Contract Modifications

by Tigger
copyright 2002

 

Part VIII

 

Chapter 27: Final Touches

It was after seven when Veronica finally arrived home from the office, whereupon the scent of something wonderful cooking in her kitchen made her smile for the first time since her little contretemps with Helen that morning. One thing was certain, she'd have to watch her enthusiasm for Ed's cooking or like Mary had teased, she'd soon really need those corsets for more than just a fetish fashion statement.

She looked into the kitchen, where she found a pot gently simmering, but no Ed hovering over it. Veronica was about to call out for him when the sound of a television or radio playing stopped her. Following her ear, she was soon at the door of her bedroom . .

Where she was stopped cold by what she found there.

The sound was indeed her television set, obviously playing a video taped 'how-to' lesson . . .

On cosmetology. . .

To a rapt audience of one Edward Davis who, seated at Veronica's own vanity, was successfully replicating the instructor's every move on his own face.

Had she thought about such a scene, she told herself, she would have expected his very best efforts to mirror those of a teenaged girl - all vivid color and no subtlety whatsoever - just like every other male she'd force-femmed in her time as a domme.

Ed's presentation, however, was anything but immature, and she realized she should have anticipated that. Edward Davis was, first and foremost, an artist. Brushes were brushes, and pigments were pigments - and if this new canvas on which he was experimenting happened to be a little bumpy here and there, well, he had more than talented enough to cope with that little challenge.

Obviously. He . . . she looked sleek, sassy, and sexy - extremely, well, pretty. Lord, Veronica thought, amazed, but he's going to be so much fun to play with once he gets his feet under him. The things she'd be able to do to and with him made her almost shiver in anticipation.

For a moment, she thought about announcing herself, but held off in favor of observing just a little longer. He'd purchased cosmetics somewhere, she noted, because none of those shades were on her personal palette - these colors more suited to a blonde than her own fiery locks and cream-colored complexion. Then, she saw the wig, resting on a stand - golden blond in a tight French braid, tied off with a large black velvet bow that would ride just at the base of the skull and would show either side of the face.

Her gaze went back to Ed, who was now applying lip-liner, and lost it totally - her laugh full and rich. "Oh, god, Ed, the look on your face!"

Ed nearly ate the brush when he jumped, spinning around to see her standing in the door. "VERONICA!" he yelped.

"And you were expecting?" she managed to get out.

He stared at her for a moment before beginning to chuckle. "I, ah, wanted to surprise you."

Veronica stepped into the bedroom and pulled his face to hers for a very thorough kiss. The sensation of tasting lipstick on someone else's lips was . . . mmmmmm, interesting - VERY interesting. Odd that she didn't know that, she mused, but then, her previous submissives hadn't often been kissed - at least not while they were scening and the sub was en femme. She decided she rather liked it - and was going to do it often from now on. At least she would with this sub-en-femme. "Oh, I was surprised," she assured him facetiously, "I most assuredly was!"

"The, ah, lady at the cosmetics kiosk at Macy's told me that this video would be just what my ummm,. . . daughter needed to learn the basics."

"Well, that's at least more imaginative than saying it was for your wife or girlfriend which is what my clients used to say when I'd send them out to buy panties or some such." She reached out and picked up a bright, yellow-colored book and read the title aloud, "'Make-up for Dummies'?"

"Figured it would be written so a dummy could understand it," he mumbled.

Laughing, she hopped into his lap and hugged him, "You lovable idiot. Now, want to tell me what this is all about?"

Surprise showed on his face. "Why, it's for the party," he told her. "I mean, I know that I've, um, worn this stuff before, with you and. . Marq, I mean Mary, but you put it on for me - all I could manage on my were the just little touch ups. The last time I was made to put it on all by myself? For Mary? I didn't do very well, and was punished for that."

"Ed, you should know better than that - even as a newbie. That was a classic, almost cliched setup for intentional failure. Heavens, Ed, you weren't supposed to do it well. . that was whole point of the exercise. You were SUPPOSED to fail so she'd have a semi-legitimate reason to punish you. It was just part of the game, darling."

"Game!? It sure as gumdrops didn't FEEL like a game! Games are supposed to be fun!"

Seeing the dragons lying in wait, Veronica chose her words carefully. "Ed, you know that Mary was . . . or more correctly, you know that Mary THOUGHT she was playing with you. As far as she knew, you were a fully consenting sub - one who was both ready and willing to submit to her. In her view of the world, you were someone who wanted to surrender your personal power to her; someone who then wanted her to exercise that power - mentally, emotionally, physically - over you. That you were not as she understood you to be wasn't her fault - not really.

"I. . . know that. . . now," Ed replied, his tone not quite certain.

"I hope so, Ed, because in her world - in MY world - that is a very important distinction. And just as importantly? If you had been who and what she thought you were? You would have known that it was a game, and you would have accepted and enjoyed that game."

"Well, I wanted to be good at the cosmetics so . . well. ." he didn't finish, but Veronica saw in his eyes what he wanted to say.

"So you won't be punished for poor performance at the party?" He nodded, eliciting a sigh from her. "Ed, if you go to the party, as a sub, you ARE going to be tested that way at some point in the evening - all the subs will be - at least once, and in most cases, several times. That's part of the deal. . . Part of the. . well. ."

Now she was hesitating, "Part of the . . what, Veronica?" he demanded softly.

"Part of the fun, Ed." She hugged him again before continuing. "At the most basic - most IMPORTANT level, this is supposed to be somehow enjoyable - for BOTH parties. Otherwise, it becomes abusive and that just plain sucks, as you have every reason to know. So, riddle me this. Are you expecting to have ANY fun at the dining-in, Ed? Really?"

