The Tables Turn
by Sydney Michelle
© Omphale Press, 2002
CHAPTER 4
George awoke to Phoebe’s finger tracing his ear. She looked at him through hooded eyes, smiling contentedly. Her finger traced his lips. The salty, yeasty odor of cum filled his nostrils. "Your squaw thanks her chief," she whispered. George’s hand traced her flank, from shoulder to hip. Her lean hip rose to meet his touch.
"You were satisfied? Are you alright?"
Phoebe snuggled closer, her nose resting in the cup below his collarbone. "Hhm. Ache but happy. You ruined me, you know."
"Ruined you? How so, my dove."
Phoebe’s nails traced his chest. "You stretched me so much, no one else can fill me. And I’ll drain for a week." Phoebe pouted and ran her finger down his breastbone.
George’s arms enveloped her. "I will fill you. And fulfill you, my dove."
"Now that we’ve witnessed the consummation and you two have returned to the living, I hate to ask, but we really need to tend to business."
George kissed Phoebe’s ear, swinging out of bed, standing for Josephina to slip and tie the robe on his naked body. His prick was now merely four inches long. Nanette spread out a short negligee on the other side of the bed, helping her mistress to dress.
"Now that you’ve experienced her, George, what do you think we should give your bride to be? SUB 2000 of course, but how much? Any other psychologicals? And what about DNA physicals?"
"Can we add dosage later if the effect isn’t strong enough?"
"The psychologicals, yes. They increase various excretion levels. But I understand the DNA’s don’t build. You could increase the dose in six months when the original dose wears off."
George nodded. "Then let’s go easy My wife’s will should bend not break. Half a SUB 2000, but only a quarter of BND 2000 and FSD 2000. She orgasmed strongly despite the pain of taking me the first time and I want her eager, not humping the bedpost for relief. As for the physicals, let’s leave her pretty much alone. She’s fetching and nicely shaped. But I would love Lady Godiva like hair on her and somewhat bigger breasts. B-cups are nice, just not quite completely satisfying. And she should be able to store sufficient milk to nurse twins. Perhaps slightly wider hips, so she can carry and deliver the babies easily. And we need to take into account she already carries female DNA."
Ysabella pulled out an organizer, searching the files. "Hh-hm. From this I’d say a full UF-HR, no danger there, a quarter UF-BR for a single cup size increase, and a quarter UF-WH to spread her pelvis an inch and a half. What about some UF-RA for extra padding? Once she’s bearing, you shouldn’t hit her with any more of the DNA pills."
"Sounds good. But let’s do a half dose of the hip widener. With the fertility drug, she may carry more than one." George smiled at Phoebe who pulled the sheet up over her negligee and blew him a kiss. Children! I will bear my lover many children! "But no more padding. I like her nice tight butt." Phoebe giggled like a naughty schoolgirl.
"Why don’t we go downstairs and lay out the pharmacia? In a few minutes, Nanette can get you two decent and then we can complete our business dealings and have a bite to eat. I presume you’ll want to take Nanette with you to the islands?"
George nodded. "Phoebe will need a companion. Nanette will do nicely. We’ll be down as soon as I get Giggles here settled down." Phoebe giggled and ducked her head under the sheet, glancing at her so sore but so wet pussy. She sniffed long and deep, imbibing their odors, the sweet intoxicating scent of his precious fluids, imbedding his smell in her memory so she would be ready for him. She wiggled slightly, sloshing their fluids inside her, squeezing her vagina closed as if she could hold him inside forever.
§§§
Ysabella arranged the papers on the desk. Deed. We’ll need a notary. Stock transfer. Board resignation and replacement recommendation. Nice, neat, simple.
Priscilla laid out the pills with one hand, rocking the pram with the other. The twins burbled and played with the beads hanging above, looking about wide eyed, poking each other from time to time. Dry, fed, warm, their lives were contented.
"Josephina? Is there a notary in the house?"
"I am so empowered, Madam."
"Good. You can notarize the transfers. When will cook have the food ready?"
"For soup and sandwiches, about fifteen minutes. And what are your drink preferences?"
"Nothing for the babies. Water for me. Have to keep a clear head. Milk for Mrs. Patrick. George will have tea, Irish Breakfast. And water for Miss Phoebe. I wouldn’t want anything interfering with her pills."
"Nor I, Madam. I’ll see to it." Josephina withdrew, closing the door behind her.
Little Phoebe stretched out her arms. "Ma-ma! Hold!"
"Just a minute, Sweetheart. Mama’s got to finish something very important." Phoebe glanced at her two babes and smiled. So different. Phoebe would eat up all my attention if I let her. And Jenn would just sit there and pout, hurt at being ignored. She brushed her fingers through the fine hair, smoothing wisps back from their foreheads.
"Everything ready, Hon?"
"Almost. I just have to cut the SUB and lay out the fertility pill. How did you know to bring that?"
"Lucky stroke. I planned to jump start her motherhood after we left her craving a man, any man. We guessed the odds were better than nine out of ten she’d pull some stunt and we’d juice her. I just hadn’t counted on her getting a husband who wanted a big family. And George wants lots of kids."
"That will be a switch. Phoebe, everything for me Phoebe, with a bunch of rug rats hanging on her skirts. Do you think half a dose of SUB is enough? Her dominance isn’t quite off the scale, but it sure makes it go ‘thump.’ I’d hate for her to give George a hard time."
"You know it and her better than I. Bump it a quarter if you think it won’t leave her crawling like a snake on her belly all the time."
