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Post by Tundra on Sept 26, 2011 7:10:09 GMT -5
I'm not sure I like where the story Is going, but I'll remind you of the rules for posting stories here either way:
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lieutenant
Warrior
The Returnee
Morons like you are the reason I grind my teeth at night.|--|Default
Posts: 112
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Post by lieutenant on Sept 26, 2011 16:08:26 GMT -5
*raises her eyebrow at vspredator* If I decide to cross the line, you will know. Don't worry. There will be warnings aplenty, in flashing lights. I'm not the one who likes to make the little ones cry.
But that is beside the point.
All in all, what did you think of it?
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Post by Tundra on Sept 26, 2011 16:14:20 GMT -5
*raises her eyebrow at Rathborne* If I decide to cross the line, you will know. Don't worry. There will be warnings aplenty, in flashing lights. If you plan on having more body parts, and what sounds like imminent torture In this story, Post a Disclaimer At the top of your first post. No, The General usually does that. I kinda miss it. I thought it was well written, good attention to details. But It's not my kinda thing.
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lieutenant
Warrior
The Returnee
Morons like you are the reason I grind my teeth at night.|--|Default
Posts: 112
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Post by lieutenant on Sept 26, 2011 16:37:35 GMT -5
You clearly don't remember me.
Pfft, the General's just a cuddlekins. (luv ya, Jenny!)
Well thank you.
It interests me that you are on this site and agony isn't your thing.
TRIGGER WARNING How exactly did you react in Predator 1 When the Pred pulled...I honestly can't remember which actor's...skull and spine out of his body?
It makes me wonder.
Hey! When did you guys add a mature section?! How do I go about joining that?
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Post by Tundra on Sept 26, 2011 16:44:06 GMT -5
You clearly don't remember me. That obvious huh? I can steer pretty clearly away from stuff that aren't my thing. We have categories for that stuff you know. Can't remember. Now that you mention It I haven't watched Predator in a while. You ask a Staff Member for permission.
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lieutenant
Warrior
The Returnee
Morons like you are the reason I grind my teeth at night.|--|Default
Posts: 112
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Post by lieutenant on Sept 26, 2011 16:56:25 GMT -5
So this is this story I'm working on. Yes, it's really me the one and only Lieutenant. Don't cry too hard.
This is me, kids, so it's gonna get dark. If you are scared of NC17, you'd best go read stories about bubbles.
Zombie stepped off the plane and carried her handbag down the ramp into the airport. She walked at a deliberately slow pace, the business people and other travelers hurrying around her on either side. She gulped, feeling the studded dog collar she'd bought at the local pet store, it was comfortable around her neck, reassuring her in this new and frightening situation.
In the terminal, her eyes scanned the waiting faces twice before she spotted him. He wasn't holding a sign with her name on it, he was holding a 6 foot leather leash. Her natural instinct was to drop her eyes to the floor, but he had always told her to keep her eyes on the prize, so she continued to make eye contact with him. She should have realized it was him, right away. He was tall, more-so than the average man, dressed in black, even in this oppressive heat. No hat today, No black trench swinging at his ankles. Not like she'd pictured him. But the additions would be ludicrous in this time, in this place. As she drew within 5 feet of him, a shock ran the length of her spine. Green eyes. Not hazel, not that blue that some people passed off as green. They were so vibrant that for a moment, she thought he was wearing contacts. But no, there was no telltale glint around his irises. He broke eye contact to look her up and down. Her shoulders went back and her chin raised. Please like what you see. She begged him silently. He looked back up at her, and his mouth was pursed in consideration. She shivered. It had occurred to her more than once that he might not even show up, that she would arrive on a one-way flight in a strange city and be alone. Now it occurred to her that if he didn't like what he saw, he could simply walk away, reject her in the most basic way. Turn his back on her.
He tilted his head like what-the-hell, then nodded his acceptance. She swallowed. He executed a neat, military style turn on his booted heel and led her back through the terminal. She took a deep breath and settled in beside him, half a step behind, face forward. But her eyes flicked over the harsh planes of his face, the wavy, shoulder length jet black hair. He really hadn't lied when he'd told her what he looked like. Though over the years of their acquaintance, he had always refused an exchange of pictures. He looked different than she pictured, but enough like her imaginings that she would have considered him, had she been looking for him in a crowd.
