Stripped Down (13 page)

Sheila quickly suppressed her annoyance. “He's known,” she pointed out. “My girlfriend was learning to tattoo from him. I wanted a butterfly, so she asked him. They both worked on me.”

So Sheila had gone to art school. Vern guessed that in her life of broken dreams, the winged creature engraved on her skin had turned out to be a rare and perfect gift. “Was your girlfriend the drunk?” Vern asked with interest, stroking the butterfly.

“Yes,” muttered Sheila. “She worked in various media. She had a lot of talent. Has.”

“And you wanted to be her inspiration,” Vern filled in. “But you couldn't tame her demons, and you felt like a failure.” Vern lifted Sheila off her lap and stood up. “I want your tongue, baby,” she said, grinning as though she hadn't changed the subject. Her eyes held a challenge.

Sheila looked confused, so Vern helped clarify her position by pushing her shoulders until she knelt on the floor. Vern unbuckled her belt in a way that made Sheila wonder what the punishment for poor service might be. But the manager
casually dropped her belt, pants, and underwear to her ankles. “I'm a customer, Sheila,” she explained.

The girl caught her drift. “Uh, S-sir,” she stammered, inhaling Vern's female aroma. “I think I need to use a dental dam. To keep us both safe.”

“Smart girl,” said Vern approvingly. “That's our policy.” She stood on one foot to pull her pants completely off, then walked to her desk, rummaged in a drawer, and handed a packet to Sheila.

The girl used her slim fingers to good effect, touching Vern's wet folds as much as possible while holding the dam over a swollen clit and licking it with enthusiasm. “That's it, honey,” Vern encouraged her, moaning. Her orgasm was like an underground explosion, intense but contained. She bowed deeply to the kneeling girl in acknowledgement.

Vern offered her a hand up, and pulled her close. This time, Sheila responded to Vern's nudging by wrapping her arms tightly around the manager's back. For a moment they stood still, listening to each other's heartbeats and breathing each other's breath.

“I bet she couldn't forgive you,” suggested Vern, picking up the conversation where she had left off, “for the way you paid for your beautiful tattoo. She called you a whore, didn't she?”

Sheila nodded. She couldn't trust her voice.

“I bet she said you had no brains, no self-respect, no loyalty. To him, you were nothing special, but to her, you were a cheatin' phony. I bet she said you didn't belong with a real dyke, and she could never trust you again. As a punch line, she said you might as well be working here.”

Sheila sniffed. Her eyes were wet.

“Am I right?” demanded Vern.

“Yes,” answered Sheila. “Sir.”

“Call me Vern,” the manager told her softly. “It's okay,” she crooned, rocking her. “You have a lot of talent too, girl, and you can learn what you don't already know.” Vern carefully brushed the tears from Sheila's eyes.

“You've got the job, honey,” Vern told the girl, watching her face. Sheila rewarded her with a stunned smile. “I think you'll be one of our best servers. And I want to talk to you later about painting a mural on the back wall.” Vern gave Sheila a kiss to seal the deal. When Vern's tongue slipped between the girl's teeth, she pressed herself against the manager as though she wanted to melt into her.

Vern had more to say. “I want you to start on Monday. You could put your clothes on and leave now, if you'd like, and I won't blame you at all. But I'd like you to stay for something else, Sheila. Do you trust me?”

“I might as well,” she said carelessly, then, seeing the other woman's suddenly grim face, Sheila realized that she had better learn Vern's expressions and respond to them. “Yes, Vern,” she answered. “I do.”

“Then clear a space on the desk and bend forward over it. Hold onto the sides of the desk.” Sheila did as she was told, giving Vern a good view of her delectable, faintly glowing bottom and a little pink opening framed in dark, curly hair.

Vern removed a key from a desk drawer and used it to unlock an unobtrusive cupboard behind the desk. From there she removed one of her favorite things, a clear glass dildo that she fitted into a leather harness. Girding her loins with this device, she felt like a mythical creature, an androgynous wizard.

Sheila stayed trustingly still, aware of her own breathing, her heartbeat, and the prickle of suspense in her lower parts. She was touched by something cool and hard as Vern asked, “Do you like this, honey?”

