Chapter 1: Marcy

Wednesday, September 6, 2023

“Madam shouldn’t have to go to work today,” Robin groaned at the breakfast table. “She’s still dealing with concussion symptoms.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine. And I need to work. Kitty isn’t rich anymore, which means someone needs to bring home the bacon.”

Robin pursed her lips but didn’t reply.

“I’ll text Kitty every hour about how I’m doing,” I promised.

Robin’s expression turned into a smile. “Okay.”

I couldn’t blame Robin for not wanting me to return to work. It had been a hellish weekend. On the Friday before Labor Day weekend, Robin and I had been in a near-fatal accident on the freeway when some idiot in a massive gas tanker swerved right in front of us. Practically every first responder who showed up at the scene took one look around and said it was a miracle we hadn’t died instantly.

Five days after the incident, I still did not understand what happened. Neither did Robin. We both remembered that right after she finished giving me roadhead, the truck veered into our lane. We both recalled how it headed straight for us. And then, an instant before impact, it jolted out of our path as though pushed out of our way. It rolled off the road, and the gas caught fire. The explosion’s impact knocked my truck off the pavement, sending us end-over-end into the trees.

It was the most terrifying experience of our lives. Robin and I had been banged up pretty good in the accident. The truck driver had died. It had taken emergency responders several minutes to arrive at the scene and much longer to get us out of the truck. Then we’d been taken by ambulance to the nearest emergency room for x-rays. Robin came away from it with a pretty decent gash on her scalp from some broken glass. I was less lucky and got a concussion from one of the many times I bumped my head while rolling. And we both sported purple bruises all over our bodies. But all in all, we had miraculously survived what should have been a deadly collision.

My truck was totaled. All of Robin’s furniture was damaged. Her clothes had scattered all over the road and forest, torn and ruined. Thus, our first weekend together we spent recovering from the physical and emotional trauma of the incident instead of getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies. However, we were alive, and that took away much of the sting.

My mothers, Phoebe and Diane, had driven to the hospital and stayed until our release. Robin’s parents were out of town for the weekend but checked on her by phone nearly every hour. They promised to visit her as soon as they were back. Phoebe insisted on doting on us while Diane just sat, pale and quiet, asking the doctors questions and trying to contact her lawyer to help us begin navigating the legal ramifications of the incident. But it was Labor Day weekend, and people were on vacation. We decided to let things wait until after the holiday.

On Tuesday, ignoring protests from Phoebe and Diane, Robin and I went truck shopping. Robin wanted me to consider a Ford F-150 Lightning, but I wasn’t interested in an all-electric vehicle. I liked gas, so while I test-drove one to appease her, I didn’t do it with much gusto. I visited almost every truck dealership in the greater Denver area before settling on a 2015 black Ford F-150—the exact same truck I’d been driving in the accident. I found one online and had it shipped to my address. I had it looked over by a mechanic near the seller, and after getting the okay from her, I made the purchase. It would arrive by the end of the week.

My mothers and Robin didn’t know it, but my boss told me I could take the whole week off if I needed it, but I wanted to get back into my routine. And more so, I knew my new pet also needed to be immersed in her routine. I had already reviewed the ground rules, and Robin agreed. So, as I left for work, I handed my pet a list of things I wanted done before I returned: exercise, cleaning, organizing, and shopping, along with a list of approved foods she could eat.

In many ways, Robin was not like Gina. She didn’t need to lose weight or get in shape. She already liked to exercise and eat well, but I put it on the list anyway, so she knew it was expected. It wasn’t always about making her do things she wanted but about making sure she knew who was in control. I wanted her to submit to my will 24-7, none of this one day off a week bullshit. I knew if I could wear her down, she would eventually become my full-time pet the way Kitty—Gina—had.

When I gave Robin the list, she took it, inspected it, and cheerfully proclaimed, “Your pet will have everything done exactly the way Madam wants it!” And she pecked me on the lips and walked me to the door. “And your pet looks forward to Madam’s regular messages.”

“And I’m going to inspect the apartment when I come home. If the chores aren’t done well, Kitty gets punished.”

“Ooh.” Robin’s eyes lit up like a Christmas star.

“Not the spanking kind. The kind where you don’t get to cum.”

She pouted exaggeratedly. “Madam is no fun.”

