[After Party.]

I’m sitting in the center of a stranger’s plush white couch.  I have perfect posture, a function of the two corsets I’m wearing.  The first is severely laced satin, the second a more decorative high shine buckled vinyl.  Next to me is a semi-vanilla voyeur. What he and I and twenty or so others are watching is a very flexible blonde getting hogtied by a pseudo vampire.  The voyeur leans in to whisper, “How do you know them?”

“I don’t,” I say, with a near polite smile.

(…)

There’s something about being covered tits to toe in tight shiny black that makes me dismissive of any man near me. At times though, the insults grow boring, so I give in to the one in a latex suit with too much sparkle on his canines. I name him Frederick, and send him for more water. 

The bondage, spanking and public humiliation scenes wind down.  I notice the water kicking in, and sobriety coming on. The crowd begins to make its way towards the creeping morning.

Frederick wants my attention.  “Let’s light this room up,” he says. 

(…)

“Sure,” I say, then look him straight in the face for the first time.  He’s clearly James Bond’s evil twin, so I ask what he’s got in mind.

“I’ve got a single tail in my bag.  Would you like to use it on me?”

“Sure,” I repeat.  I look away.  He waits.

“Go get your bag,” I order.  Fucking subs, I’m thinking.  Do they always need constant direction?

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

In a few minutes, he’s back at my feet.

“Where’s your bag?” I ask.

“It’s over there.” He points to a black rubber messenger’s bag against the wall.  “But I only want you to do it if you really want to.” 

The statement is so ridiculous I can’t answer.  I put my hand out and he helps me up.  I put my hand out again and say, “Give it to me.”

Frederick uncoils a black leather single tail whip and hands it to me.

“Go over there,” I say, pointing to a spot on the other side of the room a whip’s length away.  He goes.

(…)

The room has noticed.  Conversations stumble and fade.  Clusters of fetishists and admirers of pain turn their backs to the walls.

(…)

I walk over to Frederick.

“Are you going to take your pants down?” I say.  It’s not really a question.

“You’d like me to take my pants down?” he asks for effect.

“Yes,” I say, and turn to walk back to my spot.  When his latex pants are bunched around his ankles, he bends over, palms flat on the coffee table.

(…)

I react to the crowd’s eyes.  I smile, fondling the whip, then pause to examine my target.

My heart rate increases as I pull the length of the whip through my left hand.  I pinch the tip between my fingers, and feel the rush coming.  I’m ready.

(…)

Crack. 

The connections begin.  My target sways, a deep pink welt rising low on his left ass cheek. His hands never leave the table. 

Crack.  Crack.  Crack.

Each time I connect, I draw the whip back through my left hand to its tip, and the motion becomes rhythmic. 

My arm, my hands, his whip, his ass, the crowd. We all feel it the same way, because we all see the same thing: long shadows of blood coming close to the surface of Frederick’s previously pale skin.  We all know the pain; we all feel the exhilaration.

Black leather, rubber, vinyl.  Skin, crimson, moist, flushed.

And now I’m changing.  This started as sport, performance, a gift, to the house, to Frederick, to myself.  But I’m changing, with intangible physicality.  It invades logic.

Crack.  Crack.  Crack.

The connections continue.  I am swelling.  I am erect.  The marks on his ass and thighs multiply, turn purple; my fingerprints.  With each connection I feel him, and it’s evident that he feels me back.  He sways to the left, then centers.  To the right, then centers.  Never a sound, never a movement outside of the rhythm of our exchange.  Now my smile is sincere, and my pussy is wet.

Everything inside me is bursting against the casing of my skin.  I pause to breathe deeply, to look around, to stop time. 

(…)

I begin to hear.  The comments from the crowd come into focus, begin to make sense.

“Did you get his balls yet?” someone from the couch asks.

“Oh yeah she did,” someone from the left wall answers for me.

“What about his right side?  You got him more on the left,” someone else points out. 

Everyone’s a critic.

This is my cue to launch into our final act.  My smile turns to snarl, and I answer the crowd but address his ass.

Crack crack crack crack…faster, harder now, in time with berations:

“You mean here? How about here? Or here? Is that better?”

I lean in, faster, harder. 

Crack crack crack crack crack.

I stop. 

It’s not enough, but it’s time. 

I smile again, and Frederick straightens.  He pulls his pants up, then turns to me as I walk towards him.  I look in his face.  It glows, his eyes gleaming.  I lay my palm on his cheek.

“You’re good, aren’t you?”  It’s not really a question.  “Thank you,” I say.

I hand him his whip, and walk away from him to the door.

(…)

Back home in my twisted sheets, tiny vibrator buzzing against my clit, insisting that I come, I do.  I’m shaking, but I want more.  I want to feel him again, to examine the marks.  I head for the shower.  The water is too hot, and behind my eyelids, I’m back there, sitting in the center of a stranger’s plush white couch. 

[top]

[Writer’s Block.]

Three thousand miles away in a rental car on a Los Angeles freeway, I think about him, and my pussy salivates.  Driving slowly at dusk in a part of the country I don’t want to be in, I have no choice but to follow my mind as it conjures an image of the next time he’ll be on his knees in front of me.  Left hand on the wheel, right hand inside my jeans, I think of his eyes turned upward, devoted to my pleasure, cheek flushed, freshly smacked.
I blink and he’s on the floor now, hands tied overhead, shallow breaths escaping through the tight grip I have on his neck.

“I trust you,” he says, or tries to.  “Do anything you want to me.”

My left hand wrapped around his throat holding him steady, I draw my right arm back and smack him again, then brush my lips against the deeper blush left behind.  His eyes have closed, and I can feel the thudding of his pulse under my hand.  I control his body temperature, his movement, his blood flow.

“If you were in my head right now,” I whisper in his ear, “you’d see yourself tied to my bed, and you’d see me violating you.”

His breath catches on a skipped heartbeat.  He swallows and his entire face goes hot, filling in around my hand print.

“Not tonight,” I tell him.  He’s disappointed, and relieved, and my grip tightens around his neck.

Right hand inside my jeans, dusk turning dark, I come in the midst of bumper to bumper traffic.

Long days later, sitting on a JetBlue plane hurtling me the hell away from LA, I’m still thinking of his obedient gaze.  When I close my eyes, I see him on the floor at my feet.  I’d like to get up and lock myself in the bathroom for a few minutes.  Instead I close my eyes again, and he’s writhing under me, but not always in pain. 

