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Title: “Rumors”
Author: R. Schultz cousindream@msn.com
Series: The Pretender
Code: F/F
Pairing: Brigid/Miss parker
Rating: NC-17 for graphic sexuality
Disclaimer: A story/vignette based on two characters in “The Pretender”. “The Pretender” is the property of MTM and NBC. I’m just playing with their abandoned and lonely characters.
Warning: This story is NC-17. You betcha. Language, violence and sexual situation. If you are under eighteen years of age, or if your country or locale doesn’t like this stuff, leave now. Go away. Shmoo! You’re not supposed to be here.
Second Warning: This story explores a sexual relationship between two (fictional) adult consenting women, Miss Parker and Brigitte. It occurs in the world of B&D and S/M. Rough stuff. If the woman-to-woman thing is not your cup of tea, or if the world of Bondage, Sadism/Masochism and Topping/Bottom upsets you, I advise you to leave. Pronto. Or is that Tonto?
Legalities: This short story is all mine and is common-law copyrighted. 4,600 words long. September, 2000.
Spoilers: Time frame is after second season.
Summary: Miss Parker is come to town to meet a few new female friends and enjoy fresh feminine sexual perspectives. Also, perhaps whip a nice soft ass bloody and humiliate some screaming bottom. She’s rough trade.
Comments may be sent to: cousindream@msn.com
RUMORS
by R. Schultz
It had been a while, but the same old crowd seemed to be here. The same bouncer in last decade’s black leather jacket and slicked back hair. Still stamping the under-legal-age girls with a mark behind their thumb. Do not sell hard liqueur to this person, the mark told the bartender.
The fake Wurlitzer was pumping out Ani DeFranco too loud. It’d just screamed some loud Tribe 8 and I hadn’t found anything to alter my previous low opinion of the group.
In detail most of the meat rack was new, but it all had the same plaid and leather look. The same rubber bulges in the pants. The same bold glances in my direction, hoping for a come-on or welcoming smile from the leggy brunette. I wondered how many thought my full-body black-leather suit derived from the old black-and-white AVENGERS.
Every time I wore it now I remembered the time I was arrested and got to enjoy that FBI redhead with the attitude. She’d sent a Christmas Card from D.C. Redheads could easily become my type now. When I want a woman. Womyn, rather. All this in-group slang gave me a major pain. I hadn’t the time or desire to keep up with it.
I’d had to be emphatic with the bartender. No one buys me drinks. Period. Not open to negotiation. It hadn’t stopped the waitress from trying to pick me up.
Nice. Latina with a buzz cut. A lot more plump than I liked, though. The bartender was cute too. Long golden mane, full curried beard and mustache-wax flair to the hairs on his upper lip. Too bad I’m not a fag hag.
Of more interest had been either of the two blondes at the dark end of the bar. Or the cute redhead with the lower back of her head shaved. Each of them pleasant enough close up. All my age. They all liked the leather. Took the free drink from me. All three of the femme’s said they were waiting for someone to arrive. Maybe if their dates didn’t show up they’d respond in a more positive manner to my smiles.
In the craper, I’d had to wait for a stall to open, which irritated me. Finally two Black gals had exited, trying to engage me in conversation as I tried to slide by. Calling me Xena. Sorry ladies, but I don’t do threesomes or other orgies.
However, in time I might get to like the Xena name. In time.
From the sounds on either side of me the stalls were still being monopolized on Ladies Saturday nights by couples who should consider going to a hotel.
There were five or six girls waiting for a stall when I came out. A husky brunette in a gray-blue vest asked me where Gabrielle was. Another pointed out this was a smoke-free toilet.
Not tonight it isn’t, honey.
Both cute blonde’s had their butch’s by the time I got out. Too bad. That left the sexy redhead and she wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes. At least my toasted Bagel had finally arrived. Still warm, wonder of wonders.
I was trying again to stare the redhead into responding when the pudgy Latina came to me with another Cutty on ice.
“I said I don’t take free drinks,” I reminded her. “Not ever.”
“It’s mine,” a familiar voice crooned right in my ear. “I’m just sitting with an old friend. At least that’s what I told her.”
Brigid sat down next to me and the waitress went to get change. “It appears your neck and hand are back to normal.”
“The hand gives me trouble. I keep having this intense desire to close it around the necks of nosy fake-British bottle blondes. Lifetime affliction now, it seems. The surgeon is going to work on two of the neck scars next month and what the &^%$#@ makes you think I want your %$!#+@& sympathy or need it?”
“You’re welcome,” she laughed.
I took another sip of my Cutty and stared at the redhead. Look at me, you tight-assed slut. I’m your dream date tonight even if you don’t realize it yet. Get me out of here before I die of boredom or Brigid shoots me.
“I’m not armed,” I stated into the high tide of sound and alcohol fumes. Wishing I’d thought to at least bring my ankle S&W 9mm.
“Neither am I,” the bitch replied. “I only come here to observe the fascinating mating rituals.”
Probably observe some of them from close enough to where you can taste.
“What brings you here?” Brigid asked.
I chain-lit another cigarette and blew a big stream of smoke at her face. “Creating atmosphere.”
She ignored another stream of smoke from me. “Actually that’s not true,” she admitted. “This isn’t research. I’m here to pick up a few nice juicy rumors.”
“In a dyke bar called “Rumors”? Very droll”.
“It’s only a dyke bar on Wednesday and Saturday nights,” Brigid pointed out. “The rest of the time we have to share it with the little boys.”
We didn’t dignify it with words but we seemed to settle into a fine-edged truce in this place. If you don’t kill me I won’t have to kill you back.
“Isn’t it marvelous the way we women can bring civilization wherever we go?” I commented. “A little lace, some ribbon and before you know it there are schools and churches as far as the eye can see.”
Brigid smiled that sneaky little smile at me.
She liked my little sneer. When she slugged back some of that drink she astonished me by rubbing her shoeless foot on my leg. Playing footsie. My eyes must have bugged because she giggled. The sight and sound of Brigid giggling like a teenager was almost enough to send me into shock.
She took another sip of her drink, looking over the meat rack.
“Been here long and no success?” I asked.
“You’re right. The redhead is the best one here. How was her arse? I saw you give it a loving fondle when you first swung through. It appears as if she’s got a genuine swan’s down seat. Nice and firm?”
