Shona's Surprising Slave - Chapter 22
Femdom romance in the CARGO 'verse, where the NHS installs permanent chastity devices!
The front door closed. Mistress's bare feet softly slapped the laminate floor as she padded down the hall from her home office.
Hal's welts prickled against his t-shirt. The bleeding had stopped quickly enough, but, when he'd twisted and contorted in front of the bathroom mirror, there had been several cross crossing scabs.
Mistress's heavy tread grew closer. Packaging ripped.
Hal flinched but knew better than to turn from laying the lunch table. He wasn't supposed to draw attention to himself as a person.
But, as he placed a fork, he realised he was going to get plenty of attention this afternoon. Mistress planned to introduce him to her friends as her slave.
The thought made his penis harden in its cage. But then laughter drifted up from the street below.
Hal froze.
The balcony doors were open to let in the summer air. There were dinghies sailing in the old dock basin. A distant basketball smacked tarmac and young men shouted. From further off came the steady rumble of weekend traffic.
Hal winced. He knew Mistress's two best friends from the photos she had around her flat: a sweet blonde one who dressed too young and fussy, and a busty brunette who he guessed was the Australian. They belonged to the real world, from outside the bubble of Artemis and HrLckr. The only thing awaiting him was embarrassment; not just for himself, but for the woman he loved... which seemed worse.
But there was no way to talk her out of it since he wasn't allowed to talk to her at all.
Mistress was behind him now. "Put this on, slave."
A stainless steel collar clunked onto the table.
Hal's cage groin throbbed. "Yes, Mistress."
With shaking hands, he picked up the metal hoop. Wearing it would make his kink --- what Mistress merrily called his paraphilia --- naked to the world.
Worse, the collar had no visible locking mechanism, just a snap in prong. He would need heavy duty bolt cutters to get out of this thing.
His phone clicked. He winced. Another demerit!
"Slaves don't dawdle."
"Yes, Mistress." Hal fitted the cold metal around his throat, carefully closed it. A little force and...
Click!
He was collared just like in the old-school BDSM community. His knees wobbled. He turned to show Mistress.
But the statuesque Scotswoman was padding back towards the bedroom end of the apartment, red hair bouncing, khaki linen dress swishing around her knees, leaving her long, muscular calves bare.
The A-line cut made him think of old pictures of Scottish fishwives hauling creels of herrings. Mistress came from a long line of hard, harsh women. She didn't care how he felt about the collar. She just wanted to mark her property. Horribly, that knowledge made his welts throb and his pierced penis swell against the bars of its forever prison.
Focussing on his breathing, he laid the last of the three places. He was checking the main course when the doorbell went. His pulse quickened. He was out of breath by the time he reached the entry phone.
"It's Ruth and Angela!"
He recognised the deep Australian voice. Two very real women were about to see him standing here sporting a slave collar. But if he hesitated, then it would be more demerits.
He opened the door and stood, eyes down, legs shaking. Footsteps and female laughter echoed up the stairs, louder and louder making his temples throb and his steel collar tighten while his stomach seemed to turn to water and his cock shrivelled in its cage.
Mistress pushed past him to stand in the doorway. "Girls!"
Hal focussed on her feet and tried to breath normally.
Mistress had on her strappy sandals. The leather webbed her feet, emphasising their curves and leaving bare her red-painted toes. He remembered spending long hours massaging them, rubbing his thumbs in the instep.
His groin tightened pleasantly.
He could do this.
The female laughter reached a crescendo. Perfume wafted. There were hugs in the doorway.
"Come in! Come in!" cried Mistress. "Angela --- is this your new look?"
"Oh!" squeaked an English voice. Hal had an impression of a cream knee-length dress, skinny legs and high-heeled pumps --- the blonde from the photos.
"You must be LostBoy!" she cried, sounding perfectly delighted.
Hal's cheeks burned. His collar felt too tight. He closed his eyes, wished for the world to swallow him up. Even so, his penis woke. The traitorous organ tried to rear free of its permanent cage. After months of denial, even this real humiliation was enough to turn him on, which was even more shameful.
"Angela!" hissed Mistress. "You don't speak to slaves unless you want something." She raised her voice. "Come on in." She ushered the women into the hall. "Whatshisname will take your jackets."
Angela giggled as she handed over hers.
