86th and Park

"Yes, I didn't like the chicken. It was overcooked."

"Nonsense. Apologize to Helen at once."

Instead, without a word, Holly got up and carried her plate and wineglass to the kitchen. They heard a clatter in the sink, then Holly's footsteps heading for the rear of the apartment.

Jane looked at Helen. "I think young missy just made a date with Mr. Bamboo Cane for later tonight. Would you be a dear and get that dessert for us, please? And maybe some of that nice Cognac."

Helen gathered most of the plates and went out to the kitchen. Jane and Sandy were left alone. Jane said, "I do apologize for Holly. I love her dearly, but the truth is she can be quite maddening. She's used to being the center of attention. She's spoiled and sometimes she acts out jealously. Please don't let it disturb you." Jane got up. She stood behind Sandy and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're a very pretty girl, Sandy. In fact you're beautiful. And I meant what I said earlier. You can stay here as long as you like, and I can get you work at my law firm. But you must understand something. Helen and I have an understanding. She will confirm what I'm saying.

What is hers is also mine. Do you understand? Look at me." Sandy turned in her chair and looked up at Jane. She nodded. "And do you accept?" Sandy nodded again. "Good girl. I thought you would. Ah, here's Helen with those lovely berries."

S I X

It was Monday afternoon, and Sandy had confirmed her appointment with Martina. On the phone Martina had said, "Oh, we're going to have fun." Now, in the bathroom, she applied her makeup, heavier this time. She felt cheap and reckless and wanted to look that way. This will definitely be a no-bra day, she thought. Fortunately, Helen was not around, so she wouldn't have to explain herself. By the way Martina had spoken to her she knew that taking photographs for a modeling portfolio was just a pretext to have sex. That was fine. She had little interest in a modeling career and, in fact, had already decided to accept Jane's offer of work at her law firm. This was just about sex. She hoped Martina would hurt and humiliate her. She knew she was seeking her sexual limit and she thought she might find it through Martina.

On the street she hailed a cab. She read from Martina's business card and told the driver her destination: 530 West 35th Street. In twenty minutes the cab pulled up before a vaguely industrial building on a desolate street. This is not the glamorous part of town, she thought. She took the rickety elevator to the fifth floor. At the end of the hall was a door with a frosted-glass window that hosted the words "The Martina Agency."

She entered the office. A bored-looking girl, no older than herself, sat behind a battered desk, flipping the pages of a magazine. She did not look up. They were alone in the room, which contained only a sofa, a couple of chairs and a few head shots on the walls. She approached the desk. The girl still did not look up but said, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm here to see Martina. I'm Sandy."

The girl picked up her phone, punched a button and after a pause said, "There's a Sandy here to see you." She listened. "Okay." She hung up the phone and pointed to a door on her right. "Go through that door, then through the door at the end of the hall. That's where Martina's at."

Sandy said thanks. She started to walk away from the desk, looked down and saw the magazine the girl was reading was pornographic. Her heart began to race as she walked down the hallway, which was narrow and underlit. Only a few photographs hung on the walls. Mustiness reached her nostrils. Her courage failed her slightly as she reached the far door. Oh well, she thought, and turned the knob.

The moment she entered the room she was met with blinding white light. She raised her arm to shield her eyes but still couldn't see anything. A voice said, "Take your arm down, Sandy. We need to see your face." She recognized Martina's voice. "Also, take all your clothes off." This is what she had come here for. She stripped.

When she was naked she heard repeated clickings of a camera shutter. A new voice, a woman's, from another part of the room, said, "Great tits. Where'd you find her?" The new voice had a Texas accent or something, thought Sandy. Martina said, "I've been fucking her girlfriend, who's a decent slut. That's how I met her. But this girl is something special. I think you'll like her, Sally. Sandy, come here. But crawl over to me."

Sandy got on all fours and crawled in the direction of Martina's voice. She still could not see very well. The floor was concrete and hard on her knees as she crawled. She heard the camera whir a few more times. Then Martina loomed before her, holding the riding crop. She was wearing a black dress, which she now pulled up to her waist.

"Lick my pussy, bitch." Sandy rose to her knees and began to lave Martina's wet slit. More pictures were taken. Martina grew impatient and pulled Sandy roughly to her feet. She struck her across the face with the riding crop and then, much harder, across each breast. She kissed her. Sandy could smell alcohol on her breath. Still, she surrendered to the kiss. Martina pushed her away, saying, "Here, Sally, have a look."