He didn't answer immediately, which pleased her. A knee-jerk 'of course I am' or worse, 'No, but I'm going anyway' would have had no more validity than one of her clients promising to do 'anything for you, Mistress', when what they really meant was anything so long as they got off on that 'anything'. An intelligent woman understood the power of silence, and so, she used it, refusing to say anything until he did.

"I think," Ed finally began, "what I feel is sort of like how I guess parents with kids feel about Christmas. It's not really for or about the parents, but there's an anticipation there - good anticipation, but it's about how the kids will feel and how they'll react when the presents are opened. In this case, well, like I feel good about giving to you, even though I'm still, well, scared isn't quite the right word, but. . . Look, I know it sounds hokey as hell. ."

She put a single finger against his lips and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "No it doesn't sound hokey, love, it's sweet. Okay, I'm convinced - you're going to go to the party as my maid. There's just one problem, though."

"What's that?"

"You look far too . . . . well, far too good for your role at the party, lover. Your makeup is just too. . . too . . ." Frustrated, Veronica waved a hand about in the air as if trying to snatch just the right word from the ether, "Well, just too classy."

"Huh?"

"We need more and brighter color, less subtlety and shading. Think for a minute, Edie, you're going as a French Maid, not as a French gentlewoman of impeccable breeding and grace. Heavens, girl, but you need to be more. . .more . . "

Ed managed a weak smile as she continued to struggle for the right word that would both express her desire, and yet, not put him off the idea. Understanding, he gently caught her gesticulating hand in his own, and then said softly, "Slutty?"

"EXACTLY! The other Sisters don't expect the subs to be too classy - that's part of the game - and they sure as HECK don't expect sissy-subs to show up looking prettier than the Dommes. Subbies are supposed to feel 'inadequate', or at least, pretend that they feel that way. Here, let me show you what I mean," Veronica purred, as she reached for a tube of blood-red lipstick. "And then you can practice your waitressing skills by serving me that dinner you've got simmering on the stove." She rose from his lap and gave his face a close examination, using his chin to turn his head this way, then that. She giggled at what she saw. "You need to use a more lavish hand with that blusher, and, my lord, Ed, just how many colors DID you blend to get that effect with that eyeshadow? Much, MUCH too subtle for a sissy, but we can fix it."

~-~

It was strange how these things go, Veronica mused over her after-dinner wine. She'd come home, after a particularly unpleasant day - thanks in large part to Helen - and now, she felt mellow, and happy and . . . and loved.

Her impulsive little scene had gone well - in fact, better than well. Ed had looked so cute in his makeup, wig and heels, even if using one of her old housecoats as a maid's dress had left something to be desired for looks. Still, the split front had made . . . certain tease-able parts of his anatomy easily accessible as she pigged out on homemade chicken and veggie soup, and heaven help her, on hot, home-baked French bread served by her own almost-French maid.

Better still, she'd discovered that Ed had a heretofore undiscovered taste for over-the-knee spankings. Not that he was ready to admit it - still too shy to accept being aroused that way - but an erection is a hard thing to hide. Especially when the man with the erection is laying across a knowledgeable woman's lap for bit of bare-bottom attitude adjustment with a heavy, old-fashioned wooden spoon. A rather impressive display of basic male arousal, Veronica mused, utterly satiated herself. Almost as impressive as her new lover's natural oral talents.

For a day that had started out badly and then gotten only worse, the ending had been pretty good. Idly, she reached down to tousle Ed's hair as he sat on the floor, massaging out the knots earned by twelve hours in heels from her feet.

"You've been really quiet," he noted. "What's on your mind?"

She stretched like a cat, and then patted the couch cushion beside her. When he'd joined her, she stretched out, laying her head on his lap, mischievously pleased to find him still. . . on edge. Things were looking up, she thought before answering him. "Had a confrontation with Helen today."

"Oh? What did she want?"

He stroked her hair, a movement that brought his hands to her attention. "The promotion to my job," she admitted and then sidestepped by saying, "You'll need a manicure and polish job if you're still intent on the party tomorrow. Nice long girl-claws in bright, bright red, I think."

"Manicure," he replied, reaching over to make a notation on a small notebook, "Check. Now, what did Helen say that put those worry lines back on your face just now?"

Subs were supposed to take cues when the Domme gave them, she thought resignedly. "She made the point that the company and I would be better off if you stayed in charge of your team, at least until the Andrushka account is firmed up. Bad for me if the first big account we landed on my watch goes south, don't you know."

"If that's an issue for them, I can stay on for a few more months - even a year," Ed shrugged. "No biggie - certainly not if it helps you."

"It's big to me, cutie," she retorted. "You're mine, and I don't like long distance relationships. When I move, you move, buster."

"Yes, Mistress," Ed replied, in his most falsely obsequious tones. "Seriously, though, you know I'll help in any way I can."

"Just what I told Helen," she answered airily.

"Now, why," Ed asked the ceiling, "do I feel there is more to it than that?"

It was a measure of their growing closeness, Veronica thought, that he could already read her so well. Yet another difference between Ed and every other man with whom she'd shared herself. Sighing, she gave in and told him the rest. "She threatened to expose your 'fetishes' publicly - right after I told her she was no longer in the running for promotion. When I called her bluff, one thing led to another and she ended up giving her notice. I accepted immediately, and then offered her a very generous package to leave today. She took the offer."

"Ouch." Ed thought about that for a moment longer. "Had to be done, I guess, but you know? That exposure threat? It's not really all that much of a threat. I don't want your old job, and I'm not going to be with the company much longer anyway."

"You're sure?"