“Yeah, I think they do water the drinks here too. This is my second one and I’m not even feeling happy-very-relaxed.”
“I said hello to her when I arrived and she wouldn’t even let me pat that gorgeous arse. Not one to share the wealth, obviously.”
“You ought to try the Blueberry cream cheesecake. Real Pennsylvania style. More people ought to try the Restaurant here.”
“Which reminds me. You definitely look good enough to eat as well. Is it possible to zip you out of Mrs. Peel’s rummage sale special for a good night’s fun? Just the two of us?”
That one shut me up.
“What a shame,” Brigid said. “All that marvelous expression on your face and nary a single camera to preserve it for posterity.” Brigid was enjoying this.
She was also rubbing her foot against my leg again.
Brigid took my injured hand and brought it up to her lips. She began tonguing between my fingers. She continued speaking after I pulled my hand back.
“So long as we’re both admitting our occasional foray’s into the forbidden zone, why not? Us, I mean. I think a close encounter of the dykey kind would be fascinating. Surely you don’t mistrust me?”
“No more than you do me,” I replied.
For reply Brigid leaned back, ostentatiously checking me out.
You are fucking kidding, I thought. To quote Broots; ‘No Way Ben Gay’. I could see the tabloid article now. Enquiring minds. Drop dead gorgeous brunette in Delaware eaten alive. Englishwoman sought in bizarre cannibalism case.
“Much as it pains me to admit it,” she said, “you’ve run me a merry chase in this Jarod thing. Nor only that....maybe, just maybe, you could whip my arse if I was having an off day. And I always thought you had great legs. I could imagine them wrapped around my ears, couldn’t you?”
No way, Jose.
“Does Daddy know you’re out at night without a leash?”
The Englishwoman smirked at me, crossing and re-crossing her legs a dozen times. Not answering. She didn’t need to.
It was not a “Have A Nice Day” style revelation.
I wondered two things. First, did she bring interesting new friends home for Daddy to admire? Second, how long had this %$#@& voyeur crap been going on? Obviously I had underestimated Daddy’s commitment to kink.
“Tell me, Miss Parker, do YOU think you could whip my arse? Turn it black and blue and red?”
“Any day of the week, Bridgey. Up, down and sideways.”
“Ooooh! How very butchy! The thought of that makes me hot!”
“You wouldn’t ever be able to sit on that Jello butt of yours again after I got through with you.”
This was getting away from me, somehow.
Brigid leaned closer. Like a friend or fellow conspirator. Her eyes looked bright and feverish. On the edge. “My whip or yours?” She giggled at me again.
I had to stare. Thunderstruck. She was serious.
“Oh, this is too goddamned exciting! I always assumed you had a taste for women as a side dish. Just like me. Certainly I always knew you were one damned Alpha female, and probably had topping toys at home. Just like me. It just never struck me before there was any side of you alive I could possibly like.”
She leered at me, one hand rubbing my leather-clad arm. “What do you say, Mrs. Peel, or should I just say Miss Bitch? Would you like to take me home and whip the hell out of my ass? I have quirts, riding crops, paddles... What do you have?”
“I suppose somewhere along the way you’ll suggest handcuffing me to a bed?” I questioned.
“We can trust each other, right? One bisexual bitch to another? By the way, your British accent is slipping again.” Brigid had to have let the damned hot tub melt her mind.
My goddamned nipples were betraying me again by spiking. It must be the danger factor. This English witch had already tried a few times to kill me or Daddy.
She looked over to the bar, grinning. “It appears our tall red-haired friend with the sweet arse has found her top. An edible female like her deserves someone with better clothes sense than that.”
Sure enough carrot-top was wrapping herself around an older girlfriend; a probable executive with a beer belly and a nauseating neo-Annie Hall look. I never could understand the appeal of women in bad clothes.
“Listen close, Bridgey old slut, but you are cramping my style. I came here to get laid, not B.S.ed. Now why don’t you go on home and tell Daddy where you found me, and I’ll continue my search for meaning in my life without you. Cheery-o! Good-bye. Or as they say in Show Business....go break a leg.”
She just sat there rubbing her foot on my leg and smirking.
“I’m serious, you know,” she said. “This is fascinating. It’d be exciting as hell to have an experience with you. It’d be the danger thing, I think. Be your slave for the night and unsure whether or not I’d ever live to see the morrow. Would you like that? To kill me? Bend me over your slave bar or whatever you use and strangle me? Shove your silicone friend up me and listen to me croak?”
“I’m not into that master and slave game.....” Seeing the leer on her face, I changed tactics.
“....Most of the time. Not to mention there’s no way in creation I’d let you near me to the point where you could top me, then finish me.
“No, thank you, I’ve already enjoyed the situation once where a psychopathic date was about to enjoy my dead and cooling body. Been there, done that.”
“Name the rules,” she dared. “You can be the top, I can remain the bottom. Come along, ducks,” she dared me.
“Take me someplace you’ll feel safe,” she continued. You make the rules. You won’t come to my place, we know that. If I come to yours? Ground rules, what do you need? Anything.”
Brigid was slouched in her chair, her foot trying to explore the insides and tops of my thighs.
“Don’t do that, you *&!%$+#^@ slut.”
She immediately sat up, worming her foot back into her flat-heeled shoe.
“If you’re a bottom, you’re a damned stupid one. Didn’t your last mistress ever teach you to follow orders?”
“You’ve given me no orders,” she pointed out.
“So you’ve taken it on yourself to do things not requested?”
It was that easy.
Fantastic. And frightening. And beyond belief exciting.
One moment I was hoping she’d go off somewhere and choke on a leisure-suit fur-ball.
The next I was her mistress. The charge, the change, was instantaneous.
Brigid made to say something, but I whipped forward and squeezed her jaw. “Did I tell you to speak?” She said nothing, which was the right thing to say.
“Just sit,” I commanded. She sat, trying to look contrite. Succeeding only in looking feverish.
It was like having an electrical outlet trickling fire into my groin. I’d never gone from neutral to hot so fast. It had to be the danger quotient, but it was also the dislike thing. This woman has already attempted to put me in a body bag.
She will again. Making her beg would be major payback.