"My luggage is at carousel 32." Her tongue flicked over her lips. She could taste the cherry lip gloss. Please don't say I won't need it. He just nodded. They stood in silence at the front of the crowd of people waiting for their luggage to come sliding down the chute. She stepped forward briskly and grabbed her plain, matched suitcases. He held out his hand. She handed him one of the suitcases and he turned again, not needing to shoulder his way through the crowd. Even normal people recognized that look, and they avoided his eyes and stepped out of his way. She followed in his wake. She liked that he offered to carry half the load. It seemed like a good sign. His way of saying that he would help her, so long as she worked her share. She realized her face had gone red.
They walked out through the airport parking lots. He hadn't bothered to park close. Something in her was surprised at where he stopped. He really did drive one of those anonymous white vans. It was hard not to laugh, but he would surely construe that as criticism and then he would leave her standing here. But it was just so...him.
On the drive, they were both silent. Her brain kept supplying her things to say, but none of them made it out of her mouth. She bobbed her head to the music on the radio. The DJ had one of those deep south drawls, as had the staff at the airport. She'd always wondered if he would. Now, maybe, since she was here, she would develope one. It would probably come in time. She shivered again in the realization that this was really happening. She was really here. She was really at his side. A surge of happiness warmed her. She wanted to take his hand and share it with him. He wouldn't welcome the familiarity, so she turned and smiled her sweetest smile at him. With a contented sigh, she turned back to the view of the city whipping by.
It took a couple hours, but when they entered his town, she could feel it. She smiled at the sign proclaiming the name of the town and the population. Plus one. She thought, so quietly, so hopefully. They passed through the town, which she tried to memorize, building by building. They drove down a road which gradually became more rural. But when they came around a clump of trees, she recognized it. She would never admit that she had seen it a hundred times on Google Earth, and after awhile had started dreaming about it. It was a singlewide, perched on top of a slight rise. That typical late 70's yellow. Surrounded by recently weed-eaten weed stubble. He pulled up the dirt driveway and parked just shy of the carport. She caught his eye and smiled again. He rolled his eyes at her.
Inside, the place was more neat than she imagined single men lived in typically. There was a couch in front of the TV, an Xbox360 and a PS3 in evidence under the TV stand. She remembered him telling her about the games he liked. There was a table with two chairs, one of which was occupied by a gutted computer tower. There was one bedroom on each end of the house. He put her suitcases in the room off the livingroom. A quick glance told her this was his bedroom and a chill ran down her spine. She looked at the movie posters on the walls, and saw the computer on the desk in the corner. On the shelf above it was a realistic statue of a panther, with red eyes. She walked over and ran her hand along the line of the keyboard. Pictured all those hours he'd spent here chatting with her. The bed. Well that didn't bear contemplating, not yet. Analytically, she noticed it was made, covered in a dark blue blanket.
She turned and looked at him. He was watching her impassively. A lump came up in her throat. Don't move too fast. She reminded herself. She stood up straight. "Would you like me to cook dinner?" He nodded and showed her the kitchen. Small, not much counterspace, but she could feel at home here. She looked at him for permission and then began to rummage through the cupboards looking for something to fix. She had taken a cooking class back home...back in WA, she corrected herself, wanting to be satisfactory to him. There was ingredients for a passable stroganoff. "Do you like stroganoff?" She called around the corner of the kitchen, into the bedroom, where he had booted up the computer and started a playlist. She recognized Bob Seger's voice and smiled to herself. He leaned into view and nodded. Dinner was almost as quiet as the drive. He seemed to like the food she'd made, but didn't really give any outward indication.
He disappeared into the bathroom, after dinner and she heard the shower running. She washed the dishes, trying not to use his hot water up. Trying not to lose her mind imagining what he looked like right now. He opened the door as she finished putting the plates back in the cupboard. He was wearing those black jeans, but no shirt, his hair was glistening with damp, and he was carrying his boots and tshirt in one hand. His physique wasn't perfect, but he was obviously strong enough to fill any need. The scars on his body horrified her. He had intimated that there were scars, but these were ugly, jagged things that marred his pale skin in pick lines. He appraised her shocked look and grinned, walking past her as though she weren't there. She resisted the urge to turn after him and closed her eyes. She ached to reach out and touch them, somehow take some of the pain away from him. But that wasn't her place. He wouldn't appreciate it. Her fists clenched and she saw herself losing all control if someone ever tried to hurt him in front of her.