"Gonna kick me out after you've had your way with me?"

"NO! Besides, having my way with you is going to take more than a lifetime."

"Then I'm sure."

They lapsed into a warm, soft silence of togetherness. "You're determined to go, aren't you?" she asked much later. "To the dining-in, I mean."

"Yes."

"You'll need a costume, and I don't have time tomorrow to hit the thrift shops and costume shops for you." It was the last bolt in her quiver. "That means you'll have to go by yourself - try everything on, too."

And it missed. "Already taken care of," he assured her. "Should be here by ten am tomorrow."

"You know your sizes in women's clothing well enough to order something online?" she asked, her tone mildly sarcastic.

"No, I really don't," he admitted, equably, "But Mary does because she's already dressed me as a French Maid. I called her and she's having the outfit I wore on her island FedEx'ed up here for me."

"MARY? You're planning on wearing something from. . .from your experience. . .down there?!?"

"Well, you didn't give me much time, hiding that invitation like that," he accused, his tongue firmly planted in his cheek. "So, anyway, like I said, the costume is all taken care of - especially now that I've got the . . umm, nuances of make-up down."

"Oh, that's fine then," she replied, though her inflection indicated that it was anything but fine.

"I'll be fine. WE'LL be fine. Trust us, dearheart. I do."

~-~

"Mary," Veronica said into the phone, "Ed tells me you're sending him a costume for tonight's festivities."

"Why, yes. He called and asked if I still had anything that would suit and would fit him. Of course, I do - French Maid was one of the scenarios we had laid on for him. Is there a problem?"

Veronica thought about that, and sighed. "I guess not. I was going to use the old 'go out and buy your own outfit' line with him as a last ditch effort to get him to change his mind."

"It wouldn't, you know," Mary put in gently, "Change his mind, that is. He's in love, and he's determined. More importantly, it's what he wants with you."

"You're sure of that?" Veronica's tone was uncertain.

"His time with me . . . cost him," the older domme said thoughtfully. "Fear overrode everything else back then. A person can want the reward, but fear the required trial too much to make the attempt. Thanks to you, Verita, Ed's found the courage to challenge his fears again. In this case, the reward is that much more important to him, and that, Sister-dear, says a great deal about his feelings for you. Now, all you have to do is build on that trust, that connection, to bring him all the way back."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Oh, it's not simple at all, but you have three things going for you that score - trust, love and both your natural inclinations. You're a Sister, Veronica. That means you're one of the best. I think your man is, as well."

Veronica went silent for a moment. Perhaps it was simpler than she had thought, and began to relax. "Thanks, Sister," she breathed.

"De Nada, Sister. Now, you just go and have fun tonight, and make sure Edie has some fun as well."

"Oh, I will. . .now. And as for Edie? I think I know just how to do that now, too." Veronica dropped her voice into a husky, 'just-between-us-girls' range. "So, Mary, tell me about the dress. Ed gets all red in the face and tongue-tied whenever I quiz him about it."

Mary laughed at that. "Does he? How delightful for you, I'm sure. Well, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. In fact, I'm sure you'll enjoy it - very much. Ciao, darling. I have to go. I'll call you after my conference with Jack."

 

Chapter 28: Surprises Good and Bad

"Are you ready for me to help you with that corset?" Veronica called as she walked in on Ed. Then she stopped, surprised. "Why aren't you undressed?" she demanded. "It takes a lot more effort to get dressed up and spiffy as a girl. What's the problem?"

Ed looked up at her, confusion plain in his dark brown eyes. "The . . .the costume. .. it's not, well, not what I expected."

"Well, it will have to do, missy," Mistress Verita snapped. "Because it is all we have on hand for you - unless you've seen the light and don't want to go tonight."

"No. .. No," he responded, still somewhat off-balanced. "It. . . it'll be fine."

"All right, then - strip, shave and bathe - I'll be back in fifteen minutes to lace you up. See that you're ready! I've got a lot to do to get ready, too!"

~-~

"Ms. O'Hurley? Jack Webb here. I'm calling from my car. I should be there in an hour or so, if that is acceptable."

"Of course, Jack. Just come up to my suite when you arrive. Would you like something to eat while we talk?"

"That would be very welcome, Ma'am. See you in an hour, then."

~-~

Once she'd known where Veronica was going, and why, finding out the remaining particulars had proven a simple matter, Helen smirked. And with all that information to hand, crashing this little shindig would be just as simple because the security was designed to keep people out once the party began.

With her little overnight bag rolling behind her, Helen strode to the elevator confidently, her electronic room key in her hand. That was one very nice thing about conference center hotels, she thought, as the lift-doors whooshed shut. The right camouflage - in this case a dark blue pinstriped power-suit, killer heels and a travel case - and people just assumed you belonged there.

She took the elevator up to her room's floor - a room selected because it was just one level below where the dining-in would be held - and exited. She had time to get unpacked and finish her preparations for the evening's entertainments, and perhaps a little reconnoitering, too. Yes, that would be perfect. She'd take the elevator up to the floor where the dining-in would be held, and if anyone was already on scene, she'd just pretend she'd picked the wrong floor - and she'd still get an eye on how things were laid out up there.

~-~

Ed idly wondered how long the human brain could function without adequate oxygen, and figured he just might find out tonight. Still just a touch irate at his lack of punctuality earlier, Veronica had been more than a little ruthless lacing up the corset, but that was just as well. Any looser in the waist and he'd never have managed to close the fastenings on the dress Mary had shipped to him.

"Are you ready for me to finish your hair and make . . Oh, my goodness." Veronica's eyes were wide as she took in the picture Ed presented. Still open-mouthed, she made a circling motion in the air with her index finger.