Right where she ought to be. "I think another quarter will be just right. A full dose might make her want to be caged when he isn’t with her."
A tap sounded at the door, as if it were being kicked. "I’ll get that." Ysabella opened the door to George carrying Phoebe in a light blue quilted silk robe, her arms around his neck, her head nestled in his shoulder.
"Nanette got her dressed, but she was a little stiff to walk down. If you will draw up a chair to the desk?"
"Let’s wait until after lunch. Set her down beside the twins."
George deposited Phoebe in an arm chair, kissed her forehead and settled into a club chair, arranging the skirt of the royal blue velvet robe around his silk clad legs. Phoebe’s eyes followed his every move.
"Mama! Hold! Now!"
Priscilla laughed. "She has your personality, Phoebe. Insistent. Impatient. Phoebe, Dear, let’s let Aunt Phoebe hold you right now." Priscilla picked Phoebe out of the carriage and handed her over. Phoebe looked startled, uncertain, not knowing what to do with a wiggly blonde bundle. "Just hold her in your lap, Phoebe. But watch her hands. She loves to pull your hair." Priscilla picked up Paula, rubbing forehead to forehead. "Oo’s Mama’s ‘ittle girl? Oo does Mama love?" Paula laughed, pleased to have her mother’s sole attention.
Phoebe settled her bundle in her lap, straightening the legs across, Appealing to George with her eyes for help. Little Phoebe blinked, reached up a hand, grasped the cowl of her robe. "Rity."
George smiled at Phoebe. "Good practice, my dove. And she is your namesake."
Josephina reappeared with a tray. "Your drinks, Madam. She suggested Irish Breakfast for you, Sir. There is lemon, sugar, and cream if you desire."
George poured the cup. "Clean pot?"
"Different set, Sir. The other will be washed several times and reconditioned before use."
"The food, Josephina?"
"Five minutes, Madam."
"Then we have time for Phoebe to take her medicines. If you will assist?"
"My pleasure, Madam."
George stood up beside Phoebe. Priscilla shifted Jenn to her right, reaching for Little Phoebe. She reached back but grabbed a lock of Phoebe’s hair, holding onto both women at once.
"Ouch!"
"Phoebe! Bad Phoebe! Don’t be greedy! Let go! Not Nice! Sorry Phoebe, but her father had long, thick hair and loved taking me wrapped in mine. I’m afraid she inherited his fascination with hair." Priscilla pried little Phoebe’s fingers from her hair.
"I had no idea babies could be so strong."
"They cling like bejesus to what they want."
"Ah-hem." Josephina held a silver salver with the pills, a silver tumbler of water in her hand.
Phoebe’s eyes widened, narrowed. She looked up at George. "Do I have to? I’ll be good. Promise. Look. No King’s X." She held out her hands.
George sipped his tea. "I believe it’s best, my dove. You need a few enhancements to comfortably carry and nurture our children. It would be much more pleasant for you to take them willingly. But if you are hesitant, . . ." He scowled.
Phoebe trembled, remembering the scalps. Maybe I can fake it. At least the psychs. She took the tumbler and looked over the pills. "This one for bountiful locks, to entice my lover to lose himself in me." Phoebe stuck out her tongue at George, slipped the UF-HR on the crease, then washed it down with a swallow form the tumbler. "Does it please my lord and master?"
George knelt beside her. "I would be pleased with you anyway, my dove. But yes, the prospect of thick flowing locks does please me." He stroked her cheek.
He was awfully good in bed. To be loved, cared for? Phoebe smiled. Owned? Controlled? She frowned. "And for bigger breasts." Phoebe swallowed the UF-BR. "And for a wider behind." Another swallow and the UF-WH disappeared. Phoebe looked into the tumbler. "All gone." Her face brightened.
"Josephina, another round for my lady."
"Certainly, Sir." She refilled the tumbler from a clear, two liter bottle.
"Now for the big ones. Your baby pill, my lady."
Phoebe sighed, took the pill. Here’s hoping the implant works. She swallowed.
"Now the others."
Phoebe recognized the BND 2000 fragment by its color. What are a few ropes and chains among friends? She washed down the pill. She picked up a piece with "FS" showing before the break. I’ll need this until I can turn the tables. The pill disappeared behind her lips, followed by a sip and gulp. She looked up at George looking at the salver. No use trying to palm it. Under the tongue. She smiled at George, ostentatiously picked up the pill and put it on her tongue. She held out her tumbler. "‘Ore, ‘ease."
Josephina added a splash. Phoebe drained the tumbler, three big gulps, chin up so George could see her throat working. She stuck out her tongue. "Thee? All thone!" She smiled as her tongue disappeared, the SUB 2000 safely tucked under it.
George bent down, kissing her fully on the lips, his tongue worming in to caress hers. His head came up. "I’m so proud of you, my dove, being such a good wife. Please forgive my suspicions."
Phoebe smiled. George held her jaw in his fingers. "But training rules." George’s hand pulled down her jaw. His forefinger invaded her mouth, scrapping under her tongue, one side then the other. He popped the pill on top and shoved it down her throat. She gagged, then swallowed. He reached back. "Water." He held the tumbler before her eyes. "Swallow. I wouldn’t want you to spit that up."
Phoebe shook her head. George pulled her head back by the hair on her crown. "Easy way or hard way. Your choice. I will rule my household. Gently, lovingly if you permit it. But I will rule." He held the tumbler to her mouth, water lapping at her lips. Phoebe sipped. "All of it." Phoebe drank, tears welling in her eyes.
