Den of Iniquity

by J G Jerome

  Jack chuffs. “There are no true innocents, Bernadette. Don’t let him hurt you.”

  Bernadette turns to look at him sidelong. “Me? The succubus whore with the heart of gold? Never.”

  Jack laughs. “I need to go collect Darcie. I think she’s with Chantelle. I never knew how broken Chantelle was until she met Darcie.”

  Bernadette says, “I’m sure Viktorija let her know you were about done.”

  Jack chuckles, “That doesn’t mean I won’t have to pry her out of Chantelle’s arms. I need to say hello to Candice, too.”

  Bernadette shrugs and kisses Jack again. “I’ll see you and Darcie tonight. I’m holding a suite for you.”

  Jack says, “I’m planning to return home after the show, but we’ll see.” He kisses Bernadette’s cheek and leaves the room.

  Clarice closes the door and taps on the tablet. The ‘cone of silence’ drops.

  Bernadette hurries to Clarice and wraps her tightly in a hug. “Are you okay, my precious girl?”

  Clarice answers, “I’m okay, Auntie.” She wraps her arms around Bernadette and rests her head on her guardian’s breast. “It feels weird to be plotting my own father’s demise, but the hurtful part was hearing that my mother has no children.”

  Bernadette kisses Clarice’s hair and squeezes her close. “I know, baby. It’s important that no one knows, Clarice. It’s the best way to keep you safe from your father, the Archduchess, and the Church. I would do anything to protect you, my darling.”

  Clarice kisses Bernadette’s lips. “I know Auntie. I wish you were my mother.”

  “I know, baby. I honestly consider you mine. You’ve been with me since you were a baby. I love Alafair, but I would fight her for you.” Bernadette’s eyes flare red. “I would win, too.” She looks down at Clarice. “I love you, Clarice. You’re a good girl, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

  Clarice says, “Thanks, mummy.”

  Bernadette chuckles, “I do love the sound of that. I miss it. Back to your duties, my darling girl.”

  Clarice says, “Yes, Mistress.” She steps back and curtsies before raising the heavy screens and leaving the room.

  We arrive at Master Hiromatsu’s dojo ready to train. I introduce the Master and Master Nakamura to my family. They agree to let the ladies work on a corner of the mat.

  I have Rebecca and Josie work with Marissa on the last two lessons we trained at home. Audrey works with them.

  I workout with the two masters and three of Master Hiromatsu’s senior student’s. Shiro Nakamura is Master Hiromatsu’s heir apparent, so he leads the class while the Master watches him teach me and three other senior students. Shiro has us work defenses using knife, stick, and wooden sword against attackers with a stick or wooden sword. Afterwards we work on open hand tactics.

  Dan and his senior students are a challenge. Mr. Hiromatsu’s senior students can all wipe the floor with me whenever the mood strikes them.

  Kenpo is a great system for self-defense and combat on the streets; however, commercial schools tend to cater towards keeping students. It’s one of the reasons I was drawn to the backyard dojo of my first kenpo teacher.

  Master Hiromatsu doesn’t care if he ever has another student, and Nakamura-sensei will carry on his legacy of training people to survive in combat.

  As such, his students are brutally efficient at hurting people. Many are ethnically Japanese, Korean, or an anglo mix with them. It’s humbling to have my ass handed to me by these smaller men. I have only met three other Anglo’s and one African-American in Master Hiromatsu’s classes.

  I’m considered ‘decent’ in Master Hiromatsu’s school - mostly as a result of Chief Sergeant Hadad’s beatings in the sandbox. Master Hiromatsu has twenty to forty-five students at any time. I might, just maybe on a good day, be allowed to say I’m in the top third of his students. Other days, I think he just tolerates me because I can take a beating. By this school’s standard I am nothing special.

  I work hard. Nakamura-sensei corrects a few of my tactics, and I strive to ensure I incorporate his lessons. I check on my ladies during the short break between the weapons and open-hand sets. Master Hiromatsu watches me teach the next lesson on basic jo, or short staff, technique.

  By the end of Master Nakamura’s lesson we are all soaked, but I feel that I learned quite a bit today. We bow out, and then I join my ladies again to check their progress. The two masters stand by and watch.