Obediently, Ed performed a slow pirouette, careful to place each spike-heeled foot down solidly before shifting his weight. The dress was long-sleeved, tight and short-skirted, and made of glistening black satin. If Ed stood perfectly erect, and minced along in very small steps, the skirt would keep his black silk stocking-tops covered - barely, but any attempt to stride or worse, to sit down, and her sissy would be flashing garters. More of the believably lifelike prosthetic breasts gave more than a hint of cleavage through the heart-shaped cutout in the bodice. A frilly white lace collar graced Ed's throat, complete with a pink and white cameo. Matching lace lap apron and cap completed his ensemble.

"Goodness, Ed," she whispered, "You're STILL almost TOO pretty. Heavens, if I don't tell anyone, no one will know you're male. Wait a minute - you said this isn't what you were expecting?"

"Uh, no, it isn't. It's not what I wore at. . . at Mary's."

"Oh? What were you expecting?"

"That costume was made of, well, I think it was leather and rubber. The top was really tight and very stretchy . . . and it, uhm, . . . " Circles of color flamed through the foundation coating his cheeks, "well, it inflated."

"Inflated?" Veronica hooted. "You mean, up here?" Her hands went up to cup Ed's gently rounded bosom.

"Oh, gumdrops," he said, blushing. "It was like walking around with beach balls on my chest. The skirt was different too - longer - almost to my knees."

"My, I'm surprised. So modest?"

That earned a relaxing laugh from Ed. "Not hardly. It was leather, and it had three belts - one at my waist, one just below my bottom and the other at my knees. Once Marquesa tightened them, I couldn't move my knees more than three inches in any direction."

"A hobble skirt?"

"It, ah, also didn't have any back - my bare butt was hanging out for all and sundry."

"Sounds yummy!" Veronica teased. "Well, are you wearing undies with that skirt? You still had those ugly male things on when I put you in the corset."

"Uh, yes, I did. . am. . ah. . ."

"Show me, Edie!" the Mistress commanded.

"Uh, show you?"

"Yes, turn around, bend over and flip your skirts up for me. NOW!"

Ed, now Edie, complied - much to Veronica's pleasure and amusement. "A thong," she sighed happily. "A lovely, lacy, very-girly thong. And it leaves your cheeks," a quick swat smacked each, "So. . . impudently available. Delightful. Okay, enough fun. Let me finish your face, and then, sissy-maid, you can help me get dressed."

I'm so glad the lug was so stubborn about tonight, Veronica thought as she tied the makeup cape about Edie's neck. Tonight could be a good deal of fun.

~-~

Mary poured coffee for the two of them while her investigator laid out his files on the small table. "So, there's nothing suspicious about the Martin woman at all?" she asked. Mary had been sure that Helen was mixed up in this, particularly since Veronica had told her about the games the woman had been playing against Ed at the office.

Jack was silent for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, not really suspicious in this context - more peculiar, I guess."

"Peculiar? How so?"

"Well, it surprised me that someone who had done girlie shots was able to make it as a serious model."

"What are you talking about?"

The investigator opened a file and handed several photos to Mary. They were pictures of a mostly nude woman in bondage - of the type available in adult bookstores in the mid-to-late 80's. In the last shot, the face was fully visible. "My god, Helen Martin - fetish model and slave-girl," she breathed admiringly. The woman had a helluva body - and she was . . . so flexible.

"She was barely 18 when those were taken - typical story," Jack continued, breaking into Mary's appreciation of the pictures. "Young girl comes to the big city with big dreams but didn't get her 'big break'. Taking her clothes off probably paid the bills."

"She did get her break, though," Mary pointed out, riffling through the explicit pictures again. The bitch looked tasty in that hogtie - all that lovely long blond hair, too. "Eventually, anyway."

"She never made it to super-model status, but the woman who owned the agency she signed on with never seemed to mind her past. She became one of their top properties, and made a good deal of money in the process." The investigator consulted his notes. "That was the Hereford Agency."

"Hereford?" Mary repeated, her eyes thoughtful. "Hereford, Hereford. . .now why does that name sound familiar?"

"I couldn't really say, Ma'am. In any event, the owner, a Ms. Amelia Hereford. . "

"WHAT?!:" Mary gasped, her eyes suddenly wide in disbelief. "Do you say 'Amelia Hereford'?"

"Yes, Ma'am. That's the name of the woman."

"Brunette? About, oh, fifty - fifty five years old, now? Tall - with a little mole at the right side of her mouth?"

"Sounds like her, Ms. O'Hurley. Here's a picture of her. She's deceased now, by the way. Auto accident about five years ago. Right before Helen Martin retired as a model and came here to work."

"Oh. . my. . .god." Mary whispered, and then dove for the telephone.

No one answered her call.

~-~

No one had seen her when she'd slipped onto the floor where the dining-in would be held. Well-hidden in one of the many closets such places have in hard-to-find locations, she felt reasonably safe from discovery.

Unpacking her costume, she thought it was too bad that she couldn't disguise herself as one of the dommes, and thus have all those cute slaves waiting on her. Unfortunately, the Sisterhood was a very closely knit group. If four or more of them were gathered together in one place, each of them would be personally known by at least one of the other three.

It had been Amelia - sweet, loving, CLUELESS Amelia who had been one of the Sisters, and who had introduced her new slave girl favorite to the Delta of Venus. Just as it had been Amelia who had resurrected Helen Martin's modeling career for her. Still, for all her supposed scene and business smarts, Amelia had been dead easy to manipulate, and yes, to control. It had been the greatest stroke of good fortune to have caught the older woman on the rebound following the death of her beloved husband-slave. As a result, Helen's time with her 'Mistress' had been a textbook case of topping from the bottom, although Amelia had never realized it.