He handed the empty tumbler back to Josephina, then wiped drops from the corners of her mouth. "Petruchio’s lead must be followed, sweet Kate. I may not always have the luxury of time or place to explain why. But a good wife, like a good soldier must comply, confident in her love that she will not be needlessly abused. That will be hard for you, my headstrong Kate. Perhaps we should increase the dose now so you will grow comfortable with the necessity. Can we? Before it take effect? Another quarter?"
Priscilla smiled. Ysabella scratched her head. "I don’t see why not. Sort of like taking two pills, not one." Priscilla handed the SUB fragment to Josephina.
"Sorry, my dove, but you are more conniving than I had thought. Open wide."
Phoebe’s eyes widened. She sobbed but complied. The pill piece popped into the back of her mouth, washed down by another drink. I’m going to want, want to kowtow before him! But when I’m pregnant, Priscilla said being pregnant neutralizes them!
"You’ll have to watch her after she delivers, George. Apparently milk production damps down the systems. But nursing may make her want to be protected."
Nursing? Not just pregnant?
"I’ll remember. And old Pete will have had more time to work. Who knows? Maybe she’ll become addicted."
"If we’re done, I’ll see about lunch, Madam."
"If you would, Josephina." She withdrew, closing the door. "You had a real jewel in her, Phoebe. I believe she wouldn’t blink an eyelash except for the upset of routine if you marched an army through here. She should make our lives much easier. Sorry to keep her, George." She picked up Phoebe, chucking her under the chin. "Does itsy bitsy want to sit with Marmar?"
Josephina reappeared with a tea cart. She ladled bullion into cups before passing around with a square tray bearing sandwiches, bread plates, and napkins. "If that will be all, I will retire for some refreshment."
"Please do. I’ll ring when we need your notary services. Say in about thirty minutes?"
"Very good, Madam."
George settled Phoebe on a love seat beside him, arm around her shoulders. "Don’t touch me, you brute! All that lovey talk is just a sham, forcing me to take, to take, those! You don’t love me. You wouldn’t do that to someone you love. You just want a fantasy doll to spread her legs and pump out babies and milk."
Priscilla chewed and swallowed. "You really should give him a break, Phoebe. After all, everyone isn’t like you."
George stroked her cheek. "It’s early, I know, my dove. But if I didn’t care for you already, I wouldn’t have waited for you to adjust. And I did it so you may have time to love me in return. Not just for a tumble, some slap and tickle, but to know I will not abandon you, hurt you. ‘For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for better or worse.’ Those are not just words, my dove, but mutual pledges of caring and trust. With time, you’ll know I don’t make such pledges lightly. And I hold to them til death. Now eat, my dove. You’ve been through a lot and you need your strength."
"You doctored it. I know Josephina. She’ll do whatever her superior tells her. I’ll come to in front of a camera hearing an auctioneer barking."
George glanced up at Ysabella and Priscilla. "She did it to me. Talk about being visited with your sins."
George turned her to him. "I don’t know what nonsense you have done in the past, and furthermore I don’t care. You are to be my wife, to be honored, cherished, protected, the mother of our, not my, children. I suppose I’ll find out more about your past one piece at a time than I care to know, but Ms Phoebe Roget, you are going to be Mrs. George Stonearm. And we will deal with your ghosts and fears. In love and with trust." He kissed her, firmly, lovingly, lips lightly on hers, working up her cheek to flutter over her eyelids, down to the tip of her nose. "Now no more nonsense about drugged sandwiches and televised auctions. Pick a sandwich, any sandwich, and I’ll eat it with you. Your food shall be my food, your drink, my drink."
The four ate quietly, Ysabella and Priscilla sharing small bits of their sandwiches with the twins who chewed away, still not always sure whether to spit or swallow. Phoebe eyed the pair, happily absorbed in the children, delighting in small accomplishments, comforting nuzzles.
"Look at them. Brains turned to mush. Gooey over nothing."
"Be careful, my dove. That could be us in a year or so."
"Never. Nanette can tend them. We will take our delight in each other."
He smiled down at her. "Never say never. It will rebound on you. But eat, my dove. Be strong for me." He bit into a club sandwich quarter, then fed her from the same.
Gradually Phoebe relaxed against him, enjoying being fed, pampered. An anxious look flashed across her face.
"No silly fears, my dove."
Phoebe whispered, "Not that. It’s just, I’m, well, draining!" She looked positively panicked.
George spilled some water from her tumbler. "I’m sorry, dear. Careless of me. Here, let me wipe that up." He dabbed at the gown until the napkin slipped inside the fold. "Is that better? Am I forgiven?"
Phoebe nodded, nestling against him. He could have made a joke, or boasted, or done a thousand other things, but instead he took care of me. It’s silly. It’s nothing. But somehow, it’s everything. "Forgive me my silliness?"
"Your consolation is never silly, my dove. And love always forgives love."
She tucked her feet under her, resting her head on the soft velvet on his breast. His hand stroked her hair as she rested, biting off bits of preferred food, trying not to remember the pills dissolving in her system, conjuring contentment cradled on his chest before a villa by the sea. Somehow it seemed as though they had been this way before, with wafting silks, blowing incense, but where? When?