Sandy was now able to see clearly. She was beyond the brilliant stage lights that had been pointed at her when she had entered the room. Where she now stood the lighting was normal. She saw a white backdrop and in front of that was a small stage, which had an eight-foot pole screwed into it. To her right stood Sally.

Sally was large, over six feet tall, and about Martina's age. Everything about her was large, her face, tits, hips and ass. She had upswept bottle-blond hair and an overly tanned, wrinkled face that was dominated by a garishly red-lipsticked mouth. She wore blue jeans, a wide belt with a thick buckle, Western boots and a white shirt with blue stitching all over it. She had two cameras slung around her neck. She came over to Sandy and fondled her breasts, then pinched her nipples very hard. The nipples swelled under the rough handling. "Nice," Sally said. She put two fingers into Sandy's pussy. The fingers went all the way in easily. Sandy kept her arms at her sides, though she was very excited. Sally removed her fingers and put them in Sandy's mouth. "Taste yourself, cunt." Sandy licked her own juices avidly. Sally laughed and said, "Let's all have a drink."

* * *

Sandy opened her eyes. She lay on her back, still naked, on the cold floor of the studio. Where am I? she thought. For a moment she was completely disoriented. Then she got her bearings. Her last complete memory was of being forced by Martina and Sally to drink three screwdrivers and do four lines of coke in quick succession.

After that, till this moment, everything was a blur. She vaguely remembered loud music and thrashing obscenely about on the stage, using the pole as a stripper would, while Martina and Sally had watched and been verbally abusive. Had Sally made her lick her boots and whipped her with her heavy belt? She thought so but wasn't sure.

She remembered nothing else.

The room was quiet. She sensed she was alone. Her head hurt, so she closed her eyes again. She heard the door open and approaching footsteps, which stopped directly over her. She opened her eyes. It was the receptionist. She stood with one foot on either side of Sandy's face. The girl was wearing a dress and no panties.

Sandy could see right up to her pussy. "Hey," the girl said, "Martina told me to tell you you should play with yourself. Do it, bitch." Sandy began to masturbate. Though her head hurt she was able to get excited because she could look at the girl's cunt. The girl continued to stand over her face. She neared her orgasm, and as the girl sensed this she lifted her dress and urinated on Sandy's breasts and face. Sandy was shocked, but that didn't prevent her from coming. When Sandy quieted the girl turned without a word and left the room.

Sandy's tears began to flow. Her opened mouth was a wound, and she sobbed. She had found her limit.

S E V E N

Friday evening rolled around. It was time for Memorial Madness. The ladies of 86th and Park had rented costumes at a theatrical-rental shop during the week and they were now putting the finishing touches on their attire. Jane, in a man's Victorian velvet suit, was going as Oscar Wilde. Holly, pigtailed, wore a girl's gingham dress that somehow fit her slim torso but ended just below her bottom. She loved how it looked and decided not to wear panties. She was Dorothy from "The Wizard of Oz," but Dorothy at about age five, and she had already begun to talk with a babyish lisp. Helen and Sandy were Othello and Desdemona. At the costume shop they had been stumped until Jane had made the suggestion. They had loved the idea once Jane had explained who the characters were. Helen had chosen a military uniform that looked really old, and Sandy had found a simple floor-length, long-sleeved white gown that appeared equally as old. Holly and Sandy both wore a dog collar with an attached leash, which for the time being was tucked inside their clothes. Holly was still being cool toward Sandy, but the brattiness had vanished after a harsh disciplinary session with Jane following last Friday's dinner.

Jane had hired a limo for the night and had arranged for the driver to be a fellow member of The Sisterhood of Sappho, but a woman none of them knew. The driver was intended as a gift for Holly, her "Daddy" who would drive them to the party, pick them up, then tuck her in at bedtime. This prospect had delighted Holly, and now she danced around the room, anxious to get started.

