Beg Me (16 page)

“She’s a beautiful pet!”

“Exquisite!”

“Teach her! Teach her now!”

“On your knees, pet,” Danielle commanded, and as I slowly knelt, she explained, “For your time in this rank, you will not speak. You will do whatever you are commanded to do. You will eat and drink on the floor from the bowls provided. During this initiation, you have no name. You have no more rights than a dog or cat. You will be stroked for our pleasure, but like any pet, you do not stroke us back. You may not refuse the advance of any prince. For now, you are beneath all. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“You will be punished if you disobey or are exceptionally stupid. You will sleep on the floor in a designated area. You will relieve yourself outside the house in a separate washroom. You will move on all fours when you are within the house. You will
not
use chairs or couches unless a prince or princess allows you onto the furniture, and even then you will assume the proper posture of a pet. You exist at this time solely for our pleasure.”

I took all this in, the enormity of it, and she added quickly, “There will be
no
questions. No speech. Bow again so that we know you fully understand.”

I bowed.

The princes closed in around me, and then I was overwhelmed by the sensations. They truly had reduced me to a creature, a pet. I felt a hand caress my face and touch my hair. Another guy knelt down and cupped my left breast, playing with the nipple, working it to a point. They were still talking
at
me, not to me—as if I were a dog. “She’s got great tits.” On all fours, surrounded by these crouched figures, and it was inevitable that two fingers began to rub my vulva, and I gasped. “Wait,” I said. “Wait—”

A sudden sharp slap on the ass.

“Pets don’t speak!”

Danielle.

My ass burned, and the fingers returned, stroking, gently easing into my pussy. I moaned. They didn’t mind me moaning. “Make her come,” said a voice. The fingers worked a rhythm, and it wasn’t this so much that lifted me as the other hands caressing my back and my ass, touching me, actually
petting
me. The guy who had cupped my breast now had his hands on both, kneading them gently, watching me pant.

“Good pet,” murmured the guy behind me in a taunt. “Watch now.”

They explained the rest of their rules. They could order me to go down on them, but it was a breach of etiquette if they came in my mouth. They could take me, but only from behind because I was a mere pet, not yet a princess. Like any animal, I was expected to masturbate openly, but if I did it with no one else around, this was a violation. I was to share the revelation of how I turned myself on, so that others could learn to pleasure me when I was a princess.

“Watch, pet,” they told me. And one of them called, “Khandi!”

The girl Khandi stepped forward and obediently shed her summer dress. The prince kissed her without an ounce of self-consciousness, his large hands fondling her small breasts and roaming over her shoulder blades. It was another girl who, as if recognizing a cue, took two steps forward to remove his robes and underwear. His cock was a spear pointing north. Khandi, eyes closed, still locked in her kiss, reached down blindly and began jerking him while cupping his balls.

All the while, fingers were sliding in and out of me. Oh, God, those anonymous fingers.

“Watch, pet, watch.” I did watch. I watched as he lifted the girl, and like a dancer, a gymnast, she tucked her knees up, and he impaled her, Khandi hanging on by her arms around his neck. I watched as she clung to him, her moans reaching feverish pitch. I looked back for a second and saw brown girlish fingertips briefly touch my hip in passing, and then a prince’s tongue licked my pussy in a long, teasing stroke.

My knees were shaking.

I had time with that collar around my neck to consider the psychology of my status. On the face of it, it would be humiliating for anybody. It wasn’t like an army “we’ll break you down and build you up again” discipline, and it didn’t have the obvious hallmarks of brainwashing you’d read about in articles about the famous nutcase groups. Being a
pet
for them forced you to play a role, and the role prompted a regression that became almost…comfortable.

You remember being a child and your parents talking about you or about other things as if you weren’t within earshot, but this was something more and something less. Ultimate, liberating submission.

The residents of the mansion fed me, they even bathed me, and I was free of responsibility. As I lost patience with this game, it spurred my desire to be included in the group, which is what they wanted in the end anyway. Forbidden to speak, I found myself acting less and behaving on instinct more, first to amuse myself and then…I crawled to the foot of a dining table and waited until one of the princes passed me something from his plate, gobbling it from his hand. And to my own astonishment, I acted out, looking for attention when bored, and they spanked me.

I loved it.

After eight days of this feral devolution, I found myself getting incredibly horny. One of the princes was “assigned” to give me a bath. I was grinding myself against his hand for close to half an hour, sloshing in the foam and bubbles, and I still couldn’t get enough. There was an afternoon when I fell asleep on my mat and pillow on the floor, and I woke to the gentle stimulation of a penis teasing my nether lips. One of the princes entered me from behind, not giving a damn whether I was awake or not.

I let him ride me, completely use me, and after he thickened and poured his cream into me with a vengeance, I crawled out to my separate washroom, cleaned up, and crawled back in. One of the guys I fancied was in the library, and I sat at his feet and masturbated. He watched me like I was a tasty meal advertised through glass but didn’t move to help.

My whole being was shrieking:
Fuck me! Fuck me right here and now!
Whimpering for his hand, his cock. He merely touched my face and whispered, “Good pet. Good, good pet.”

I nestled between his legs, letting my head fall back against his crotch as I kept playing with myself until I came.

There were hours when I did next to nothing. It was mostly boring, with drastic interruptions of violent sensuality or whimsical humiliation.