Only soft peals of childish delight penetrated the warm fog. His strength was so comforting, she drifted off. They lay by an azure sea with pearling dhows on the horizon. Cool zephyrs blew softly over their skin. Sunlight danced upon the waves. A lithe serving girl fetched trays of dates and pomegranates, bread and honey, cups of sweet wine. Silken gauze swept over her, trailing to his form reclining beside her divan. His hand reached up to her. ‘The sea, the sky, wine, bread, and thou. Thy name is contentment, my precious one.’ She bent to feed him bread dipped in honey, to kiss his lips, sweet with the taste of honey and wine. She felt life stir within her, the fruit of their loving, her gift to, from her lord. A hand gently shook her shoulder. She looked up into loving eyes. "Yes, my lord? Soon we shall have a fine son, proof of our love."
George’s eyes opened wide. Those pills really kick in with a vengeance! "Perhaps. But we have papers to sign before we can sweep off to our hideaway."
"As you say, my lord." Phoebe untied the robe, letting it fall away. "It’s warm in here, is it not? And am I not beautiful? Desirable?"
"Very. But your signature is required, my mourning dove."
Phoebe rose to his hand, the robe and wet napkin resting on the love seat. "Not mourning, my love. Never mourning as long as I am with you, have you."
Priscilla looked with amazement at Phoebe, leaned to whisper to Ysabella. "That’s not the pills. SUB doesn’t talk like that. Master, prostrate, unworthy, but not love poetry."
Ysabella pressed the buzzer and patted her hand. "Perhaps she is in love. It’s been known to happen."
"Better man than I, Gunga Dhin."
George settled Phoebe into the chair. She rested her cheek on his hand, eyes sparkling. She turned her head, seeing Paula cradled over Priscilla’s shoulder, back being gently patted. "Oh. We’re not . . ."
"Not what, my dove."
"Not . . . Well, not not here. In this place. This time." She looked up at her lover. "Take me away from here. Please tell me you’ll take me away by an azure sea."
George looked confused. "As soon as it can be arranged, my love. A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou. And we shall play all the day long."
Josephina appeared, as if the door had never moved. "You rang, Madam?"
"And sheer silks. And cool ices to remind me of my home in the mountains. Promise me, my beloved."
"Whatever your heart desires. Cooling fans. The finest lace. Pearls beyond price."
"Silks and ice. And dates and pomegranates. Promise me." Phoebe felt her chest tighten, her brow furrow.
George was very confused. "Silks and ice. Dates and pomegranates. I promise."
Phoebe rested her head on his hand, gripping it as if it left her she would die. She kissed the knuckles, the fingertips. "My beloved has returned. Your Jasmine is much pleased, comforted."
Ysabella looked at Josephina who shrugged, shook her head, cocked an eyebrow. "If you will just sign here, Phoebe, and here. The Josephina can notarize the documents."
Phoebe frowned, looked at the papers. This isn’t right. I can fight. The glove won’t fit.
A hand cupped her shoulder. "Sign them, my dove, my love. It’s best and only right."
She glanced up into deep brown eyes. "As you command, my beloved." Phoebe scratched her signature on the pages.
Ysabella sighed with relief. Done!
Josephina frowned. "I cannot notarize these, Madam."
Ysabella sat bolt upright. "And why not, pray tell?"
"The signature, Madam, is of Sultana Jasmine Abdullah al-Barakesh."
"What! Phoebe, is this one of your tricks! It won’t work!"
Phoebe shrank against George. "Abdullah? Why is she angry? What more does she want with me? I have given my sister my claim on Tabriz. Protect me, Abdullah, my beloved."
"Shush, my dove, my love. Your claims are not recognized under that name. You will have to sign papers in the manner of the infidels. Sign again and I will see no harm comes to you."
Phoebe sighed. "As you wish, my beloved."
Ysabella produced second originals, thanking the gods for the foresight to double print in case one of the twins had demolished the first set. Phoebe signed again, George bending over her to be sure the signature read "Phoebe Roget." He nodded and handed the documents to Josephina.
The faxes were soon on their way, confirming e-mails flying over the net. The five adults settled into wait, Priscilla tending to burping little Phoebe as Paula crawled to Josephina holding out her arms to be held. As she wrapped her little arms around her neck, Josephina began to coo in her ear and swing her gently. Everyone looked at her, astounded. Josephina looked slightly embarrassed. "Had a little sister, once. Before the accident. Don’t know what became of her."
Phoebe lay naked against George. "I’m sorry, Josephina. I thought you were an orphan."
"I am. I was not quite seven at the time. We were split up. Babies are adopted. Young boys aren’t."
"Josephina, I didn’t know that! If you had told me, I would have found her for you."
Josephina looked down. "Under the circumstances, that might not have been wise." He rocked Paula back and forth. "You are a winsome little shit, aren’t you? Apple of your Mama’s eye, aren’t you?"
Phoebe snuggled up to George. "Perhaps not. I’m truly sorry." She cinched her arms around him. "Don’t leave me, my great chief. Your sweet squaw needs your protection, your care."
"Never fear, my lovely captive, captor of my heart. I will protect you from serious harm." He stroked her hair, imagining it thick, long, rippling over her body, its waves and curls inviting probes to discover her secret recesses.
Phoebe looked up at him. "I don’t know why, I’m still stiff, but I want you, need you, to touch me." George’s hands stole down, one covering a buttock, the other slipping gently between her thighs to cover her mound. Phoebe gently ground her still wet bush in his palm, sighed.
Soon soft pings announced the returning e-mails. Ysabella called up and printed out the messages. "That does it. We’ll file the deed and transfer the auto titles tomorrow."
