The Final Veil: Who had kidnapped America's favorite belly dancer? Page 11

  I would have been annoyed at these words, clearly spoken just to excite me, except for the fact that they were spoken in soft, breathy tones that made their meaning unimportant. There was a soft, hitching urgency to her tones that really excited me. Her body was so feminine, so naked, and so all over mine. The line formed by the back strap of her sling thong was tracking my cock relentlessly as Sugar slithered and ground her pussy into my lap.

  I couldn't have formed a question for Sugar at all under the circumstances. My mind was completely engrossed by the sweet smell of her, the sight of her rounded buttocks rolling on my lap, the feel of her softly rounded hips in my hands.

  For the next few moments there were no questions, just the music, the sound of our breathing, and the naked, naked, naked womanliness of Sugar's body rubbing against mine.

  I came before the song ended. Sugar's butt was just too much for me. I made a few "uh-uh" noises and my undies were ruined.

  Sugar didn't let up, she kept milking my lap until I drew away from her as my cock experienced a bit of postcoital ticklishness.

  When I did that, Sugar got up and walked over to the corner where the shelves were and brought me back the Kleenex.

  "I'll leave you a little bit so you can clean up," Sugar said.

  "Yeah, that would be good," I said. "But come on back, I still want to talk to you."

  "Don't worry, I'll be back," Sugar said, smiling.

  That's right. I owed her money.

  Sugar picked up her scarf and left the room. I cleaned up. A few minutes later she came back in, carrying a ginger ale.

  I pulled a fifty dollar bill out of my wallet and slipped into the garter belt strapped to Sugar's slightly sweaty upper thigh. "Suppose you just take that and we talk for the next song."

  "Well, thank you!" Sugar said, smiling sweetly. "Sure, we can talk, but I will have to sit on your lap in case anyone checks in."

  "Oh, of course," I said. I realized I was experiencing what it must be like to be a woman who's gotten a reputation for being "easy." All the guys are willing to give you what you want, but you have to make your body available to them first.

  Shit. I was an information slut.

  "So, what do you want to know?" she asked.

  "I heard April was to blame for your having to leave the Persimmon," I said.

  "Yeah, kinda," said Sugar. "I mean, I DID put ground glass in her shoes, but she DID steal a couple of my regulars. It wasn't fair."

  "She treat a lot of the other dancers that way?" I asked.

  "Sure, there were others who lost regulars to her," Sugar said.

  "Was glass in the shoes the limit of what was done?" I asked.

  "I don't know," said Sugar. "I left before she did. I never heard about anything like a kidnapping, though. And I'm pretty sure I would have heard. Everybody knew how I felt about April. They'd have told me if anything juicy had happened. I mean, they told me when she left."

  "I was thinking, you know, it might have been hard for some gal whose regulars had been snagged off by April to watch her on TV getting all that fame and success, knowing she'd been wronged."

  "Oh, hell, yes," Sugar said. "It was hard for me to see her on Lennoman, getting all that attention for doing pretty much the same kind of dancing we did, except that she kept her bra and thong on, and she waves her hands around a lot. I could do that. But that's the way life is, you know? The bad guys win. The bad guys win. The bad guys win. Then they win some more. Then you die. You just learn to live with it, that's all."

  "Yeah, I know about that," I said. "I used to work for the bad guys."

  "Oh, if you're working at all, you're working for the bad guys, one way or another," Sugar said.

  "Oh, I dunno," I said. "There's some good guys out there working for the bad guys. They do what they can."

  "Yeah, but that's the crazy part, that's what wrong," said Sugar. "A lot of the guys who come in here are good, regular guys who work for the bad guys. And it should be that the good guys are working for even better guys. The bad guys should be working for the good guys, if they work at all."

  A little while later I was in my van, glad that I kept a change of clothes in there for emergencies. Splorting in a lapdance bar wasn't the sort of emergency I'd anticipated, but it would do.

  I called in to my service and found that I had a message from Jeff. He said a Gorean master named Prolax had called to say that one of his slave girls was a former member of the ALFALFANs and that I could interview her if that would be helpful, and gave me Prolax's number.

