A Maiden Gamble
by Sydney Michelle    © Omphale Press, 2001

Chapter Nineteen

 

"Honey? You really O.K. with this?" Tomas glanced at his wife as they drove to the Silver Palace.

"Sure? Why not?"

"It's not every woman who wants her husband to get blow job. I mean it's business, but it's still personal. And how do I know less isn't going to come out of his mouth than went in?"

"It's not that I want you to have a blow job, I could handle that myself, it's that Maria needs to learn how to give one. After that visit from that rat, Bernie, we don't need any more people involved." Sharon remained quiet as he struggled into traffic on the Drag, blending into the flow of traffic until he stopped three cars back at the light. "Besides, we'll have a little insurance around her privates. She'll behave. Or is she so ugly you're afraid you might catch something?"

Tomas kept his eyes straight ahead, judging the traffic for the easiest slide to turn into the garage. But he didn't trust himself to look at his wife. "No, he's nice enough looking. If I didn't know different, I'd really think he was a girl." Tomas eased froward, blinker on, waving a hand to the California plate that let him ease over.

"Is that it? You're nervous? About Maria's appendage? Believe me, Maria's more a woman every day."

Tomas cut up into the garage, stopping for the time ticket before heading up to the top floor. "But he's not. And that bothers me. And it bothers me that you'd want me, your husband, to get blown by a guy."

Sharon waited for him to pull to a stop. She reached over to cover his hand on the gear shift. "Tommie? Honey? I'm sorry. It's just I don't think of her as a guy any more. And you won't when you see her. If she weren't going to be gone soon, there's no way I'd let the little bitch anywhere near you. But if you're too uncomfortable before you pull it out, we'll just figure out something else." Sharon smiled sweetly as he turned his head, looking into his deep brown eyes. She batted her lashes a couple of times for good measure, the quick blinks that could be excused as the natural cleansing action.

"Dammit, you bat your eyes at me and I'd kill my mother. And you know it. Let's do it."

"Nice to be loved," she murmured as she unfastened the seat belt.

 

§§

 

Tomas paced behind his wife nervously, the cool cinder block hallway giving him a case of the willies. "What was this, a meat locker?"

Sharon glanced back, smiled. "Come on, Honey. She's just behind this door."

Sharon pushed open the heavy steel door, unlocked for their expected arrival. Deborah stood to one side, fidgeting in her blazer uniform. Marilyn sat on the table, picking at her skirt,

Maria sat in the middle of a bench, hair styled in thick curls falling from a high top to just below her ears. Her face was subtly made up, eyes emphasized, lips a deep salmon, a hint of blush on her cheek bones. Each ear held a faux pearl button and a gold stud. A thin blue collar encircled her throat, the ceiling chain fastened but not locked behind. Her nails were tear shape, vermillion, resting quietly in her lap, fingers cupped together, a narrow gold bracelet encircling one wrist. The yellow floral print scoop neck dress bulged in the right places, her breasts firm enough and prominent enough to create a definite bustling. The skirt flared over her legs, spread out to trap her warmth, cover the bench from end to end. Her legs glinted slightly, nude hose betrayed by their shine. Her ankles were crossed, her feet in the black pumps bought so long ago when she was clothed at the Ponderosa Boutique.

Sharon stopped, taken aback by the demure, almost virginal picture Maria presented. Migawd, she could be somebody's daughter waiting for her first big date. Sharon flashed back to when she was fifteen, waiting in her folks' house for Terry Martin to pick her up for the game, the first time her parents had allowed her out with her date driving. He was seventeen, an older man, and would he like her? Respect her? Want to see her again? Every possible outcome had flashed through her head, and twice she had almost run back upstairs, desperately wanting to hide.

"Maria? I'd like you to meet . . ." What? My husband? "Meet Tomas. Tomas, Maria."

Maria started to rise, looked up, saw Marilyn frown, remembered to keep her seat.

Tomas became his most gallant, stepping forward to extend a hand, palm up. "So pleased to meet you, Maria. May I call you Maria?"

Maria placed her hand in his, looked up into steady brown eyes. "Gracias, Tomas. Please do. Won't you be seated?"