He came out of the bedroom dressed again, and passed through the kitchen, out the back door, inclining his head so she followed him. It was still light enough to see her way down the steep wooden steps into the back yard. This hadn't been trimmed, so they made their way through waist high grass to a wooden platform about 50 feet from the back of the house. There was a gaping black hole in the middle of it. She stayed well clear, but followed his example and looked down into it. Something tingled in the back of her neck. The bottom of the hole wasn't visible. She wasn't sure why they were out here. He moved towards her, slowly, a tender look in his eyes. She looked around. There was another trailer about a hundred yards away, but it was boarded up, there was nothing on the other side. They were alone. A shiver of excitement ran up her spine. "Outside?" She asked.
He nodded and raised his hand to her face. She noticed for a brief second that he had big hands. Like lightning, his hand was clasped around her throat. Tight enough to be frightening, strong enough to control her entire body. He wrenched her over to the edge of the hole, her hands desperately clawing at his grip. There was a snarl on his face. He shoved.
The ground went out from under her and she fell backwards into the darkness. A shriek ripped itself from her throat. She fell for a long time, her spine jumping with electricity as she expected any moment to crash into the ground. She fell into water, slammed all the way to the bottom and struggled desperately back up to the air. She was screeching with rage, looked up the 20 feet to the square of light of the opening. She could see him standing there. The water was about 4 feet deep, and cold. Something bobbed against her. She recoiled and her hand encountered something else, rubbery, rough, rotten. In the dim light she could see just enough to recognize that she was surrounded by bloated body parts. Arms, legs, and she was certain that hairy thing....no. She screamed again. Looked up at the rapidly darkening lightsource and wailed. He was pulling a board over the opening. It became totally dark. He smiled as he heard her curse him and begin to sob hysterically. He walked back to the house, the sound of her wailing lost only a few feet from the cover of the old well.
The next morning, he approached the platform. Silence. He pulled the board off and looked down inside. It wasn't unprecidented for a victim not to survive the night in the chilled, nightmarish pit. She was visible, pale and slumped against the wall. He rolled the rope ladder down the hole and it splashed down in front of her. He waited. It took her a moment to open her eyes and see it. Her eyes followed it up, then she screamed again, grabbing at it, clumsy from the cold, she screamed the whole way up.
She threw herself onto the platform, sobbing and shivering and sopping. She army crawled as far away as she could, until he stepped on the back of her leg. He grabbed her hair and pulled her up to a sitting position. She covered her face with her hands, then recoiled from them in disgust, then shook with an aching, keening sound. He was laughing. She hugged herself and rocked back and forth. Finally she pulled herself together enough to stammer a sentance. "How c...could you?!" It rose to a howl. He stopped laughing. He crouched in front of her.
His face was drawn. "Zombie." His voice was harsh and gutteral. A rasp more than a voice. Her eyes flicked to the scar across his throat. "I told you what I am. I was honest with you." He explained. "You knew when you came here that I would push you beyond your limits. Didn't you?" His demand cut through her tears and she gulped back a sob, nodded once. "You asked me to do it. Didn't you?" She nodded again. "You wanted this." She shook her head.
"Not this."
He reached up and grabbed a handful of the hair at the back of her head and jerked her face up. "Look at me." He growled. "This." He touched her swollen collar.
His hand was rough. The hand that would offer discipline and reward, work and assitance. She knew now what her heart had always known about him. She remembered the 5 long years she'd waited since they'd walked away from one another. The wanting him, day and night. She remembered the 20 years before that, when she'd never known what was missing, never known what she needed, until he came into her life with his rules and his structure and his...everything. The decision wasn't really a decision.
"I am yours." She said. He smiled, a genuine smile, there was pride in his eyes.
"My strong girl." She leaned down and put her head on the dirt between his feet. "Don't worry. When your time comes, you'll beg for death." He stroked a hand through her hair.
"Torture?" She whispered, speaking against the dust.
"Only as long as you live."
"Yes, Sir." She closed her eyes and relaxed into subspace.
I'll post Trigger Warnings when it's about to get bad.