  I thought the skinny on the ALFALFANs from a disgruntled former member would be pretty darned useful, so I called Prolax. He'd been expecting my call and invited me to come right over. I said in about an hour and he said fine.

  I hadn't eaten since lunch and so I found a Tex-mex place and had a couple of tacos and a guacamole salad washed down with a cold beer.

  While I ate, I thought about the case. I was ready to scratch off the whole stripper angle. Sugar had been fingered as the most likely suspect, but after talking with her, she didn't seem so likely. She seemed to have moved on with her life, something that crazed kidnappers weren't noted for doing.

  Of course, she could have been lying her ass off, but I doubted it. I think that, if she'd been hiding something as she sat in my lap, more or less naked, with my hands on her hips, looking up into my eyes, I'd have known it. Some tremor or tension would have betrayed her. Only a psychotic could have lied convincingly under such circumstances, and Sugar was a little fucked up, but she wasn't psychotic. I'd encountered a few psychotics on the job, and once you glimpsed the twisted, empty thing hiding inside the human shell, you never forgot it.

  Prolax's house was in Gwinnett, among all the new suburbs that sprang up in Atlanta's tech explosion back in the 80s. The trees had all grown up and there was green grass instead of straw on the red clay dirt, but the bad design of the houses was still there, and the lots were still tiny.

  I rang the doorbell. A female voice asked, "Hi, this is Scott Timmerson's home, may I ask who's calling?"

  "I'm John Bowman, I've been assigned to investigate April Dancer's kidnapping," I said. "I was told you might have some information for me."

  "Oh, yes, Master Bowman," said the voice. "I'm Slave Kat, I'll be right down to let you in."

  A moment later a woman in a flowered housecoat opened the door for me. She had long black hair and pale, pink skin.

  I knew about the pale pink skin because as soon as we were in and the door was closed, she dropped the robes to her feet, to reveal that she was wearing only an iron collar, nipple rings and a thong. She dropped to her knees, extending her hands toward me.

  "Nice to meet you, too," I said.

  She crawled forward a bit and kissed the tops of my shoes.

  "Slave Kat welcomes you to the abode of Prolax of Norcross," she said.

  "I'm glad to be here," I said, grinning down at her naked butt. The Goreans did know how to make a guy feel welcome.

  "Master Prolax has bid me tell you that the slave you should speak to is nameless at present," said Kat. "But she is here and will speak to you if you like."

  "About the ALFALFANs?" I asked.

  "About the ALFALFANs and anything you like," said Kat. "You are the master."

  "She has no name," I said. "Is there a preferred way of addressing her?"

  "Slave, slut, whatever you like, master," said Kat. "She is living as an animal for a year, and she's about halfway through."

  "Living as an animal?" I asked.

  "Yes," Kat said. "She is denied the use of her hands, she is denied speech, she has no name, no property, no rights, no responsibilities. She is fed and watered and cleaned by us. As nearly as possible, she lives as an animal."

  "Why, what did she do wrong?" I asked.

  "We're not sure, master," said Kat. "She wouldn't tell us."

  "Why did you subject her to something that sounds kinda severe, if you don't even know what she did?" I asked.
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  "We didn't, master," responded Kat. "It was her idea. All she has to do is give the safe signal and she's returned to full slave status."

  "So, this is more like a nun taking a vow of silence for a year," I said, "it's not punishment."

  "Kinda, except that she has taken no vow of celibacy," said Kat. "As an animal, she can be taken by anyone who has her within their power."

  "Of course," I said.

  "If master would follow me, I will lead him to the slave," Kat said.

  "Lead the way," I ordered in my best masterly way.

  "Yes, master," Kat said. She rose from her knees and picked up her robe, then led me down a hallway to what appeared to be a closet door. It actually opened into a set of stairs that led to an upstairs room. Not an attic, the house was three stories tall, but very much a spare room.