I kissed her again and said goodbye. When the door closed behind me, I allowed myself to crack a grin. Robin’s high-energy personality could be infectious.

She was so unlike Gina. Gina had accepted my orders and commands meekly and without saying much. Looking back, we hadn’t had many long conversations. Most of them revolved around our work at the Black Velvet or discussed her duties. She had never had a chipper tone like Robin.

Throughout the day, Robin reported on her work with the same upbeat, peppy attitude that came through in her texts. She sent me a photo of the toilet at a weird angle.

Robin: He’s so clean! He’s smiling!

This attitude wasn’t a surprise. Even in high school, Robin was a bubbly, happy-go-lucky girl. It worked for her. But I had expected an attitude similar to Gina’s sullen, reluctant, yet compliant personality. Robin’s way would take some getting used to.

I returned home Wednesday evening to find Robin waiting for me on her knees just inside the door. The instant I walked into the apartment, she undid my buckle and pants and slid them down to my ankles. Then her mouth inhaled my cock. She didn’t even bother to close the door. I went to close it but then changed my mind and left it open. Robin’s hands gripped my ass cheeks as she slid up and down my limp shaft, which slowly hardened under her attention.

“Did someone miss my cock while I was gone?” I asked.

Robin nodded and continued to use her mouth and tongue to encourage my shaft to grow.

“The door’s open,” I told her. “Anyone walking by is going to see Kitty on her knees. They’re going to think Kitty is my lesbian lover eating my pussy.”

Robin moaned and pushed her face deeper into my crotch until her lips neared my pubic bone. I raked my fingers through her hair and then curled them, trapping her head in place with her hair entwined around my hands. And then I began to fuck her mouth.

As my hips thrust forward, Robin instinctively relaxed her mouth and throat to allow me easier passage. She couldn’t take my entire eight inches. Not yet. She could get over five inches, though. And so each time I pumped my hips forward, I stopped with about two or three inches of meat left, forcing her to take that extra half inch until it nearly choked her. Robin looked up at me with wide, submissive eyes watering from her efforts to control her gag reflex. Her gaze silently communicated to me, “I’ll keep working at it until your entire cock slides effortlessly into my throat.”

I loved my pet’s enthusiasm. But she wasn’t the original Kitty, Gina.

Gina had somehow bonded with me in a way I could not understand. She had somehow melded minds with me to the point that we sensed each other’s emotions. I knew exactly how to please, tease, or even torment my pet to her breaking point. And she knew perfectly how to bring me to orgasm. The most incredible sex of my life had been during our last few days together. Then she had to ruin it all by leaving me.

Robin choked and pulled away. In my frustration, I’d fucked her face too hard. Perhaps we’d had enough of that. I closed the door behind me and ordered her to bend over the arm of the couch. This allowed me to inspect her anus.

My pet was under strict instructions to have her asshole ready for my cock at all times. Every morning she was to perform an enema, then lube her chute and sphincter, then place a metal jeweled butt plug into her ass and keep it there for the day. She was only allowed to remove it with my permission to relieve herself. Then, she had to perform another enema, re-lube, and reinsert the plug.

Just as I suspected, Robin had followed my instructions perfectly. The plug was inside her. That tight little sphincter and the rest of her ass crack shone with fresh lube. I removed her plug to find everything clean and tidy, just as I wanted. Robin gasped as I replaced the plug with a soft push.

“Which hole does my pet want her mistress to fuck?” I asked softly as I ran a finger through her slit to find plenty of moisture there. Then I trailed it across her taint and up the crack of her ass, spinning the toy in her colon. “The pussy or the ass?”

I wished I could tell her preference with a simple touch of her skin, the way I would have if she had been Gina, but I couldn’t. Instead, I had to rely on my gut instincts.

“Kitty wants Madam to use whichever hole she wants.”

Robin had been reluctant to try anal sex when we’d had our tryst several months ago. It had been one of the stipulations I’d made her agree to if we were to get back together. That and she had to eat my pussy whenever I wanted. Monday through Saturday.

But I didn’t want cunnilingus right now. I wanted to fuck something. I hadn’t dipped my cock into anything since the blowjob she’d given me on our disastrous drive.

Just before the accident.

There was a flash in my eyes, and suddenly, I was staring at a pair of headlights approaching me at full speed. My death was imminent. My mouth went dry, and my heart slammed against the inner wall of my ribs. I could barely breathe. My cock went limp.