He wants to be my slut, he tells me, my bitch, my property, and he’ll take whatever I have to give him.  He wants to be objectified, tied up, stripped, of convention, of everything outside my control.  My eyes are closed, and he’s on his knees again.

Back home at 14th and B, I plan a quiet Sunday dinner for two. He’ll have been freshly waxed, completely hairless neck to toe by the weekend.  He’ll arrive at 7:30 to find me in my new tux – no, just the bottom half of it and a wifebeater, no jacket, since it will need to be warm in my apartment.  The temperature will encourage him to strip immediately; he’ll cook for me wearing nothing but the new panties I bought him.  The wine will already be opened, and glasses poured.  I’ll hand him a glass and tell him to get started on my dinner.  I’ll interrogate him as he cooks, on his current mindset and disposition, on what he’s getting out of his training with me, on his interaction with others in the time we’re apart. As we eat, the conversation will turn philosophical. 

After dinner, stronger liquor, less discussion.  He’ll fetch a small patent leather duffel for me out of the bedroom closet.  I’ll take out the black vinyl bondage tape and wrap it around his head, blindfolding him.  I’ll ask him how he feels.

I’ll tie his wrists together with rope, leaving a bit dangling so I can lead him into the bedroom – no, instead I’ll have him walk backwards, forcing him to pay stricter attention.  I’ll situate him facing the foot of the bed, push him onto it, and tell him to position himself on his forearms and knees, back arched. I’ll have stripped the bed of the pillows and blanket, and my camera will be nearby.  I’ll photograph him in this first position, ass in sheer panties high in the air.  I’ll instruct him to lie down on his stomach, arms overhead.  I’ll take off my boots and pants, and lay on top of him – no, straddle his back while I secure the end of the rope around his wrists to the anchor rope already tied around the bedframe.  I’ll tell him the restraints aren’t meant to be too constrictive, or inescapable, just a means of proper placement.  I’ll ask him again how he feels before I pull his panties down to his ankles, and take out a rubber glove and some lube.

Weeks, days, a few tears, and a popped cherry later, I’m staring at the back of his head, then down at a blank page. 

My friends all ask me the same question: “Are you writing?”

“No,” I tell them.

“Well,” I say, “I wrote something a month ago – wait, six weeks ago now.” 

I don’t tell them that lately I’m writing through him, my fingers tapping on skin in place of keyboard, scratching in deadlines.  I give him assignments and look for proof of myself, but I know the story already.  It’s as if he were taking my dictation, or plagiarizing my thought process, but he’s fleshing himself out as we go along, same as every other story I’ve written. 

Earlier tonight, after he came, he told me all about it. About what happened to him that first night and in the nights that followed, what happened because of what I’ve been doing to him, what I just did to him, what’s been happening to him in the process of all of it. 

Go sit, I said, when he went quiet, wrapped tightly in my arms, breathing through my skin, finished with explanations of self-evolution.  Sit and write it all down for me.

Because if he’s not writing, neither am I.  And now I’m watching the back of his head as he sits at my computer, fingers blurring.  Now he pauses, to hold his head in his hands for a moment, to think, to feel, to feel what he’s thinking, to write down what happened. 

Write it down, I said, before it becomes part of everything else.  So much, so many individual instances, quickly merging.  Every night we spend together is intent with momentum.  Every night changes every night before it. 

I stare at the back of his head, and I can see myself wrapped around him like animal skin as he writes it out for me, the story of my life encapsulated in the now I’ve written all over his body.  I’m not talking about obsessive Winterson script, life or death fingerprints on the “palimpsest” of the fucking “soul.”  I’m talking about a necessary exertion of force, as I press myself into him, to see myself reflected.

[top]

[Sex Scene.]
 
I don’t want to get up. 

I’m staring up, tracing the outline of the lamp’s projection on the ceiling, comparing its yellow quality of light to the white glow of the opaque sky out the window. 

I’m tired, but not sleepy, so I allow myself a few minutes to relax after the orgasm I just had, the one that’s still echoing in the back of my throat.

“I have to get ready,” I finally tell Kelly.  “I’m sorry.” 

She doesn’t really care, she just lays there while I get up and put on my favorite after-sex robe (the short, red, fake silk kimono). 

I go to the bathroom so I can clean up the gallons of natural lube that’s leaked out my pussy and down the insides of my thighs. 

I hate it when I sit down and my robe sticks to me, then to the chair, so I make sure to do a good clean up job.
An hour and a half ago, I was thinking to myself that I had just enough time to get to the gym and make it to the dentist by 2:45.

“You want to get ready to go?” she asks me, with her hands inside my robe, her palms against the outsides of my breasts, her thumbs brushing against and around my nipples. 

They answer for me.

“You’re not really helping,” I say on my way to the bedroom. 

She follows.

Now I’m on top of her, taking turns licking around one nipple, then the other, pulling on them with my mouth, waiting for her body to rise, for her skin to get humid, for her breaths to get fast and short. 

“Use the small one,” she says, after I ask her if she wants to be fucked, not knowing that in fifteen minutes she’ll request an upgrade.  

The problem with not having an actual cock is that you have to stop what you’re doing, go get the harness, dildo and lube, get all strapped in, and then resume fucking. 

It’s a good problem to have though.  The stepping in, the tightening of straps, and the adjusting as necessary to properly fuck her gives me more than enough momentum and motivation.

She’s watching me, laying there on her back, legs spread, one hand absently on her breast. 

One of the best perks about fucking with fake cocks:
you can put on a bigger one at any time. 

There comes a point after I start fucking her slowly and end up fucking her hard and fast, both of us sweating and dripping, when she wants more.

“Get the bigger one,” she says. 

So I slow down, pull out, unstrap, and repeat the earlier process. 

The three minutes it takes to go from smaller cock to bigger one allows a few breaths, and a deeper space of anticipation, like a tide going out and rushing back in. 
Each time it rushes back in we are both completely drenched. 

I’ve got the bigger of her preferred dildos on (but not the biggest, that one’s more for display than anything else) and manage to fuck her somewhat diagonally, in order to put my mouth in nipple range. 

She can only take so much of this, because even though she’s telling me how good it feels, and not to stop, and to fuck her hard, she never comes when I’m inside her. 
“I want you to fuck me with your pussy,” she says.

This is my cue to get back out of the apparatus, and come back to her the way we started.

It doesn’t take long for either of us at this point. 

I tuck my body into hers, and we kiss each other as we attempt to position ourselves perfectly. 

