Catslave, the making and using of.

Friday, 25 December, Year 12 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

From somewhere behind sparkling eyes came forth the inquiry, leaving but bated breath behind. "How old are you ?"
"I'm eighteen now. I can do whatever I want!"
Somehow the eager earnestness of the retort elicited endless peals of laughter, at first from just the one but soon the other joining in. Which one was first and whom the other is not particularily recorded ; the fun of girls always a matter of indistinct join-in.

Eighteen, the arbitrary number of all allowances. As if that's how anything ever works, by numerology. Then terror made its regular return. "You were... you're here... you were twelve ?!"
"When they first took me, yeah."
"But... oh my god. Weren't you... weren't you afraid ?"
"Not really. I was with my friends."
"With your friends..."
"Yeah. They raped us, and then they took us here."
"Oh my god!"
"You weren't raped yet ?"
"I... I..."
"It's great, you'll see. Don't worry."
"It is ?!"
"Oh yeah."
"How does it go ?"
"Oh, you know... they hold you down, and stuff themselves into you. Between your legs. Where the kisses go."
"But... that's terrible."
"No it isn't. Why should it be terrible ? It's what you're for."
"I... I..."
"Don't make me tickle you!"
"Aren't you supposed to have a career ?"
"What's that ?"
"You know, when you go to work and have a job, and vote for the president."
"I mean... I guess so, if you want to."
"You don't want to ?"
"I don't know."
"But... aren't you curious to find out ?!"
"Not really..."
"How come ?!"
"I don't know. Aren't you curious to find out if you want to have your legs cut off under the knees ? You could have empty wine bottles glued to the bone somehow, and go around like that. You'd make a funny clippity-clack sound whenever you walked, and you wouldn't need shoes!"
"That's just plain stupid."
"I know, right ?"
"So what are you saying ?"
"It's not my job to be curious about any bullshit anyone comes up with. I'm too busy doing things I actually care about."
"What do you care about ?"
"Princess, for one. And you."
"You care about me ?"
"I've just done you, haven't I ? Many many times!"
"Yes but..."
"Don't assume it's nothing just because it came easy. It only comes easy to you."
"But... I mean... wow."
"Damn straight."

The conversation not going in any kind of direction the real Tina had ever encountered or much expected, she reached for a new tack.
"You were here since yesterday ?"
"Yeah."
"But they only brought me today."
"Late last night. Yeah."
"How long were you here ?
"You mean before you ?"
"That's right."
"Most of the day."
"That means you knew I was going to... they... I... bring me here ?"
"Yeah."
"And that means he knew..."
"Who ?"
"He."
"He who ?"
"The guy, whoever's doing all this."
"Oh, darling. It's not one guy."
"Oh. My. God."

The poor flesh, shocked yet again by what right then turned out the last of such uncounted surfeit of natural shocks as might be borne broke down, under heart-ache returned, into a howling, teary heap. The older one, more experienced, naturally of more even temperament, picked up the dropped arms and carried on, for glory and all that's good in womanhood, uphill. "You thought you were getting killed, didn't you."
Tina could make no answer, past the tears, spit, mucus and everything else choking her. She reached her arms, fingers clawed instinctively, grabbing at the other with all the primeval desperation of the first amphibious blob. Once received in her warm, comforting embrace she loosened by degrees, her joints making small cracklings as the immense muscular tension compressing them yielded its grip bit by bit. "Yeah", she whispered eventually. "I thought we were getting killed."
"I don't think so, Tina."
"I thought you were getting killed." she hissed, "I loved you because I thought you were getting killed."
"Oh."
"But you... you knew. Why did you tell me you loved me ?"
"Because I do."
"You love me ?"
"Yes."
"But we've just met."
"So ?"
"So why would you love someone you just met ?"
"Because I want to."
"Why do you want to ?"
"Because I do."
"What do you want from me ?"
"Nothing."
"Oh come on!"
"Does it look to you like you're in any position to give me things ?"
"Not things!"
"You mean, give me yourself ?"
"What do you want from me ?"
"I don't want anything, darling. You have plenty inside, it's true, and you'll give it to me... to us, you'll give it to us when you're good and ready."
"I won't!"
"You're smart, you'll figure out soon enough it's not worth keeping. It just turns sour if you try and hold on to it."
"I hate you."
"Why ?"
"Because I'm afraid. I know you're right, and I'm afraid, and I can't help myself."
"Nobody can ever help themselves."
"Why did you come here ?"
"I wanted to kiss you."
"But why so early ?"
"Oh, I like it like that. I always come early. I like waking up in the cell. I love feeling what you feel, again. I like to remember..."
"You did this before ?"
"Yes. It was part of the deal."
"What deal ?"
"When we were sold, they agreed we can come back to train young whores to be slaves."
"You were... you were sold ?"
"You'll be sold too, Tina."
"Like a slave. Like a thing, like an animal."
"Like a woman."
"That's terrible."
"At least it's not boring."