Not to mention I was sitting opposite her and realizing she had a great body. Her mind was rotted out, but she was a major babe. Or whatever it was ‘they’ were calling women with good bodies and painted faces this TV season.
Loony as a sociopath’s version of a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Wan, lean and twitchy but pretty enough. Nothing like that redhead, but still....
Men may think they’re the only ones whose eyeballs connect directly to their sex organs, but they’re wrong.
“Come here. Sit by me.” When she did I lowered my hand between her thighs, groping her as some man might. “Don’t speak. You like that?” Nod.
Putting my hand down her front between her and her pants. “Do you like that too? Is that fun? Are you wet?” Nod.
I grabbed a handful of pubic hair in her pants, lifting her instantly off her chair.
“Did I tell you to become wet? I didn’t, did I? So why are you doing it? Do you WANT to be punished? Naughty little girls are punished. Naughty little girls get wet down there. Not good little girls.
“Ah, but you are already wet, aren’t you? That means you’ve got to be punished. Don’t’cha think?”
Brigid’s eyes were slitted now. Her face looked warm.
A pair of girls next to us saw what we were doing. They partially turned to watch. I immediately knew what to do next.
“There are two girls watching us. Do you like that? You’re a bad little girl and they know it just like I do. Bad, bad girl. You’ve got to be punished for being bad, don’t you?”
Brigid groaned when I tightened my hold on her body hair there.
“Did I give you permission to groan? Of course I didn’t.”
We both stood up, Brigid on her tip toes. I turned her loose and told her to sit facing the two gals. Two plump middle- aged blondes; the one in leathers, spit curls and no make-up. Brigitte flinched when I dived between her pants and her belly again. Expecting me to yank on her hair again.
Instead I carefully worked her between my fingers.
“Ladies, this little disobedient slut is Brigid. She’s been a bad little girl and she’s going to be punished. Hard. Do either one of you want to use her? It might take a while for one to come free, but you can use one of the stalls in the john. Do whatever you want with her. Use her mouth, her ass, anything. If she says a word, let me know. She’s been told not to say a word.”
They declined, giggling, turning back to their drinks, sneaking sideways looks at the pair of us. I turned Brigid back to face the table, debating my options with her. I told her of possible punishments she deserved and she nodded her head.
I kept masturbating her, knowing she had to be on a sharp edge. Expecting me to grab her body hair again in a death grip. Sanity had nothing to do with me now. Tomorrow I might regret some of this, but right now I burned.
I burned down below and I burned in my head.
It was a sickness, I knew that.
But it was such a sweet sickness. In the midst of this sickness I could understand what it meant to be a man, to completely dominate and own a female. To possess a woman totally. To do with as I pleased.
Just what was I going to do with her? A number of fantasies came to me, none viable.
Strip her and chain her to a bicycle rack by the state capital building. Beat her ass until it was a light source in the dark.
Handcuff her to the railing leading to the front door of the Centre. Ditto on the ass beating. Glow in the dark by the time I’m exhausted.
I thought of having her service all who wanted her, here, in the john. She’d be liable to enjoy that too much, though.
I had to stop working Brigid’s sex when I realized she was almost ready for a release. That wouldn’t do. Not to mention I didn’t want to be thrown out of here. Management is liable for whatever occurs in this open-to-the-public bar. Including lewd and lascivious acts by guests. The john’s are a different matter. But out here it’s their ass.
To hell with Dover’s blue out-of-joint noses. When you came right down to it, there was only one place to take my new slave. Home is where both the hearth and the sex toys are.
-------------MISS PARKER’S RESIDENCE
I’d backed into the driveway, so my car partially blocked the view. Once inside I went directly to my gun safe for my S&W 9MM. I felt immediately better with that in my back holster. The only way to deal with someone like Brigid was to be armed at all times. So why was I so hot down below?
A few more arrangements to be performed; screwing things into walls, finding bags of toys. Then back to my car.
I unlocked the trunk carefully, keeping myself and my gun hand well back. It swung up, allowing Brigid to lever herself up and look around.
“Out,” I commanded. “I left your hands in front so you could get around.
“That’s a good little bitch. Feel better to be standing?” Nod of head. She knew better than to speak. I was the Top and I’d told her not to speak and tonight she was my Bottom.
Bottoms had safety lines, words, gestures. Something to tell the Top when a personal limitation had been reached. This far and no further.
I’d given Brigid no such safety and would have accepted none from her in any event. This was a night of infinite possibilities.
“Directly in front of you, in a cleared space on the driveway, is a key to those handcuffs. Yes, right there. Now unlock them.
“Once you’ve unlocked them place the cuffs and key back on that exact spot. Now walk past them several feet. That’s fine. Now strip!”
She opened her mouth, then thought better of it.
Actually it was great fun for both of us. January is not a time to be running around naked in Delaware, and this was not a mild night. However, Brigid decided to make a show of it. We both could almost hear the blaring stripper music in our heads as she made a dance of it. I wondered where she had learned these smooth moves. Sensual, barring her goosebumps and shivering.
She did have a hot body. Cold-blooded mind, but hot body. Good thing she did. You could see body heat spilling off her in the frigid air. I might kill her just by letting her spend the night outside, naked.
Eventually her arms were spread to her sides and she turned in the biting cold. Posing. Defying me to dislike her body on a simple level of physical disdain. She knew, of course, that she had a sweet ass. It’s what we buy mirrors in pairs for. To look and see as others see.
Her breasts were inviting, almost like a teenagers. Also her butt was perfect, and the muscles on her abdomen surprising. She bent and flexed them for me. Showing off her Bi’s and Delt’s as well. I wished I dared go over right then and there to caress her belly and breasts and body. Lollipops be damned, this woman did major workouts. In another woman then the Witch of Eastwick here, I’d be all over her right now. Cold weather or not.
Maybe this was why Brigid wanted me tonight. Tomorrow could I look at her over the sights of a revolver and pull the trigger?
The other question: Could she?
She was more ruthless than me. That no longer seemed a complete answer. Was I thinking rationally?
She neatly put her clothes in a box I had provided, then put the cuffs back on. I palmed the key on my way inside with her.