Tomas kissed the back of her hand before releasing it so she could gather her skirts to make room. He examined the blonde curls as she busied herself, noting the faint blush, the gentle swelling. Standing close, he noted the mascara line, the slight thickening of false lashes, detected the faint smell of attar of roses. The girl has been thoroughly prepared for her date. Girl? He settled himself beside her, took the hand in his, felt it tremble.

He bent his head close to the ear near him, nose parting the fragrant curls. "You're very pretty, Maria. Are you nervous?"

Maria nodded, whispered back, "Yes. Si."

"Me too. May I put my arm around your waist?"

"Si. If you like."

"I do if you do." Tomas's arm slid around the small belted waist, knowing the warmth of her, his hand cupping her abdomen. "You flutter like a little bird."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Lean your head on me and relax. Close your eyes and breathe deep."

Maria leaned her head over, the warmth of his shoulder, the gentleness of his voice reassuring. Still, she knew the reason he was here, and could not help but be nervous. Her heart beat faster, but not with anticipation.

"We have all the time in the world. And we needn't if you don't want to." Tomas stroked the firm back through the material. "You've never been with a man before, have you?"

"No." Maria inhaled sharply, the touch of his hand like a shock, not unpleasant, and that was startling.

"Then we must take our time." Tomas bent his head back, nuzzling her neck, his breath blowing warm and soft over the small hairs on her nape. The tip of his nose scraped a stud on the small cat collar, his eyes opened to the trailing chain. "Would you like me to take this off?"

Maria's eyes sprang open. "I, I'm not allowed."

"Hush, little one. Sharon, may we?" His head indicated the collar.

Sharon glanced at Marilyn. "Why not? She's not going anywhere with us here. But Deborah, lock the door so no one intrudes."

Tomas bent Maria forward slightly with one hand before unfastening the collar and laying it beside the bench. "It was very pretty on you, but I think you'll be more comfortable this way."

"Gracias, Tomas." Maria closed her eyes, raising her chin before her head lay on her far shoulder.

Tomas slipped an arm around her back before nuzzling her neck, his lips planting the first kiss on the warm skin, brushing lightly, sucking slightly on the powdered flesh. Maria sighed in spite of herself, feeling the first slight filling of her bra cups. It was good, and she relaxed against the strength holding her.

"He doesn't seem to be having any trouble."

"Huh?" Marilyn bent closer.

"Tomas was nervous about making love to Maria. Not being a woman. He better pay me such attention tonight."

Marilyn grinned. Maria was obviously receptive to being seduced. And Tomas was hardly the model faithful husband. "You brought it on yourself."

Tomas continued kissing Maria's neck, working up to her jaw, back to her ear, down the jugular. Maria writhed and stretched in his clasp, offering more of herself to him. If this is what they mean by Latin lovers . . . Caresses on her jaw led to extend her chin, stretching the skin to expose every nerve, every tactile point.

Tomas worked the front of her throat, finding the pulse point, surrounding her with his arms. He felt the points of her breasts against his arm, warm, yielding, starting to rub fitfully against him. The material of her bodice bunched between them caught on the fullness beneath.

Tomas kissed his way up from hollow to chin, nibbling her lips once, twice. "May I?"

"Yes, oh yes." What? Whatever, just don't stop.

Tomas kissed the base of her neck, eyes open while he found the zipper. The distinctive rip shot throughout the room, the back falling open, the shoulder of her dress falling down to expose her bra strap. Tomas nibbled her shoulder point, worked across the top ridge, down to the collar bone. Kisses alternated with licks as he worked back and forth, shoulder to neck.

"Yes, oh yes!" Maria had never known such foreplay, her ass cheeks opening, her rod stiffening. Couldn't he, wouldn't he be on her, in her, filling her, bursting her apart to spew a million seeds? Couldn't this never stop, overflow, end her agony, keep her building?

Tomas slipped a hand down from her shoulder, fingers tracing the top of the cup, probing, touching, caressing the warm mound, lifting it from its prison. His hand cupped the tenderness, then caught the teat between its fingers, the slight pressure causing her to arch.

"Oh, don't stop, anything, anything you want." Maria uttered words of total surrender he had sought so often as Anton. But her body ached with longing as she had never know it could.