  The room had a big chair at one end and a widescreen TV at the other. Kneeling beside the chair was a naked woman. Her wrists were cuffed together behind her back, what's more, her hands were encased in leather gloves without fingers or thumbs, just circular bags that kept her from using her hands. She also had shackles around her ankles, linked by a steel chain. She wore a head harness with a ball gag set in it (the things I was learning!)

  She was a slightly heavy-set brunette with a reddish tinge to her hair. She had rich, generous lips fringing the ball gag, full cheeks, and bright blue eyes. She had large, round breasts with dark, wide nipples, each one pierced by a gold ring. Though she sat quite still, she seemed nervous and fidgety about something.

  Kat stepped forward. She pointed to me. "Heel!" she said. "Heel! This is the master who needs to know about the ALFALFANs! Heel!"

  The slave nodded vigorously to show understanding and agreement.

  "Can I bring master a drink or some refreshments?" Kat asked me.

  "No, just ate," I said.

  I was looking at the kneeling slave and I noticed her face fall slightly at these words. Maybe she was hungry or thirsty.

  "You know some drinks and snacks might be nice while we talk," I said.

  "I will bring some, meanwhile have a seat -- the animal is yours," said Kat, and I noticed the woman kneeling on the floor perk up slightly at these words.

  I sat on the throne.

  "I'm sorry to interrupt your time without speech," I said to her as Kat left. "It is very important that I find April soon if I can do so -- she has been kidnapped, and we don't know who did it or why, but we've got some leads that indicate that the ALFALFANs might be involved. You were with them, correct?"

  The slave nodded "yes" vigorously.

  "I'm going to take your gag and harness off, OK?" I said.

  The slave nodded "yes" less vigorously.

  "Lay your head across my lap so I can get at the buckles,' I ordered her.

  I would never have ordered a strange woman to put her head in my lap before I'd met these Goreans, but somehow they made it seem a natural thing to do.

  There was no hesitation from the animal woman. She rose carefully to her knees, unable to use her hands for balance or support, then shuffled with her shackled ankles to where I sat, and knelt in front of me and put her head in my lap. I could feel her breath going right through my pants to my cock.

  I unbuckled the straps quickly, before the feel of her breath could get my trouser snake stirring, and pulled the harness gag out of her mouth.

  "Kneel," I ordered the nameless woman, and she did, retching and coughing a little. She worked the stiffness out of her jaw.

  "May a girl speak?" she asked after a minute.

  "That's why I'm here," I said.

  "No, may a girl speak in a matter other than a master's command?" she said.

  "Yes," I said, "permission granted."

  "I have not been to the bathroom and my needs are much upon me," she said. "May I go?"

  "Yes, of course," I said.

  "Thank you master," she said. She then turned her back on me and knelt with her head to the ground and her butt hiked high in the air, her legs spread side, and I saw that she had a pony tail. But not the kind you have on your head. Her ponytail sprouted from her ass. It was an artificial ponytail that was tied to the end of a metal rod that sprouted from between her cheeks and took a sharp turn upward, then bent slightly outward where the tail was tied on, so that it was at a jaunty angle instead of just dangling from her butt cheeks.

  "Before I can relieve myself, a master must pull out my tail," said the slave. "It is a rule I live by."

  OK, this was another Gorean thing. She wanted me to pull that thing out of her butt. Not something I wanted to do, really but she WAS breaking six months of self-imposed silence to give me information I needed.

  I grasped the metal rod near where it bent in toward her ass.

  "Be careful, please, master, do not hurt me," she said. "It is well secured."

  "All right," I said. "I'll go slow."

  "Master is kind," said the slave.

  I slowly pulled the tail out of the slave's ass. It did not want to come. It was obviously some kind of butt plug and it was large. I saw her ass distend to an unnatural degree as a stainless steel globe appeared inside it. Slowly, carefully, with little tugs, I worked it out, while the slave knelt on the floor and let out little grunts and moans. Finally, it worked free, and I was able to see a steel ball about the size of a crab apple with a tapered point and a rounded end.

  "Thank you, master," the slave said. "May I take it?"