Downstairs, she smiled once she realized from the paneled walls that this was the recreation room. She looked at the large soft leather ball. It looked like a large partially deflated medicine ball.
It was the work of a minute for her to be uncuffed and then shackled outspread on the wall. She might have commented on how nice I was to my slaves, using restraints with padding on the inside. But she couldn’t ask.
She smiled as I put on the dog collar on her and locked the chain to the ring set in the wall. Those two anchoring bolts went right through the beams to the other side. The house would come down before they pulled out.
To lock it I had to lean close to her face. Expecting trouble. Seeing her with her eyes closed, her lips partially open. Knowing her nipples were hard, knowing mine were too.
I kissed her. She kissed me back, all the passion in her by now focused on what she was doing with her mouth. When I broke contact blood was running down both our cheeks. I’d bit her and she’d bit me. My knees were trembling violently. We kissed again, only this time no biting.
She didn’t know what the ball was for until I put it behind her ass, then clipped it to rings set in the beams behind the wall.
Her pelvis was pushed forward in an obscene pose, her legs naturally falling open. In the past other bottoms had hung by their wrists, legs in the air, body still thrust forward by the padded leather ball. They sold it as a pillow in a furniture store. The clips through the side were my additions.
Before doing anything else I retrieved a battery-driven ass plug from a bag. A condom slipped over that, and I went over to shove it up her rear. I hesitated, then retrieved some lube and used it on the plug before turning it on and putting it in Brigid’s exquisite back end.
As I stripped I was fascinated, as always, by the sight and sounds a woman made as she adjusted to the intruder in her ass. In this case I marveled as my Bottom reached for and found a climax. If she was faking, it was convincing me.
By the time Brigid was rational again, I was naked, save one item. She could watch me adjusting my red leather strap-on. She could see what I wore for her before I put a bright yellow condom on it.
There was no foreplay with this, no sucking of hard breasts, no caresses of needy flesh. Not for her, my mortal enemy. We were wild animals together in this place and this time for one thing and one thing only.
I took her as a man would. She was wet and ready, taking me smoothly. Enjoying what I gave her. As we kissed again she lifted her legs to cross them behind me. I could feel the vibrations from the butt plug as we plunged into the night.
-----------------MORNING
At first the body in my bed surprised me. It usually did. After that began the usual search for identity. I detested having to speak to someone I spent the night with as ‘Babe’ or ‘Hunk’ or ‘Doll’. It was no problem this cold morning because the warm body spooned against my back was Brigid.
I rolled out of bed as carefully as I could, but by the time I returned from the john she was staring at me. Lying there, the blankets bunched around herself protectively. Wondering.
I resisted the temptation to crawl into the blankets with her and cuddle. I also didn’t search for my pistol.
“I pulled my first shot, that time...” she began. Knowing there was no way to convince me. Maybe she had. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she hadn’t, but believed now she had. Or did and now doubted it.
What happened in the past was what we believed happened. Reality and objective viewpoints were frail lies we relied on too much. I already half-believed she had not with malacious intent tried to terminate me. During the heat of a fire-fight was another thing.
Could you eventually grow to love an enemy? From the tightness growing in my own lower belly it was obvious I could relish having sex with one.
There was also the Jarod complication, and my feelings toward him. His towards me. It seemed improbable he’d approve of my sex life, either.
I replied with a truth of my own. “Tomorrow I might have to kill you, you know.”
A bald statement to start off the day. She just lay there where I wished I was lying. Feeling her warmth. Saying nothing. Licking her, tasting her skin after a night of sex.
We were two naked women wondering how the hell we had gotten to the point where we could kill someone we could invite to our beds. And did. Neither one of us knew whether or not we were lovers now. No easy answers, I guess.
When Brigid sat up to shake her head she immediately stood. I smiled and so did she. She mimed almost touching her own rear, acting as if it was too hot to touch. My own butt was rather tender too. She had a mean swing, and a hell of a lot of English enthusiasm. This was not at all the way I thought our next encounter could possibly be.
Miss Snow Bitch and Miss Heart-Of-Stone.
Tomorrow we would resume our lies, or truths, or be what we were expected to be. Do what our men expected us to do, now. We still had today, though.
I’d realized last night at one point what we were doing was incest. She was my Stepmother now. She’d spanked me hard, again, for my sins.
“Do you have to leave soon?” I asked. She looked unsure at that one. She had a husband to go back to.
“Not until later. Hours. Tonight, I guess. Later tonight. Depends on how long it would take to get a cab to drive me back to Dover and my car.”
“I can drive you.”
“In the trunk again?”
“If you’re a good girl. If you’re a very bad girl, you can sit up front and play with the grown-ups.” Brigitte leered for that one.
She kept my eyes, leaning over and patting the bed. “That might depend on how bad you want me to be.” Damn, but she could get such a bright terminal-death gloss to her eyes. Her damned “I’m such an easy lay” look.
“I’m going to need something resembling food in my system. If you’re really genuinely bad I’ll even microwave a dinner for both of us.” We can sit around the table and wonder what to say tomorrow. Whether I might have to terminate you with prejudice.
“Remind me to bring your clothes in, later. Don’t want you to catch pneumonia from them.” Could I snarl at her tomorrow? Certainly. Could I mean it? I doubted I could.
Especially as I was thinking how interesting it might be to corner her somewhere and steal a kiss.
The troubling part was realizing I still might have to kill her some day.
I pointed to the handcuffs instead.
“Do you see the key?” Brigid pointed to night stand. It lay there, dull in the morning light.
“Put ‘em on, hands behind you.” She did and I finished closing them around her wrists. Making sure they were loose, caressing Brigitte’s soft firm butt. I like her arse. Reaching around her to heft and play with her breasts. Feeling my heat as I rubbed myself into her sweet body. Then I walked around her to the bed, sitting on the edge. Spreading my legs and bringing my heels to the edge of the bed. I couldn’t think of a more obscene pose than this.
“First I’ve got to feed you breakfast.” I threw a pillow down on the floor, for her knees. Brigid knelt.
“Then I’ll probably have to get a little something to eat, myself. Would you like that? If you get my entire bottom real clean, I’ll get yours sparkling.
“Then maybe we can .... Do you fist? Foolish question. Might as well ask if Presidents take a dump in the woods. Or is that bears?”
