Chapter 44

"Harry - Captain Thrust ... whoever the hell you are, don't you dare get in my way!" Tattie, the Duchess Turov, spat as she hauled the struggling Third Mate Bum into the house.

"Wouldn't think of it, Duchess me darlin'," Thrust chortled. "Just try to leave me crewman in one piece when ye're through."

"Oh, no worries there, Captain," she replied. "I won't do anything permanent." Her eyes snapped back to where Bum was scrambling along on all fours behind Turov's long-legged stride. "You better keep up, girl, or I will snatch you bald-headed." She faced forward again as her unfaltering march into the house continued. "Anyone planning anything involving little Bum here should best be rethinking those plans. She isn't going to be in the mood."

Crewman Jizzie, looking disappointed, began hauling the great plastic roll of the uninflated wading pool back into storage.

As she did so she muttered "When ye can't rely on a debauched orgy to give ye a chance to wrestle in oil, I ask ye, what's this world comin' to?"

Captain Thrust led the crowd, pirates and slaves alike, into the house. He heard her comment and patted Jizzie on the ass. "Well, no oil wrestlin', but a right proper beatin', out in front o' God an' everbody ... that do fer ye in the meanwhile?"

She smiled at him. "It might ... it just might at that ... long as I can be findin' someone to cuddle with. Any chance... ?"

First Mate Twat kissed her in passing. "No problem there, sweetie. Ye just come an' sit with the Captain an' me when ye're through stowin' that gear."

Kelly, the mischievous Third Mate Bum, had become inured to the spankings her actions brought her. Not that they had become less painful, far from it, but in her mind it had become a rather simple equation: act as she felt impelled to act, get spanked. Rarely did her memory of the spankings slow her down ... except the true beating she had received from Margo — that one had stayed with her. She was able to make a mental distinction between 'beatings', which were to be avoided at all costs and 'spankings'. In general they had become a component of the total experience ... not a pleasant component to be sure, but part and parcel of the act nonetheless.

Then she felt the bony and iron-strong hand of Tatiana Turov descend on her bare bottom like a thunderbolt straight from the rage-clinched fist of an ancient god.

The first and subsequent lightning strikes were in no way made more bearable by the softly whispered words of her tormentor.

"Little girl," Tattie murmured, "I've been working with these hands every day for more than twice as many years as you've been drawing breath. I've burned them, broken them, sliced them, stabbed them, scoured them with caustic chemicals, even had the tips of two fingers surgically reattached."

The bolts continued to land like the march of some giant army, all stomping at once, the bottoms of their boots forests of white-hot needles.

"Your soft little bottom is one of the nicest things I've slammed my right hand down on in decades, this is a vacation for me, like I'm sending my hand to Club Med."

Kelly's resolve to make no sound was under mental review as the tears flowed out of her shut eyes; short, sharp barks of pain were fighting their way up her throat. She renewed her struggle to break free only to feel Tatiana's death grip on her hair tighten to the point that she could hear, in-between the shrieking doom falling on her bottom, individual hairs breaking or being ripped from her scalp. Instinct brought her to the edge of more forceful action before the voice of Li Kuan broke into her consciousness.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

She opened her eyes and through the blur of tears saw the Chinese woman kneeling before her.

"Here," Li Kuan said, her left hand lightly brushing Kelly's lips, "bite on this. It will help you-" There was a sudden gasp and slow smile as Kelly savagely bit down on the side of her hand. " — restrain yourself."

From a few feet away Harry and the rest of the household watched, closer to the action than any of the rest of the audience, and were the only ones near enough to hear Tattie's soft words. Harry was finding himself of two minds as he watched the punishment of his wife. Finally, his mind made up, he was opening his mouth to protest when Carol's hand came up and covered his mouth.

"Shhh, Harry ... it's just and fair punishment. Think what would've happened had Kelly landed on top of Tattie from that height." Carol curled up tighter to her husband's side. "I love her, but I often pray she doesn't kill someone, or herself, some day."

Harry found himself stroking her hair. "I know ... God forbid her spirit should break, but there are times she's just too..."

"I know."

"Where you ever that young and impetuous?" he asked, wincing as the shock waves from Tattie's spanking ran up Kelly's back and down her legs, forceful enough to cause ripples in even the tautest flesh.

"Once upon a time, maybe," Carol replied, smiling to herself. "I suspect it was much easier to cure my reckless tendencies than it will be to do the same with Kelly." Her smile wavered just a bit. "It took several sessions of being beaten till blood was drawn with a riding crop, spread out over about a six-month period. Relatively easy, as such things go."

"That's easy?"

"Yes Beloved, that's relatively easy ... not 'easy' per se, just 'relatively' so."

"Ah yes," Harry murmured, "all things are relative, all relatives are things, my relatives took all my things."

"What?"

"Just a little play on words an old friend came up with while stoned out of his mind one night. It became our standard response to things being 'relative'."

"Ooookay ... you have had some odd friends."

"This from my darling little freak of a wife?"

"Okay, point taken ... then as far as odd people in your life, I'm in good company. Better?"

"Much better."

Meanwhile, a few feet away, her hand shifting to new locations as needed, Duchess Turov continued to bring the thunder to Crewman Bum.

Hans stepped out onto the front porch of the Grimes residence more to clear his head than anything else. The combination of noise, the thick scents of pot and incense and sex in abundance, the alcohol he'd consumed as well as the dope ... it had left him befogged in more ways than one. He crouched on the steps, steadying himself with one hand while he breathed deeply of the night air in the quiet suburban neighborhood. He scratched his chest, bare to the breeze, and was considering whether to finish fastening his pants when he spotted the Jaguar parked down the street.