Tomas bent, embraced her nipple with his tongue, tasted, swirled, sucked. The woman beside him arched in surrender, in supplication. He lifted his head, kissing her cleft, her hollow, her larynx, her chin, her mouth. She responded, opening herself to him, lips parted, tongue raised to his exploring touch. She was his, his to use as he wished.

Tomas reached down, sliding her skirt up her legs. Her thighs parted, exposing warm flesh, warmer now with desire, feeling her womanness for the first time. Fingers traced up her thigh and she shivered, trembling with the desire to be taken, used and using in return. She arched, arched as much as KiKi's training let her, pressing her body against his. And it was a womanly body, full of desire to be filled and fulfilled as only a woman can be.

Tomas's finger found her panties, satiny, high cut, a few crisp strands peeking out. He touched garter straps, lacy but strong sliding down her smooth legs to the stocking tops. His finger found the band, and her body denied him nothing, she clung to him as tightly as any virgin bride. Fingers slipped beneath the band, sliding back, lifting and pulling the panty top down.

Maria felt the panty slide, she lifted her buns, trying to aide the stripping of her privates. Her weight shifted one way, then the other, before he clung tightly to him to lift herself off the bench, waiting for the dampening material to slide over her rear. Take me, take me, fill me and make me complete! She rolled to him, pressing against him, moaning lightly in his arms.

"You alright with this?"

Sharon bit her lip. "I brought him. I'll make it. But he better get it up tonight."

Marilyn glanced at Deborah, nudged Sharon. "Looks like someone else is having a hard time."

Deborah stared ahead, stoic, impassive. The only thing was she was looking determinedly at a corner of the ceiling, trying not to hear the little cries before her.

"Oh migawd, don't let her put the noose on Maria's balls."

"Looks like I'll have to handle that. Looks like I'm the only one not emotionally involved."

Tomas had Maria's panties down to her knees, reached between her legs, brushed her thatch, touched her shaft. He hesitated, squeezed, fingered, felt the body tense against him, cry out, shudder. Goo squirted from Maria, a discharge that spurted, oozed, spurted again. Maria clung to him with all her strength, body shuddering to a climax.

Tomas withdrew the messy hand, looked up while holding Maria to him. Sharon advanced with a towel, cleaning fingers, the palm. "You're enjoying this entirely too much, you know."

"If you had my balls right now."

Tomas held Maria with both hands behind her back. He nuzzled her neck, breathed on her hair. "Maria, mia amore, I need to ask . . ."

Maria stirred. "Anything, anything for you."

Deborah looked like she had turned to stone, stone that could cry.

"Maria, I need you to serve me."

Maria ran her hand down his arm, feeling his hand, tracing his waist for the belt buckle.

"Maria, I need you to take me in you. In your mouth."

Maria pulled back. "Must I?"

"Yes, my pet. That's why I came."

Tomas took her shoulders in his arms, lifting her gently to set her on her knees by the bench. "You are beautiful. It will not take long."

Maria sat dazed, exhausted by her orgasm. She rested her head on his knee while he undid the round buckle, unbuttoned the waist band, rolled down the zipper. A lift, a shove, and his pants top rested on his thighs. Only his briefs held his maleness, his mighty spear, the odor of his cum already strong in his crotch.

"Touch it, Maria, take it out." Maria reached, finger extended, traced the bulge in his briefs. "It's just a big warm popsicle, Maria. It won't bite."

"Get on your knees, girl." Maria looked up, startled by the intruding voice. "On your knees, skirt over your behind."

Maria complied, accustomed now to obeying orders without question. She waited, reaching out to stroke the hidden spear, the object of her gratitude and of her fear. She felt hands pull down her panties to her knees, spread her legs. A hand reached between her legs, grasped her flaccid cock. "Just so you don't get any ideas about exacting vengeance, one good pull and you won't need a surgeon for a sex change." Marilyn passed a loop around Maria's genitals, tightened it slightly to snug it against the root. "Now do as he says, Maria."

Tomas bent forward, stroked her cheek, watching the fear in her eyes. "You want to please me, don't you, un poco? After I gave you pleasure?"