For some reason uncomprehended Tina's eyes lit up. She was giggling as she said "You know, I could really go for some boring right about now." and it caught like a bright spark in fire sponge. Soon enough they were both laughing hysterically, like the funniest thing imaginable had just been said, the funniest joke ever they two alone were only privy to. As the spasms of hysterics died down, Tina hooked herself up on an elbow, looked up and down the other's prone body, drinking her in from toe to eyebrow with her eyes as she whispered "What will I have to do ?"
"Everything, darling. You'll have to do everything."
"To you ?"
"To everyone."
"I'll have to do everything... to everyone..." Tina cooed to herself, like she were putting herself to sleep with a lullaby.
"Yes. You'll do everything to everyone all the time."
"Everything..." Tina traced the words with her lips like an incantation, "to everyone... all the time." Suddenly she jumped to her feet, then came down on her knees, sitting on her heels, both hands on the other's belly. "How about now ?"
"There's definitely something you could do right now."
"What should I do... hey, should I call you Tina ?"
"You may call me dogslave. That's my naked name."
"What's a naked name ?"
"Well you see Tina, when a little girl dies down and a new whore is born, she gets a name. It's not for other people."
"You mean only people you're naked with ?"
"That's right."
"This is pretty cool. So wait, wait, if you're dogslave can I be Catslave ?"
"If you want to be Catslave I'll call you Catslave."
"What about the others ?"
"Who ?"
"I don't know, you said I'm going to give myself to you and then you said us."
"Oh. You'll have to talk to them about it, won't you ?"
"But who are they ?"
"I don't know."
"But didn't you say..."
"I just meant us whores. I didn't have anyone in particular in mind."
"Wait, so how many are there ?"
"I have no idea. Many."
"You never met them all ?"
"I'm sure I haven't."
"But I mean, like more than ten ?"
"For sure, more than a hundred. What, I know at least a hundred. More than a thousand, ten thousand, I don't know. A lot, anyways."
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"May I... is this even a thing ? If I kiss your ass ? Like I mean your asshole."
"Oh love, that's exactly what I was going to ask."
"It is ?!"
"Yeah" offered the stretched out woman turning face down, lifting her ass by her knees towards the other's face, her left cheek flat on the bedding. "Kiss my asshole! Put your pretty lips on my pretty lips and spread them with your tongue. Reach deep inside, oh yeah, that's right. Right there, lick my shit inside of me baby!"
The kneeling girl worked her way eagerly, hungry for the other almost, or rather utmost. She reached her fingers by her chin and rubbed the engorged, sensitive bud as she dug her tongue demandingly inside the dark folds and cryptic recesses of coppery depths. As her dinner begun to spasm all around she demured, her tongue hard, harsh almost, burrowing against the soft skirtings inside the other with a determination beyond mercy.