Josephina swung Paula once more and kissed her cheek. "If I might suggest it has been a long day. I had Nanette make up the guest suite on the other end from the master suite. You and Mrs. Patrick might wish to rest before dressing for tea. Cook is very particular to serve tea at four, dinner at eight. And Mr. Stonearm and the lady will find fresh sheets on the bed upstairs."
Ysabella glanced at Priscilla. "That was very considerate of you, Josephina. I believe we will take advantage of that in a few minutes. If you would have Herman garage the limousine, he can relax as soon as he and Sidney finish the new plantings. He can return the limo tomorrow with our thanks and a substantial bonus. And why don’t you relax until tea?"
"Very kind of you, Madam. I shall withdraw if my services are no longer required."
Ysabella closed the door behind Josephina. "A private word with you, if you please, George."
George joined Ysabella in the corner. Ysabella touched his cowl, drawing him closer. "With your permission, George, I would like to return Phoebe a favor. She made a trophy mount of some of Priscilla’s items when she converted her into a woman. I’d like to do the same of hers at this big moment in her life, as you ready her to submit to being a wife."
"What did you have in mind?"
"The bra and panties she was wearing. Her garter belt." Ysabella took a deep breath. "And a lock of her head and pubic hair."
"How big a lock?"
"Just enough for a good curl. Say an inch wide and a knuckle deep. A bit less below."
"I hate to give up her head hair, but the UF-HR should have it grow back fairly quickly. And I wouldn’t have her but for you. Sure." He turned to Phoebe. "Liebechen?"
Phoebe perked up. "Yes, my love?"
"Come kneel before Ysabella. She wants some items from you."
Phoebe did as she was told, not without some fear and trembling. What would Ysabella want from me? I’ve signed everything. Is she jealous of my chieftain? What more can she want?
Ysabella told Phoebe to reach back and grab her ankles, to look up at the ceiling. Phoebe felt a tug and twist in her bush, a parting of her lips from the strain, a cool puff of air on her clit. "Here?" A coldness pressed against her mound. My God, she’s going to cut off my clit! No! Protect me, my chief! Phoebe turned her head to George.
"Looks good. That will actually make it easier for me to tongue her."
Phoebe felt the cold press against warm flesh. A coarse snip filled the air, the pressure relaxed. "This will bunch so nicely below her panties. A sure sign they were once occupied. Look, Phoebe." Phoebe opened her eyes to see strands of her pubic hair dangling form Ysabella’s fingers. "See? You’ll have a trophy mount just like Priscilla. Now stay bent back."
Tears rolled down Phoebe’s cheeks as she felt her hair being parted, sectioned, stretched. Her scalp stretched slightly under the pull of her hair. "How’s this?"
"A lovely scalp lock. It will make a beautiful curl. Twist it a little first for a smooth cut."
Scalp lock? No, George! You said you’d protect me! Don’t let her scalp me! Phoebe cried as she felt cold metal touch her scalp. Again she heard a coarse snip as the strands were severed.
"Thank you, George. Priscilla, please tie these off and put them away somewhere safe for later."
Phoebe shuddered. My hair, all she wanted was some of my hair!
George took a length of sash cord Priscilla handed him, moving behind Phoebe. He whispered in Phoebe’s ear, "And now, my captive squaw, back to bed with you." A loop drew tight about her wrist, a turn and hitch captured the other. Loops about her ankles were completed faster than she could follow. He pulled her up before him. She felt his prong poke her through his robe. "Now white squaw give Indian chief many papooses." A lift and sling, and her hips balanced over his shoulder.
As he carried her through the door, her hair slid down like a veil, hiding her face. Ysabella and Priscilla swore they saw her smiling broadly even as she kicked her legs to make his hands grasp her knees and buttocks. They heard her squeal as he carried her up the stairs, "No! No! Chief’s spear too big for white squaw! Chief tear sweet Kate squaw apart! Please! Kiss it all better? Many times?"
Ysabella settled Priscilla into her seat. "Comfortable, Sweetheart?"
Priscilla smiled up at her companion. "Yes, thank you, Darling. I just miss the babies."
"It’s just a few hours. They’ll be fine with Josephina. She was cooing over them like they were her own when we left. I wonder what’s keeping George and Phoebe and Nanette?"
Just then they entered the private lounge. "Sorry we took so long. Getting luggage stored for a private flight just takes longer if you and it are to be on the same plane. Don’t lag, my dove."
"Yes, my Master." Phoebe slipped through the door past George. Her head was covered with the white cloak-shift’s cowl. Two diaphanous veils, rose over white, covered her face from the bridge of the nose. Other than her eyes and forehead, the end of her pearl entwined, thick blonde braid, her hands to just above the wrists, and her feet to just above the ankles was all they could see of her. She almost floated across the floor in her soft, Moroccan leather slippers, the only sound the soft chime of her anklet bells. She settled into an upholstered chair, sitting upright, eyes slightly downcast. George settled back into the seat beside her, his fingers gently stroking her back. Nanette settled into the corner, carrying an overnight bag and wearing a gray traveling suit.
"What a difference a little pill and two days makes. Master! Eyes down. From haughty bitch to submissive wife and mother-to-be in one easy lesson."
"I’d like to think I had something to do with it. At least old Pete down here. You really like old Pete, don’t you, my dove?"
Phoebe’s forehead flushed. "May your pitiful female ask a question of her master?"
"Of course."
"What have I done to displease you? Tell me and I will make amends. I live only to please you, my lord."