Hal didn't look up, but he glimpsed natural gold-blonde hair that fell past her shoulders.
Mistress made flapping motions to herd the women toward the lounge.
A second jacket draped over Hal's arm. "I thought you were joking about the kinky role play," said the Australian --- Ruth --- a broad dark-haired woman with a black slip dress that sheathed her bosom, plus white sneakers that probably cost more than Hal could earn in a month.
"Oh aye," said Mistress. "It's not role play. He's my slave."
"But he's getting off --- fuck me but this place is tidy!" Ruth stopped in the lounge doorway. "I thought you had a party?"
"That's what slaves are for."
The matter-of-fact way she said that sent a satisfied pulse through Hal's cage-neutered groin just as automatically as if she'd thrown a switch.
"Bloody rubbish. You stuffed all the crap in your study just like last time."
Mistress laughed. "Guided tour then. This way."
The women filed back past Hal.
He hurried into the kitchen to get the starter out of the fridge. Back in the lounge, he tabled the serving dishes then stood behind Mistress's chair while his neutered groin throbbed hopelessly.
Cries of delight resounded from the bedroom end of the apartment.
Finally the women swept into the lounge, summer frocks swishing.
Hal's shoulder's hunched. He didn't belong here. Not because of the steel collar, but because he was so very turned on and they were just having an innocent lunch party.
"OK, OK," said Ruth, "The place is like a bloody show home. But Whatshisname is getting off on it."
Hal stole a glance at the balcony. Maybe he could escape that way...
"Fuck, no!" Mistress moved to take her place. "That would be..."
"Sticky?" prompted Ruth.
"Unhygienic, actually," said Mistress. "I never thought of it that way before, because there wasn't another option."
Hal's cock pulsed wetly. It was the way she said it! Cheeks burning, he pulled back the chair for her. As he pushed it back in, he enjoyed a whiff of her perfume and his penis flexed in its cage.
"Anyway, he's neutered," continued Mistress. "So it's a non-issue. Go on, sit down."
More humiliation. Another wet pulse! Hal shivered. He moved to push the chair in for Ruth as she sat with her back to the window, then did the same for Angela --- who giggled but did not look at him. Did they think he was actually neutered?
"Wine everybody?" asked Mistress. Seated at the head of the table with her red hair sparkling in the sunlight, she looked like a barbarian queen.
"Too bloody right," said Ruth.
Hal filled their glasses, then retreated to stand behind Mistress's left. The position gave him a view of Angela's crossed ankles under the table. She was skinny to the point of being elven. The impression was heightened by the way her blue eyes were slightly too far apart and too small for her face. It was as if she were beautiful, but according to some alien aesthetic.
"To us," said Mistress.
"To the witches!" cried Angela.
"To the castrating bitches!" said Ruth.
They clinked glasses and tucked in.
Angela said, "This salmon is amazing!"
"From the smokery near my Mum's old house," said Shona.
Angela cocked her head. "You never talk about her."
Mistress sipped her wine. "Except to my therapist."
"Try the little chicken things," said Ruth, a little hurriedly. "You'll never guess what got announced today..."
And they forgot about Hal standing there meekly in his slave collar. His presence was simply not as interesting --- apparently --- as the fact that Ruth was going through a re-structuring, but it might mean more authority. Mistress had big plans for Project X, which everybody dissected. Then Angela, who seemed to be maybe an accountant, told the others about how she had had just unravelled a complex financial mess.
The more the conversation flowed, the more Hal gave up trying to follow it and settled into enjoying the sound of their voices while his penis subsided into a sort of sticky contentedness: Angela chirpy and feminine, Ruth deep and dirty sounding, especially when she laughed, and Mistress somewhere in between with her slightly singsong Scottish accent.
They were still talking work when Hal whisked away plates and wheeled in a trolley laden with the main course.
Angela twisted in her chair "God, that smells good!"
"You don't want to let that one go," said Ruth.
Mistress laughed. "I..."
Hal pricked his ears, expecting her to explain about their deal and how he was going to get to take her on a date.
"...don't plan to," completed Mistress.
A tendril of fear coiled up Hal's spine.
As Hal poured the wine, he told himself that maybe she thought their deal was private.
Now the conversation went from work to Victor, his various deficiencies as a boyfriend. Then Ruth said, "But he does have a massive dick, right?"