I couldn’t let Robin see what was happening to me, so I stepped back and forced the dominant tone back into my voice. “No cock tonight for my pet. Only pussy.”

I touched my nipple and earlobe, and my cock began to shrivel up into a clitoris, engorged and swollen. Robin gave a soft sigh of disappointment as she turned around and knelt again.

“On your back on the couch,” I ordered.

Robin scrambled to our furniture and lay face up, her legs hooked over the arm of the couch. I slid out of my clothes and let them fall to the floor. Then, nude as the day I was born, I crouched over her face and rubbed my labia on her lips and nose. Robin hesitantly put her tongue out, and I sat directly on it.

“Mmmm,” I cooed. “Yes, baby. Show my pussy some love. Stiffen that tongue of yours into a cock I can fuck.”

Robin obeyed and stuck her tongue out pointedly. I sat down on it, feeling it slide between my lips and up into my wet tunnel.

“How do I taste, Kitty?” I loved making her eat my cunt, but Robin had zero talent in pussy licking. I needed to teach her how I liked to be served.

“Madam tastes better than Kitty would have thought.”

It took lots of time and instruction, but eventually, my pet brought me to orgasm. When I climbed off her face, I left it a sticky, wet mess.

The rest of the week was similar. Robin wanted cock, but I gave her pussy. It was a nice change for me, sporting my full femininity at work and home. Not having my sex organ dangling between my legs all the time was different, but not in a bad way. Each evening when I came home, I used my pet’s face for my gratification, coaching her on how to improve her technique, promising her that once she improved, she could have cock again.

Gina hadn’t needed coaching. She was already an expert on orally pleasuring a woman. Another pang of loss hit me as I realized I should have fucked her a handful of days ago at the most recent Black Velvet event. The accident happened on a Friday, and Saturday night was a Black Velvet event, which I was forced to miss. Fortunately, M—my boss—had been understanding, though not thrilled about me being gone for an event.

“Well, I suppose you can’t help it since you nearly died, but please be careful, Marcy. You are the main attraction these days.”

My ex-pet and I still had to perform together in upcoming events despite our separation. M had paid for our BDSM equipment and outfits on the condition that we would perform at her events for an entire year doing BDSM-themed shows. This meant not only did we have to do Black Velvet events for the next several months, but we also had to rehearse our scenes regularly so we didn’t look like amateurs on Saturdays. While we’d been able to rehearse as much as we wanted when Gina lived with me, now we had to figure out a schedule and place to meet to ensure our show was perfected enough to earn M’s approval.

Friday night, after Robin fell asleep, I texted Gina.

Me: We need to figure out when we are going to rehearse again.

Gina: yes

Gina: where were u on Saturday?

Me: Kitty and I were in a car accident the night before. We almost died.

Gina: what?

Gina: are u okay??????

Me: Yeah. Thanks. How did it go last Saturday?

Gina: fine. I’m sorry about your accident and glad ur ok

Me: Thanks. Wasn’t our fault. Got lucky I guess.

A long moment passed before she answered me again.

Gina: ur living with Robin now?

Gina: never mind

Gina: none of my business

Me: Yes. I am.

Me: Where are you living?

Gina: I have a place in the city. I’m taking classes

Gina: programming classes and coding

Gina: computer work

Gina: I’m doing fine don’t worry

Me: I’m worried. I’m allowed to do that, right?

Me: You know you can always come back to me.

Even as I typed the words, I knew she wasn’t coming back. No matter how strong our connection had been, Gina would never be my pet again. At least the sex between us would be amazing.

Gina: I know

I steered our conversation back to my original purpose: to organize rehearsal dates for our next performance. Once we figured that out, we had nothing left to discuss.

Saturday morning, I woke Robin with a surprise reward, pulling her onto my bed to ride my cock before breakfast. Needless to say, after being starved of penis for a week, she enjoyed the reward very much. Once she had been good and fucked, I snuggled with her in bed and brought up the topic I wanted to discuss.

“Have you given any more thought to performing with me at Black Velvet?” I asked.

Robin’s head swiveled to face me. “It’s Saturday. Not Sunday.”

“I know. But M wants to meet you today if you’re interested. And it’s not something I can force you into.”

Robin reached up around her neck and took off the collar. “It helps if I don’t wear it so I can step out of the role.”