"Why do you think you have displeased me, Phoebe? In a few hours you will be my bride, promising to love, honor and obey as I promise to love, support and protect."
"You did not mount me this morning, my lord."
"We had to prepare for the flight. There wasn’t time. And I was with you twice before we went to sleep. You were contented then."
"But you were hard again this morning, my lord. I should have serviced you. You have not tired of me already?"
"Never, my amenable blonde beauty. You will feel me ride you hard and often when we are settled in."
Phoebe’s eyes brightened. "Soon, my lord? Soon?"
"We will be married four hours after the plane departs."
Phoebe frowned "So long, my lord? My bush craves your root."
"I’m afraid the FSD 2000 has her perpetually horny, George. Before I began nursing, if I weren’t brought off every four hours, I grew frantic. You can give her the strongest orgasm you can imagine and the urge for more will hardly wait five more minutes. Actually the un-juiced girls told me that a strong orgasm left them panting to do it again, as soon as they recovered strength. But four hours to a good lay is beginning to sound like forever to her."
Priscilla smiled at Phoebe. "When you’ve finished screaming the top of your head off as a midwife screams back at you, ‘Push, push’ and begin to nurse your first babies, you’ll get some relief. You’ll only be absolutely driven to spread yourself wide open once a day. You’ll be grateful for George to put his magnificent root in your hole as often as he wishes, but you’ll only be beside yourself once a day. So look forward to your pregnancy, Phoebe. You wouldn’t have babies when you were married to me, but now they will deliver you as well as fulfill you.
"Be good to her, George. Her motive for what she did to be was malicious, but it gave me my Bel and babies, so deep down I wish her well. Once she has gotten over the fear and trepidation of the first delivery, I’m sure she will be delighted to present you with a dozen fat healthy babies."
"Would you do that, Phoebe Darling? Would you bear me a dozen babies?"
"Could we start on the plane, Master?"
The group roared with laughter. "I believe I will induct you into the Mile High Club. Now let’s pull your cowl back, my dove. Ysabella and Priscilla are our friends. You only have to cover in public so your beauty won’t incite a stray male to offer himself to cover you. Right now, you have no ability to say no."
George pulled back the cowl. Phoebe trembled, already feeling almost naked before someone other than her beloved lord and master. A thin tambour hat perched on her thick, loosely drawn back locks. Gold bangles hung on her forehead, the chain links to the back of her head hidden in her hair. A nose ring glinted softly on her lip behind her veils. Her eyes were striking: dark brown lashes thickened with additional lashes, dramatic black outlines and topaz eyeshadow extended her line up and out.
The husbands walked over to the window, looking out over the tarmac. "I wouldn’t have believed how fast and strong SUB 200 works. She was practically beside herself when we hit the costume and dancing supply shops for her harem outfits. Losing her wealth must have unhinged her. She kept muttering something about ‘the Dow’ and kept calling me ‘Bull.’ I still haven’t figured out that Tabriz reference. And is she into drugs? She kept asking if she could give me ‘a magic carpet ride.’ And for someone who didn’t even have pierced ears, she threw herself on the table to have her nose and labia pierced. I swear there’s more going on in that woman’s head than a three quarter dose of SUB 2000, but I haven’t got a clue."
"Par for the course for women’s spouses, I gather. Priscilla has me completely baffled at times, and I’m a woman!"
"I wonder what’s holding up our plane?"
"Relax George. There may have been headwinds. When they have to fly in like this, they radio ahead if they’re going to be more than half an hour late."
"But Phoebe’s horny. I should have done her this morning."
Ysabella patted his shoulder. "You’ll make her a good husband. You could just enjoy the money and keeping her bare foot and pregnant, but you’re worrying about whether she’s satisfied. I hate to tell you George, but Priscilla’s right. There’s no way on earth you can do that when the FSD 2000 hits full strength, even on a quarter dose. Pop her as much as you can, pet her, lick her, give her a leg, do whatever your strength and time will permit, but short of bringing in a couple of studs to mount her every six hours, you’re just going to have to let her know it’s alright by you for her to diddle herself. After she’s nursing, you can keep up with her. And maybe in four years you won’t need to slip her any. By then she may be so accustomed to the role of good wife, of desiring her husband above all else, that old Pete is all you need to keep her in line. That and a string of little suckers. She seemed contented enough after your first mounting, although that Sultana bit had me worried for awhile."
Priscilla sat in the chair next to Phoebe and bent over. "Your nose ring is just beautiful. You will come to love it as much as I do mine. But does it itch now?"
Phoebe smiled at her ex, grateful for another woman’s concern. "A little. And I want to sneeze."
"That will pass as the swelling subsides. How are you below?"
"Tender. And damp. There was just enough room to get my finger through the rings onto my clit when I woke up in the middle of the night."
Priscilla patted Phoebe’s hand. "I remember how desperate I was for Paula to top me when I wasn’t being bonked by a client. Even when I was pregnant. I’m afraid I drove Bel a little ragged until I delivered."
"I’m sorry I did that to you, Priscilla. I was greedy and vengeful and hurtful. Can you forgive me?"
"I do. I wouldn’t go back to being Jake now for the entire billion dollars. I like my body, I like being a wife and mother. And a woman couldn’t ask for a more loving spouse than Ysabella. Before the UF-INT hit, you said you thought you might really be doing me a favor. Even with the agony of being rearranged, you were right. Thank you for converting me."
