Authors: Morgana Blackrose
“C’mon, I need to find my clothes,” I said. “Has anybody seen them?”
“Oh, was that the bundle of stuff the cleaners threw out in the garbage earlier?” Gloria replied.
“Very funny,” I said. “I can take a joke. But seriously, I need to get home, or my cat will shred me. Not to mention, make a mess all over the carpet.”
Petra nodded at Gloria with a wink. “Better make this quick, then,” she said, and at that, both of them dashed forwards and grabbed me around the arms. Before I knew what was happening, I’d been hoisted up into the air and run out the door as if I was a sack of turnips.
“Lana? A hand, please,” Gloria cried, and then Svetlana detached herself from the shadows of the lockers and stepped out in front of us, cracking her neck like a boxer about to enter the ring. A nasty grin uncoiled across her face like a bullwhip ready to strike.
“Don’t worry, this won’t hurt a bit,” she told me. I didn’t believe her. She grabbed me by both ankles, yanked me up onto her shoulder and carried me back out to the main bar with Petra and Gloria still binding me by the arms.
“What are you doing?” I begged as the house lights swam overhead in blurry streaks. Whatever it was, I knew I was not going to like it one little bit, and would seriously test my happy attitude towards my fellow performers.
Then I realized I was being carried back up onto the stage.
“Oh oh,” Melissa’s voice said over the PA as she turned in our direction, “looks like our ladies have decided to give our new start an impromptu encore. Gentlemen, ladies, perverts – and you bastards at the back who sneaked in without paying – won’t you give another big hand for our new blazing hot firebird, the wonderful Miss Phoenyx?”
The band gave me a thunderous fanfare as I was brought up beside them, and deafening applause rang out. I craned my neck and twisted around to figure out what was going on, then realized I was looking back out at the audience. Now, all attention was focused entirely on me – stark naked, held shoulder-high, and totally helpless.
Melissa appeared beside me with her microphone, like a television interviewer about to ask me a leading question on some political topic or other.
“Phoenyx,” she said solemnly, “on behalf of us all and the Kitty Klub in general – we would like to welcome you warmly, and officially proclaim you our newest Kit.”
“Uh, thanks,” I said, and was shocked when I heard my voice carry out over the PA. The crowd went wild. Some even yelled my name.
Mel turned to the others. “Ladies? Let’s be having her, then.”
Svetlana shrugged me up a little higher and dumped one of my ankles onto her other shoulder. Melissa stepped aside and pulled my other leg away, spread-eagling me in mid-air before the entire house. The whistles and whoops blared like a thousand trumpets as I was held there, legs wide apart and exposing my intimate details which had barely even gotten flashed during my earlier undressing of Olivia. My face and neck were already burning, and I could do nothing but bear the humiliation as she slid a hand up my inner thigh and poked two fingers just inside my labia, drawing my lips apart in full view of nobody but herself. And as she did so, I felt more naughty trickles of excitement drip out of me. Sometimes my body felt as if it had a mind of its own, completely independent of the lump of stewed cabbage that sat at the top of my neck, and governed by another consciousness altogether. Melissa must have felt this through her glove for she slipped her forefinger up inside me and rubbed her thumb over my tingling clitty mound, which was poking out cheekily. (Wasn’t there a particular dinosaur that had two brains – one for its body and one for its tail? I definitely had one for my bottom half, that was for sure.)
She leaned in to me and breathed in my ear. “Fuck, girl; I could just eat you up, right now.” She groaned with helpless pleasure and turned back to the audience. “Gentlemen, perverts and admirers – raise your hands and your dicks if you got ‘em – for Miss Phoenyx’s hot red Kitty. Thank you.”
She slapped her hand against my ass and left me there with my glistening vagina yawning wide open and my clitoris now standing up stiff, betraying my deepest feelings: I wanted Melissa’s fingers back inside me, her thumb rubbing on that hard little lump, her breath in my ear again. I wanted to gush the way Olivia had made me do earlier. I felt those trickles running underneath me and up into my ass, and wished that they could be torrents.
And all this despite being stared at, and grinned at, by a horde of strangers.