They descended to the waiting car. The driver stood by the open front-passenger door. She wore a black-leather pantsuit and matching driving gloves. Sandy could tell she was a blonde, but except for those few betraying wisps her hair was entirely tucked under a short-billed black-leather cap. As she got into the front seat Holly squealed, "Oh, Daddy, you look so nice." The driver said nothing, but closed the door and opened the rear. Helen got in, followed by Sandy and Jane. The driver got behind the wheel, and Holly immediately turned to her and said, "You want to see my pussy, Daddy?" Without answering, the driver reached across and took Holly by the neck. Holly's head disappeared from view. Sandy heard cooing sounds from near the driver's lap. After a minute Jane said coolly, "I think we should be going." Holly sat up straight, and they were off to West 44th Street. Once in traffic Helen put her hand on Sandy's thigh. A moment later Jane put a hand on her other thigh. Sandy opened her legs a bit and settled lower in the seat.

On 44th the driver parked before a gray-stone, four-story building that had four Greek columns spanning the front. She opened the door for Holly, who said, "See you later, Daddy," as she got out. When the four were assembled on the sidewalk Jane pointed to the second story and said to Sandy, "See what it says there?" Sandy looked up and saw the words "Harvard Club" carved into stone. She looked blankly at Jane. Jane said, "Silly, this used to be an old-boys' club. No women allowed. Now it's owned by a bunch of dykes." Sandy got the irony now, and they all laughed.

They climbed a few steps to the entrance. Inside was a brightly lit, large foyer with a marble floor, a huge chandelier overhead and twin curving marble staircases leading to the second floor ballroom where the dinner was being held. Jane lifted Holly's leash from her dress, and Helen fished out Sandy's. The two subs led the way up the staircase on the right, their mistresses, leash in hand, trailing by two steps.

A tuxedoed woman, mustached and with short, slicked-back black hair, greeted them as they approached the ballroom. She led the way to their table, near the middle of the room. The room was already mostly full and buzzing. Sandy looked around, dazzled by all the costumes she saw, and the others waved to friends. A big band played jazz standards at the left-hand end of the room. A few couples danced in a cleared area before the band.

When they were seated their waitress came to the table. She was a young, very pretty Latina, petite but buxom. She wore a Playboy Bunny outfit, complete with cottontail. They laughed at this delicious irony, the waitress joining in. Even Sandy got the joke. Then Holly started pointing around the room, and their laughter increased as they saw that all the waitresses were similarly dressed. Their waitress was standing next to Helen, who suddenly pulled the girl down on her lap. She put a folded twenty-dollar bill down the front of her costume between her breasts. The girl grinned wickedly and put her arms around her neck. Helen kissed her, and the kiss turned open-mouthed as she began to fondle the girl's breast. They broke off the kiss, and Helen said, "I'll see you later, baby." The girl kissed her in response, got up and circled the table to stand by Jane, who also inserted a twenty between her breasts. But she simply said, "Bring us champagne. And keep it coming."

* * *

Dessert was finished, and most of the revelers were on the dance floor. Jane and company sat at their table drinking coffee. Four upside-down champagne bottles stood in separate ice buckets. Holly had had only two glasses but she was bombed. She talked nonstop, laughing and covering her mouth, covering her mouth and laughing. She was even being nice to Sandy.

Helen turned in her chair and looked around the room. She spotted their waitress sitting with a group of fellow Bunnies at a nearby table. Their work was nearly done, and they had started in on the champagne. She noticed that the chair next to the girl was vacant. She leaned over, kissed Sandy, excused herself and went over to sit in that chair. Holly said, "And then there were three little Indians," and she laughed gaily. When Sandy looked over at Helen a few minutes later she saw the girl was once again on Helen's lap, one breast spilling from her costume, their heads together, their attention focused on the brown nipple Helen tweaked between her thumb and forefinger. She felt a pang of jealousy, but it was slight. In her heart she knew she wouldn't be with Helen for a long time. She understood she needed a woman she could submit to in every way, prostrate herself to, and Helen wasn't that woman. She turned her attention back to Jane and Holly.

Holly was waving at a table in another part of the room. Two older women, older even than Jane, were sitting by themselves. They were dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West and the Good Witch of the North. She shouted at them, "Hey, I'm Dorothy. We chose the same story." The women smiled and beckoned her over. She got up and skipped over to their table. Instead of sitting in a chair she plopped on the Wicked Witch's lap and threw her arms around her neck. Her very short dress went all the way up to her waist. Even at a distance Sandy could see her labial piercings. The Wicked Witch could too, of course, and she began to caress Holly's pussy. The Good Witch moved her chair closer and stroked her thighs. They stayed that way only a minute before they got up, walked hand in hand out of the ballroom, with Holly in the middle swinging both hands vigorously, turned right and disappeared. Sandy and Jane were left alone.