Priscilla gave Phoebe her a hug and kiss on the cheek. Phoebe’s eyes glistened as she hugged back. "Thank you, Priscilla. I didn’t appreciate a good thing when I had it. But I’ll make George a loving, obedient, wife. As I did before. Does it hurt? Being pregnant?"
"Not really. Throwing up’s no fun, but you might skip that. And the baby kicking is good hurt, like hitting the wall in a workout. I’m sure George will be with you during your labor. Just look deep in his eyes and the pain will melt. With that and an epidermal. May you be screaming in labor for twenty-four hours in final payment for your evil deeds. And then may the love of nourishing and nurturing your children give you peace. But what’s this "before" business?
"There! Over there! Is that ours?"
"Could be. But with time share you rarely get the same plane."
"Mr. and Mrs. Stonearm? Your plane has just landed. You should be able to board in five minutes." The PA system lapsed into silence.
"We’ll forward Phoebe’s and Nanette’s wardrobes by surface in a few days. I’d say they’d arrive in about three weeks. Phoebe may not be wearing much, but Nanette may run a little short."
"I’m sure there are maid uniforms there. And she should have plenty of time to wash and iron. I don’t think we’ll be wearing much other than a light covering to try to eat food rather than each other for the next month."
Ysabella laughed. "Well, be good. And name one after me."
"Oh, Phoebe, isn’t it thrilling? Mrs. Stonearm! You may not be officially wedded, but doesn’t it feel wonderful and secure to be a wife? This time with no arguments about who’s in charge?"
A piece of the old Phoebe bubbled to the service. "Submit for a thick prick?" The SUB 2000 and the memory of her after-orgasm calm reasserted themselves. "Yes. It is wonderful. To be cared for, no responsibility other than offering myself beautifully to him, to excite him, to pleasure him. Yes, it is fulfilling to be a wife."
"Time to recover, my dove. Have we got everything? Overnight bags? Medicine bag?"
The five waited excitedly by the door as the plane rolled to a stop. The door opened, steps unfolding. The pilot walked to the door as the second officer dealt with the baggage cart. "Mr. and Mrs. Stonearm? I’m Captain Steuben. We can be on our way as soon as you board and tower gives us clearance. Our flight plan to your destination was filed before we left Nashville. With this size airport, we should be airborne in ten minutes." She glanced at the cowled and veiled Phoebe and Priscilla’s nose ring and cocked an eyebrow. It was only when they heard her voice that they realized the pilot was a woman. "May I help Mrs. Stonearm? Mounting the steps in that burnoose might be a little awkward."
"No thank you, Pilot. We’ll manage. Mrs. Stonearm’s skin is very sensitive to sunlight. I thought it better that she dress for our destination. And her maid can carry on the light things."
"Very well. If you’ll follow me?" The pilot turned back to the plane, a thick four plait chestnut braid hanging down the back of her jacket. Nanette followed close behind the captain, while George took Phoebe’s hand to lead her onto the tarmac. She walked behind him, hand in hand, a step behind, her manacle bracelet sliding down her wrist. George stopped to wave from the top step, the medicine bag containing Brandi’s wedding present of three additional pill sets for Phoebe dangling from his wrist, the overnight bag with its dry ice packed trophies in his hand. Just after he handed Phoebe into the cabin, the copilot drew up the steps, locked the door lugs, and the plane began to back away.
"Do you think she’ll get out of those manacles and fetters soon?"
Priscilla adjusted her wrist bangles. "As long as the SUB 2000 is effective, we wouldn’t dream of not having something around our wrists, ankles and throat. But our love for our rulers is more effective than any pill. Our love transforms badges of shame into jewelry of pride. And there is nothing in this world, Miz Ysabella Patrick, that can ever change the love Mrs. Priscilla Patrick bears for you. You’re stuck with me forever, pills or no pills."
"And Miz Patrick wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s go home. If Cara drives the speed limit, we might have half an hour before little Phoebe wakes up."
"As my lady and mistress wishes. Contented milk from contented udders." She watched the small jet streak down the runway. "If we hurry, I may be impaled on your portable drill about the time George fills her shaft with his."
Ysabella sat comfortably on the couch facing the fire, reading a financial journal as Priscilla finished nursing the twins. Ysabella reached casually over and stroked her wife’s thigh, the comfortable easy stroke of practiced lovers. "Oh! Youch!"
Ysabella looked up, concerned. "Anything thing wrong, Sweetheart?"
"No, it’s just that little Bel just kicked. Here. Feel." She moved Ysabella’s hand to her distended belly carefully cradling little Phoebe so she could continue suckling.
"For a woman with such a stellar baby bearing pelvis, you sure show up early. You’re not just thick, you’re positively pooched." Ysabella felt the baby stir. She bent her head down to Priscilla’s belly. "Now you don’t hurt Mommy, little Bel. Be a good girl in there."
"She is, Bel, she is. There, I think you two are done. Let Mommy put you down for a nap." Ysabella helped her stand up.
Priscilla laid the two in their cribs, gently covering them to the waists with light blankets. As she turned to come back, Ysabella couldn’t help noticing her skin. "Pregnancy must agree with you, Sweetheart. You are positively glowing."
"I do love it! It’s the most fulfilling thing I’ve ever done. And to think when Phoebe first told me I could get pregnant, I was horrified. I was scared to death at the thought of being pregnant. Now carrying her makes me so happy. To be giving life to our child, to your daughter. I’d love to give you a half dozen children."
"One at a time, or all at once?"