  "Sure, I said.

  The slave worked her way to her feet again, then leaned forward and opened her mouth. I held the steel pole up so she could take the portion with the tail in her teeth.

  Instead, with the casual ease and grace most people use their hands with, she twisted her upper torso down so that she could take the tapered end of the bulb in her mouth. I had not been expecting this, but she moved too fast for me to do much about it. Considering where it had just been, I would have expected a little hesitation on her part, but no, she swallowed the metal bulb whole, without hesitation, then stood up with the whole apparatus dangling from her face.

  For a moment our eyes met and I could see the animal in her eyes. She quickly turned and shuffled off to the bathroom, moving with practiced ease in steps measured by her shackles.

  I sat down in the chair, idly wondering if she had feigned interest in going to the bathroom just so we could have our moment, or if she really needed to go.

  It took her a while, as I supposed it would -- going to the bathroom without the use of your hands would be easy enough, but the clean-up afterward would be difficult if not impossible. I figured there must have been some kind of special devices to make it possible. Of course, being an animal she could have foregone clean-up. The I remembered that animals that could lick their asses, did.

  Well, kissing this animal on the mouth wasn't something I was going to do after seeing the bulb go in it, anyway. Hopefully, we could just talk. Still, there was something powerful about the woman's eyes. Six months of silence had concentrated her personality a great deal.

  She came back with the bulb of the pony tail still in her mouth. She walked up to me and proffered it to me with her whole body. I took it by the "handle" portion between the bulb and the tail.

  It came out of her mouth very clean and gleaming, instead of the slimy, dulled look it had coming out of the other end of her digestive system. And the whiff of breath I caught as I removed the plug from her mouth said a welcome word: "Mouthwash."

  "Thank you, master," said the animal woman. "I have another request to make of you."

  I swear, my hand reached reflexively for my belt buckle at these words.

  "Sure, what is it?" I asked.

  "The tail must be in my butt when my butt is not being used," she said. "Will you put it back in, master?"

  "Sure," I said. I had pulled it out, after all.

  She got down on her hands and knees facing away from me, knees spread wide though the shackles on her ankles kept her ankles close
r together.

  I took the tapered end of the butt plug and placed it gently against her exposed anus. Then slowly, firmly, I began pushing it in.

  She helped me by backing against me. She made little groaning and grunting noises as she did so. As I was shoving the tail back into her ass, Kat returned with a tray laden with goodies.

  She glanced casually at us. She said nothing, but there was a trace of a smile on her face, which wasn't too surprising. In this house, putting the butt plug back in the animal was probably a cozy domestic scene.

  "I hope all is to your satisfaction, master," said Kat.

  "Looks good, thanks very much," I said, pausing a moment and holding the bulb pressed hard against the animal woman's ass so the plug wouldn't slide out.

  I noticed the animal's fingers were clutching hard at the rug as she knelt.

  "Then I will leave you to your inquiries," said Kat, and she walked out of the room.

  A few moments and much grunting and groaning later, the widest part of the bulb was past the animal's widely distended butt and it slid rapidly into place, eliciting one last groan from the woman kneeling before me.

  I carefully twisted the tail so that it stood upright and she shook it, like a dog shaking its tail after getting up, and it was a very cute and fetching thing to do, and after she shook her tail she knelt there for a moment with her legs spread wide and her hairless pussy sticking out at me, and there was a certain sense of invitation there. If I had knelt behind her and taken her at that moment, I think it would have been OK with her. But I wasn't about to do that. Didn't have my information yet. A guy has to have his standards.

  After a moment she turned and faced me, still on her hands and knees. She lowered her head to the floor, crawled forward and kissed my ankle.

  I think she was saying thank you.

  "Would you like something to drink?" I asked. "I know it has been a long time since you have spoken, your vocal cords have got to be rusty."

  She sat upright, kneeling back on her haunches, her knees spread wide.

  "Yes, master, that would be good," she said.

  On the tray that slave Kat had brought in was an assortment of canned drinks and a glass full of ice, with an ice tray beside it.