One guy expected me to fetch a ball for him, but he never laid a hand on me. Later, I found out he’d been disciplined for using the term “bitch” during scenes, even though he was repeatedly warned this was disrespectful to princesses and inexcusable.

I lolled about and waited for an idle gesture of affection. I napped. It may sound demented, but my worst complaint wasn’t that I was crawling around on all fours in a doggy collar but that I wasn’t allowed to read!

One night I lay half asleep on the floor in the dark when I heard slippers. Someone coming. I rose up on my elbow, on guard out of long habit. Instantly, I felt a shiver. The house was warm, but I was unaccustomed to sleeping without a sheet. I just felt better with a bit of cover. Now I was up and I was cold again, and I heard
flip, flip, flip
as the pair of slippers brushed the hardwood.

There was no reason for anyone to come down in the middle of the night unless they wanted a snack from the kitchen—or needed something from me. Tonight’s visitor didn’t bother to turn on any lights and padded softly toward my spot on the floor. After a second, I realized it was a princess.

Danielle? No. I couldn’t see Danielle creeping around at night when she could have told me anything during the day. She
relished
disciplining me, slapping my ass, caressing me under my chin like a cat. I couldn’t pin down just why yet—unless it was an act for every newcomer.

The girl who knelt down in this moment was someone different, her fingertips lightly touching my lips in an age-old signal.
Keep quiet.
Her hand pressed me to lie down again, and then I felt her spoon behind me and snuggle close.

I felt the softness of her cotton robe, and an arm reached around to hold my breast. Two soft lips kissed the nape of my neck and sucked on my earlobe. And I was warm. I was warm again. She made no other overture, didn’t touch me anywhere else or keep kissing me. She had come with this in mind and only this, and, tired, I was happy for the simple, gentle expression of tenderness. It didn’t even occur to me to whisper:
Who are you?

I was a pet. I wasn’t allowed to ask questions, remember?

When I woke up the next morning, she had left me. I was alone.

“It’s time for this to come off,” said Danielle, and with another entourage of smiling devotees, she removed my collar. “You’ve done really well, Teresa. You’ve graduated to the next step.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“We call it lady-in-waiting.”

I was taken to another large room. It looked like a dance studio—parquet floor, mirrors, and a balance rail at one end. You couldn’t help notice there were manacles dangling from metal plates bolted into the wall.

I saw what looked like a mat for sleeping or meditation in the center of the room, and a small toilet and shower were off in one corner. I was given no clothes or temple robe—had to remain nude for this stage too.

Danielle kissed me on the cheek like a sister and said that I was to fast here, “purify myself,” and meditate.

“For how long?” I asked.

“As long as it takes,” she answered sweetly.

Gimme a break already with the cryptic shit.

So I sat down.

I can do meditation. Of course I can. Did it in yoga class, did it at the karate dojo, tried to do it a couple of times with my new friends Busaba and Keith at the Buddhist temple in Bangkok. I found it calming, and it did focus my attention.

But I can’t say I ever got any earth-shattering revelations from it.

The sunshine that poured through the tall windows was very pleasant and soothing.

First day. Boredom. A pretty mixed-race girl in one of those blue robes entered and without saying a word knelt down and offered me a bowl of green grapes and water.

“Hi,” I said cheerfully. “Is there anything I should be especially working on to…?”

She shook her head, telling me she couldn’t talk, and then left me to the silence. I had a couple of grapes and drank some water. I tried to think about the case, since I had the time, but my mind kept wandering. Must have been the effect of going without lunch. I can skip breakfast, but a decent lunch will hold me. Not today.

The case. Think about the case. They might be checking on you now. They’ve got time too. Hope Helena’s covering well for me, and
think about the case.
Danielle Zamani’s real-estate holdings besides the mansion. You were wondering why nothing was in Isaac Jackson’s name. What was going on there? An alias? How do they possibly keep that trail cold? Hey, consider your own cover story, you’ve got resources, and forget about me, can’t think about me now. Okay, the Bishop connection. What is it?

I wonder when I’m going to finally meet Isaac.

Getting tired.

Second day. Early-morning sunshine streaming through the windows, and I realized I had fallen over out of the seated cross-legged position, quite literally fell asleep while trying to meditate. What had Keith and Busaba told me? Supposed to be a common problem for monks. A discipline thing. Keith and Busaba—I missed them.

Breakfast of champions: water and grapes. I did some exercises and stretches, meditated…. Again the girl returned with my fresh ration, not saying a word. Starting to get lonely in here.

Come on, you’re a strong girl. Endurance comes from spirit.

Fourth day. “Teresa?” A voice, very soft, gentle. “Teresa?”

I woke up, feeling a bit dim, fuzzy, my head clouded. They sat in front of me as if they had magically appeared or perhaps had always been there, two beings, seemingly ethereal in the morning light yet tangibly solid. And beautiful. I vaguely recalled being introduced to them when I first arrived.

The guy was Gordon: nice face, soft features, a few freckles on his light brown skin, head shaved, of course, like all the princes. His body was less muscular than Oliver’s but still with chunks of toned muscle. And the girl was Moisha, hair up in a bun, same coloring, and she had a slightly thick figure yet still athletic, large breasts with wide areolae. They were both nude.