Mistress almost choked on her wine. "But it's really his only asset."
Angel gave a shocked squeak. Her pale skin coloured, so for a moment that plus the blonde hair made her look like a badly painted doll.
The rush of blood in Hal's ears muffled the conversation. He tried to stand very still so they wouldn't notice him standing there, eavesdropping.
"It's less of an asset thanks to the HrLckr," said Ruth. The broad Australian gestured for Hal to top up her glass.
Hal couldn't move.
He closed his eyes, took a step forward, then opened them.
Nobody was looking at him.
He filled Ruth's glass.
Angela held out her glass without turning her head. "I don't understand."
"Well, with a chaste, you can have any cock size you like," said Ruth.
Hal retreated to stand behind Mistress.
"Why would you want that?" said Angela. "I mean, I thought the whole point was no..." She lowered her voice. "No penis."
It was then it struck Hal that both of these perfectly normal women were actually HrLckr users and knew all about chastes and neuters. Now their attitude to him made sense. On some level, he was just a piece of meat to them.
Ruth chuckled. "Some of us like a good shag. What about you, Shona?"
"Jesus, Ruth!" said Mistress. "Lower the fucking tone, won't you?"
They all laughed.
"Go on," said Ruth.
Mistress sighed. "I'll admit to preferring the artificial substitute. Less mess, optimised user experience."
Angela giggled. "Ding dong, the dick is gone!"
The others looked at her.
The blonde sipped her wine. "You know, like 'Ding dong, the witch is dead'."
Ruth chuckled. "OK, chaste movie quotes, then. How about, Noooo Johnny!"
"Oh, I get it," exclaimed Angela. "Because you don't need a..." She whispered; "Condom." She put a hand to her mouth. "My turn." She dropped into a Southern belle accent; "I have always relied on the kinkiness of strangers."
The three friends laughed.
Hal realised he was grinning and quickly schooled his expression back to what he thought of as "invisible waiter". The truth was, he was happy.
He was in the company of three beautiful, high-powered women, being his authentic self, complete with slave collar, and they were just treating him as a useful part of the furniture.
This was just the kind of scenario he used to jerk off to and now he was living it and it just felt mildly arousing but mostly... comfortable. As if he could do this forever.
"Come on, Shona," said Ruth. "Your turn."
"Oh fuck! Not me!" Mistress took a sip of wine. "Hang on..." Another sip of wine. "Go ahead, make my day, chaste..." She trailed off.
The other two howled in derision.
"It has to at least sound like the quote," hissed Angela.
"Oh," said Mistress. "If you build it, he won't come."
"Better," said Angela. "But not quite there. Build what?"
"If you blow it, he won't come!" said Ruth.
The blonde clapped her hands. "Yes!"
"Wait!" said Mistress. "I think I have this." The Scots redhead did a passable Marlon Brando impression: "You don't understand! I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I could've been somebody, instead of a slave, which is what I... Er...*"
"...I crave,"* completed Angela. "Perfect!"
"A bit on the nose," said Ruth. She glanced at Hal. "So are all neuters slaves?"
Hal blushed and lowered his eyes. He felt like he'd been caught out.
"No, just this one," said Mistress. "Talking of which... Another bottle of wine, slave."
"Yes, Mistress.”
Hal fled to the kitchen and prayed that the conversation would move on.
The women were giggling as he returned.
"But, how ever did you find him?" asked Angela. She flushed. "I never seem to get a date with a neuter."
"Never?" Ruth let out a howl of laughter. "Look at you. You've been dating chastes after all."
"I thought you'd changed your style," said Mistress.
Ruth chuckled. "You're supposed to finding Mr Right."
"Well... maybe I shall. I'm, getting a lot more male attention these day." Angela jiggled her shoulders. "I do feel more confident after... you know. "
"No we don't know," said Ruth. "Go on, tell us."
The blonde's blush deepened. "Anyway," she said. "I never seem to find neuters."
"You could always make your own," said Mistress. She poked her finger. "Click!"
The others looked at her.
Angela crossed her legs, on thigh over the other as if hugging herself. "That would be... wrong."
"I mean, unless he consents," said Ruth.
Mistress shrugged. "What if he doesn't? Nobody would believe him. I mean, he's flaunting that sexy little red button, practically asking for it."
Ruth sat back in her chair. "Good grief!"
Angela squirmed.