Knowing that she could let go, that the hungry bitch in her was finally being fed as the glass warmed up in response to her heat, Sheila yelled, “Yes!” She pushed backward as far as possible to meet the inhuman cock that was filling her. She wanted to scream like a hawk or howl like a wolf, but she was afraid of being heard beyond the thin walls of the manager's office.

“Good,” laughed Vern, working up a steady rhythm. “I like it when you make noise.”

At an opportune moment, Vern reached for the girl's swollen clit and tormented it with cruel squeezes. Sheila responded with near shrieks, feeling out of control and yet safe.

“Good girl,” Vern told her as though it were a mantra. “Good girl.” She gently removed her instrument. On impulse, she covered Sheila's back with kisses, tasting her salt.

“Get up,” ordered the manager, glowing with pleasure. She pried Sheila's hands off the desk and pulled her by the waist. Still flushed, the girl turned to smile shyly into Vern's eyes.

“That's what I like to see,” Vern assured her. “That's a performance worthy of an Employee of the Month.” Vern gave her a long, leisurely kiss. “This job won't be easy, honey, even for you. Just remember to trust. Trust me, trust yourself, trust that for every Neanderthal man you have to serve, you'll get a reward. Sometimes when you least expect it.”

Sheila took a deep breath. “I just hope I won't disappoint you, Vern,” she sighed.

“You won't,” promised the manager. “Not really. When
you make mistakes, which you will, you'll get more training, or some incentive to do better.” She grinned and gave Sheila a quick slap on the behind. The girl felt as if she could come again, but decided to let her lingering excitement motivate her until her job really began.

After a mandatory shower alone in the servers' washroom, Sheila dressed, reapplied her makeup and fixed her hair so that she would look decent enough on her way home to her small apartment in a rundown neighborhood. With a jolt of pride, she realized that after a few months of earning a Petting Zoo salary, she would be able to find more comfortable digs, even if no one else invited her to move in with her/him. The girl hardly dared to imagine this possibility.

Vern looked deceptively calm and managerial when she offered to drive Sheila home to ensure her safety. Sheila had no way of knowing that this wasn't Vern's usual way with new servers. As the two women rolled through the streets in the protection of Vern's Lexus, they sensed another presence in the car: a feeling that was stronger than both of them.

NO MORE SECRETS

Chuck Fellows

My late dinner was peanut butter on white bread again, and coffee of course. I was sitting on a bale, leaning back on another and trying to ignore the prickly roughness of the hay pressing through my thin T-shirt. I hadn't felt the need to eat properly ever since Cassie had left six months ago. I just didn't want to waste the time. She had always come down to the stable with a proper meal, come lunchtime. Soups, salads, fancy recipes she wanted to try out. Cassie had been bored here, never really wanting to live this far from the city. She wanted dancing and parties. She wanted to play at dressing up and going out but I had to be here, didn't I? I had a lot of money invested in this place, and at that time I was boarding
thirty-two horses. Sure, less than half of them were mine, but I was still responsible for all of them. Thirty-two horses isn't really too many with six hands working for me, but for some reason, around the first of the year, all but one of my workers moved on. And Cassie started to feel like I wanted to keep the stable running more than I wanted to keep our relationship moving along. She had already been gone longer than she had shared my bed, but I still missed having a woman to share my life with.

I don't know, maybe it wasn't Cassie I was missing. Maybe it was just the sex I wanted back. When I first met her she said she loved the smell of leather. Back then I misunderstood, thinking she was talking about my line of work. I work with leather every day: bridles, reins, and the like. Something always needs to be cleaned with saddle soap or repaired around here. And now every day when I work the leather, I think of Cassie. Well, maybe not specifically her—but I keep seeing a slender back flowing down to round womanly hips, straining against the ropes as I lovingly stripe pale skin with buttery soft reins.

As I sat working the peanut butter from the roof of my mouth, I thought about the first time Cassie had shown me a little something about kinky sex. I had been working late in the tack room on a Saturday night, cleaning up the mess left by young boarders in a hurry to go out and party. I thought I heard a noise in the barn and when I looked up there was Cassie, walking toward me, naked as the day she was born. She was carrying a coil of my best rope.