Their applause lasted for what felt like an hour, before Svetlana finally knelt down and put my feet back on the ground. As Petra and Gloria dragged me backstage again, I passed Bruno and Olivia, both applauding me as I went by.
“Congratulations,” Mel told me as I was dumped back in the dressing room, “you’re now a
Kit. That makes you officially one of us and a member of a very special group indeed.”
I was still speechless, fighting back the urge to scream my anger and indignation at the whole prank, when Bruno appeared in the doorway and handed me a bottle of champagne.
“Just our little traditional way of banishing any lingering butterflies,” he explained. “Everything else should be a breeze from now on. Here, have this. You’ve earned it.”
I took the chilled bottle with silent thanks and pressed it to my cheeks in an effort to cool down the furnace which was being stoked beneath my skin. Hands slapped me on the back and lips covered me in kisses, but I didn’t respond to any of them. Someone dumped my bundled clothes on my lap and ruffled my hair as if I was a dog. Then to add to the infinite embarrassment, they sang me a raucous rendition of
And just as I was recovering from
, Bruno popped the cork on the bottle of Moët and showered me in chilled, frothy champagne which actually made me squeal out loud. I just sat there, arms raised in frozen disbelief, as every female head pushed in and lapped the dribbling froth off my body with wildly flickering tongues.
,” I finally groaned, and looking down, found Olivia wiggling her way in between my knees, looking ready to slide her tongue back up inside me. But she only licked up the last drops of champagne from my thigh, leant in and kissed me. She could be such a bloody tease, but then she’d had so much practice at it.
“Wonderful, darling,” she whispered. “Thanks for being such a good sport. And you looked pretty damn sexy up there too, I can tell you.”
I still refused to move, too afraid to put on any clothes in case there was more nonsense to come. But the hysteria seemed to have died down – Bruno and Mel had gone back to the front of the house to attend to their duties, and Petra and Gloria got on with the serious business of getting dressed for their sets later on.
“I need to get home,” I whispered, feeling the stickiness of my skin under the lights.
Olivia smiled, “I’ll take you home, darling. My car’s outside.”
And as the relief finally began to set in, I shook out the creases of my sweater and pants and began to get dressed again, quickly, before anybody else decided to do more unspeakable things to me.
Olivia’s Alpha Romeo convertible was one of the few cars I’d ever been in. Its brown leather seats excited me and made me think of my racing driver fantasies. She drove it hard and fast, tearing around corners at 60 km/h and it made me wonder if she might be a fan of sexy racing drivers as well.
“Who d’you think you are, Niki Lauda?” I asked as she took the top end of the street at nearly 70 km/h.
“Ooh, no,” she pouted, “James Hunt’s my man. Most definitely. He’s totally gorgeous.”
“Okay,” I shrugged with a smile, “You can have him, then. And I’ll have mine.”
“We could always have them both,” she said. “A nice juicy foursome.” Then the car stopped. “Is this your place?”
I looked up at the block, and nodded. How unfamiliar and unwelcoming it seemed at night.
“Go check on your cat. I’ll wait for you.”
?” I repeated. “But, I don’t—”
“You’re coming back to mine tonight, darling. You’re a Kit now – that opens doors, y’know.” She threw me a sexy wink. “And other things, as well. You have responsibilities now.”
“Thanks for the invitation, but I’m actually pretty tired. It’s been a crazy night, and to be honest, I’m still recovering from it all.”
“Oh, I know. Believe me, they went easy on you. When it was my turn – God, how many years ago now – I got a bottle of vodka pushed up my cunt. And they just left it there, until I managed to squeeze my muscles and push it back out again. Made a hell of a mess of the stage. Waste of good alcohol, too.”
“Squeeze...muscles?” I repeated, not quite understanding the scene she was describing.
Olivia’s hand slid deep between my legs. “Remind me to show you the trick sometime, darling. Anyway, don’t change the subject. My place next, alright?”
She flashed her eyelashes at me as if expecting that to work on me the way it would on a sexed-up guy. I shook my head and stared out of the window. I wasn’t in the mood for anything apart from falling into bed and sleeping off the excesses of the evening, yet Olivia’s manner was so infectious. And I did love her company, and maybe – just maybe – she might have another personal treat in store for me. I felt that tingle between my legs again, and then I was out the car, suddenly keen to pursue her offer.