We don’t get it right away, we’re both so slippery we could fall on the floor at any second, but when my clit finds hers, it’s all that exists in the room, on the island of Manhattan for that matter, and nothing has ever felt this good. 

My orgasm comes within minutes, and I rest on top of her for a few seconds before rolling over so she can get on top. 

We reposition, and she begins to fuck me the same way, our clits rubbing together, until her orgasm comes in about another minute or so. 

We lay there, catching our breath; we have a drink of water. 

I don’t want to get up, so I continue to stare up at the ceiling, tracing the outline of the lamp’s projection.

[top]

[Dinner.]
 

“Mistress, I don’t mean to ask for any special privileges, but if you would allow me the pleasure and honor, I would love to debut as your Third at a dinner party where I’m fully feminized and on display with your collar.  I’ll create a five-course meal with everything I know to be your favorite, and I’ll serve it to you and your friends, or anyone you’d like to attend.  If it’s more than six people, I can hire outside help, or I can work with a team of your subjects, whatever you prefer.  And if you’d allow me, I’d sit at your feet and eat from a plate on the floor, only after everyone else has been served, of course.”

Alpha was delighted at the suggestion, and put together a guest list that included six seats at the table and an additional five places on the floor, for Three, One and Two, as well as for two more submissives that would be invited to come with her guests.  One designed, created and hand-delivered the invitations, and waited while the six positive RSVPs were written and handed back.  Alpha had only invited guests that she knew would be more than pleased to attend, and who would arrange their schedules to accommodate Three’s coming out dinner party.

Alpha’s place was at the head of the table, and there were cushions on the floor to her right and left, where One and Three would sit and eat.  Two’s place was along the wall under the large window that overlooked Central Park, and there were two empty spots next to him.

Frederick arrived first and alone, giving off a high sheen partly from his twinkling smile but mostly from his latex, a long sleeved black top with matching jodhpurs.

“You’re not planning on eating much, are you, dear?” Alpha smiled at him as he came in and removed his overcoat, which Two took from him to hang in the front coat closet.

“You know I’m watching my girlish figure,” he winked and twinkled back.  “Besides, you know it's either this, the catsuit or the body bag, and this is my most accommodating.  I would never come out of dress code, you know that, doll.”

Alpha couldn’t blame him, as she knew his fetish wardrobe well from having played together as peers for the past several years.  Frederick was a switch, and they were equals everywhere except behind the privacy of closed doors, when he was on the floor at her feet or as a target for the end of her single tail.  He could take a whipping like no one else she knew, and she adored the way he smiled through every moment.  Charming.  If he wasn’t so masculine and such a non-submissive masochist, she would have found a way to work him into her top tier, giving One a run for his position.  Fortunately for One, Frederick could never give up flirting with women while out at the monthly play parties, intuiting which were most likely to be switches, so he could play out his dominance, then bring them back to his place where he'd strip down and grovel at their feet in a not quite equal private power exchange.  One knew this, and it gave him a massive crush on Frederick, which he had made obvious to Alpha after their first meeting by curtsying after they shook hands, then cowering away from Frederick and hugging Alpha’s ankles.

“If you’re a good boy, sweetie, I’ll give you a little piece of One for dessert later on,” she said with a wink.

“Mmm, hard to resist, I’ll think about that,” Frederick said, though they both knew that his interest in male subs was relegated to his random role in a forced bi scenario directed by a woman who was topping him.  He considered himself to be heteroflexible, a term used by many in the scene that Alpha thought was hilariously nondescriptive.  

The next two guests arrived, in the form of Kiki and her sissy slave Coco.  Kiki squeeled out what was meant to be laughter combined with a greeting, and with a wild wave of her arms, threw herself around Alpha as she flung her coat towards Coco.  Two instantly took the coat from Coco, hung it, and directed her to the floor next to the window, next to his spot.

“My love!” Kiki cried.  “And look!  It’s Freddie!  Hello sweetie!” Kiki slammed against Frederick’s middle, and he picked her up to give her the requisite spin before setting her back onto her feet.

“Hello lovely, and look at you—just how did you manage to squeeze into that?” Frederick said, holding her hands and stretching her arms out so they could admire her, tiny, shiny pink and tightly wrapped as she was in Victorian brocade corsetry under an intricately laced long latex dress.

“Oh you know, Coco has become an expert in lacing, haven’t you, baby?” she said in Coco’s direction.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Coco said in a tiny voice, with legs folded neatly underneath her and hands on the floor.  Coco was dressed in a black and white latex maid’s uniform and Mary Jane’s.  Her face was pale with a heavy, artfully applied layer of makeup, accentuated with a beauty mark, rosy cheeks and lips in an exaggerated pucker of shiny red, topped off by a wig in the shape of a short black bob. 

“Isn’t she so darling!” Kiki squeaked with a little hop.  “She’s been very good, maybe we’ll let her perform for us later, shall we love?” 

“Of course, if she serves well this evening.  Here’s what she’ll do,” she explained to Kiki.  "It’s Three’s night, as you know, so she’ll follow his instructions to the letter, serving and clearing and cleaning, because I know how well you’ve trained her.  Then we’ll see how we feel around desert time.”

“Yes, yes, yes!”  Kiki punctuated every syllable with hand claps.  “As long as she has time to loosen my corset by an inch every hour, my love!”

Another knock at the door brought the remaining four guests.  Sapphire and Lana were holding hands and a leash that was attached to their female submissive, Snack, who was kneeling behind them and holding their coats.  Next to the trio was Clutch, who usually traveled with a slave or two in tow, but lately was taking a break from overseeing a stable.  Not that he had given them up, but the way he played with and trained his constellation of female subs stationed in New York, five other states, and Canada, he was periodically exhausted and needed to abstain for weeks, sometimes months at a time.  His subs waited patiently, delving into vanilla pursuits in avoidance of all things sexual, including masturbation, until he ended their sequester.

The next round of greetings were an unintelligible blend of “How are you?” and “I’ve missed you!” and “Aren’t you gorgeous!” and “You’re in trouble, you’ve been in hiding!” When the group disentangled enough for Two to determine which clothes were coats that needed hanging and which were still covering bodies, he did his job then stepped aside, bringing Snack with him to their place by the window. 

“Sapphire, Lana, you two know Frederick, yes?” Alpha waved her hands in symphonic introduction. “And I know you do, Clutch, but have you met Kiki’s little Coco?  Would you just look at how cute she is?” 

At the mention of her name, Coco stood up, curtsied quickly and sat down, as Snack giggled and clapped her hands together. 