Maria nodded, frightened, disgusted.

"Do this for me and I will pleasure you again. You would like that, wouldn't you?"

Again Maria nodded.

"Then touch it, Maria, take it out."

Maria fumbled with the briefs, the awkward reversed overlap pulled open, she fumbled inside, touched warmth, opened the slit. The rod bulged out, thick, ribbed with veins, potent. Maria knew vaguely that Tomas was larger than he had ever been, large and thick and potent, a shaft waiting to spew. The shaft unfolded, extended, grew now it was released from its prison, the cover sliding back from its head. The opening was tinged with purple, a sign Maria remembered that the shaft had almost blown, then subsided, was double charged. She reached forward shyly, touching the magnificent member, stroking it, steadying it, readying it for her lips.

What do I do now? I never watched Annie. I just lay back and enjoyed.

Maria closed her eyes, tried to remember how it had felt. She closed her eyes, inched forward, supported the great shaft with her hand. She turned her head, extended her tongue, turned, touched the underside of the glans with her tip. It was warm, salty, yeasty, the odor of his maleness overwhelming. She washed the underside slowly, extending her tongue to cover the tenderness. She inched forward again, covering the side of the shaft behind the head with her lips, sucking lightly at the pipe.

Tomas leaned back, moaned, stretched out a hand and found her hair. Fingers clenched, positioning her. "The head, Maria, lick the head."

Maria shifted, no longer aware of the wire around her sex, moved guided by his hand to kiss the side of the head, taste its saltiness, inhale the pungency, explore the small pipe end with her tongue. She licked, kissed, guided the shaft around to present the ram to her mouth. Eyes closed, she opened her lips, taking the giant popsicle inside her softness, hollowing her cheeks to suck without biting.

Tomas groaned, pressed her head with his hand, pumped his groin, The tongue bathed the underside, the cheeks and tongue pumped the shaft. Her hand supported his sac, warming the swelling mass. It was too much. Tomas tried to clamp down, but he was behind the flow. A mass surged up the pipe, flooded forward, swept back surged forward as a raging tide, exploded forth into Maria's encompassing mouth.

Maria gagged, surprised by the spurt hitting the roof of her mouth, her gag reflex kicking in, the choking unavoidable under the torrent. She squeezed, opened, withdrew, great spurts of jism splashing onto her chin. She shut her eyes, bared her teeth, felt the great, warm squirt hit her chin. She squeezed his shaft, seeking to trap the flow, only to provoke another spasm.

Tomas moaned softly eyes closed, fingers cramped in her hair. He remained locked upright, only the tremors of his loins betraying the urgent activity within him. He sat stock still, back arched, forearm trembling slightly as he quivered and shot, barely aware of the withdrawn warmth. Dimly he was aware of subsidence, of spurts becoming ooze, of a slackening urgency. "Thank you, Maria, that was very good."

Maria sat back, head down, ashamed of what he had done. I have taken a man in my mouth, licked it, unable to resist his urges. I, Anton Zayler, have been betrayed by the body of Maria Nueva, a woman seduced, surrendering, who wanted, desired, to be debauched. I am Maria, slave, whore, fit to be sold to a brothel for the pleasure of men. I am a slave, not just by contract but by passion. I wanted a crack for him to fill, with his meat and with his cum.

Maria was unaware of Marilyn removing the noose, unaware of strong hands lifting her up, settling her back on the bench. Only when large hands softly stroked her bare breasts did she become aware of Tomas holding her, of her bodice bunched around her waist, of a strong, warm arm surrounding her shoulders. Tomas kissed her body knowledgeably, expertly, caressing tender points on her shoulders, on her back, on her neck. In spite of herself, she became arouse, tits growing fat and warm in the cusp of his palm, a flush growing up her throat from her breasts. Maria Nueva responded, her womanness pushed Anton aside, knowing only that she wanted him between her legs, responding to him, yielding to him, lost in him.

She was lost, head rolling slowly to offer fresh points, mouth gasping for air to stoke the growing flames. She knew only that her body had responded, yielded before, and she wanted it. He could have her, drag her away, lock her in a cage, and her only regret would be that he was not in her.