"Definitely not all at once. I mean I love the twins to death. And I love you even more for loving them. But birthing two at once was just so hard. No more than two at a time, please Ma’am."
"Ahem. The post from the box, Madame." Josephina, her hair in a French Braid flowing down her back, dressed in a ruffled shirtwaist, black vest and ankle length McAlpine plaid skirt, stood quietly before her mistresses.
"Thank you, Josephina. Anything of immediate interest?"
"Except for this one mailer, the other envelopes appear to be routine. Solicitations, dividends, quarterly reports. The usual assortment."
"Give me that one but set the others on the desk. I’ll tend to them in a little while. You may go, Josephina."
"Very good, Madam. And might I inquire on behalf of the staff how Mrs. Patrick is feeling?"
Priscilla looked up at their major domo. "Very well. No more morning sickness. Now she’s beginning to kick. Thank them for their concern. And how is the pool coming?"
"I’m sure I wouldn’t know to what Madama refers."
"On my delivery date and time. I overheard that it’s up to four thousand dollars already."
"Your blessed event is quite the topic of conversation among the service, Madama."
"I’ll be sure to let you know if I feel any early pangs, Josephina. That way you can get an extra slot or two."
"Madama is too kind. I shall withdraw now."
"Poor Josephina. We really must see about matching her with someone nice who will appreciate her. But not take her away."
"Well, well. I expected something like this sooner or later, but George and Phoebe really got down to work."
"What? What? Tell me, oh, please tell me." Priscilla clapped her hands. Her outstretched fingers stroked her nose in anticipation.
"I thought the postage was from that little Carribean island. There are several items. "Let’s see. First the formal announcement. Engraved too."
"Stop tormenting me. Is she preggie?"
"Ah-hem. ‘Mr. And Mrs. George M. Stonearm are pleased to announce that they are expecting the arrival of three heirs in September.’ Triplets, Priscilla, Sweetheart, Trips! Ol’ Phoebe really hit the jackpot with that fertility drug."
"The way she was hanging on his arm as they got on the plane, I’ll bet she had him sticking it in her full and deep morning, noon, and night. I’m just thrilled for them. Especially her. Now she gets to be a mommy too."
"That’s the next part. George enclosed a note. ‘Thought you two lovebirds would like to hear of our success. Like to bring Phoebe for a visit around the time Priscilla delivers. Moral support for Priscilla and let Phoebe get a preview of the joys of motherhood. Write if O.K. and when.’ Would you mind terribly if they came up?"
"I’d love having another woman in the house then. Someone who can understand all the nervous anxiousness but isn’t in the middle of it. I mean you are definitely a woman, but you aren’t bearing fruit. And you were and are wonderfully supportive of me, and I love you to death, but well, you were a nervous wreck that last week before Phoebe and Paula came."
"Give me a break. They were my first, too."
"I love you for saying that. ‘My first.’ Even though, even though . . ."
"My wife was giving birth, they’re my daughters. And I had something to do with your being in that condition, I’m sorry to say."
"Thank you, Darling."
"And here’s the last thing. Good old George included some pictures. Apparently Phoebe’s been taking belly dance lessons. And apparently the UF-HR is working overtime. Her hair is thicker, fuller, and already down to her waist. She may fulfill his Lady Godiva fantasy yet."
"Lemme see! Lemme see!" Priscilla pulled Ysabella’s hand over to look at the pictures. "Oh, she’s just darling in diaphanous silks and veiled! You can even see her blonde bush, sorta. And what gorgeous hair brushing her butt. Is that a ruby in her navel? And those ankle bells! Those elaborate hoop earrings. And that golden chain between her bracelets! And this one. Prostrate on a pillow before her lord and master, beseeching his favors! No wonder she’s pregnant! It’s a wonder she’s not carrying more."
Priscilla laid her head in Ysabella’s lap. "Darling?"
Ysabella stroked her hair. "Yes, my sweet?"
"The twins are asleep. Josephina won’t be back til you call. Play with me, let me please you."
"That MSD 2000 just keeps on ticking."
"Pooh on that. I’ll be so glad when the four years are up. Then I can prove to you I’m totally devoted to you, desire only you, ardent to please you because of me and you, not because of any old pills. I am your wife. And like a good wife, I desire thee, and thee shall rule over me."
"Any regrets?"
" I would like it better if I had been reconstructed directly for you. Although if you had asked me straight out to take a bunch of pills to become what I am, we’d still be talking about it. But now I love what I am: a woman. Your woman. Your wife. The bearer and nurturer of our children."
Ysabella kissed her wife tenderly, her hand sliding down to pull up her skirts. Priscilla wore no panties to make it faster to get seated on the throne. When Ysabella’s hand cupped her mound, her finger slipped easily between the folds, covering both clit and lips. She turned her head, gazing into her wife’s misty, still innocent eyes.
"I love how you love me." Priscilla’s fingers traced her spouse’s mouth. "And I love that you put her higher on the wall." Their eyes turned to the fireplace mantle. On it sat their wedding picture, a gloriously pregnant Priscilla in an extended pregnancy smock, a bow veil pinned to her smooth bouffant hair. Above it hanging on the wall was her trophy mount, bronzed D-cups, panties and gloves gleaming softly in the light. And under a soft spot on top was Phoebe’s trophy mount, bronzed bra cups, panties, and garter belt, along with blonde locks from above and below.
Ysabella sighed in contentment. "All’s well that ends well, I suppose."
The End
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