“Oh, we know Frederick,” said Lana as she pinched Sapphire’s elbow.  “Don’t we, darling?”

“Well, yes, yes of course we do!” laughed Sapphire.  Frederick said nothing, just gave the slightest twinkle of a tooth but otherwise kept his mouth shut.

“We’ve all got stories to trade, don’t we?” said Clutch.  “I can’t wait to get to the main course and hear all about this one.  I can only imagine what kind of trouble you to have gotten into with Freddie.  He’s such the slippery one, isn’t he?”

“Later, later, come now, it’s time to sit, it’s time for champagne and then it’s time for course one!” Alpha said, ushering them all to their seats. 

“Sapphire, Lana, you sit there across from me,” Alpha said, as Two pulled out their chairs for them.  “I want to examine your faces while you do whatever it is you two do under the table at dinnertime.  Frederick, you’re next to me, then Kiki, and Clutch, you sit there across from Kiki.  Excellent.  Now Lana, I saw that, no heels to Freddie’s crotch!  You realize he’s wearing latex, don’t you, and I know you don’t want to owe him a new pair of pants.” 

“Lana would never!” Sapphire gasped, with a slap of her hand against her breastbone.  “Now would you, baby?” 

“No, baby, no I would not!  Not unless Freddie does something naughty, that is,” Lana said with a squint in his direction.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, you all know very well my behavior always hovers just above reproach.  But here’s what I’ll do,” said Frederick, one hand diving from public view.  “I’ll just unsnap this and this, and here and here, et voila, if you should notice even the slightest of indiscretions, I assure you, I will gallantly accept the swift justice of your stiletto, as you know I’m well able, with no worries of costly aerated latex.”

“Bravo, Frederick,” said Alpha. “Your chivalry never fails to impress me, even when it smells a bit off.”

“Didn’t Freddie bathe today, my dear?” said Clutch.

“You didn’t just say that, sweetie,” Alpha scolded him by reaching across and grabbing a pinchful of cheek.  “I would have to assume he did, last I heard he was showering three times a day, and by the way, I will not be thanking you for giving voice to that question.  Really, love.” 

“Is this really what’s happening?  Am I really once again the subject of humiliations and degredations already?  People, we haven’t even clinked glasses yet!  Can’t a man have his cock out in the privacy of his own lap, under cover of Alpha’s lovely long table linens, without being chastised for his obvious and enviable impeccable standards of grooming?  Really, my man, we may need to step outside to settle this.  Don’t make me stand up…”

“Oh no!  You will not!” said Kiki.  “Coco, cover your eyes, sweetie!  This man is threatening to preempt course one with what’s likely to be a very uncured meat of his own!”

“I’ll see you outside at smoking time,” said Clutch with a wink.  “Though I will not be getting drunk enough tonight to let you practice your heteroflexibility on me, I promise you that much.  I do hear you’ve been practicing, is it true?”

“I hate to interrupt what has all the earmarks of a thrilling Clutch style interrogation scene,” said Alpha.  “Three…”

Three came over to the table clicking her low heeled slides, which were each topped with a puff of pink maribou, a sheer pink frock belted at the waist, and a white frilled apron that didn’t hide a back view of her panties, garters and stockings, but did manage to cover any signs of male parts yet to be transformed to female ones.  She carried a freshly popped bottle of Veuve Clicquot, and One followed her with a second. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I’m very pleased to present to you Number Three,”  Alpha smiled at Three as she curtsied and began pouring the champagne.  “You know what a stickler I am for sets, and well, it’s been annoying with just One and Two, so now I have Three, who’s come a long way to be with me, physically in more way than one, as well as mentally and emotionally.  I’m so proud of her.  And what you’re about to find out is that she’s a very skilled chef.  Three, we’ll have course one in ten minutes.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” said Three, and returned to the kitchen with the empty bottle.

One circled the table, topping off everyone’s glass.

“Aww, he looks chilly, but would you look at those legs—are those your stilettos or his?”  asked Kiki.  “You just have to let me borrow him later on, Alpha! I’ll give you Coco in trade, or wait!” she said with a clap of her hands.  “Let’s tie them back to back and watch them squirm around together!”

“Why don’t we wait and see what happens, love,” Alpha said.  “Anyway, when’s the last time you let poor Coco masturbate?  I realize there’s a reason you have him wearing that fluffy little dress, but I have to say it seems the front is a bit overfluffed, if you know what I mean, darling.  Maids are meant to clean up messes, not…”

“I have a toast!” said Sapphire waving her glass, cutting Alpha off at the quip.  “Boys!  Enough flirting—Ladies, please, can I?”

“Don’t mind me, of course, toast away, we’re all ears and glasses…”

“As I was saying,” Sapphire cleared her throat.  “You all know that Lana and I have been together for five years now…”

The pitter patter of soft applause came from the window as Snack was clapping her hands together and squirming.

“Snack!  Quiet!” said Sapphire.  “She’s incredibly sweet but believe me, what she lacks in training she makes up for in masochism.  Anyway, so yes, it was five years last month as a matter of fact, and we’ve decided to brand each other, and we’d like you all to be there!  To my love!”

“My love, I thought we were going to wait for dessert,” Lana pouted in an effort to suppress a smile.  “You know I wanted to get a little drunk before everyone heard.”

A juggle of competing syllables flew back and forth across the table:

“It’s about time!” said Clutch.  “Just tell me where and when!”

“Branding each other?” said Frederick.  “Really?  Where?  I mean where on you?”

“Mmmm, what design, and where, and when are you doing it?” said Alpha.  “When did you decide, and how did you manage to keep it…”

“Everyone, please, can we just drink now?” said Sapphire through curling lips. 

“Yes!  Drink!” said Lana.  “I know you all too well, and I know you’re all just as thirsty as I am.” 

A chorus of clinks crossed paths and sipping silenced the room for a few seconds.

“Three!  Course one!” said Alpha in a hip-hip-hooray cadence.  “One, not you, pet.  Course one, your course is much much later.”  She smacked his bare ass, then poked in the tag that was peeking out from the waist of his sheer mesh thong panties.  “Who taught you how to dress yourself!” she scolded.  “Don’t answer that.  You will not embarrass me in front of my guests like that, walking around with your tags on display.  You may be a whore but you are not a label whore. Come here.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Alpha couldn’t contain her own anymore either, despite the fact that she had pushed her chair back far enough to get One over her knee, his round little ass in full view of the table.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he said to the space under her chair.

“It’s not so much the tag I’m worried about, pet,” Alpha explained.  “It’s the fact that your yummy little asscheeks are shocking in their lack of rosiness.  Let’s fix that.”