Her hand stole to the back of his head, fingers lost in his locks, pulling it to her. Her kisses found him, planted wherever, ears, eyes, forehead, at last his mouth. She sucked hungrily on him, thrusting her tongue inside, drawing him into her, wrapping herself around him. She felt his hand slide under her skirt, and she twisted, offering herself to him, wanting him inside her, feeling him touch her. She grew, expanded, cheeks opening, clenched, found herself in his clutches, drawing through his grasp, expanding, extending, exploding. Maria felt her orgasm surge, burst, flow through her, belly trembling as she gave up all her power before collapsing in the arms of her lover.

Tomas held her close, kissed her forehead gently, laid her down on the bench. He held out a hand for a cloth, used it to clean her face. He straightened her dress, covering her breasts, kissed his fingertip and pressed it to her lips. "Sleep well, little dove. You earned that privilege well."

He stood up, shook himself into his pants, glanced at his wife. "Let's go home, Dear. You'll have to drive."

Sharon slipped her arm under his, led him out the door.

Marilyn glanced at the stoic Deborah. "Take her upstairs. Get her cleaned up and let her rest. Put some real food in her later."

"Did you have to?"

"Have to what?"

"Make me watch. Put that, that thing on her."

"Sorry. I should have realized this would be painful for you. And yes, we didn't know how she would react, or that Tomas would be so skilled. But I won't do it again. She's Maria now, a woman regardless of her plumbing. Take her upstairs. Be there for her." Marilyn turned and left, slapping her thigh with the noose.

Right. And who's going to be there for me?

 

 

Chapter Twenty

DeeDee sat in the chair, hair wet, wrapped in a white robe. She glanced at the bed where the sleeping Maria lay curled under the sheet, then up at the TV where Bugs bested the foreman one more time. Yeah, right. 'Cept the little guy never wins when the big guy gets you in his sights. She flipped the channels, turned off the TV, picked up her drink. Why, Maria, why? Why didn't you fight, protest, just not react? Why go all gooey, "anything for you." God I'd give almost anything to hear her say that.

Maria stirred under the sheet. DeeDee walked over to the bed, sat on the edge, reached out to touch the sleeping form. Maria stirred, rolled over, blinked. "DeeDee? Where are we?"

DeeDee stroked her cheek with the back of her hand. "In the room. Waiting for you to come to before you take a bath and I order for us. You want a steak?"

"Yes, please. But there's this funny taste . . ." Maria made a face, then sat up shocked as it all came flooding back. She clasped her shoulders, hunched forward, head between her knees, sobbing.

"Maria. Lambkins."

"Don't call me that. I don't deserve that. I'm, I'm nothing. Nothing but a whore."

DeeDee grabbed her shoulders, shook her. "Don't! Don't say that! You're not a whore."

Maria looked up, cheeks streaked with tears. "Yes I am. Nothing but a whore. I, I didn't even know him, and I let him touch me, and kiss me, and hold me. And I came. And then, and then . . ." Maria closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. "And then I sucked him off. I'm a whore. A lousy, stinking whore."

DeeDee shook her, shook her hard. "Stop that! You're not a whore."

"Then what? A whore in training?"

"Lambkins, they set you up. Beauty treatment, new dress, perfume, waiting for him to arrive, all that mental foreplay. Anything short of a beating would have been a relief. And he was skilled. He knew just where to touch, how to stroke, how to play you. And you, you were a virgin, helpless because you couldn't run away, because you were given to him. So your body responded, your mind couldn't turn it off, and you let him touch you. And when you came, you couldn't help giving back." At least I talk a good game. Now if I just believed it.

"Oh, DeeDee, I wished I believed that."

"Do. Look t it square in the face. Hold onto it. Because you are not a whore, an indifferent, fake it whore who no longer feels. You're my warm, vulnerable Maria. And I'm not doing a very good job of protecting you."

Fake it. I fake it alright. The only real thing I've felt for two months was down in that man's arms. And I wanted it. More of it. Maria's hand stole into DeeDee's. "You really think so?" I want to believe it, I really do.

