by John Argus
Between the girl’s legs was a similar piece of jewelry, this one an inverted triangle, again with a hollow centre through which the girl’s clitoris protruded, pierced as her nipples by the gold pin. She wore bands around her wrists and ankles of a similar design, and a collar around her throat.
Yet her face was one of utter serenity. It was not the doe-like animal innocence of Morales’ bald pets, but one of contentment and peace. She drew back, her movements catlike, and Leah watched her pad to the door, open it, and leave.
She groaned weakly then sat up, wincing with effort, until she was sitting with her feet on the floor, trying to work her body into readiness for the supreme effort of standing upright.
Just then Morales entered the room, flanked by a pair of the catlike girls smiling down at her. The girls, without speaking, sank to their knees on either side of him as he stood beside the bed, their serene smiles never leaving their nearly identical faces.
‘Awake at last,’ he said.
‘How long have I slept?’ she asked tentatively.
‘About thirty hours.’
Leah looked up at him a little blankly. She was finding it hard to really care. She felt shell-shocked, washed out, worn out, not just physically but emotionally, spiritually.
‘Your friend is still unconscious. She was far worse off than you. You have rather special resources to draw upon; she does not. Still, she will survive, though she will have to be drawn more deeply into our little secrets than most mortals. She should make a fine addition to my little stable of females, and I think she should find that not unpleasant given her voracious sexual appetites.’
Leah nodded, understanding. ‘What about them?’ she asked, barely able to gesture in the direction of the two kneeling girls.
‘Aren’t they pretty,’ he stated with a mild smile down at the two. ‘Lorenzo did a very good job on them. I confess it’s better, in some ways, than what I did with my own pets. But he was a bit greedy, of course, and made too much noise. For that he had to be punished.’ He smiled smugly.
‘You should… let them go,’ Leah said weakly.
Morales snorted. ‘To be what? Freaks? Those marks on their bodies will not fade, you know, nor can they be removed. The marks on their minds are even more permanent.’
Leah looked at the girls, and they smiled back.
‘There is in all women, I think, a nurturing side,’ he continued, ‘and Lorenzo built that up and blended it with a sexual edge which makes them nearly as insatiable as my own little pets. He also made them quite biddable… no, that’s the wrong term. He gave them a sense of endless contentment with whatever they were doing. I don’t think they could be unhappy if they tried. Isn’t that right, my pets?’
‘Yes, master,’ the girls said in unison, beaming their agreement.
‘They’re quite as intelligent as ever they were, and understand everything which has happened and even why they feel so happy, but of course they’re quite comfortable with it.
‘They delight even more in being helpful, and in giving pleasure to others in any way whatever. In a perfect world we could let them go and they’d be fine. Even in this world we could simply send them home and they’d be quite content. They’d be endlessly used and abused, of course, by those they encountered, but they’d be happy with that.
‘But unfortunately the authorities would wonder at their new, ah, skin tone, not to mention the changes to their faces and ears, and a few other things which aren’t readily noticeable to the eye. No, I’ve already found nice homes for several of our little kittens. They’ll be quite happy, and their owners will be in my debt. The girls will make delightful companions.’
Leah did not bother trying to tell him people should not be handed out like pets. After all, she was something of a pet herself, although in truth, she admitted to herself, his hold over her was mainly sexual. ‘And what about me?’ she asked, sinking back onto her elbows with a groan.
‘What about you?’ he mused. ‘Oh, well, I’m going to keep a couple of these darlings for myself and they can look after my older pets, so that relieves you of that task. On the other hand, I still find you an oddly pleasant companion, of sorts. Your impudence and irritable nature notwithstanding, I find you quite interesting. Not that I necessarily like people arguing with me, but let’s just say that girls who agree with everything I say do lack a certain something.’
He sat down beside her and reached out to stroke her hair.
‘Besides, your life would be terribly wearisome without me, don’t you think?
‘No,’ she said obstinately.
He chuckled and let his fingers trace a circle around her nearest nipple. ‘If I turned you back, took away the enhancements I have given your body, you would never again know the intensity of the pleasure you have known with me. Your every sexual experience afterwards would be dull and without value. Do you really want to experience sex as you once did, with little excitement and even less pleasure?’
‘I liked sex before,’ she said stubbornly.
‘Like now?’
‘Now you’ve turned me into a nympho.’
‘No, no, my dear, it is only the intensity of the pleasure your body feels now that makes you want sex more and more. Remove that pleasure and you’d come to find sex boring, dull, pointless.’
‘There’s more to life than—’
‘Pleasure?’
‘Than sex.’
‘So? Who is stopping you from doing whatever you want? Have I not given you permission to be a police officer if you so desire? You can even be a better one now. Your senses are more finely honed, you have more energy, and you can read people much better than you once could.’
‘I shouldn’t need your permission,’ she said.
He sighed and took a light grip on her hair, easing her head back, Leah still too weary to resist. ‘My dear child,’ he purred, ‘everyone, every mortal, answers to someone. You should be grateful the one you answer to is as kindly as I.’
Leah went back to work. Sara took longer to recover, but she too soon returned to work, though she continued to be used by Mbweni for ‘special assignments’, mostly sexual in nature. She was quite successful in them, however, and Mbweni soon built a reputation for putting pimps and other similar lowlife in prison.
Leah’s wardrobe changed over the following weeks and months. She resisted it, to some degree, but whenever her disagreements with Mbweni came to open defiance the black woman’s tongue would turn her will to jelly in short order. The very short minis, shorter even than the tight blazers she wore, caused plenty of talk, but no one could argue with her success rate.
And if there was speculation about the highly sexual nature of her life it remained far short of reality, as none of her colleagues could imagine the kind of wildness and sensual intensity she experienced each night at the hands of Morales and his pets – and his friends.
That intensity had changed her, just as Morales had said, and there was no going back to her ordinary life of near chastity. And, in fact, sometimes she admitted to herself that she bitched at Morales and Mbweni as much out of pride and habit as any lack of desire to partake in their lewd games.
If she was going to live for a long, long time, as it seemed was her destiny, it was not such a very bad life to have.
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