Too bad she'd gotten her stupid self killed in that car crash before Helen could convince her to elevate her favorite slave and model to be her business as well as her scene partner. That had cost Helen five years, and there had been nothing she could do about it. Well, she could do something about THIS little challenge.

She looked again at her costume. While a new, unfamiliar Sister at the table would definitely raise dangerous questions, one more French Maid wouldn't even be noticed. As far as these bitches were concerned, the more slaves the merrier, which suited Helen's plans perfectly. So much easier to slip away unnoticed.

Afterwards.

~-~

They drew attention as they strode purposefully toward the bank of elevators, even in their long, somewhat oversized cloaks. Two women in very high heels, one very petite, the other very tall, walking proudly side-by-side through a hotel lobby will catch the eye of every male and most females.

Veronica was inordinately proud of the way Edie was carrying herself, because for all Ed's determination, the poor thing had to be scared silly. They rode up the elevator in silence. Once on their floor, Veronica directed her submissive to a small alcove off the main room where they shed their cloaks.

"God, you are so beautiful," Ed sighed, upon seeing Veronica in her royal purple leather and latex catsuit. It was simple, and showed the perfection of the petite body it covered so lovingly.

"And that's the last such comment I expect to hear in THAT voice tonight, Edie," Mistress Verita snapped, albeit with something less than her best dommely snarl. "But then, that's why I brought you in here. To make sure you get into character before I turn you over to the head-slave."

"Yes, Mistress," Edie replied, her eyes demurely downcast.

"First, you have to be gagged - that's a requirement. For you, I've decided to use a ring gag. I'm concerned about you breathing freely and not being experienced enough with gags to recognize danger signs. Plus, it will let you get a bit of water if you need it. The other thing we need to take care of is your signaling device. Because you're gagged, you need to have a code signal because you won't be able to speak a safeword. Give me your right wrist."

Edie did as ordered and Veronica buckled on a bracelet device. A stick-like protrusion extended from the bracelet over the back of Edie's hand, nearly to the base-knuckle of her middle finger. "All right, the way this works," the petite dominant began, "is that if you cock your hand back hard, like a policeman making a 'stop' signal, the bar on the back of your hand closes a switch and the bracelet makes a loud beeping sound. If that happens, everything will stop, and you will be asked if you really meant to safe-signal. At that point, if you nod your head 'yes', you will be escorted back into this alcove, ungagged, given your cloak and put on the elevator. I will remain behind just long enough to answer any questions the Sisters might have, but I will then be on the next elevator to take you home. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. I understand. I won't let you down."

"Don't let yourself down, Edie," she countered sternly. "If you really need to stop things, then I ORDER you to do just that. I can handle any repercussions. I want your promise - your personal word of honor - on that score, or we leave right now."

"You're sure about that, Veronica?" Ed's voice asked.

"I'm positive, Ed."

"Then, you have my word of honor, Mistress," Edie's voice replied.

"Very well, open your mouth - wide," Veronica ordered, pulling out a device that looked like a dog collar with a fairly large plastic-coated ring in its center. "This ring is only an inch in diameter so it shouldn't be too uncomfortable - there are wider ones - used for . . . oral training of sissies - big enough to get rather thick cylindrical objects through comfortably - comfortable for the cylinders, that is," she said teasingly, "but that's not our purpose - at least, not tonight."

 

Chapter 29: Party Time

Edie knelt beside Veronica, and felt oddly at peace. She was holding the plate from which she hand-fed tidbits of fruit and cheese to the lovely redhead. So far, things had gone rather well - although the first time she'd gotten goosed by one of the Sisters had elicited a loud, very girlish squeal from the prettily outfitted sissy-sub. Which, quite naturally, had drawn the immediate attention of the entire assembly of dominant women down on Edie's head . . . errr. . .bottom.

She'd been patted, pinched, tickled, fondled, and yes, goosed by just about every domme there, as well as by some of the more forward slaves. After the first time, she'd tried to resist giving quite so verbal a response, until she'd figured out that, as it had been with the group at Calliope's play-party, vigorous reaction was what the group most enjoyed.

Ever the artist, Edie had then put her heart and soul into giving her 'public' precisely what they wanted, reacting to each attention in its turn. Purring to the petters, giggling at the ticklers, moaning for the fondlers, and squealing and dancing away from the goosers. She had never thought she could be quite so. . .so flagrant about such things - in public no less. Well, she thought, she had been, hadn't she? And after a couple of worried glances to Mistress Verita had been met with happy grins of approval at her antics, everything else had been all right - better than all right. Edie had relaxed and even begun to enjoy being on display.

Veronica stroked her serving wench's blond hair as she finished chewing the last grape. "Off to the kitchen with that, pet," she ordered softly. "Fun time is about to begin, so you might want to visit the little girls' convenience to answer Nature's call and fix your face while you have the chance."

Nodding, Edie rose to her feet, made her best curtsy, and nearly jumped out of her dress when the domme behind her nearly speared her squatting bottom with a very well aimed, thumb-first goose-thrust. Spinning about so her back was away from the table, she again curtsied to Veronica, then to the other woman, and then scurried for the safety of the catering area.

~-~

Behind a barely cracked-open door, Helen watched the proceedings. She would make her move when the after-dinner drinks were served. For what must have been the hundredth time since she had secreted herself in the little store room, she felt for the sealed vial in the pocket of her little apron.