THE END
Author: R. Schultz cousindream@msn.com
Series: The Pretender
Code: F/F
Pairing: Brigid/Miss parker
Rating: NC-17 for graphic sexuality
Disclaimer: A story/vignette based on two characters in “The Pretender”. “The Pretender” is the property of MTM and NBC. I’m just playing with their abandoned and lonely characters.
Warning: This story is NC-17. You betcha. Language, violence and sexual situation. If you are under eighteen years of age, or if your country or locale doesn’t like this stuff, leave now. Go away. Shmoo! You’re not supposed to be here.
Second Warning: This story explores a sexual relationship between two (fictional) adult consenting women, Miss Parker and Brigitte. It occurs in the world of B&D and S/M. Rough stuff. If the woman-to-woman thing is not your cup of tea, or if the world of Bondage, Sadism/Masochism and Topping/Bottom upsets you, I advise you to leave. Pronto. Or is that Tonto?
Legalities: This short story is all mine and is common-law copyrighted. 4,600 words long. September, 2000.
Spoilers: Time frame is after second season.
Summary: Miss Parker is come to town to meet a few new female friends and enjoy fresh feminine sexual perspectives. Also, perhaps whip a nice soft ass bloody and humiliate some screaming bottom. She’s rough trade.
Comments may be sent to: cousindream@msn.com
RUMORS
by R. Schultz
It had been a while, but the same old crowd seemed to be here. The same bouncer in last decade’s black leather jacket and slicked back hair. Still stamping the under-legal-age girls with a mark behind their thumb. Do not sell hard liqueur to this person, the mark told the bartender.
The fake Wurlitzer was pumping out Ani DeFranco too loud. It’d just screamed some loud Tribe 8 and I hadn’t found anything to alter my previous low opinion of the group.
In detail most of the meat rack was new, but it all had the same plaid and leather look. The same rubber bulges in the pants. The same bold glances in my direction, hoping for a come-on or welcoming smile from the leggy brunette. I wondered how many thought my full-body black-leather suit derived from the old black-and-white AVENGERS.
Every time I wore it now I remembered the time I was arrested and got to enjoy that FBI redhead with the attitude. She’d sent a Christmas Card from D.C. Redheads could easily become my type now. When I want a woman. Womyn, rather. All this in-group slang gave me a major pain. I hadn’t the time or desire to keep up with it.
I’d had to be emphatic with the bartender. No one buys me drinks. Period. Not open to negotiation. It hadn’t stopped the waitress from trying to pick me up.
Nice. Latina with a buzz cut. A lot more plump than I liked, though. The bartender was cute too. Long golden mane, full curried beard and mustache-wax flair to the hairs on his upper lip. Too bad I’m not a fag hag.
Of more interest had been either of the two blondes at the dark end of the bar. Or the cute redhead with the lower back of her head shaved. Each of them pleasant enough close up. All my age. They all liked the leather. Took the free drink from me. All three of the femme’s said they were waiting for someone to arrive. Maybe if their dates didn’t show up they’d respond in a more positive manner to my smiles.
In the craper, I’d had to wait for a stall to open, which irritated me. Finally two Black gals had exited, trying to engage me in conversation as I tried to slide by. Calling me Xena. Sorry ladies, but I don’t do threesomes or other orgies.
However, in time I might get to like the Xena name. In time.
From the sounds on either side of me the stalls were still being monopolized on Ladies Saturday nights by couples who should consider going to a hotel.
There were five or six girls waiting for a stall when I came out. A husky brunette in a gray-blue vest asked me where Gabrielle was. Another pointed out this was a smoke-free toilet.
Not tonight it isn’t, honey.
Both cute blonde’s had their butch’s by the time I got out. Too bad. That left the sexy redhead and she wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes. At least my toasted Bagel had finally arrived. Still warm, wonder of wonders.
I was trying again to stare the redhead into responding when the pudgy Latina came to me with another Cutty on ice.
“I said I don’t take free drinks,” I reminded her. “Not ever.”
“It’s mine,” a familiar voice crooned right in my ear. “I’m just sitting with an old friend. At least that’s what I told her.”
Brigid sat down next to me and the waitress went to get change. “It appears your neck and hand are back to normal.”
“The hand gives me trouble. I keep having this intense desire to close it around the necks of nosy fake-British bottle blondes. Lifetime affliction now, it seems. The surgeon is going to work on two of the neck scars next month and what the &^%$#@ makes you think I want your %$!#+@& sympathy or need it?”
“You’re welcome,” she laughed.
I took another sip of my Cutty and stared at the redhead. Look at me, you tight-assed slut. I’m your dream date tonight even if you don’t realize it yet. Get me out of here before I die of boredom or Brigid shoots me.
“I’m not armed,” I stated into the high tide of sound and alcohol fumes. Wishing I’d thought to at least bring my ankle S&W 9mm.
“Neither am I,” the bitch replied. “I only come here to observe the fascinating mating rituals.”
Probably observe some of them from close enough to where you can taste.
“What brings you here?” Brigid asked.
I chain-lit another cigarette and blew a big stream of smoke at her face. “Creating atmosphere.”
She ignored another stream of smoke from me. “Actually that’s not true,” she admitted. “This isn’t research. I’m here to pick up a few nice juicy rumors.”
“In a dyke bar called “Rumors”? Very droll”.
“It’s only a dyke bar on Wednesday and Saturday nights,” Brigid pointed out. “The rest of the time we have to share it with the little boys.”
We didn’t dignify it with words but we seemed to settle into a fine-edged truce in this place. If you don’t kill me I won’t have to kill you back.
“Isn’t it marvelous the way we women can bring civilization wherever we go?” I commented. “A little lace, some ribbon and before you know it there are schools and churches as far as the eye can see.”
Brigid smiled that sneaky little smile at me.
She liked my little sneer. When she slugged back some of that drink she astonished me by rubbing her shoeless foot on my leg. Playing footsie. My eyes must have bugged because she giggled. The sight and sound of Brigid giggling like a teenager was almost enough to send me into shock.
She took another sip of her drink, looking over the meat rack.
“Been here long and no success?” I asked.
“You’re right. The redhead is the best one here. How was her arse? I saw you give it a loving fondle when you first swung through. It appears as if she’s got a genuine swan’s down seat. Nice and firm?”