"Where are they going?" asked Sandy.

"There are playrooms on this floor. Do you know what a playroom is, Sandy?"

"Yes." She had drunk a lot but was feeling only a bit lightheaded. This feeling though was being replaced by a tingling in her scalp and an empty, weak sensation in her stomach.

"I'm glad we have some time alone again. Here, move your chair closer to mine." Sandy did so, and Jane took her hand. "Yes, that's better. Have you given more thought to coming to work for me?" Sandy nodded. "Would you like to?" Sandy felt pierced by Jane's blue eyes. She couldn't speak so she nodded again. "Good." Jane smiled broadly. "You can start Monday. We'll go shopping Sunday for some business clothes. I think we should celebrate. Let's take a walk, shall we?"

Sandy stood. She knew where they were going. Jane took her leash and prompted her toward the exit. Heads turned their way as they left, and she felt a swell of pride at being tethered to such a powerful woman. It was as if she were the figurehead on the prow of an old sailing ship. She had seen a picture of one once in a history book.

Outside the ballroom Jane dropped the leash and took her hand. They walked toward a dark, vaulted hallway. It was like a tunnel or cave. They heard a woman repeatedly crying out. She couldn't tell if the cries were of pleasure or pain. The hallway itself had no lighting but it was lined with rooms with large, single windows that were lit from within. "These are the playrooms, Sandy," said Jane. They looked to the right. The first room suggested a classroom, with a few small desks, a larger one and a blackboard. A number of whips lined the wall. It was unoccupied. The cries were coming from the next room on the right. They stopped at that window. The woman who had been crying out was Holly. She was naked and bound to a cross, face first, in a way suggesting a crucifixion. A few props indicated the setting was a church. A "nun" whipped Holly's back and backside with a cat-o'-nine-tails. The Witches sat in a pew facing Holly. They had pulled their dresses up and were masturbating. Jane squeezed Sandy's hand and said, "I can tell by the sounds she's making that she's close to orgasm. Let's go."

The next room on the right contained a mock jail cell. "Ah," said Jane, this is it." She pulled her into the room and into the cell, which housed only a simple metal bedframe with a bare mattress and pillow, an unhooked toilet in a corner and a lone, bare lightbulb burning overhead. Jane said, "I saw so many trashy girls-in-prison movies when I was a kid. I used to get so aroused. That's one of the first clues I had that I was gay. I always wanted to be in one of those movies and play the warden." She laughed but immediately turned serious and put her arms around Sandy's waist. "You're so young and beautiful. Let me see all of you." She stepped back so Sandy could remove her gown. She wore nothing underneath it. When she was naked Jane actually gasped and murmured, "How beautiful. Beautiful." She closed her eyes as Jane ran her fingers through her long hair and began to explore her body. Jane touched her eyelids and lips. Her nipples surged as her fingertips brushed them. The light touch continued as her pussy lips were pulled apart, then her buttocks. She tingled as a single finger traced the length of her spinal cord. Jane pulled her close, and they stayed that way, swaying in place, for a long time. Her eyes were still closed when Jane kissed her. It was their first kiss. It began simply enough but went on and on. Jane wouldn't let her up for air. She was held even tighter and probed more deeply. She was going limp when Jane backed away a bit, though she continued to support her. She said, "Darling, help me out of my clothes." As she did so she mentally compared Helen to Jane. Being with Helen was like experiencing an earthquake. She got knocked off her feet and thrown every which way. With Jane she was gradually overtaken by the ocean's tide until she was submerged and drowned. She loved both of these feelings but knew instinctively that Jane was her mistress.

Jane was naked now, and it was her turn to gasp. Jane had the same huge, firm breasts as Helen. She hoped she would suffocate her with them. Jane lay down on the mattress, brought her feet up and let her legs fall open. "Darling, I think you know what to do." She got on all fours and brought her face close to her pussy. It was completely wet. She inhaled its aromas and put her nose right into the wetness. She alternated tongue-fucking the slit and licking the labia and clit. When Jane started to moan and thrash and tighten her grip on her hair, she focused on the clit, licking it rapidly up and down. Soon Jane cried out, "Oh, oh, oh," and squirted into her mouth.