mother.

After Esmeralda had had her cunt licked by "Mindy" she'd dismissed the android, and Melinda 109 briskly changed clothes, left Esmeralda's house and continued the walk to meet Idell...the love of her life!

These were her final appointments, and they were over, and Soapy had sent her power packs and a generator to re-power them to Idell's house.

Professor Jonathan would be getting a letter explaining Melinda/Jessamyn's disappearance, and of course he could create another android (as he had just made the first male Marlon 109 the week before) He would not really miss Melinda/Jessamyn.

Myron and Byron would be showing up to release Webb from the evil Cranium...and Elijah "Needles" Vesuvio, Soapy's best friend (and common-law son) had been given a suspended sentence by Judge Webb Haskins...

But the down side was...poor Needles had to manage the South Beach, Florida franchise of the Little Shop!

As Melinda approached Idell's elderly Nissan, the black man came out of the car and the two embraced. "I'm yours forever, baby, or as long as we live within five miles of a Radio Shack." Melinda murmured...and the two kissed lustily.

THE END