She had selected the drug for several reasons. It was quick acting and highly hallucinogenic, assuring that her victim's reactions would be noticed by her companions. At the same time, it was relatively nonlethal, although there was a body of research indicating that a single dose might inflict a lifetime of recurring 'bad trips' on her victim. Couldn't happen to a more deserving woman, was all Helen thought about that possibility. Best of all, it was on the agency's executive contract's proscribed drugs list. That would, assuming that a visit to a nearby hospital emergency room resulted from tonight's little adventure, cost that bitch her promotion and her job. As revenge plans went, this was just about perfect.

The sudden clustering of the slaves about the table caught Helen's attention. They were clearing away the last course. Excellent - after dinner/pre-playtime drinks were about to be served. Almost show-time, she mused, even as she reached for her gag.

This was probably the worst part of the whole plan. Helen HATED gags - having her mouth uncomfortably stuffed, while at the same time being denied the power of her voice. Gags had been one of the first things she'd 'negotiated' away in her 'relationship' with dear old Amelia, but it couldn't be helped this time. An ungagged slave would be immediately detained for discipline at the dining-in. Which would, in turn, lead to the discovery that no Mistress in there owned her. Well, this little ballgag was about as non-intrusive as such things went.

With a shake of her head to get her golden mane out of the way, Helen popped the red ball into her mouth, and then buckled the straps behind her neck. After refluffing her hair, and one last check of her appearance in the mirror, she carefully made a quick check to ensure the coast was clear, before slipping out of the closet.

Veronica Johnson's ass was about to be all hers. Little Ms. Executive was going to pay - and pay BIG - for trying to screw over Helen Martin.

~-~

Despite Ed's earlier protestations to the contrary, Edie was not nearly so sanguine about her upcoming role in the evening's 'fun part' - especially now that it was imminent. She emptied her suddenly very-nervous bladder, and then, as directed, fixed her face - although painting lips made into a permanent 'O' was a bit of a challenge.

That done, she swallowed as best she could with the gag holding her mouth open, and left the restroom.

And nearly tripped over a gorgeous blonde.

"Arry!," she exclaimed automatically - the 's' sound impossible just then.

~-~

"It's gone well, so far," Calliope said, in a quick aside to Veronica. "Your sissy-sweetie seems to be taking everything nicely in stride. I'd say she's even enjoying the attention."

"I'm happily surprised, but I'll still be glad when we get past the next hour or so, assuming things continue to go as well."

"Still worried about the testing?"

"Yes," Veronica admitted. "But she's so determined."

"First tests should be carefully chosen - challenging, but within the abilities of the one tested. Any idea what would be easiest on her?"

The question surprised Veronica, and yet, knowing the heart of the woman beside her as she did, it shouldn't have. "You know? I think it surprised her as much as it did me, but the sexy thing likes being spanked."

"Oh, does she really?" Calliope's eyes unfocused for a moment, and then she smiled again. "Yes, I saw that, too, at my party when you presented her. She likes it . . .that much, dear?"

"I've seen baseball bats that weren't as hard as she was when I had her over my knee yesterday."

"Bare-bottomed? Tonight, I mean."

"Oh, I think we could let her keep her thong on," the redheaded dominatrix offered with a wide, sexy grin. "Less likely to have a hangup. . err. . hang-down."

"Done! First chance we get to . . . correct her, then."

Veronica leaned over to kiss the older woman on the cheek. "Thanks, Cal - from both of us."

"Invite me to the wedding, child."

"Mother of the bride? Or would you rather give Edie away?"

~-~

She'd nearly dropped her precious vial when that slut of a maid had all but run her over. Furious, Helen picked herself up from the floor and glared over the hovering figure, who was all but wringing her hands over her victim.

What Helen saw intrigued her - another real girl dressed as a French Maid. A very CUTE girl, she mused, and definitely a cut above those pathetic males out there pretending to be women. Maybe, after she dealt with Johnson, she'd see if she could get a line on this one - see where things led. After that useless wimp, Derrick, a sweet little pussy to play with might be nice.

Brushing herself off, she flashed the girl as much of a smile as that stupid gag permitted, and winked saucily. Then she sauntered off toward her date with destiny.

And failed to see the shocked look on the face of the other girl.

~-~

THAT WAS HELEN, Edie's mind screamed. Even if the mouth was distorted by that gag, the rest of her presentation - the hair, the eyes, the way she held her head, even the slinky way she walked - all gave away her identity as clearly as if she had spoken her name aloud.

Helen was a slave to one of the Sisters? Somehow, that just didn't work for Edie. She only knew two Sisters well - Mary and Veronica, and another sort of well - Lady Calliope - but it seemed to her that women of that caliber wouldn't stand for the kind of nasty behavior and outright bitchiness that were Helen's stock and trade. Not in a favored sub, and favored subs were the only ones in attendance here tonight.

And besides, the suspect they'd been seeking - hadn't that been someone from work who had a connection to the Sisters? Wouldn't Veronica be familiar with the primary slaves of her Sisters? Surely, she'd know if Helen were filling that role for one of that very select group of women, wouldn't she?

Of course she would - Veronica was a noticing kind of woman. Which meant . . . which meant that Helen had crashed the party!

But why?

Then Edie remembered Helen's last encounter with Veronica, and didn't like what that portended at all. She hustled out after the blonde, moving as quickly as she could manage, restricted as she was by the tight mini-skirt and the too-tall stiletto heels. She had to get to Veronica and warn her somehow.

~-~

Helen slithered along the table of amicably chatting dominas, smilingly tolerating the indignities inflicted on her person by those insufferable biddies. Then, she was there - standing behind Veronica, who was deeply involved in conversation with some chubby old slut. Well, that made her next play that much easier to pull off. Palming the vial in her hand, the tall blonde gave a quick look up and down the table, and seeing no one looking in her direction, quickly poured the contents into the redhead's liqueur glass.