“Yeah, I think they do water the drinks here too. This is my second one and I’m not even feeling happy-very-relaxed.”
“I said hello to her when I arrived and she wouldn’t even let me pat that gorgeous arse. Not one to share the wealth, obviously.”
“You ought to try the Blueberry cream cheesecake. Real Pennsylvania style. More people ought to try the Restaurant here.”
“Which reminds me. You definitely look good enough to eat as well. Is it possible to zip you out of Mrs. Peel’s rummage sale special for a good night’s fun? Just the two of us?”
That one shut me up.
“What a shame,” Brigid said. “All that marvelous expression on your face and nary a single camera to preserve it for posterity.” Brigid was enjoying this.
She was also rubbing her foot against my leg again.
Brigid took my injured hand and brought it up to her lips. She began tonguing between my fingers. She continued speaking after I pulled my hand back.
“So long as we’re both admitting our occasional foray’s into the forbidden zone, why not? Us, I mean. I think a close encounter of the dykey kind would be fascinating. Surely you don’t mistrust me?”
“No more than you do me,” I replied.
For reply Brigid leaned back, ostentatiously checking me out.
You are fucking kidding, I thought. To quote Broots; ‘No Way Ben Gay’. I could see the tabloid article now. Enquiring minds. Drop dead gorgeous brunette in Delaware eaten alive. Englishwoman sought in bizarre cannibalism case.
“Much as it pains me to admit it,” she said, “you’ve run me a merry chase in this Jarod thing. Nor only that....maybe, just maybe, you could whip my arse if I was having an off day. And I always thought you had great legs. I could imagine them wrapped around my ears, couldn’t you?”
No way, Jose.
“Does Daddy know you’re out at night without a leash?”
The Englishwoman smirked at me, crossing and re-crossing her legs a dozen times. Not answering. She didn’t need to.
It was not a “Have A Nice Day” style revelation.
I wondered two things. First, did she bring interesting new friends home for Daddy to admire? Second, how long had this %$#@& voyeur crap been going on? Obviously I had underestimated Daddy’s commitment to kink.
“Tell me, Miss Parker, do YOU think you could whip my arse? Turn it black and blue and red?”
“Any day of the week, Bridgey. Up, down and sideways.”
“Ooooh! How very butchy! The thought of that makes me hot!”
“You wouldn’t ever be able to sit on that Jello butt of yours again after I got through with you.”
This was getting away from me, somehow.
Brigid leaned closer. Like a friend or fellow conspirator. Her eyes looked bright and feverish. On the edge. “My whip or yours?” She giggled at me again.
I had to stare. Thunderstruck. She was serious.
“Oh, this is too goddamned exciting! I always assumed you had a taste for women as a side dish. Just like me. Certainly I always knew you were one damned Alpha female, and probably had topping toys at home. Just like me. It just never struck me before there was any side of you alive I could possibly like.”
She leered at me, one hand rubbing my leather-clad arm. “What do you say, Mrs. Peel, or should I just say Miss Bitch? Would you like to take me home and whip the hell out of my ass? I have quirts, riding crops, paddles... What do you have?”
“I suppose somewhere along the way you’ll suggest handcuffing me to a bed?” I questioned.
“We can trust each other, right? One bisexual bitch to another? By the way, your British accent is slipping again.” Brigid had to have let the damned hot tub melt her mind.
My goddamned nipples were betraying me again by spiking. It must be the danger factor. This English witch had already tried a few times to kill me or Daddy.
She looked over to the bar, grinning. “It appears our tall red-haired friend with the sweet arse has found her top. An edible female like her deserves someone with better clothes sense than that.”
Sure enough carrot-top was wrapping herself around an older girlfriend; a probable executive with a beer belly and a nauseating neo-Annie Hall look. I never could understand the appeal of women in bad clothes.
“Listen close, Bridgey old slut, but you are cramping my style. I came here to get laid, not B.S.ed. Now why don’t you go on home and tell Daddy where you found me, and I’ll continue my search for meaning in my life without you. Cheery-o! Good-bye. Or as they say in Show Business....go break a leg.”
She just sat there rubbing her foot on my leg and smirking.
“I’m serious, you know,” she said. “This is fascinating. It’d be exciting as hell to have an experience with you. It’d be the danger thing, I think. Be your slave for the night and unsure whether or not I’d ever live to see the morrow. Would you like that? To kill me? Bend me over your slave bar or whatever you use and strangle me? Shove your silicone friend up me and listen to me croak?”
“I’m not into that master and slave game.....” Seeing the leer on her face, I changed tactics.
“....Most of the time. Not to mention there’s no way in creation I’d let you near me to the point where you could top me, then finish me.
“No, thank you, I’ve already enjoyed the situation once where a psychopathic date was about to enjoy my dead and cooling body. Been there, done that.”
“Name the rules,” she dared. “You can be the top, I can remain the bottom. Come along, ducks,” she dared me.
“Take me someplace you’ll feel safe,” she continued. You make the rules. You won’t come to my place, we know that. If I come to yours? Ground rules, what do you need? Anything.”
Brigid was slouched in her chair, her foot trying to explore the insides and tops of my thighs.
“Don’t do that, you *&!%$+#^@ slut.”
She immediately sat up, worming her foot back into her flat-heeled shoe.
“If you’re a bottom, you’re a damned stupid one. Didn’t your last mistress ever teach you to follow orders?”
“You’ve given me no orders,” she pointed out.
“So you’ve taken it on yourself to do things not requested?”
It was that easy.
Fantastic. And frightening. And beyond belief exciting.
One moment I was hoping she’d go off somewhere and choke on a leisure-suit fur-ball.
The next I was her mistress. The charge, the change, was instantaneous.
Brigid made to say something, but I whipped forward and squeezed her jaw. “Did I tell you to speak?” She said nothing, which was the right thing to say.
“Just sit,” I commanded. She sat, trying to look contrite. Succeeding only in looking feverish.
It was like having an electrical outlet trickling fire into my groin. I’d never gone from neutral to hot so fast. It had to be the danger quotient, but it was also the dislike thing. This woman has already attempted to put me in a body bag.
She will again. Making her beg would be major payback.