Both guests regarded Hal. Was that pity?
He lowered his eyes and had a vision of Mistress pressing his button, the superstructure falling away leaving him permanently chaste and orgasm free. His welts started to itch. He shuddered and his penis pulsed wetly. Now he had to fight the urge to check the front of his jeans.
Angela let out a shriek of laughter. "You're terrible, Shona." Then, "But I could never do that."
"But I did, and now he's my slave," said Mistress. "Just like the way hatchlings bond to a pair of fucking Wellington boots with bells on." She glanced at Hal. "We're ready for desert."
He bobbed his head. "Yes, Mistress."
As he gathered the plates and fled to the kitchen, the conversation turned to whether or not HrLckr had an algorithm and what it should be.
It was only as the women finished the last of the chocolate mousse that Angela asked, "Do you never speak to him?"
"Of course I do. I say, do this and do that," said Mistress. "And sometimes he pleads."
"But no making conversation?" said Angela. "No..." she lowered her voice. "...feminine wiles?"
Mistress shrugged. "No need. He does as he's told."
"Wow." Her blue eyes widened. "Can I try ordering him around?"
Shona sipped her wine. "Be my guest."
Hal's legs quivered. Oh Jesus! What was she going to make him do?
Angela took a gulp of wine and twisted in her chair. She flicked a strand of blonde hair out of her face. "Slave," she said, "take off your shirt."
"Oh My God!" cried Ruth.
"I..." began Mistress.
But Hal already had the T-shirt over his head.
"Nice abs," began Ruth. Then, "Bloody hell... what did you do to the poor boy?"
Angela gasped then stared, small blue eyes wide, lips open, chest rising and falling as if she were about to climax.
Hal realised that he must still have visible whip marks on his upper arm and the sides of his chest. A wave of shame rose up from his stomach. His cheeks burned. The beating Mistress had given him felt like a private intimacy. He directed his gaze to the floor, but found himself fixated by Angela's skinny ankles and high-heeled pumps.
"Oh aye," said Mistress. "Continuous improvement requires harsh discipline."
"Or," said Ruth. "Maybe you're just a bloody sadist?"
Angela giggled. "Slave, turn round."
"No..." began Mistress.
Angela pouted. "You said I could give him orders."
"Fuck, OK." Mistress waved a hand. "Go on, slave, turn around."
Hal did as he was told. The women's gaze seemed to warm his back. His welts prickled.
"Oh!" exclaimed Angela.
Something about her tone went straight to Hal's caged cock. His hips twitched reflexively.
"Can I touch him?" she asked.
"Be my guest," said Mistress.
A chair scraped. Breath tickled Hal's bare skin. Then fingers brushed his welts.
He flinched and bit back a whimper.
The brush of fingertips became the scrape of a nail.
He shuddered.
Angela's voice was breathy. "It's beautiful in a weird way."
"Listen to you!" cried Ruth. "Get a room!"
"Chance would be a fine thing!" said Angela.
"Aye, go on," said Mistress. "Use the bed in my study. The slave will get you a whip."
Angela squeaked. "What? But he's your boyfriend!"
In the corner of Hal's eye, Mistress shook her head. "I don't even know his name."
"Jesus!" exclaimed Ruth. "You're serious."
Mistress waved Angela on. "I probably wouldn't even notice if your swapped in another neuter."
"Uh, OK," said Angela. She touched Hal's shoulder . "Lead the way, slave."
"Yes, Ma'am," said Hal, because he wasn't going to call anybody else Mistress, ever.
He led Angela into the hall, painfully aware of each click of her heels on the laminate floor.
Behind them, Ruth and Mistress fell into another conversation about work. She really didn't care about him.
But maybe he could make her care about how good a slave he was. And maybe, if their date went well and she did start to care about him as a person, then that would tip the balance and he could settle into being her part-time boyfriend part-time slave... because he didn't ever want to give up this perfect way of existing.
First, though, he had to get through whatever it was Angela had in mind.
I have moved past wanting to slap Shona. I think I want to strangle her now. It was good until the very end, that "I probably wouldn't even notice if your swapped in another neuter." comment really got under my skin.
I think I noticed another typo or two but I'm sure you can find them.
It was an excellent chapter to be honest. I imagine conversations like this will be happening between girlfriends more and more frequently in the CARGO 'verse in the coming years.