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” I said, and dashed up to the apartment. I only hoped that Boris wouldn’t make it difficult for me.
As it was, Boris didn’t even blink when I threw him out onto the balcony. I locked up again and hurried back down the stairs to the waiting car, all inside of about ninety seconds of time. We drove back to her place, which was far across town and proved to be in one of the better areas – the Green Quarter, so it was known, due to its parks and trees and big gardens. It was like entering a different world.
“These houses must be so expensive,” I gasped as we cruised down the avenue.
“Some of them are,” she said. “But most, like mine, have been divided into separate apartments. I share the place with a real gang of heads – but don’t worry, you’ll love them all. I know you will.”
Suddenly I felt less enthusiastic. I had been looking forward to a night with Olivia alone, getting to know her better, maybe sharing some music or watching a bit of late-night TV over a glass of wine. I hadn’t been expecting anything approaching a party. I’d never even had a proper birthday party as a kid, although I had been to a few when I was much younger – for other kids who had brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, real families – and only helped to show me what I was missing as the only child of a struggling single mother.
Olivia parked in the street and led me up the path of a fat, squat three-storey, red brick townhouse. Lights blazed at a couple of the windows and it looked as though her neighbors were still up and about. We entered the second-floor apartment which was brightly-filled with peach and lemon décor, ultra modern, like no house I’d ever been in before.
“This is your place?” I asked. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Yes. But we’re quite open about sharing our space here, Phoenyx. It’s a little bit like a commune – we come and go as we feel. It’s all about sharing and community. Kind of wonderful in a hippie-like way, don’t you think?”
“Sounds very different from what I’m used to,” I said honestly as she closed the door behind us, for I really didn’t understand what she was talking about. “I like my own space, and peace and quiet. Even at my mother’s place, my room was my own responsibility.”
She leant in and kissed me. “I know. You’re a quiet country girl. Don’t worry; you don’t know what you’ll like until you try it.”
I nodded, conceding that point. “Always said I’d try anything once.”
Olivia’s place was filled with Chinese-style wall hangings, and smelled of incense. There were pictures on the wall, but mostly abstract things that I didn’t understand, knowing nothing about art or any of that stuff: colorful shapes and squiggles, which looked a bit like the kind of doodles I used to scrawl over my mother’s telephone notepad when I was on calls to my friends. She picked up a half-burnt cigarette from the black glass ashtray on the coffee table and lit it up. “Drink?” she asked through a rising column of grey smoke.
I nodded. “Coffee would be great. I am just a little bit tired.”
She hesitated at that, as though having expected me to ask for wine or something more exotic, but I really wasn’t in the mood, and I could not hold wine very well at the best of times. The few times I had it with my mother at Christmas and other events, one glass was usually enough to get me happy, and three would have me under the table. I’d also chosen to leave the rest of the champagne behind at the Klub, having decided that it really was not to my taste. Not surprising that racing drivers sprayed the stuff all over the place when they got presented with it for winning – it was certainly better than having to drink it, in my opinion. Having tasted it for the first time in my life, I could not understand why people made such a big deal out of it and spent so much money on it.
Olivia went through to the kitchen and started doing things with kettles, while she blew smoke out behind her. I got the feeling that she thought I was being a bit of a party-pooper, but I was still recovering from the dramatic double experience earlier in the Klub, and debating my long-term future there. It was something, I thought, that I’d need to sleep on, and make a decision on soon.
Just then, there was a knock from the door outside. Olivia abandoned the coffee-making stuff and ran out into the hall. Exuberant welcomes followed, and Olivia returned a moment later with another young woman. She looked to me like a character from
of the Rings
or something, with very long flowing fair hair and a silvery, shimmering gown with a gold chain belt around her waist. As she moved into the house, I noticed the gown was slit up both sides to her hip, exhibiting very long, bare legs.
“Alfreda? This is my wonderful girl-friend, Phoenyx. She’s just started at the Klub.”