Not to mention I was sitting opposite her and realizing she had a great body. Her mind was rotted out, but she was a major babe. Or whatever it was ‘they’ were calling women with good bodies and painted faces this TV season.
Loony as a sociopath’s version of a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Wan, lean and twitchy but pretty enough. Nothing like that redhead, but still....
Men may think they’re the only ones whose eyeballs connect directly to their sex organs, but they’re wrong.
“Come here. Sit by me.” When she did I lowered my hand between her thighs, groping her as some man might. “Don’t speak. You like that?” Nod.
Putting my hand down her front between her and her pants. “Do you like that too? Is that fun? Are you wet?” Nod.
I grabbed a handful of pubic hair in her pants, lifting her instantly off her chair.
“Did I tell you to become wet? I didn’t, did I? So why are you doing it? Do you WANT to be punished? Naughty little girls are punished. Naughty little girls get wet down there. Not good little girls.
“Ah, but you are already wet, aren’t you? That means you’ve got to be punished. Don’t’cha think?”
Brigid’s eyes were slitted now. Her face looked warm.
A pair of girls next to us saw what we were doing. They partially turned to watch. I immediately knew what to do next.
“There are two girls watching us. Do you like that? You’re a bad little girl and they know it just like I do. Bad, bad girl. You’ve got to be punished for being bad, don’t you?”
Brigid groaned when I tightened my hold on her body hair there.
“Did I give you permission to groan? Of course I didn’t.”
We both stood up, Brigid on her tip toes. I turned her loose and told her to sit facing the two gals. Two plump middle- aged blondes; the one in leathers, spit curls and no make-up. Brigitte flinched when I dived between her pants and her belly again. Expecting me to yank on her hair again.
Instead I carefully worked her between my fingers.
“Ladies, this little disobedient slut is Brigid. She’s been a bad little girl and she’s going to be punished. Hard. Do either one of you want to use her? It might take a while for one to come free, but you can use one of the stalls in the john. Do whatever you want with her. Use her mouth, her ass, anything. If she says a word, let me know. She’s been told not to say a word.”
They declined, giggling, turning back to their drinks, sneaking sideways looks at the pair of us. I turned Brigid back to face the table, debating my options with her. I told her of possible punishments she deserved and she nodded her head.
I kept masturbating her, knowing she had to be on a sharp edge. Expecting me to grab her body hair again in a death grip. Sanity had nothing to do with me now. Tomorrow I might regret some of this, but right now I burned.
I burned down below and I burned in my head.
It was a sickness, I knew that.
But it was such a sweet sickness. In the midst of this sickness I could understand what it meant to be a man, to completely dominate and own a female. To possess a woman totally. To do with as I pleased.
Just what was I going to do with her? A number of fantasies came to me, none viable.
Strip her and chain her to a bicycle rack by the state capital building. Beat her ass until it was a light source in the dark.
Handcuff her to the railing leading to the front door of the Centre. Ditto on the ass beating. Glow in the dark by the time I’m exhausted.
I thought of having her service all who wanted her, here, in the john. She’d be liable to enjoy that too much, though.
I had to stop working Brigid’s sex when I realized she was almost ready for a release. That wouldn’t do. Not to mention I didn’t want to be thrown out of here. Management is liable for whatever occurs in this open-to-the-public bar. Including lewd and lascivious acts by guests. The john’s are a different matter. But out here it’s their ass.
To hell with Dover’s blue out-of-joint noses. When you came right down to it, there was only one place to take my new slave. Home is where both the hearth and the sex toys are.
-------------MISS PARKER’S RESIDENCE
I’d backed into the driveway, so my car partially blocked the view. Once inside I went directly to my gun safe for my S&W 9MM. I felt immediately better with that in my back holster. The only way to deal with someone like Brigid was to be armed at all times. So why was I so hot down below?
A few more arrangements to be performed; screwing things into walls, finding bags of toys. Then back to my car.
I unlocked the trunk carefully, keeping myself and my gun hand well back. It swung up, allowing Brigid to lever herself up and look around.
“Out,” I commanded. “I left your hands in front so you could get around.
“That’s a good little bitch. Feel better to be standing?” Nod of head. She knew better than to speak. I was the Top and I’d told her not to speak and tonight she was my Bottom.
Bottoms had safety lines, words, gestures. Something to tell the Top when a personal limitation had been reached. This far and no further.
I’d given Brigid no such safety and would have accepted none from her in any event. This was a night of infinite possibilities.
“Directly in front of you, in a cleared space on the driveway, is a key to those handcuffs. Yes, right there. Now unlock them.
“Once you’ve unlocked them place the cuffs and key back on that exact spot. Now walk past them several feet. That’s fine. Now strip!”
She opened her mouth, then thought better of it.
Actually it was great fun for both of us. January is not a time to be running around naked in Delaware, and this was not a mild night. However, Brigid decided to make a show of it. We both could almost hear the blaring stripper music in our heads as she made a dance of it. I wondered where she had learned these smooth moves. Sensual, barring her goosebumps and shivering.
She did have a hot body. Cold-blooded mind, but hot body. Good thing she did. You could see body heat spilling off her in the frigid air. I might kill her just by letting her spend the night outside, naked.
Eventually her arms were spread to her sides and she turned in the biting cold. Posing. Defying me to dislike her body on a simple level of physical disdain. She knew, of course, that she had a sweet ass. It’s what we buy mirrors in pairs for. To look and see as others see.
Her breasts were inviting, almost like a teenagers. Also her butt was perfect, and the muscles on her abdomen surprising. She bent and flexed them for me. Showing off her Bi’s and Delt’s as well. I wished I dared go over right then and there to caress her belly and breasts and body. Lollipops be damned, this woman did major workouts. In another woman then the Witch of Eastwick here, I’d be all over her right now. Cold weather or not.
Maybe this was why Brigid wanted me tonight. Tomorrow could I look at her over the sights of a revolver and pull the trigger?
The other question: Could she?
She was more ruthless than me. That no longer seemed a complete answer. Was I thinking rationally?
She neatly put her clothes in a box I had provided, then put the cuffs back on. I palmed the key on my way inside with her.
Downstairs, she smiled once she realized from the paneled walls that this was the recreation room. She looked at the large soft leather ball. It looked like a large partially deflated medicine ball.