Slap slap slap slap slap on the right cheek, then slap slap slap slap slap on the left.  “In the air, don’t be shy, pet, you know everyone here, don’t you?”  His ass gained three inches of elevation and Alpha continued, this time the slaps were louder and centered in just the right spot to make a tiny echoing sound only his balls could hear.  “Yes, pet, you can squirm for them if you like.  I know how you love putting on a show for me.” 

One’s ass cheeks began to glow as if they were dying of embarrassment, which they very well might have been. 

“Up.  Turn.  Let’s see,” said Alpha. 

“Oh lovely,” Kiki said clapping along with herself.

“Agreed, look at that cute pink little bum, such a cutiepie, isn’t he love?” Lana said to Sapphire.

“Mmm, yes, cheers!  To cute pink little bums!”  More glasses celebrated the spanking of behinds, and the general merriment the collection felt of being together, of being silly, of being themselves, of being in love, of being silly in love with themselves.

“Ma’am, may I help Three in the kitchen?” whispered One through a shy smile, eyes on the floor.

“Yes, pet, bring us course one.” 

One joined Two and Three in the kitchen just in time to take his share of the six plates, and followed them out. 

“Three, tell us what you’re giving us,” said Alpha.

“Yes, Mistress.” Three nodded to One and Two, and six plates were placed simultaneously on the table.  “This is a crostini with duck liver pate and a drizzle of white truffle oil.”

“This is gorgeous, Three,” said Alpha.  “Go and serve the others now.”

“Yes, Mistress.”  Three, One and Two returned to the kitchen for the remaining plates, then Two served the floor in front of Coco and Snack as Three set Two’s place for him.  One sat on the floor to Alpha’s right, and Three requested permission to eat after everyone had finished so that he could keep cooking. 

“Snack!  Did you start eating, naughty girl!” said Lana after an initial crunch of crostini.  “Mmm, Alpha, this is amazing.  Snack!  Go to the kitchen and ask Three for another bottle of champagne, then you’ll pour, then you’ll eat.  Alpha, you don’t mind, do you, love?”

“Not at all, sweetie,” said Alpha.  “Go ahead, Snack.  Don’t bother Three though, just go to the fridge and you’ll see it.  Is everyone fine with champagne, or would you like to switch?”

“No switching! Keep it coming!” said Clutch, licking his fingers.

“Agreed!” said Frederick.  “In terms of bubbly, anyway.”

“Yes, more please, of course!” said Kiki.  “Je suis heureuse de faire votre effervescence!”

“Oh, is it fake accent time already?” said Frederick in a high pitched voice with several tiny claps of the hands.

“Lana, your heel!” said Kiki.  “Someone’s in need of a correction!”

“Mmmph!” came from Frederick as his posture suddenly corrected itself.  “Ahem, thank you, Lana.  What was I thinking?”

“Now kids, it’s early yet!  Let’s not get too excited…speaking of excited—Clutch, tell us everything,” said Alpha, then to everyone, “I was talking to Clutch on the phone yesterday and he started unraveling this plan of his for a new project, and I said no!  Save it for dinner!  I want surprises!  Tell us, Clutch.”  

“Do tell, Clutch,” said Frederick, stifling what would have been a yawn coming from a better actor.

After backhanding Frederick’s shoulder, Kiki said, “Yes, what are you up to now, spill it!”

Lana was busy nibbling Sapphire’s earlobe and searching around for her napkin, which must have somehow migrated one lap’s length to the east. 

“Lana!” hissed Sapphire.  “Pay attention!” 

“Hmmm?” Lana said.  “Oh yes, I’m listening, Clutch, the plan, yes, tell us the plan, please.”

“Oof,” said Clutch, “I was really looking forward to giving you all a demonstration, perhaps a dramatic preenactment of my master plan, say around course four, when you’re all nice and settled down?  No?  Fine.”  He took a long sip, and held up his glass and snapped for a refill.  Two jumped up immediately and fetched the bottle from its ice bath for him. 

“Good man, thank you.”  Clutch took another long sip before continuing.  “Remember when I was in Montreal last summer?  And I met these lovely young ladies, remember the photos I sent out?  They looked like they could have been sisters, though they had actually each dyed their hair the same shade of blonde from very different shades of brown and red.  Right, their fingers and toes were painted black, they had the same outfits on—if you could call those strips of leather wound artfully around their bodies outfits—the exact same makeup on, some kind of freaky silvery and black design around their eyes and shiny shiny red mouths.  Oof—“

“Oof is right, I do remember those photos—and where was I?” said Frederick. 

“You were in your hole, don’t you remember, dear?” Alpha poked him twice in the ribs, once viciously, and again with affection. “The one Sapphire and Lana went to pull you out of after you disappeared for half of August and the entirety of September, and you missed my birthday.  Where’s my present, by the way?” 

“Ahem, yes, anyway, as I was saying…right,” Clutch’s voice cut through any lingering distraction.  “So I was at the main event, same party every year but it’s packed early on, and I had my slave with me, that one I had at the time, remember her?” 

“Oh yes!  The pincushion!” said Kiki, with requisite claps.

“Yes, she was certainly nutty for public play piercing, nutty in general as it turned out.  Right, so anyway, you know I loved it, loved her for a minute even, but there’s only so many holes you can poke in someone before you get a bit bored with it all, you know?   Betadine this, alcohol that, eat a cookie dear, before you pass out, what?  No cookie, just rush?  Yuck.” 

“She was fun that one, where’d she go anyway?” asked Lana.

“Three!  We’re ready for course two!” Alpha said, causing Two to jump up and head towards the kitchen in search of the course named in his honor. 

“She went back to school is where she went.  I insisted, she had just taken the LSAT before I met her, I forget her score, surprising because she constantly bragged about it.  Anyway, she was bleeding from a bunch of new pores by the middle of the party, the needles I stuck in her weren’t enough apparently…”

“If I had a dime for every time I heard that one,” winked Frederick.  “Listen man, you ever need help with an extra needle, you call me up, got it?  I got your back, baby.”

“Ba dump dump.  Nice,” said Clutch.  “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, baby, I don’t want you anywhere near my back with that needle of yours.  Where was I, oh yes, so the pincushion’s bleeding, I’m digging around for some more alcohol wipes and these two gorgeous things come crawling up, their collars attached to eachother with a foot long chain, so they keep bumping into  each other and giggling. They finally make it up to us and they say, in unison mind you, they say, ‘Good evening, Sir.  May we help you, Sir?’ So I take a long look at them, which makes their eyes hit the floor and their backs arch, in tandem still, of course, it’s like they practiced this shit in front of the mirror at home or something, and I say, ‘I’ll deal with you two in a moment.’”