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lieutenant
Warrior
The Returnee
Morons like you are the reason I grind my teeth at night.|--|Default
Posts: 112
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Post by lieutenant on Oct 24, 2011 11:07:28 GMT -5
Ok, next segment of the story is up. This is edited to meet content restrictions. Still, it'll be disturbing for anyone who can't handle some roughness. So, TW, Sexual Content, Abuse, Gratuitous violence, R rated language, Nudity, Tobacco.
"Now get your ass up off the ground." He grabbed the hair at the back of her head, again, lifted her to waist height and walked inside, her following awkwardly, hunched over. She barked her shins on every one of the steps up into the house. He threw her into the shower stall and walked out. She was still stiff with cold, but she stood, undressed and managed to shower until her core temperature had come back into normal range. She was still locked in subspace when she came out. He was in the kitchen, drinking a glass of milk. His eyes wandered up and down her body, the way she moved, and he recognized the signs.
It was still early in the morning, and he wasn't going to waste the opportunity to make her show her patience. He put Call of Duty on the Playstation and handed her a controller. He kicked her ass on a couple levels, and then, unexpectedly, when he tea bagged her fallen character, a shiver ran up his spine. He looked over at her, set the controller on the arm of the couch, took hers out of her hand and set it beside his. She was on the floor before she knew what was happening. He knelt beside her, his legs spread. She just sat there, blank. Had the well been too much? He would kick himself if he'd ruined her after so much work, and so little payoff.
He opened his jeans. A flicker of interest crossed her face, then faded again. He cupped her head in his hand and pulled her close. She had to respond, this was her absolute favorite thing to do. At first, it seemed she would submit with the same, empty mechanical motions she'd been using since he dragged her in the house. Then her neck flexed.
"Make Me!" She snarled, pulling away. She thought she heard him breath out an 'oh, yes,' and then his fist smashed her face. It wasn't a long, telegraphed punch, it was sudden and fear inspiring. He braced her shoulder in the other hand and smashed her again. And again. Pain blossomed and ran up and down her nerve endings. He paused and she curled upwards, face against his thigh. She was panting, and she wanted nothing more than to give him everything he desired. His hands told her everything she needed to know. They guided and adjusted her technique, until it was evident by his firm thrusts into her mouth, that he was very pleased. Nothing had ever been this hot. Even though her face ached from the blows, she concentrated on her job. This is my place. This is where I've been waiting to be. My whole life. The idea thrilled her and she purred. He arched his back. “Thank you Sir,” She whispered.
He sighed. It sounded like a death rattle. He sat back up on the couch. She looked at him for a moment, wondering if she dared to touch him. Slowly she slunk across the floor and sat at his feet. "May I touch you, Sir?" His hand guided her against his leg and laid her head on his knee. Just like they'd always sat in chat. Just like she'd always fantasized about sitting at his feet. She didn't even have to beg for him to pet her hair and her neck and her shoulders. Did that mean he was pleased? He'd cum, she didn't know if it was particularly intense or not, since she had nothing to compare it to, yet. It felt damn good to her, anyway.
They sat that way for awhile, then he stood up and went into the bedroom. The door closed behind him. She remained on the floor, thinking about what had happened since she'd been here. How different life had been two days ago. How different it had been 6 months ago, before she'd gotten back in touch with him. How different it had been in the life before she had first encountered him. And now, here she was, lying on her back on his living room floor. Her body was vibrating in excitement. She tried to calculate how long it would be before she could expect a repeat performance.
He came out of the bedroom wearing slacks and a button down shirt. She looked at him for a moment, then realized 'Oh yeah, he has a job. Shit, he's going to work!' She rolled to her knees. He waved her into the bedroom. There was a chain hanging from the ceiling. He took her wrists in one hand and put handcuffs on them. He attached these to the hanging end of the chain. Just high enough to hold her hands above her head when she knelt on the floor. He clipped another chain onto the D-ring on her collar. This kept her from standing up. She tested the range of motion he'd given her. Then Safe, Sane, Consensual came into her head. "What if there's a fire, how am I gonna get out?"
He turned and took the handcuff key from his pocket and put it in the lock. She could reach it to turn it if necessary. It also meant he was trusting her to stay put the whole time he was gone. She looked up at him. I'm going to miss you." He looked at her impassively with those gorgeous, green eyes. Then he walked out of the room and out of the house.