 

“What are you doing, Cassie?” My heart stuck in my throat as I contemplated whether anyone else might drop by the stable at 9:30 on a Saturday night. She ignored me completely
and started threading the rope through eyebolts in the wall near the bridles.
How the heck did those bolts get there?
I wondered, briefly. I had never noticed them before. I didn't think about them for long, since Cassie's ass was my more immediate concern. Each time she lifted her arms to thread a bolt her ass moved just a little from side to side. Watching her move, catching just an occasional glimpse of breast, I realized my breathing had changed. I didn't know what she was doing, but I was already enjoying the show.

The coil of rope was stretched evenly between two eyebolts, knotted at each, with a couple of feet hanging on either side. Cassie turned and smiled at me. “I want you to tie me up,” she said as she handed me one of the ends.

“Whaaat?” This was so unexpected, all I could do was look at her nakedness and wonder at the flush on her face and chest.

“Circle my wrists a couple of times and tie it off with a slip knot. I promise I won't pull it out. Come on, it'll be fun, you'll see.”

It was hard to believe, but Cassie wanted me to tie her up and, and, do…something to her. I knew about such things, but in all of my forty years I had never actually thought about doing them. Now here she was, naked, with a length of rope, and I could feel my clit getting harder by the moment. She turned and faced the wall again, stretching her arms up and out to grasp the hanging rope. Hesitantly, I bound her wrists as tightly as I dared, half hoping she would change her mind and pull her hands loose. But she didn't, and when I was done and she was secured to the wall, I tried to imagine what I could do to her now. We had never talked about this stuff before and I wasn't even sure if I could ask her what came next. But
Cassie was always a pro at whatever she did, and now she told me that I should start by running my hands all over her body. When she told me to pick up the reins I had been cleaning and slap her backside with them, I felt myself getting warm and even more excited. I gently tapped her ass with the last six inches or so of the inch-thick leather straps and she laughed at me. I swung harder, solidly connecting with her skin, and watched in fascination and horror as two red welts appeared.

“More,” she gasped. “Do it harder. And don't stop.” More redness and more welts came up on her ass, and when I started worrying about ripping her soft, beautiful skin I moved up to her shoulders.

Cassie was panting and moaning now, dancing about in an attempt to move out of my range. But she had told me to keep going, and I could not stop until she had all she wanted. I suddenly felt like I just had to touch that reddened skin. Dropping the reins to the floor, I put my hands on her back, marveling at how hot her skin was. I suspected the coolness of my hands was something of a comfort to her. But with each caress, her moans grew louder, and with them, so did my excitement. There was nothing I wanted more at that moment than to fuck her, then and there. Reaching between her thighs I found her lips swollen, her sex wet and wide open. There was no thought on my part, only reaction. I plunged two fingers deep into her cunt and she staggered, struggling to remain upright. Regaining her footing, she arched her back, giving me better access. Half standing, half squatting, I pumped into her with my hand. She was so wet, each time I pushed in or pulled out there was this glorious slurping sound. The slapping noise my knuckles made against the wetness dripping from her fueled my own desire. I fucked her pussy as hard as I could, almost
lifting her off the ground with each thrust. Her fingers scrabbled against the solid wall, desperately seeking purchase and not finding any. And then, suddenly, she was coming, loud and hard and strong, her cunt pulsating, sending wave after wave of silky wetness over my hand, until finally she slumped, still partly suspended by the loosened rope.

“Hey, come back.” A sweet voice startled me out of even sweeter memories. Jo was looking down at me with concern etched on her face. I realized I was breathing heavier than I should have been and turned beet red with embarrassment. Jo didn't seem to notice, or maybe she was just being polite because I was her boss.

I never should have hired Jo. The job was physically challenging, and Jo was definitely not in any shape to do it. She was on the short side, with little spindly legs and all barrel up above. Her arms were flabby and there was no way she would ever be able to keep up with the rest of us, hauling bales of hay and buckets of water for the horses. But Jo had a nice smile and dark eyes that reminded me of a mare I once loved. That part is true, but let me be honest: she got to me because she looked enough like Cassie to be her sister. And Cassie had walked right out of my life less than a month before. God, did I miss her.