“So that stint in the carnival came in handy, didn’t it, doll?” said Alpha.  “Remember you had to juggle those three tiny women?”

“You little bitch, you will never let me forget that, will you,” said Clutch.  “You’re lucky I love you, and you’re lucky I always manage to forget to tell people about that time when you and I dressed up as Amish and went apple picking, then you pretended to have a seizure that led to a sexual epiphany, and you somehow managed to convince half the apple picking pimple faced Amish boys that to cure you, they had to drop their pants and let you suck as many of them off as possible, only the spunk of god as translated by their loins…”

“Enough!  You are such a fucking piece of work, aren’t you?” said Alpha.  “For the record, I don’t think I need to say this but I would like to remind you that I have never, nor will I ever, suck cock, not Amish cock, not any kind of cock, and you all know how this one loves to spew filth.  Back to your own filth, continue.”

“But aren’t you the one who taught me the old saying, ‘Slander will get you everywhere?’” winked Clutch.  “Sorry, my transgression, but no heels to the crotch, thanks for keeping your eye on me, Lana.  Ahem, yes, so I swab down the pincushion, much to her dismay, because she was hoping to get photographed with all the pretty little rivulets of blood running down her tits and legs.  It really was beautiful, but do you realize, she used to get so angry at me for getting those needles in and getting them back out without a mark, without any blood, so I had to do it again and again.  Oof, did I say oof?  Yes, so anyway, the Geminis, I started calling them, were still there, asses in the air, eyes on the floor, silent, waiting for me to give them some attention, and it came to me, the plan, as our lovely Alpha insists on calling it.  But it’s not so much a plan as it was the fantasy of an amusing distraction.  The Geminis were French Canadian, but I’ve always wanted a slave to speak to me in Italian.  I have this fetish for the language…”

“Hmm, really?  Is that right?” said Frederick, master of irony-enriched interjections and absurdly cocked eyebrows.  “You’ve always been such a blatant Italophile, you’re not fooling anyone.”

“Did anyone else hear that, sort of a staticky hum coming from this direction?  Oh, was that you, Freddie?  Couldn’t tell.  Aren’t you getting enough attention?  Lana!”

“Mmmmph!” Frederick’s posture corrected itself.  “Ahem, yes, do go on, my good man.”

“So I handed my camera to a bystander, this entirely latex clad man in a hood, and while he was photographing the pincushion in all angles and perspectives, I took the Geminis aside.  They really were so cute, bumping into each other and giggling, then saying, ‘Sorry, Master,’ and wiggling themselves up around my boots.  I asked them if they knew Italian, and they said, ‘Non, Monsieur, on parle francais exclusivement,’ and I said, ‘Obviously you lie, you speak perfect English,’ and as I was smacking their behinds—in tandem, as it seemed to be the rule of the evening—I explained to them that I’d see them again next year, which was this summer, and promised to give them my undivided attention, provided they were at least somewhat fluent in Italian.” 

“Brilliant!  And…?” asked Alpha.

“Well, went I went back this year, solo of course, having long sent the pincushion back to grad school in the spring, and there they were, as I had left them in the corner, and when they saw me they crawled right up to me and said, in unison of course, ‘Buona sera, Signore, ecco ci siamo per Lei.’ You can imagine, I was beside myself, and they were quite literally beside themselves too.”

“Wonderful!” clapped Kiki.  “And where are they now?”

“Well, unfortunately they had just completed lesson four, with two more to go before their fluency test, so I had to leave them behind.  They promised to bring me the results by Christmas, but only if they passed, so the story is to be continued.”

“Delightful,” said Alpha.  “Ah, here we are, course two.  Three…?”

“Yes, Mistress.  This is onion soup, cipollinis in a balsamic reduction,” Three said as the tall martini glasses bobbing with tiny onions were set down in front of everyone at the same instant.

“Mmm, lovely.  Thank you, Three.  You may serve the others.” And Three, Two and One repeated the earlier process.  “Let’s put Snack permanently in charge of champagne, shall we, Lana?”

“Oh yes, of course, anything you need, love,” said Lana.  “Snack!” She responded quickly to the sound of her Mistress’s voice, heading straight for the refrigerator to fetch and pop a fresh bottle.

“Anything, hmm, well then.”  Alpha winked at Lana, then made eye contact with Three and lifted her eyebrows by two millimeters for a duration of two seconds. Three had been reading Alpha’s every gesture throughout the evening for signs of direction.  At this silent order, a smile threatened the corners of his mouth but stayed safely in his eyes, and he gave a nod that said, ‘Yes, Mistress,’ punctuated by a shallow bob of a curtsy that said, ‘Thank you, Mistress.’  He returned to the kitchen and course three.

The meal continued, each course announced and presented—a fish course of spicy ceviche followed by a fowl course of tiny quails stuffed with mango and pecans surrounded by a balsamic reduction, followed by a goat cheese and endive salad.

With the fish, hot in spite of it’s chilliness, came the story of Lana and Sapphire’s decision to brand each other, and how they planned to forever melt an inch of their flesh into a reflection of their mutual adoration.  They were just in design stages, and were planning a ceremony to take place during a private play soirée, but wouldn’t say much more about it.  Couldn’t say too much more about it, more accurately, as their mouths were too often full with each other.

With the presentation of the quails, Kiki delivered her latest proud announcement—Coco had just been invited to be part of the Dixon Place Hot Festival.  It was a performance piece, to be performed mostly in the nude, portraying the early morning ritual that transformed him daily from a stubbly twenty-something (because Kiki taught him that one should never be specific about certain types of numbers, including one’s age, weight, and number of lashes deserved) gender-phobic young man, to a smoothly primped and powdered chamber maid, all before fetching his Mistress’s French press and paper, then heading back to his corner for his daily masturbation, during which he was required to recite the alphabet in Greek, French and Japanese before he ejaculated, allowing him afterwards the focus he required to care for his Mistress without distraction. 

Kiki’s long-winded accolades were indulged not only because it was all too clear how much she adored her newly acquired Coco, but because it was impossible to shut her up after four glasses of champagne, and because Alpha had interrupted Kiki’s dissertation early on to reassure everyone that the salad course would come cold, just as cold as the description of her final research study that would lead in to her doctoral thesis for clinical psychology. 