  I emphasize to the ladies that any weapon is by its very nature offensive. They are made to inflict damage to an opponent.

  Josie points out that I taught them to defend with them, and I agree. Any weapon, even a firearm, can be employed defensively, but it is not the purpose for which is created. I explain that many fighting schools use a sword and shield together because a shield is by its nature defensive. However, a shield can be used offensively just as a sword or a stick can be used to defend. I remind them of the kenpo basics we trained early on - attitude is a weapon itself. I explain that when you pick up a weapon, your goal is to hurt or kill your opponent so you can walk away. I have them each attack me with three strikes while I only defend with a jo. I have them do it again, but I counter-attack after the second strike. We do it again, but this time I counter after the first. They are all blowing hard except Audrey at the end of it.

  I ask, “Audrey, how much of this kind of training have you done?”

  “Not much, but the techniques are not too dissimilar to the Korean sword techniques I learned. The ‘attitude of a weapon’ idea was new. I can use that,” she says.

  I tell her, “I’m not a particularly good swordsman, but I think we should fight once with swords. Are you up for it?”

  She smiles brilliantly. “Of course, my Master.”

  We put away the staffs, and Audrey and I grab bokken - wooden training swords - from the equipment rack.

  We square off, but Master Hiromatsu walks up to Audrey. He holds a hand up to cover his mouth and whispers in her ear. Her eyes flash wide open. She nods at him and bows. He returns the bow and walks back to stand next to Master Nakamura.

  We both take a ready stance, and then I attack. Audrey counters and displays that she has strong sword skills. We hack at each other until Audrey manages to cut down on my wrists. I drop the sword and step back. I smile at her proudly and bow in defeat.

  “Good job, Audrey. You’re very talented,” I tell her. My wrists are going to be sore for quite a while. I shake them out and pick up my sword. We put them away.

  We all stop to thank the masters for the use of their facilities and instruction before I have the ladies bow off the mat.

  We all strip down and towel off at the chairs before pulling on dry clothes. The masters are facing away from us. Despite there being no modesty in a dojo, I appreciate the masters are considerate of my ladies’ sensibilities - even if they don’t appear to have any. Once we are ready, we head out for an early dinner of Indian food.

  After we return to Bernadette’s, we hang out in the suite for a while cuddling and continuing our dinner conversation about our experience at the dojo. While we lounge about, I sharpen my clip knife. After I’m satisfied with the edge, I get out the rope I brought specifically for our performance tonight. I uncoil it, fold it in half, and recoil it to ensure the bight is readily available when I want it and the working end will flow out of the coil smoothly.

  13

  Henri et Alouette

  An hour before our scheduled performance, Audrey and I shower. The other ladies give us space to do what we need to do. We wash each other thoroughly and dry with fresh towels. I kiss Audrey, and she goes to the bathroom to put on her makeup and fix her hair. I won’t see her again until she appears backstage.

  I dress head to toe in black - open collar button down, slacks, belt, ropers, and a ‘Dread Pirate Roberts’ style mask - think Zorro, but with better quips. I clip on my knife, grab the rope, and I’m ready. Rebecca, Josie, and Marissa are all in little black dresses,
sheer black thigh-highs, and heels. I escort them downstairs and turn them over to Chantelle at the foot of the stairs, who will escort them to their seats.

  I head back to the dining room and pass through the back door that leads to the dorms and backstage. I check both directions before I step in through the backstage door.

  Bernadette had the theatre purposely built, and she didn’t skimp on space. The number of seats are limited, but she charges exorbitantly for the privilege of attending, so she’s not taking a loss. The stage has two ranks of curtains that allow for different types of shows. Currently the front rank of curtains is closed, so the backstage area is spacious and has a variety of props available.

  I look out the wings stage left. The pedestal is in place for Audrey to perch upon. The auditorium is about half-full, but it is rapidly filling. Manuel is tending bar near the entrance. I see Chantelle bringing a tray of champagne to my three ladies sitting in the front row nearly in front of me. Rebecca looks up and sees me. She flashes me a big grin and gives me a discrete wave. I blow her a kiss, which causes her to giggle and whisper to the others. Marissa, Josie, and Chantelle all look up with grins and tiny waves.