"I know so. You're warm, responsive, sweet, and they took advantage of that. I'm not sleeping with a whore, I'm with a lover, tender, vulnerable, sometimes funny. It rips me apart that I can't protect you, all I can do is hold you and hope it will get better. Let me hold you now, just hold you and be with you. And when you're ready, you'll have a bath and a real meal, and then we'll sleep, just sleep, and you'll know you're not a whore. Not to me."

Maria looked up at DeeDee, squeezed her hand. Yes I am. Especially with you. From the first, for a meal, for clothes, for avoiding pain. Sometimes it seems like not, I want it to be not, but really it is. Sometimes I'm a whore for affection, each gift measured by the return. And no bath will change that as much as we might wish it.

Maria sighed. "I guess you're right. Lie with me, hold me, kiss it and make it better. And in a little bit, I'll get a bath, and we'll eat and you'll give me a massage, and I'll pretend today didn't happen. And if I pretend hard enough, maybe it didn't."

DeeDee lifted the sheet, sliding under, the fuzzy robe and Maria's peignoir between them. She slipped an arm under Maria's shoulders, nestled her head on hers, lay back on the pillow, head turned to her lover. She saw tears roll down Maria's cheek, long slow tracks rolling down over the arch and back toward her ear.

"A whore. That's all I am, a whore."

DeeDee squeezed her tight. "No you're not. I don't believe it. And as long as I don't, you aren't."

"And if you clap hard enough, Tinker Belle lives."

"Damn right. Never underestimate the power of a child's redemptive faith. Even if she's thirty."

Maybe. Just maybe. Mara snuggled close, lost in the crook of her arm. She dozed off, muttering, "I am not a whore. I am not a whore."

 

§§

 

Maria heard the knock on the door, DeeDee's voice saying, "Over there." She heaved herself up in the tub, grateful the Silver Palace plumbing was old enough for real tubs, not deep shower basins. She snagged a towel, began to wipe herself, touching the breasts, firm ripe, ripening, those peachy orbs that had betrayed her to Tomas earlier that day. Or had it been my hand, that kiss on the back, or my nape, yielding to his caresses? Or my ears, the tingle going from his tongue in the channel directly between my legs? No, my breasts, those outward signs of my changes, tender traitors of my sanity. "Damn! Damn! Damn!"

"Lambkins, what's wrong?" DeeDee stood in the door, alarmed.

"They won't come of. They won't come off."

"What? Where? What won't come off?"

"My breasts. My gawddam breasts, these treacherous lumps. They won't come off."

DeeDee gathered her in her arms. "Of course not. They're yours. They're beautiful. And they're growing. And sensitive. Just a few days ago, you worried they weren't big enough."

"But I want them off. If he touches them, I won't be able to stop him. Don't you see, they're wrong. They're not supposed to be there."

"Lambkins, Honey-pie, they're gorgeous. And you'll learn to control them. It's all just new. Now stop that. Why KiKi was just saying the other day she wished hers were half so nice."

"She can have mine. I hate them"

"Stop it, Lambkins, stop it. You can't hate a part of you."

"I can. I do. I want to cut them off." Maria rushed into the room, looking frantically for the dinner tray, She grabbed up the steak knife, pulled on a teat.

DeeDee grabbed her, wrapped her in her arms, bear hugged until Maria's breath was gone and she subsided, sobbing. DeeDee pried the knife from her hand, carried her to the bed, laid her between the sheets. She held a drink to her lips, mad her swallow half of it, then covered her with the blanket.

Maria lay in the bed, sobbing, her sobs subsiding as DeeDee sat beside the dressing table, picking up the phone. "Desk? This is Deborah Daniels, Security. Find me Miz Costello, ASAP. Have her call me in room 555.

"No, I don't know where she is. Use her cell phone and her pager. She carries both."

DeeDee hung up the phone, looking at the fetal form. Absently, she lifted the cover, picked up a fry, munched it. Poor kid. They shouldn't have done that to her. Who am I kidding? She's likely to be doing worse in a couple of months. DeeDee had finished the fries, one at a time when the phone rang.

"Deborah? What's wrong? It had better be good."

"It's not. Get up here. And get a Doc. Maria tried to hack herself, she's really shook by today."

"On my way. Don't leave her."

Fat chance.