“Don’t you just love that word—clinical,” said Frederick.  “Such a lovely ring.”

Alpha rolled her eyes in response.  “Who’s ready for dessert?” she joked, to a chorus of shifting moans.  “Right, well then, let’s go out on the balcony for a little rest, shall we?  Then we’ll come back and see how dessert arranges itself for us.”

The tops were all outside with freshly topped off champagne, and everyone but Kiki was smoking their favorite named, shaped and/or scented cigar from Alpha’s humidor. 

“Are you insinuating that I should suck one?  Never!” said Kiki, hand out in protest of the offer. 

“Oh, say that again,” Frederick said, arm-hooking her waist to reel her in close.  “You know I love your dirty little mouth.”

“Say what, you pervert, ‘suck one'?’” she hissed.  “As if you needed any encouragement.” 

Frederick got down on his knees.  “You’re absolutely right, Mistress.  Thank you for reminding me, Mistress,” he said, before turning into some form of a scavenging animal and scuffing at her hemline, then at her ankles, then searching in the dark for a hidden phallus. 

“Silly thing, ooh, a little to your left, no hey stop that, really Freddie you are so ridiculous.”  She smacked him out of her skirt and gave him a kick while down.  “Why don’t you go up one of Clutch’s pant legs, you’ll have much better luck with him tonight than with me.”

“Wouldn’t want you to ask twice,” he said, crawling over to Clutch, who grabbed him by the hair in a preemptory strike.

“Not tonight, dear, I have a headache,” said Clutch.  “And not that kind of headache.”

“Frederick, really, love, you’ll get some dick tonight,” promised Alpha.  “You and your sweet tooth.”

Everyone laughed and clinked and puffed, except for Lana and Sapphire, whose tongues were swapping silent secrets while their cigars protested with long cylinders of ash.

“Snack, tell me, how did you find your Mistresses?” Three asked.  “Rather, how did they find you, I suppose I should say.”

Snack had just taken off her too-tall stilettos and too-tiny maid’s uniform, and had unhooked her stockings from their garters to peel them off one by one.  “They found me on CollarMe, but I’m pretty sure, I mean they have to know that I had been watching them, well, not watching them but I had been looking at their profiles over and over again, every day for over a month, and you know they have this little thing that tells you who’s been looking at you, and I’m not sure if they check it that often because they really don’t seem to care who’s looking at them, except I think they like it when they know people are looking at them, but anyway…”

“Snack, my god, have a little champagne,” Three splashed a small dose of bubbly in a glass and put it in the vicinity of her lips. “And don’t be so nervous.”

“I’m not nervous, I just sometimes talk too much but you know my Mistresses have been training me and I feel like I’ve made so much progress even though sometimes they have to punish me but I don’t mind at all because they’re so good with me and careful not to hurt me too much except sometimes I haven’t realized what a good beating I’ve gotten until the next day because it feels so good and then the next day I look in the mirror and there’s this really really pretty design with red and pink scratches and purply bruises but not so many, just in this spot and that spot but see, I’ve been so good because look, I don’t have any except for this one here and this one, but you know what, Mistress Lana did tell me the other day that she wanted me to be fresh for tonight plus she said I’ve been so good and that I would get to play tonight…”

“Snack!” Sapphire’s voice floated in through the crack in the balcony door.  “I can hear you, we all can—no chattering!  What did I say this morning?”

“Yes, Mistress, I’m sorry, Mistress, you said to be a good girl and you’d let me play tonight, but I’m being good, Mistress, I’m trying so hard…”

“Three, what’s going on in there?” Alpha’s voice came in layered a half octave below Sapphire’s “That’s enough now, Snack.”

“Dessert is preparing herself, Mistress,” said Three.  “All is going very well, and Snack is being extremely accommodating.”

“Good girls,” said Alpha.  “We’ll be back in shortly.”

Snack cleared her throat, presumably to shake out a score or more of decibels from her voice. “I’m not like this all the time, I swear, Three, usually I’m very calm, but it’s easier for me to be calm when they’re in the room, and I’ve been so excited about tonight, it’s my first private party with my Mistresses, I’ve only been with them for two months, and they told me I needed far more training, but they’ve been lenient with me because of my school schedule, it’s my second semester at Columbia, I know what you’re thinking but I’m after my MFA, even though everyone always thinks I’m like 20 but I’m 24, bet you’re surprised, but anyway like I was saying they really want me to get straight As and I do but I promised and begged and they’re so good to me, they really always give me everything I want, they know exactly what I need all the time…”

“Yes, dear,” said Three.  “I know, dear, that’s really lovely.  Here, now climb up here and just be very still, okay?  Actually, just be quiet, close your eyes and relax, that’s it.  Two?  Would you help me with her?”

“Sure, which would be best?” Two offered up a length of black rope and a steel chain mail harness with hand and ankle cuffs attached by chains. “I have no doubt you’re concerned about presentation, and I know that Mistress loves the way the harness looks on One, and they’re about the same size.  But I was thinking that she also loves black, especially against such pale skin, and Snack’s hair is black…”

“I love it!” Three did a little dance and felt up Two’s bicep nearly accidentally.  “I had no idea you were so aesthetically inclined!  We should definitely use the harness, it’s fancier, and it’ll clean easier too, not that that really matters, but I think Mistress will prefer it, everyone will.  Thanks doll!”

“Of course.” Two draped the harness over a chair.  “I’ll go and finish clearing so we can get her up there.”

“One,” said Three, “why don’t you help Snack get into that, you must know how.”

“Oh yes, yes I do,” One went over to where Snack was improvising a topless, bottomless, tapless tap dance.  “Help me carry it, would you?  I can do it, but feel, it’s heavy, right?  And you may as well start getting the feel of it.  It leaves the prettiest pattern on your skin from where it sinks in, I actually can’t wait to see what it looks like on someone else.  Maybe Mistress will let me photograph, I’d love to include this in my ‘skin’ project.”

“Are you a photographer?” asked Snack.  “I used to work with photography chemicals in the darkroom, not to develop film though, I would do different types of masking with different materials and then develop them in stages, but it would make me so sick.  I love what I got out of it but I just couldn’t deal with those fumes,” she shuddered and did a tip toe dance in avoidance of theoretical puddles of developer and fixer.

“I’d love to see them.  I am a photographer, but I really work in sculpture more than anything, but not the kind you might think actually.  I hate describing it, because invariably noone ever knows what I’m talking about and they end up completely ignoring everything I say, anyway, here, you should get up on the table first—actually, let’s lay it out the way it goes on, and you can lay down on top of it, that’ll be the easiest way.”