Her mission accomplished, Helen began her escape. She had that planned, too. If she moved quickly enough, she could get downstairs to her room, change out of this ridiculous costume and into her power suit, and be down in the lobby in time to see the EMTs haul a hallucinating Veronica Johnson - still delightfully garbed in her kinky scene clothes - off to the hospital. And if she were very lucky, some enterprising soul might even have a camera down there - just to capture the moment for posterity.

And for the Agency's Board of Directors.

~-~

What had she just poured into Veronica's DRINK?!?! Edie's mind screamed, even as she raced across the room. Terror grabbed at her guts when Edie saw her lover reach for the tainted glass.

She almost made it - would have made it - had it not been for the stretched out leg of a nearby Sister. Whether it had been intentional or not didn't matter. What did matter was that Edie tripped over that leg, and started falling. Somehow, she retained sufficient control of her body to avoid falling onto anyone directly, and still managed to nudge Veronica sufficiently to knock the liqueur glass from her hand.

"WHAT?!?!?" Mistress Verita yelped, turning to see her lover sprawled inelegantly upon the floor at her feet.

"Your inept slut tripped, Verita," the catlike brunette, who had actually been the one to trip Edie, told the redhead. "I'd say that makes her first on the docket for tonight, don't you?"

Veronica did not immediately answer, instead choosing to watch as her sub carefully regained her feet. The petite domina did a quick visual check for injury, and finding none, waited to see if her love would safe code. All she got was a little nod and the glint of a cautious smile in her eyes. Satisfied, Veronica turned to the brunette, and gave an affirmative nod of her head. "Yes, I would say you've the right of that, Becka. Lady Calliope? I submit my slave Edie to you for sentencing on the charge of culpable clumsiness and lack of feminine grace."

"Very well, Mistress Verita. I sentence slave Edie to ten minutes of public corporal punishment with the implement or implements of your choice, so long as her naughty bottom is suitably colored at the end of that time. Let the sentence be carried out immediately."

~-~

Edie's first action, after reassuring Veronica, was the scan the room for any sign of Helen, but found none. That left her in something of a quandary. Helen's action might have been some type of attack on Veronica, but there was now no way to prove that. Worse, the only way to tell Veronica was to get the gag out and the only way to do that was to safe signal.

Which might well backfire. Besides, Helen could be gone by now. Better to tell Veronica later - let her enjoy the evening and get through this together.

". . . . let the sentence be carried out immediately."

Sentence? Edie's eyes went wide when she realized she hadn't been listening. WHAT sentence?!?

~-~

Veronica watched as several willing slaves restrained Edie in the same type of standing pillory as she had been the night of Calliope's house party. Once the foot stocks were locked, she stepped up onto the dias beside Edie, and faced the assembled Women of the Delta of Venus. "My Sisters, it is my very great pleasure to present to you my Chosen One."

A murmur of excitement flitted about the assembly room at that announcement, for although Verita was a regular at these events, she had always brought a different slave to each dining-in. This one must be special, indeed. Every domina sat forward in her chair, wanting to catch every nuance of this ceremony of presentation.

With a flourish, the petite redhead, flipped up Edie's skirts to bare her bottom. That also bared her front, since the garment was too tight to drape in front when the back was up.

"Oh my GOODNESS, Mistress," a feminine voice squealed, "She's a boy!"

"Shut up" a second voice hissed. "I didn't take your gag off so you could talk, wench. Get that tongue busy where it belongs!"

Grinning at that outburst, Veronica stepped around and gently squeezed the physical evidence of that truth. "Actually, she's a man, dearie, and not a boy," the green-clad domme reported huskily, "and she's all mine, any way I want her - aren't you, darling?"

Edie managed to nod, although it was difficult with her head in the neck-stocks.

"Isn't she sweet?" Veronica asked.

"Hey, less talkin' and more swattin'," the brunette, Becka, called out.

"Oh, if you insist," Veronica cooed. "But I do so enjoy the . . .buildup and anticipation myself." She reached around to grab one rounded buttock. "Don't you agree, sexy-sissy?"

Another strained nod answered her, making Veronica's smile even wider. "I think, I'll start with my hand, then move to paddle, a few touches with the crop, and then finish with the flogger." She went up on her tiptoes and kissed the gagged lips. "Relax, lover," she whispered against Edie's lips. "I'm gonna make you LOVE it."

~-~

By the time Veronica finished with the crop, Edie wasn't sure she quite loved this, but it wasn't a headlong ride into the valley of death, either. And the appendage barely hidden by the front of her thong hadn't been put off in the least. If anything, she was even harder than when Veronica had groped her, despite the lines of fiery heat licking at her bottom where that crop had bitten.

The first swat of the flogger caught her by surprise - heat flared in her butt, but not burning heat - just an almost pleasant warmth suffusing every square inch. The second swat was even better.

By the tenth swat, Edie found herself trying to lean back, against the unyielding grip of the pillory, and into the oncoming flogger.

By the twentieth swat, her hips were dancing wildly under the flogger's lashing fingers - not in pain - not in any attempt to escape its kiss - but rather, in pure lust and need.

The twenty-sixth swat did it - Edie felt her nervous system short-circuit as every muscle in her body went rigid and inflexible. This was followed by four more rapid-fire slashes of the flogger that drove the restrained sissy over the edge.

"OH Y OOODDDDD!!!!" she screamed through the word-distorting ring locked in her mouth, as her lower body clenched and spasmed - two, three, four times.

Then she went limp.