It was the work of a minute for her to be uncuffed and then shackled outspread on the wall. She might have commented on how nice I was to my slaves, using restraints with padding on the inside. But she couldn’t ask.
She smiled as I put on the dog collar on her and locked the chain to the ring set in the wall. Those two anchoring bolts went right through the beams to the other side. The house would come down before they pulled out.
To lock it I had to lean close to her face. Expecting trouble. Seeing her with her eyes closed, her lips partially open. Knowing her nipples were hard, knowing mine were too.
I kissed her. She kissed me back, all the passion in her by now focused on what she was doing with her mouth. When I broke contact blood was running down both our cheeks. I’d bit her and she’d bit me. My knees were trembling violently. We kissed again, only this time no biting.
She didn’t know what the ball was for until I put it behind her ass, then clipped it to rings set in the beams behind the wall.
Her pelvis was pushed forward in an obscene pose, her legs naturally falling open. In the past other bottoms had hung by their wrists, legs in the air, body still thrust forward by the padded leather ball. They sold it as a pillow in a furniture store. The clips through the side were my additions.
Before doing anything else I retrieved a battery-driven ass plug from a bag. A condom slipped over that, and I went over to shove it up her rear. I hesitated, then retrieved some lube and used it on the plug before turning it on and putting it in Brigid’s exquisite back end.
As I stripped I was fascinated, as always, by the sight and sounds a woman made as she adjusted to the intruder in her ass. In this case I marveled as my Bottom reached for and found a climax. If she was faking, it was convincing me.
By the time Brigid was rational again, I was naked, save one item. She could watch me adjusting my red leather strap-on. She could see what I wore for her before I put a bright yellow condom on it.
There was no foreplay with this, no sucking of hard breasts, no caresses of needy flesh. Not for her, my mortal enemy. We were wild animals together in this place and this time for one thing and one thing only.
I took her as a man would. She was wet and ready, taking me smoothly. Enjoying what I gave her. As we kissed again she lifted her legs to cross them behind me. I could feel the vibrations from the butt plug as we plunged into the night.
-----------------MORNING
At first the body in my bed surprised me. It usually did. After that began the usual search for identity. I detested having to speak to someone I spent the night with as ‘Babe’ or ‘Hunk’ or ‘Doll’. It was no problem this cold morning because the warm body spooned against my back was Brigid.
I rolled out of bed as carefully as I could, but by the time I returned from the john she was staring at me. Lying there, the blankets bunched around herself protectively. Wondering.
I resisted the temptation to crawl into the blankets with her and cuddle. I also didn’t search for my pistol.
“I pulled my first shot, that time...” she began. Knowing there was no way to convince me. Maybe she had. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she hadn’t, but believed now she had. Or did and now doubted it.
What happened in the past was what we believed happened. Reality and objective viewpoints were frail lies we relied on too much. I already half-believed she had not with malacious intent tried to terminate me. During the heat of a fire-fight was another thing.
Could you eventually grow to love an enemy? From the tightness growing in my own lower belly it was obvious I could relish having sex with one.
There was also the Jarod complication, and my feelings toward him. His towards me. It seemed improbable he’d approve of my sex life, either.
I replied with a truth of my own. “Tomorrow I might have to kill you, you know.”
A bald statement to start off the day. She just lay there where I wished I was lying. Feeling her warmth. Saying nothing. Licking her, tasting her skin after a night of sex.
We were two naked women wondering how the hell we had gotten to the point where we could kill someone we could invite to our beds. And did. Neither one of us knew whether or not we were lovers now. No easy answers, I guess.
When Brigid sat up to shake her head she immediately stood. I smiled and so did she. She mimed almost touching her own rear, acting as if it was too hot to touch. My own butt was rather tender too. She had a mean swing, and a hell of a lot of English enthusiasm. This was not at all the way I thought our next encounter could possibly be.
Miss Snow Bitch and Miss Heart-Of-Stone.
Tomorrow we would resume our lies, or truths, or be what we were expected to be. Do what our men expected us to do, now. We still had today, though.
I’d realized last night at one point what we were doing was incest. She was my Stepmother now. She’d spanked me hard, again, for my sins.
“Do you have to leave soon?” I asked. She looked unsure at that one. She had a husband to go back to.
“Not until later. Hours. Tonight, I guess. Later tonight. Depends on how long it would take to get a cab to drive me back to Dover and my car.”
“I can drive you.”
“In the trunk again?”
“If you’re a good girl. If you’re a very bad girl, you can sit up front and play with the grown-ups.” Brigitte leered for that one.
She kept my eyes, leaning over and patting the bed. “That might depend on how bad you want me to be.” Damn, but she could get such a bright terminal-death gloss to her eyes. Her damned “I’m such an easy lay” look.
“I’m going to need something resembling food in my system. If you’re really genuinely bad I’ll even microwave a dinner for both of us.” We can sit around the table and wonder what to say tomorrow. Whether I might have to terminate you with prejudice.
“Remind me to bring your clothes in, later. Don’t want you to catch pneumonia from them.” Could I snarl at her tomorrow? Certainly. Could I mean it? I doubted I could.
Especially as I was thinking how interesting it might be to corner her somewhere and steal a kiss.
The troubling part was realizing I still might have to kill her some day.
I pointed to the handcuffs instead.
“Do you see the key?” Brigid pointed to night stand. It lay there, dull in the morning light.
“Put ‘em on, hands behind you.” She did and I finished closing them around her wrists. Making sure they were loose, caressing Brigitte’s soft firm butt. I like her arse. Reaching around her to heft and play with her breasts. Feeling my heat as I rubbed myself into her sweet body. Then I walked around her to the bed, sitting on the edge. Spreading my legs and bringing my heels to the edge of the bed. I couldn’t think of a more obscene pose than this.
“First I’ve got to feed you breakfast.” I threw a pillow down on the floor, for her knees. Brigid knelt.
“Then I’ll probably have to get a little something to eat, myself. Would you like that? If you get my entire bottom real clean, I’ll get yours sparkling.
“Then maybe we can .... Do you fist? Foolish question. Might as well ask if Presidents take a dump in the woods. Or is that bears?”
THE END