dogslave let the budding young whore work her a long while, until she could take it no more and then past that, until she could take it no more again and past that again. Eventually she turned around, hands on Catslave's shoulders, pushing her down. She kissed her soiled lips eagerly, tasting what she distinctly perceived as yesterday's dinner on there, between the gums, on the other exhausted tongue, everywhere. Then she broke the kiss, hovering close, breathing her words into the other's still open mouth almost.
"You taste like shit."
"That's the most dinner I've had since yesterday" came back the answer, the other's eyes sparkling again, "and may I say it was delicious."
"I'm a well fed whore."
"I'm starving! Your shit is the most food I've had like ever! I think I might die."
"But I enjoy you starving."
"You do ?"
"And your desperation."
"Please! I'll do anything!"
"Even eat my shit ?"
"I swallowed some, you know."
"Oh, wow!"
"Yeah. Your shit is inside my tummy now. I'm digesting it. It's going to be part of me. Forever!"
"Hopefully it doesn't go to your head."
"Do you think I'm going to die ?"
"If you don't eat, you mean ?"
"Yeah. I'm so hungry..."
"Nah. It takes like a month, I think."
"Are you going to keep me here without food, in this dark dungeon, until I die ? Of hunger ?"
"I think I might..."
"Oh, please!"
"What ? You could eat my shit. I could go out, and have great meals, and then come back to you here, and we'd hang out, and when it's time you'd eat your dinner out of me again. I'd tell you what it had started as while you did it, or maybe you'd tell me, after a while."
"Oh my god."
"It can be done, you know. There was this Chinese emperess once who was upset with a young slut, and she chained her in the toilet. So she had to eat the shit of all the other harem sluts, and of the emperor too, her boyfriend."
"Wow! What happened to her ?"
"Nothing. She was there for years."
"Nobody brought her any food ?"
"Nope. You can live on shit, you know. It's not fully digested, there's calories in there. Pigs can fatten on it."
"Really ?!"
"Definitely. It's what pigs were originally for, getting the calories out of shit. More efficient that way."
"I had no idea."
"Well how would you, I mean you only went to school, right."
"They don't teach you anything really important, do they."
"Nope."
"So what happened to the poor Chinese slut ?"
"Nothing, she just lived in the sewer and ate shit."
"But didn't the Emperor her boyfriend come to see her ?"
"He eventually figured out it's her at one point, and left in disgust."
"Wow!"
"That was the first time she saw him since her chaining down there, and also the last."
"Oh my god. Why is this terrible story making me so hot ?"
"Because you're a pigslave."
"Can I still be Catslave even if I'm a pig slave ?"
"Sure love. You can still be Catslave."
"As long as I eat your shit ?"
"Oh, you'll be eating my shit for the rest of your life."
"Do you promise ?"
"I promise. Now swear."
"I swear I'll eat your shit for as long as you live."
"That may be a long time, whore."
"Are you really going to make me eat your shit like you said ?"
"Nah. We can go out, have a steak or something. And a toothbrush."
"You mean, right now ?"
"Sure."
"I... uh. Is it ok if we stay a little longer ? I'm not really so hungry anymore right now."
"Sure, we'll go later."
"I think I might need to puke."
"Do it on me if you do."
"What, really ?"
"Yeah. Right here between my tits and on my belly. Then we can lick it back in together."
"You're disgusting, you know that ?"
"What's so disgusting about it ?"
"I don't know. It just is, okay ?"
"That's how Doll got to meet Princess, you know."
"What, eating her puke ?"
"Yup!"
"Who's this princess you keep talking about ?"
"Oh, Princess is just Princess."
"What does she do ?"
"She owns us."
"She owns you ?"
"Yeah."
"Me too ?"
"Not yet. Maybe, if Master buys you."
"And then we'd live together ? Where you live ?"
"Yeah."
"Please!"
"You'll have to behave though."
"Oh my god! What will I have to do ?"
"Lots of things."
"I'll eat my puke with you, ok ? We'll lick it back in together like you said."
"And anything else ?"
"Anything!"
"I can't ask you to promise and swear, but I'll talk to them."
"What can I do ?"
"Don't worry, you're doing fine."
"Will you... are you going to kiss me too ?"
"Your asshole you mean ? No I'm not."
"How come ?"
"Because I'm not hungry."
"We're not equal, are we."
"Not really."
"You're great and you know a lot and are even eighteen! While I'm just seventeen and I just wasted the last six years of my life."
"You could say that. It's not really true though, look how quick you're catching up."
"Will you eat my shit one day ?"
"It's possible."
"Like, you'll be all alone and scared and hungry in a dungeon with like spiders and bats probably, and my shit is all you'll have to live on ?"
"Maybe!"
"I'd feed you lots and lots. And you know what else I would do ?"
"What ?"
"I'd put bananas in there, and things, when nobody's looking. So you'd have them with my shit."
"Aww, that's so sweet!"
"And that way you won't die and you'll live longer to suffer! Ha-HA!"
"But maybe I'd love to suffer with you."
"You would, huh. There's nothing anyone can do to a whore, is there."
"Nothing at all."
"I can eat your shit, I can do anything."
"Absolutely anything."
"Incredible. I've never felt so good in my life."
"That's why there's so many of us. Everyone thinks it sucks for all of five minutes, then it's all 'please let me eat your shit for a living' and stuff like that."
"When we go to eat, can I be naked ?"
"Sure, why not."
"Do we have to wash first ?"
"Why, you want to go there filthy ?"
"Yes! I want everyone to see me like this. And to know what I am."
"Alright then, let's go."
"Right now ?"
"Sure, why not ?"
"One more cuddle first, okay ?"
"Okay!"

Social agreement has the overwhelmingly insidious quality of escaping cursory examination, and this irrespective of whether it was arrived at for the sake of agreeing on something, no matter what it may be, or otherwise. Thus the naive seventeen year old found herself unexpectedly trapped in an unforeseen web of firmly unexamined notions and unsophisticatedly uniform valuations, discerning nothing and therefore usable only in very narrow contexts. Fortunately for her, fiction is not a stable state of being.

Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte
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