And the room, which had been utterly silent for the past several moments, broke into applause and cheers.

~-~

"Oh look," Becka called when the approval died down, "Sissy has wet her panties." The brunette pointed to a large, dark wet spot that now stained the formerly pristine white satin triangle. "Cumming without permission, and under correction, too." She clucked her tongue. "Naughty, naughty, naughty. Isn't the punishment for that cleaning the garment, as a very minimum?"

Calliope and Veronica both glared at Becka, but the words had been said, and in front of the assembly, including the slaves. Standing, Calliope spoke. "The slave Edie, having, without explicit permission, and while under sentenced correction, spilled her seed, is sentenced to clean the soiled garment with her mouth for the remainder of the evening."

Veronica slipped the panties down her sissy's legs, freed her feet from the stocks, and finished removing the undergarment. She balled them up into a tiny wad, as she rose up to face Edie.

Holding them up in front of Edie's face, she slowly moved the wad toward the open ring gag, so that her lover would have ample warning what was coming - so that HE could safe code if this was something Edward couldn't bring himself to face.

~-~

They were going to put that semen-soaked thing in HIS mouth, Ed's mind roared. For just an instant, his wrist, still locked in the head-stocks of the pillory, twitched.

But only for an instant.

You knew this was on the list of punishments when you agreed to come here - Edie told both sides of her personality - when you INSISTED on coming here. It's not like you didn't know.

With a deep breath, Edie gave a quick nod, and tried to open her mouth wider. She simply wouldn't suck on them. How bad could it be, right? If she didn't suck on them, all she'd have to taste was wet satin - mostly.

Knowing that the anticipation would only make it worse for her sub, Veronica did the deed quickly, stuffing the slick satin in through the ring. She was careful to leave a bit hanging out so that it would be easy to grab and pull free, if that were to become necessary.

The still-dry portions of the cloth sucked all the moisture from Edie's mouth. Involuntary, reflex action soon had her swallowing to encourage salivation, and so, she began sucking on the wadded cloth in spite of her intentions to the contrary. Something that tasted salty, and that smelled like sex, assailed Edie's senses, and she began to gag.

~-~

Veronica saw the tremors begin, and recognized them for what they were. She immediately reached for the tail of fabric that hung from her lover's mouth.

~-~

Edie saw Veronica's hand reaching for the gag, and knew she intended to disobey the sentence handed down by the Grand Domme - for her.

With what freedom of movement the pillory permitted, she dodged her head to one side so that the petite domme's snatch at the panty gag missed. At the same time, she pushed the now sodden wad of cloth up against the roof of her mouth and breathed deeply through her nose and around the panties. The in-rush of air had the effect of clearing her nasal passages of the scent of the semen, leaving only the salty essence on her tongue.

The gagging stopped. With another deep breath, she focused on Veronica, and shook her head. She could handle this, she told herself and her lover, it didn't taste all that bad - really - it didn't. She winked at Veronica, and saw relief glow in the lovely domina's face.

~-~

Veronica reached up to kiss Edie's cheek. "Next time your semen is in someone's mouth, lover, it will be MY mouth, and I'll take it because I want it - just as I'll take you because I want YOU. I'm very, very proud of you, darling."

With that, she turned on heel and strutted down the steps and to her seat. "Free my slave," she ordered. "I have. . .need of her. . . other talents." She smiled as the three husky slaves who had originally restrained Edie leapt at her order. Then she turned to Calliope. "Grand Domme? Now that MY slave has been corrected, perhaps we could see to another . . . problem?"

"Of course, Mistress Verita. What is it?"

"Who, Grand Domme. The problem is a WHO, not a WHAT. Goddess Becka's man-slave has had the temerity and ill manners to wave his . . .male parts over my person and my dinner on no fewer than five occasions this evening. Very disrespectful, don't you think?"

"Oh, very," Calliope agreed, her eyes twinkling. "You should train him better if you are going to let him . . . hang free, Becka. I'm afraid that requires serious correction. I sentence your slave to the be the demonstration dummy for Comptessa Gunilla's CBT exhibit. Unless, of course, you object?"

~-~

Becka groaned inwardly as she watched her Chosen One go pale at that pronouncement. He hated cock and ball torture, and of course, as his loving Mistress, she KNEW he hated CBT. For that very reason, she rarely imposed it on him when unless she was truly intent on pushing his limits or on punishing him for some real infraction or failure.

Unfortunately, she'd gotten carried away with her little game of cat and mouse with Verita's new Chosen One, and had gotten the tables turned on her - and her darling subbie - rather neatly. She had no choice but to accede to the sentence, and offer her hubbie-subbie's boy-parts up to Gunilla's not-so-tender mercies.

Actually, she did have a choice, but that would mean accepting what was effectively a two-year exile from Sister functions. She'd watch things carefully, and if her darling started losing it - and she would know - or was trying to go beyond his limits for her, she'd step in and stop it, regardless of the cost.

Besides, she always enjoyed watching Gunilla work her sensual magic by driving a male nuts by teasing his nuts. Who knew? Maybe Gunilla would teach her something her sweetie liked in that line, and wouldn't that be fun? She gave her submissive a comforting pat on the thigh, before smiling brightly at Lady Calliope. "Of course I don't object, Grand Domme. My silly boy obviously needs to learn better manners."

Her slave boy whimpered when the slaves tasked with applying the restraints moved toward him, but Becka hushed him with a quick flick of her quirt. She'd clearly overstepped herself playing with Veronica's subbie, and now Calliope was reminding her of a few social niceties the way that worked best with an erring domina - through her favorite slave. Well, she'd just have to make sure she took especially good care of her lover-slave after the party.

 

 

 

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