Snack stretched out on the table, then One pulled the chain mail straps around her, locking it tightly around her neck, then across her chest, then through her legs and back up to her center.  He then locked her arms and wrists to the body of the harness.  Her legs were free, and in a moment of inspiration, One said to Two, “Do you know where the spreader bar is?” 

Two fetched it for him, and One locked the three foot spreader bar to Snack’s ankles.

“You must have just gotten a pedicure, hmm?” One asked her. 

“And a manicure, we all went today!”

“Very nice,” said One.  “You look so pretty up here, you’re making me jealous!”

Snack giggled, then closed her eyes and began breathing deeply.  “I’ll just meditate here for a bit and wait to turn into dessert,” she said.

The group started filing back in two by two, Sapphire and Lana arms laced, Clutch and Alpha whispering conspiracies, Kiki and Frederick teasing and flirting. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re dessert is waiting,” Alpha announced.

“Mmmm, she looks divine,” said Kiki.  “May I?” she said, with a finger lingering near a rivulet of chocolate as it dripped down Snack’s waist over a pool of artfully arranged starfruit and berries.  Dollops of hand-whipped cream were in peaks over Snack’s breasts and just below her belly button, and an intricate design of chocolate streams dripped over multi-colored fruit sculptures placed within reach of everyone’s placesetting.

“By all means, use your hands, Kiki,” said Alpha.  “This may get a little messy people.”

Everyone back sat in their places, and began reaching across Snack to run pieces of fruit in her chocolate streams and dip them in her creamy peaks before taking a bite and licking off fingers. 

“I hereby offer tongue baths to anyone in need!” announced Frederick, sucking Kiki’s pinkie as he ran his finger down Snack’s leg in anticipation of his next mouthful.

As Two, Three and Coco cleaned up the dishes and put everything away, One kneeled at Alpha’s feet while the rest of the party was concentrating on licking Snack clean.  Her eyes were still closed, but she smiled as she felt her Mistresses tongues on her neck and her nipples.  She had no idea who belonged to which other of the tongues on her thighs, her toes, her belly and her forearms, she wouldn’t dare look, but it was clear that she didn’t mind any of the licking.

“Snack, you’re such a yummy thing tonight, aren’t you?” Lana whispered in her ear, as Sapphire began licking off each of her fingers carefully, giving little nibbles as she finished with each one. 

“Thank you, Mistress,” Snack said in a barely audible voice. 

“It seems the sweets are just about gone,” said Alpha.  “Perhaps you ladies would like to go and rinse her down in the shower before our nightcap?” she said in Sapphire and Lana’s direction.  “One, go take off the spreader bar so she doesn’t get the hallway all messy falling over and whatnot.”

“She’s fine, she can make it that way,” said Lana.  “She’s very skilled at being graceful in some extremely uncomfortable predicaments.”

“Oh, but she looks so relaxed, just bring the spreader bar with you and give it a good rinse, too, would you, love?” Alpha said.

One unclipped the spreader bar and Sapphire took it from him with a kiss on the cheek.  “Thanks, sweetie.  See you soon.”

The ladies walked Snack down the hall, each holding an elbow, tug-of-warring her down the hall towards the bathroom.  They were giggling themselves, but every time Snack joined in they gave her a pinch or smack on the ass. 

“Just what is so funny?” Sapphire said.

“Nothing, Mistress, I’m sorry, Mistress,” but she couldn’t help the tiny snort that escaped at the end of her sentence.

“That little display will not go unpunished, my dear!” said Lana. 

Coco, Two and Three had been instructed to undress and take their positions near the wall, and One, having been nearly naked all night, had only to remove his panties and resume position at Alpha’s feet.

“One, go over there and join them, pet,” Alpha said, stroking his hair.  “It’s a free for all tonight, aren’t you excited?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, and went over to where the rest were standing, where they all waited for further instruction.

“When the ladies return, we’re going to play a little game,” Alpha said.  “It’s called ‘Tag.’  Lana and Sapphire and I came up with our own version of it a few months ago at a party, where we used One and another errant sub they had captured for the night.”

“I do believe I heard the story from Lana,” said Clutch.  “This should be the perfect way to work off some of that delicious dinner you just fed us.”

“That’s the idea, love.  So, instead of chasing around like you do in tag—which never works, by the way, since in this game everyone wants to get caught anyway—I’ll be the one who decides which sub is ‘it.’ The chosen one will then stand in the center, and the rest of us find our favorite orifice to fill, or our favorite body part to torture if all holes have been spoken for, and we all go at it in unison until I call time and say who the next ‘it’ is, and so on, until they’ve all shown us how well they can be tagged.”

Kiki let her hands clap out her approval.  Apparantly the champagne had robbed her of more specific communication skills.

“We’ll then take a collective vote, and decide who the winner was, and just how they should be rewarded.”

As the prospect of a gang bang entered the collective imaginations of Three, Coco, One and Two, their anticipation found a physical outlet; an array of small, medium, medium and large erections were on display, respectively.

“I see our subjects are in agreement!” said Frederick, quite in agreement himself.

“It would seem so, wouldn’t it,” said Clutch.  “I’m happy to fill any available hole, but I’ve got a sweet tooth for the one getting hosed down right now, I’ll be quite honest.”

“Take that up with Sapphire and Lana,” Alpha suggested.  “We’re being polite tonight, haven’t you noticed, love?”

“Always, always, of course,” said Clutch.

Lana and Sapphire appeared at the hall’s entryway with Snack trailing behind them on all fours, glowing with a good scrubbing.

“The harness is drip drying in the shower, sweetie, okay?” Sapphire threw out to Alpha.

“Perfect,” said Alpha.  “And perfect timing.  I just explained to everyone how tag works.  Are you ladies ready?  Good.  Let’s get Snack over with the others.  Snack, be a dear and check on the boys, would you?  Give them a good tug and let us know if they’re ready.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” chirped Snack, continuing her crawl towards the boys, giving each of their cocks a nice tug downward to see how quickly they popped back up.

“Everyone seems very happy and very ready, Ma’am,” reported Snack, taking her place at the end of the kneeling crew.

“Wonderful, sweetie.  Regardless, you’re it,” Alpha said, causing Snack’s face to turn bright red and her teeth to peek out behind a wide smile. “We just haven’t had quite enough of you yet, have we?”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” said Snack, crawling to the center of the room, presenting herself to be tagged.