  Chantelle is wearing the cutest little saloon girl outfit. It does not cover her crotch, but it does have a fairly modest teddy under the short fringe of the skirt. Her milk-chocolate skin contrasts beautifully with the violet of her outfit. Paired with the olympic volleyball player physique that she still maintains, she is absolutely stunning.

  I slide backstage to wait on Audrey to arrive. I hear soft steps of heeled feet, so I turn to see Viktorija walking up behind me wearing a very short gold lamé cocktail dress that barely conceals the points of her breasts and the treasures between her thighs. Her blond hair is up with tendrils hanging to frame her pretty face. I wink and turn back to the front. She wraps her arms around me and leans her chin on my shoulder. I squeeze her hands that are wrapped around my waist.

  Viktorija murmurs, “To your earlier question, I am in love with her.”

  I kiss her cheek. “Does she return it?

  Viktorija says, “She does. Sometimes she even admits it.”

  “Okay,” I say as I gather my thoughts. “So why do you want to come to me, sweetie? I would love to have you with me, but why would you give up a loving relationship like that.”

  Viktorija sighs. “It’s not that simple. I fell for her immediately. I don’t think it has anything to do with her otherworldly nature, but I don’t care if she has enthralled me. You always make me feel loved without sex, which won me over immediately. Bernadette wants me to have the experience of being your lover, and quite honestly, I want that too.”

  I ask, “How are you going to deal with being separated from Bernadette?”

  Viktorija kisses my cheek. “I think it will do me good. I’ve been in and around sex trades since puberty. I need to get out of it. Besides, I suspect I’ll see her regularly. I’m fairly confident you won’t have a problem with me stopping by to love my Mistress.” She squeezes me.

  “No, honey. I won’t, but I’d rather not tear the two of you apart,” I tell her. I cuddle into her silky soft hair. “Would she come with you?”

  I feel her shrug. “I don’t know, Will. I suggested it. I think she considered it, but she hasn’t mentioned anything since.

  “She’s welcome,” I respond. “I pitched a business idea to her. We might be able to use that to entice her to join us in Prescott.”

  Viktorija says, “That would be ideal, but it will be a hard sell. Her life is here.”

  I answer, “She’s moved before.”

  Audrey walks in the backstage entrance with Clarice escorting her. Her dark Asian hair is covered by a wig of nearly shoulder-length blond hair. She is sporting a fake beauty mark, heeled slippers, and a navy blue cape.

  I turn and cup Viktorija’s face. I kiss her quickly. Chastely. She squeezes me and then gives Audrey a hug.

  Audrey says, “I just saw your gift. I loved the note. I love you, Tori.”

  Viktorija answers, “I love you too, Audrey. You're the best friend I’ve ever had. I would do almost anything for you.”

  Audrey kisses Viktorija quickly before skipping over to burrow into my chest. I tell her, “Open, Kitten.”

  Audrey steps back and opens her cape. I kneel down before her bare pussy. I’m guessing it’s been waxed within a couple of days because her flesh is silky smooth, but all the irritation is gone. I lick her moist folds to enjoy the nectar seeping from her.

  I crook a finger at Viktorija, and she comes to my call. I pull her to me and kiss her. She opens her mouth to mine. I ask, “Doesn’t she taste delicious, Viktorija?”

  “She does, Lord. I just have a lot of baggage. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to dive on anyone but Bernadette,” she answers shyly.

  “Not required, Viktorija. We both love you regardless,” I assure her.

  I release Viktorija and suckle Audrey’s neck so as not to smear her lipstick. She moans, and I ensure there is a visible mark on her neck.

  I hear Bernadette welcoming everyone. The room is small enough that her clear voice carries without need of amplification. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We have a lovely show for you tonight - three acts of varied levels of bawdiness. The first two feature gratuitous orgasms. The third is a burlesque show cast from selected members of a local burlesque club and our own staff. So, let’s get the show on the road with the first act - ‘Henri et Alouette.’

  Okay, it’s showtime. That’s our stage name. I grab my coil of rope, and enter stage left with a flourish. The audience applauds vigorously, and the house looks packed. I hope Bernadette gave the Fire Marshall a free ticket.