She settled in for 8 plus hours of waiting. She was still naked from the shower. The cooler was on, keeping the house at a comfortable temperature. She relaxed into the uncomfortable position and closed her eyes, going inside herself. It was between noon and one when a car pulled up the drive. It didn't have the same growl as the van, it sounded more like a compact. She raised her head. The front steps creaked and the door opened. A man walked in. He wasn't as tall, but heavier than her owner. He had scruffy brown hair.
"Hello." She said. He started and looked at her.
"What the fuck?" He seemed mildly amused, but mostly shocked.
"Hi, I'm Zombie. Seth's new plaything." It felt strange to call him by his name. She did a mental rundown of the few people he'd mentioned as being part of his life. "Are you Andrew?"
He took a step back. "I'm just here to return the DVDs I borrowed. He didn't tell me..." His eyes wandered down her body. She straightened up, determined to put his property on display to the best effect.
"That there would be a naked bitch chained to his floor?" She finished for him.
He nodded.
"Yeah, I'm kinky like that."
"How long have you known Seth?" He asked.
Her face darkened, anguish showing on her face. "About 6 years. We weren't together for most of it. Stupid bitch that I am."
He set the DVDs down next to the TV. "Well, um, I'm going to leave. Have fun."
"Bye." He turned and walked back out the door, shutting it behind him. "Well that was an interesting distraction." She said to herself.
It was after 6 by the time she heard the van drive up. She was writhing in anticipation. The last hours had been an exercise in boredom and, increasingly, of bladder control. Her face lit up when he walked in the front door. He walked directly into the bedroom and unclipped her collar and unlocked the handcuffs. She jumped to her feet, reeled and fell over onto the carpet. He laughed at her. She made it upright and raced to the bathroom.
When she came out, the house was quiet. She stepped out the front door. He was standing on the stoop, smoking a cigar. "That smells good." She murmured. He took a deep drag, held it, and waved her closer. His hand cupped the back of her head, tilting her chin up. She closed her eyes and sank into the touch. He pressed his lips to her and she inhaled while he blew the smoke into her mouth. He bit her lower lip slowly. She could taste the sweet, thick, tobacco flavor on his lips and it sent chills up her spine. He leaned against the side of the house and looked down across the road into the trees. The sun was setting and there was an orange haze on everything. She stood still and looked up at him. He took a couple more puffs of the cigar and then turned to her and shared again. They smoked the whole cigar that way. Up until the last drag, when he put it to her mouth and then bent down to suck the smoke out of her lungs. She was buzzing from the nicotine and the incredible intimacy of sharing air with her lover.
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lieutenant
Warrior
The Returnee
Morons like you are the reason I grind my teeth at night.|--|Default
Posts: 112
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Post by lieutenant on Oct 24, 2011 11:22:08 GMT -5
I've skipped the 3rd chapter. It is pure, sex, rape and torture.
If you want to read it, you'll have to send me a PM and we'll discuss whether or not I'll let you see it.
So, with minimal further preamble, this is Chapter 4. Trigger Warning for Fluff (that means sweet stuff)-ish content. This IS Zombie and Drill, after all, so it can't be too sweet, can it? Trigger Warning for mentions of BDSM lifestyle. TW because I'm a girl, and this is about clothes, so you may find it a little boring. Then again, no one can write abuse and torture 100% of the time. Give me a break.
BTW, Slight explanation, I did not change His name from Seth to Drill in the missing chapter. In the lifestyle, people often go by a different name than the one on their drivers license. For example, Zombie's parents didn't actually name her Zombie.
“My Master is the best Dom in the world.” She told him. He rolled his eyes and pointed at her clothes and waited while she got dressed. “Are we going home, now?” He nodded. She bowed her head and followed him out of the house. “I understand that you gave me to them to prove you are a better Dom than they are. Their techniques were rudimentary. Only Long Sword had any idea what enticing a Submissive really is.”
“Techniques are meaningless. Subs don’t need to be enticed. If they have a brain, they will know what’s good for them. Why do you think real men let the women come to them?” The moon was out when they left the house. It shone, full, through the trees over the roadway. They drove through patches of darkness and patches of eerie grey light.
“Is that what you did? Let me pursue you?” She looked out the window as the moon soared overhead. It was ringed in a green moonbow that was darker than any color in the daytime and still shone like a ghostly emerald.