 

§§

 

Marilyn knocked on the door in less than two minutes. DeeDee let her in, gave her a report. Marilyn had already placed a call to Dr. Lampe. They poured the rest of the drink down Maria, anything to keep her quiet, then settled into chairs to wait.

DeeDee couldn't stay seated, she kept bouncing up to check on Maria. Finally Marilyn couldn't take it nay more. "Sit down, Deborah. She'll be fine. She's not dying, just a little shook."

"Fine? You call that fine? You make her give a blow job and she tries to whack off a breast? What's not fine? She cuts her throat? Well, when she comes to, maybe she'll oblige."

"Deborah, you're upset. Sit down."

"No shit, Sherlock. How am I supposed to fix this? I mean it started out as a little slap and tickle, some fun until she was outta here, but now."

"Now what?"

"I don't know. Not this. Not her on her knees with a strange man's cock in her mouth."

"You would prefer someone you know? Sylvia's husband, perhaps, or Carolyn's Tom? Would that make it better?"

"No. Why? Why make her at all?"

"Because she's a slave. From the very first, you knew she was to be sold to the highest bidder when she was ready. And there's a better than even chance that sexual performance will be involved some way."

"God, you're cold."

"Uncontrolled emotions in this business are a recipe for disaster. You've let yours get ahead of you. Maybe we should make a change. Your assistant perhaps."

"Palmer? Great scheduler, but she can hardly handle security."

"But she's not involved. And this is a defined situation."

The phone rang and Marilyn picked it up. "Jeannine? Marilyn. We have a situation with your patient.

"No, come here. Room 555.

"Ten minutes? I'll be expecting you."

"Dr. Lampe will be here shortly. Do you think you can contain yourself until then? Or should I call in Nancy?"

Deborah glanced at the recumbent lump, gathered herself. "I'll stay. I owe it to her."

"Good. But I want you to take a few days off with Debra Anne. You've been working much too hard. Use my cabin in the mountains for an extended weekend. Catch your breath."

"I'd rather not just now. Thanks."

"And I had rather that you do. Consider it a command performance. If you leave Friday morning, you can be back on duty Monday."

"If you assure me nothing will happen to her while I'm a way."

Marilyn followed her glance to the bed. "It's in my interest to see she is healthy and reasonably willing when the time comes. And there's just the routine for her. Unless Dr. Lampe orders something different."

"Then pending the good doctor's instructions, I could use time with Debra Anne."

"Good."

The pair sat in silence. The problem with modern rooms, unless the television is providing background noise, there is no marker for the time. DeeDee kept checking her watch, as if by lifting her arm she could make the seconds fly by, the good Dr. Lampe arrive a minute sooner. Marilyn sat silent, not showing the tension building from the unaccustomed task of simply waiting, no report to read, no figures to review.

"DeeDee?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to be there this afternoon. And I should have realized the noose was no longer necessary."

"Thank you, Ma'am. That was very big of you."

"Don't be facetious."

"I wasn't. It's hard to say you're sorry."

"Granted. Maria will be all right. Dr. Lampe is very good."

"I hope so. On both counts."

 

§§

 

Dr. Lampe swept into the room in an evening gown, cape and carrying the ubiquitous physician's satchel. "Alright, Marilyn, tell me all about it. Everything."

Marilyn had DeeDee repeat her report, starting with Maria's encounter with Tomas.

"You given her anything?"

"A stiff drink. A double."

"Jesus, thanks for warning me. If I'd given her the usual sedative dose, she might not have come out of it. Let me think. Alright, given her weight, she about 125? I think we can handle it."

"Uh. 115."

"Damn! You put her on a starvation diet? That could cause this."

"She's been working hard."

"And you haven't increased her caloric intake. Dammit, Marilyn, I thought you had sense."

"Can you do anything for her?"

"Not tonight. Just check her vitals. And knock her out. You have someone stay with her. Check her every fifteen minutes for the first hour, then every half hour for the next, then hourly. As long as she's breathing regularly, she's fine. If she starts to rasp, get her to emergency."