  As the applause dies down, I get things started. “Bien venue, mesdames et messieurs. My name is Henri, and I will be performing a demonstration this evening of the Japanese art of Shibari.” I keep the French to a minimum because I’ve about used my entire vocabulary. It’s too easy to ruin the effect with overdoing the accent, so I don’t try to accent my English.

  I continue my patter, “I see many familiar masks in the audience this evening, so I think you know what to expect and who will be joining me.” I grin at the crowd and raise a hand toward the wings. “So let me introduce my lovely assistant…” - wait for it.

  “ALOUETTE!” a significant percentage of the crowd calls out.

  “ YES! Alouette! Come, cheri.” Audrey struts out onto the stage like she owns it.

  I offer her a hand. She kicks her shoes off and grabs my hand with her left, so the audience doesn’t get a peek at her delectable flesh until I reveal her. She steps onto the round pedestal, withdraws her hand, and turns to face the audience.

  I set the rope on the pedestal and toss her shoes off stage. Clarice retrieves them and blows me a kiss.

  I then step onto the pedestal behind Audrey. I press against her to let her feel my excitement.

  Audrey keeps her hands inside the cape as I clasp her shoulders. Audredy calls out in a credible ‘Betty Boop’ voice. “Master, are you happy to see me, or do you have a kielbasa in your pocket?”

  “What do you think, Alouette?” I ask.

  She says, “I’ve seen what you have in your pants, Master. A kielbasa is not big enough to describe it.” The crowd laughs.

  “Well Alouette, I think the crowd is much more interested in what’s under that cape than the size of my sausage,” I quip.

  There’s a mixture of loud affirmative and negative responses from the crowd. I slide my hands up her arms and over her shoulders to grasp the clasp of the cape. “Well, ladies and gentlemen. Shall we unwrap this beautiful package?”

  “Yeah!” the crowd roars.

  I open the clasp and slowly pull the cape down to be sure I’m free of Audrey’s wig - then I whip it off her tight physique. The only thing she is wearing beneath are over-the-elbow gloves that match her cape.

  Audrey strikes a pose with her arms wide and shimmies to give her breasts a little shake. The c
rowd cheers in appreciation. I carry the cape to stage left while Audrey camps it up for the audience. Clarice relieves me of it.

  I step up and grab Audrey by the back of her neck. She freezes with her hands up in front of her shoulders, slightly bent at the waist.

  I announce, “I’m sorry, folks. Alouette doesn’t get out frequently, so I’m afraid she’s misbehaving. Rather than our planned show, I will have to restrain her.”

  “Oh no!” the audience camps. Apparently there is a large number of returning fans in the crowd.

  Audrey whines, “But, Master! My bunny weeps in the most appalling manner when you tie me up. They don’t want to see that!”

  “Yes we do!” the audience exclaims on cue.

  “Oh!” Audrey exclaims with a hand on her left hip and her right hand in front of her mouth. She wags her right index finger at the audience. “You are so bad!” They laugh loudly. She turns to me. “Master, they’re bad people. They shouldn’t get to see my bunny weep.”

  “Oh yes we should!” Damn, they are right on cue tonight.

  “Well, Alouette. It would appear the audience doesn’t mind. This is not a democracy, my little tramp. Assume the position,” I command.

  Audrey slowly descends to her knees. “Yes, Master.”

  I set the coil of rope next to Audrey and ensure she is facing the back of the auditorium with her legs splayed. I whisper to Audrey, “Come for me, Kitten.”

  She immediately starts to quiver, and I see a small pearl of moisture collect from her slowly opening petals.

  I call out, “Alouette! Did you climax?”

  As I pick up the mid-point of the rope, Audrey gasps. “Yes, Master! I’m so excited by all those naughty people watching!” That results in applause, but everyone is getting quieter as they watch Audrey surrender to me.

  Grasping the midpoint, the ‘bight,’ of the rope, I tie a knot to leave a roughly six inch loop. I split the paired strands and drop them over Audrey’s neck before progressing into a basic ‘dress’ configuration with a couple of extras.