He smiled a half smile. “You have bragged often enough that you initiated this relationship.”
She felt the blood pour into her cheeks. She had. Never to him, that she could recall, but to others, yes. “Did I initiate it? Real men may wait, but real women go after what they want.”
He didn’t respond to her comment, instead, he said, “You did well tonight. Saturday, we’re going to the City, to introduce you around the Dungeon. You’ll need something more appropriate to wear.”
“You go to a Dungeon?” She hadn’t pictured him as the type to socialize in any kind of club, not even the ones that held classes and meetings regarding BDSM.
“Did you think I met guys like that at work?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. In a small town, like this, the sickos have to be on a first name basis.”
He chuckled. “You met Andrew.”
“He came to return your porn.”
“Promptly on time, too. I like my sycophants to be punctual.”
“That reminds me, I don’t have to spend the night in the well again, do I?”
“No, no you don’t.”
As a matter of fact, he let her sleep in his bed, straddling his hips, lying on his chest. He told her she was his heater blanket and it was her job to keep him warm. She rested her fingers lightly before her face, on his right shoulder and concentrated on doing a good job.
Saturday was a sort of event, as it turned out. He got dressed in black trousers, a silk waistcoat with a skull embroidered on it, a leather jacket and a fedora. They left after lunch and stopped at a Leather boutique. It was in a back alley, and when they went in, the foyer was lit with a black light and decorated with skulls. It looked like a more serious version of the Voodoo stores she had visited in San Fransisco. Within, it was much more reputable looking. There was a girl in elaborate natural leather cuffs and some delicious metal and ink standing behind the counter.
“Welcome to All Souls Apparel. I am Zodiac. Feel free to look around.”
Zombie was a little overwhelmed. There was leather and silk and fishnet everywhere. A lot of black, but some other special interest looks, too, and the ubiquitous maroon and purple. She turned to him and asked what she should get. He shrugged and gestured at the inventory.
She approached the clerk. “I’ve been in the lifestyle for about 10 years, but I have never really dressed for it.” She said. “We’re going to a club tonight. I can’t go like this.” She was wearing blue jeans and a slinky top, and strappy sandals.
Zodiac came out from behind the counter, crossed her arms and looked her up and down. “What is your kink?”
She looked at Drill in panic. He leveled a stare at her. She swallowed her nervousness. “I’m a Gothic Submissive Masochist. We do a lot of knife play. He likes me in skirts.”
“Well, then, you’re probably not looking for light colors or silk, the blood will never come out.” The clerk walked around her and considered. “You have nice breasts. A corset would enhance them. Something with a low top line.” She turned to Drill. “How do you feel about her ass?” He growled appreciatively. The clerk nodded. “What about her feet? She has the calves for boots.”
Something in her tone made Zombie think that wasn’t a compliment. She shrugged it off.
“If you do any of your knife play on her feet, we have a couple pairs of boots that zip off at the ankles, leaving the legs. Like greaves. They’re pretty popular. Does that sound about like what you two want?”
Zombie nodded.
Zodiac leaned back over the counter and run a bell. From the back room came a young man with naturally orange hair, the tips dyed black. He was wearing a patent leather collar with a number of D rings, from which was suspended a second collar made of chain. He had a smattering of freckles. “Velvet, please watch the counter while I help these customers.” He nodded and started straightening up the counter. Their clerk led them farther into the store, where they stopped in front of an expansive display of footwear. “So, what are your names?” She asked over her shoulder. She was pulling down thigh length boots from the wall.
“This is Drill Sergeant, I’m Zombie.”
“Nice to meet you both. Black or natural leather?”
“Black, please.”
The two boots Zodiac presented for their inspection were vastly different styles. One was slick, patent leather with chrome rivets and zippers with 4 inch stiletto heels. The other was matte leather, combat boot style, but with a definite feminine flair, bedecked with slim straps and buckles all the way down. “These represent the range of choices we have in stock.”
Zombie looked at Drill. He raised his eyebrows, annoyed that she was asking a question he’d already answered. “I like the shape of the combat boot, but the patent and chrome of the heels. I don’t think I could stand the stuff he’ll put me through in heels.”
The third boot was more like an officer’s boot. It was shiny, with a simple chrome zipper up the back and around the ankle. With the boot zipped off, the remaining leg would be a simple expanse of shining leather. “Oh, yes. I like this one a lot.”