Dr. Lampe listened to Maria's heart beat and respiration, checked her pulse more for strength than pace. Afterwards she rolled up her peignoir and plunked her buttock. "She sounds fine. Sleep still knits up the tattered wounds of care. But call my office in the morning. I'll check with a hypnotic therapist. If she was adapting as well as you say, a session or two should get her settled down. If not . . ." Jeannine shrugged.

DeeDee was on her feet. "When will those sessions be, Doctor?"

"Urgent case. One a day Wednesday and Thursday. Schedule permitting. After that, we'll see."

DeeDee looked desperately at Mrs. Costello.

"Of course you can go. And you'll still make your weekend with Debra Anne."

Dr. Lampe checked her watch, looked back at Marilyn. "I get about one night a month with Tom. And you splashed down right in the middle of the best bottle of wine I've had in a while. You owe me big time. And if he isn't frisky when I get back, that goes double."

Marilyn just nodded. "Whatever."

Dr. Lampe swept back out, leaving a small stimulant dose to use "only in dire emergency." Marilyn stood out of her chair. "You'll spend the night with her, of course."

"Of course."

"You remember the instructions?"

"Every quarter hour, then every half hour, then hourly. Raspy breathing get her to emergency. She stops, give her the stimulant. Otherwise call in the morning."

"Good." Marilyn gathered up her shawl, stopped, laid a hand on Deborah's shoulder. "I'm truly sorry for you." She kissed Deborah's cheek and swept out of the room before DeeDee could respond.

DeeDee put out the hanger, locked the door behind Marilyn. Standing in the middle of the room, she looked down at the slumbering Maria, saw her stir, heard her moan softly. Poor kid. Poor me. What am I gonna do with her?

DeeDee turned to the phone, cradled it to punch the familiar number. "Care Center? Deborah Daniels. How's my daughter?

"Good. I'll check on her in the morning."

She depressed the button, let it up to punch "5". "Desk? This is Daniels, Security, in Room 555. I need some wake up calls up here.

"Every hour on the half hour until 6:30.

"Yes, I know it's unusual, just humor me.

"Thanks."

DeeDee sat on the bed, turned back the sheet. She put the backs of her fingers to Maria's neck, testing temperature and pulse. She listened intently, listening for the gentle sound of regular breaths. Maria stirred under the touch, shrugged as if flicking a fly.

Seems fine. Every fifteen minutes. DeeDee reached for the small clock, set the alarm, turned the buzzer to pulse, the volume to low.

DeeDee stood over her charge, the charge she had taken on, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. What am I gonna do with her? For her? For now, just watch, wait, a hovering mother over a sick child. DeeDee started to croon, words flitting back from memories long ago, her mother beside her while she lay in a darkened room, recovering from? What was it? It didn't matter. "Hush little baby, don't you cry. Mama's gonna make it better, bye and bye." How? How can I male it better? DeeDee felt helpless, frustrated.

She turned to the bath, seeking a fresh glass, ice, water, anything to relieve the suddenly parched throat. The ice was melted, but the water cold, so she drank that. As she swallowed, she glimpsed her reflection, the robe straining around the breast under her uplifted arm. She set the glass on the lavatory top, fumbled with the tie of her robe. It parted, fell open, revealing the wide cleft between her breasts, the slight roundness of an abdomen softened by easy duty, the dark crevice that was her navel. Slowly, tentatively, she raised a hand, inserted it through the crack, cupped her breast. Gently she explored, feeling anew the firm roundness, traced the nipple point. Softly she caressed the nurturing orb, felt it grow in the warmth of her hand.

Why? Why? Why would these hurt her so?

DeeDee fondled the warm roundness, pressing gently against the aureola, inhaling as tremors fled from her teat to her twat. She pressed again, and felt the first swelling inside her, the first sign of her readiness. And suddenly she understood. The trigger of urges she so welcomed, relished, had frightened Maria. Not the newness, but the confusion of what she was, the reminder of what she had done. Oh, pet, what have we done to you?

The buzzer sounded faintly from the bedside table. DeeDee hurried back to shut it off before it wakened Maria. She sat on the bed, close, her bottom touching Maria's, while she checked her signs, listened to the slow exhale. It's gonna be a long night.

 

 

 

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© 2001 by Sydney Michelle. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.