They moved on to the section where there were corsets displayed on legless, headless mannequins. She was immediately drawn to a black linen corset with ribbon laces in front and back. The ‘bra’ came just barely high enough up to cover her nipples. She spent a moment considering a leather ‘whalebone’ corset, but the lack of mobility, combined with the price decided her on the much less expensive linen.
Zodiac brought her a selection of skirts. She settled on a fluffy layered skirt in a sort of black plaid with white and green lines. Upon trying the outfit on, she decided something was missing. Velvet, who’d been watching the process with half attentiveness, provided the answer, when he appeared at Zodiac’s side with a fishnet top. It was high necked, sleeveless sort of mesh triangle that rested just under her breasts at the bottom. When worn under the corset it added a sort of shadow across the pale skin of her chest. “Should add strategic cuts, to look tattered. Zombie-like.” He said.
Zombie inspected the material. Each crossing of each strand was attached, so damage to one string wouldn’t cause the whole thing to unravel. “That’s a pretty good project for tonight.” She smiled at her Master. “Thank you for the good idea, Velvet.”
At the counter, she started to get her money out of her purse. Drill shook his head. Her eyebrows drew together. “This is pretty big, are you sure you…” She licked her lips and closed her mouth. “Thank you, Master.” They waited for Zodiac to break the bills he’d given her.
She noticed his attention was on the display case. She followed his gaze. Inside there were a number of styles of collar, ranging from a simple dog style collar, like hers, to flat plated gold. One of the collars was black leather with super narrow D-rings that just barely cleared the surface. More like a bracket than a D-ring. Stacked next to it was a matching pair of cuffs. She looked at the price tag. It was considerable. She looked up at her Owner.
“Sir?” She whispered. His eyes lingered on the set for a moment longer, then he looked at her. She stepped away from the counter, drawing him with her. She knew she was about to do something she’d sworn she never would. “We never got to…share a binding. When you offered me…this.” She touched her collar. “It was when we were apart. I never got to offer you cuffs at all.” She licked her lips. “Master, my Owner, I need to ask you for a favor.”
“Ask, but don’t expect it to be granted.”
“Would you allow me to buy you something?”
“Cuffs?”
“Yes.”
“It would look ridiculous.”
She smiled sweetly. “Not if I was wearing the matching collar?”
He touched her collar. “You chose this. Have you decided you don’t like it?”
“I chose it alone. It’s not the same as your choosing one and putting it around my neck.”
“You want this so badly?”
“Yes, Master. Please? I will earn it, if you like.”
He frowned. “You have already earned your collar. Changing the physical trappings is irrelevant.” He nodded, turned back to the counter. It took her a moment to sort through the possible meaning of that sentence. Long enough that he impatiently waved her forward, because she hadn’t stepped to his side quickly enough.
“We’d like to see this collar and cuffs.” She told Zodiac.
The clerk smiled and unlocked the back of the display case. She pulled out the set. She handed the collar to Drill and the cuffs to Zombie. Zombie settled on her knees, her head bowed while her Owner unbuckled the collar that hadn’t left her neck since the day he’d “presented” it to her over the internet and she’s clipped it on herself.
The new collar was wider than the old one, and was stiff with newness. He buckled it on, and she remembered that new collars started out tight and eventually relaxed. He stroked her hair down in the back to cover the collar.
She reached up and took his hand in hers. She wrapped the first cuff around his wrist, buckling it one notch tighter than seemed natural. Then she leaned forward and nipped the pad of his thumb. He wouldn’t appreciate her kissing him. He held out his other hand and she repeated the process with his left wrist, nipping his thumb pad on this side as well. He pulled her to her feet.
“We’ll take them.” She told Zodiac, who was wearing an appreciative smile. Velvet was clearly fighting back tears.
“They come with a complimentary leather lead.” Zodiac said as she rang up the purchase. She put the leash in a bag with the old collar. “Thank you both for coming in.”
On the way out, Drill murmured, “My selfish girl.” But he slipped his hand under her hair and rested it on their new affirmation.
Behind them, Velvet intertwined his fingers with Zodiac and she pressed his face into her shoulder as he let the tears flow.
Authors Note: A sychophant is like a goon/flunkie/yes-man. They hang around and agree with the villain.
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