He knew the car and had no doubt who was behind the wheel.

As he finished buttoning up he slowly walked out to the sidewalk and headed towards the Jaguar.

Eddie Janak got up three different times in the night to go check on his sister. While normally a sound sleeper, he couldn't help himself ... the loud voice in the back of his head had been screaming at him, taunting him with the knowledge of what had happened the last time Rachel had been in his care. So he'd wake up, tears wetting his face, and carefully disengage himself from Tamara, curled up next to him, and slowly make his way to the bedroom where his sister lay sleeping.

On some level he realized that Tamara woke up whenever he did, but it didn't impinge upon his consciousness so he was always surprised when he'd crawl back in to bed to find her awaiting him with open arms, eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Rachel's okay?" she'd ask as he brought her close to him.

"Yeah, she's fine," he'd reply as he rapidly descended into sleep, safe and secure in the arms of his love.

He'd be asleep, or nearly enough so as to make little difference, by the time Tamara would murmur, "Of course she is, Edward, she has you to protect her."

"Madam?" Hans said as he folded himself into the passenger side of the Jaguar.

"It is going well tonight?" she asked, avoiding the question.

"Well enough," he replied and launched into an abbreviated rendition of the night's events.

When he was finished, she murmured, "Well, if one is to make enemies, Stan Carter is certainly on the list of ones to be desired. I am somewhat concerned though about this submissive... '

"Camille?"

"Whatever ... yes, her," Minerva snapped. "They deftly avoided the obvious trap this evening ... is it possible that they succumbed to a far more subtle one?"

"Miss Carol does not seem to think so."

"Yes and while I have a growing respect for her abilities, I am not ready to grant her omniscience ... not yet, anyway," she chuckled. "Find out what you can about this woman and her brother, but use someone not normally associated with us. Perhaps Mr. Ivey could be of use in this matter."

"Yes Madam ... I assume the morning is soon enough?"

"Hans, it is the morning ... but later today will be quite acceptable."

"Shall I return to the party?"

"Yes ... you, Andre and I will talk later today. Go enjoy yourself. I ... I will return home now."

Only a complete and total idiot could have missed the regret in Minerva Cornelius' voice.

Galena and Andrea had been sent back home after witnessing Kelly's insanity and had made out a bit, Galena seeming very tentative and cautious.

"Mistress?"

"No ... no, not 'Mistress' ... Andrea ... I..." Galena stammered as tears began to well up in her eyes, "I'm not ... I'm not feeling very dominant ... right now."

Andrea pulled the young woman into her arms and stroked her hair. "Alright Galena, what's wrong?"

"It's all ... it's all too much ... too much and too..."

"Are you regretting your decision about Sunday's festivities?"

"No ... maybe ... maybe a little..."

Andrea shifted around and took Galena's face in her hands. She gently kissed away the young girl's tears and then said, "Look sweetie, if you want to reschedule it, you know they'll let you and respect your decision, no matter what. Hell, from what I gather, you could walk in and tell them you want to return home, stop working at G&P, never see any of them again and they'd respect your decision ... it'd hurt them, believe me..." Andrea shuddered to herself, "It'd hurt me, terribly, but nobody's going to make you do anything you're not ready for."
"NO ... no ... I don't want that ... it's just ... what if I'm wrong? What if it isn't time for me to do this, what if I'm ... I'm too young for all of it ... what if I hurt you ... or them?" She looked at her lover, fear stark in her eyes, "For Christ's sake, I'm not even seventeen ... I ... I've never even dated anyone! I'm probably about as emotionally mature as a five-year-old! And I've promised to take care of you, and be a part of their family, and not embarrass any of them and I..."

There were no more words, only harsh, wracking sobs. Andrea held her and murmured comforting sounds to Galena as Andrea once again wondered at the twists and turns life had thrown at her.

Later, Captain Thrust lay in bed exhausted, watching Crewmen Jizzie and Luscious double-team the former Captain Vagina. Everyone had taken a turn at her, including those who had mutinied against her, and she was little more than an incoherently-mumbling shell of a human being as she slumped in the sling, her body driven this way and that by the pounding her cunt and ass were receiving. Her former crew had frolicked on the bed in absolute glee, burbling merrily over some of the more extreme possibilities of such a device, wondering if their household could afford one. Upon hearing how much it had been from the nearly insensate Mounds, they decided they would have to save up ... for a long time.

The former Mistress Laurie, now referred to as 'you there' or 'cum slut', lay exhausted on one side of Thrust, a thin line of semen drying on her cheek. She hadn't realized when her servitude to the crew of the 'Free Booty' had begun that all the female members of the crew were as adept with, and as ready to use, a strap-on as they were. She'd thought she was going to have a relatively easy time of it, but she was sore, very tired and thoroughly satisfied, although she was still uncomfortable with how she felt about certain things she'd agreed to. Her scalp ached from where it felt like Marcie had tried to scalp her as she rode Laurie's face. Submitting to her sister-in-law's attentions was the biggest questionable agreement she'd given, and it wasn't that the crew had made any threats, subtle or otherwise, towards her if she didn't. She still wasn't sure why she had, but she'd found herself agreeing to the idea and enjoying it in a way she'd never conceived of. Then there'd been the anal sex, and although Blondie had begun gentle, once Laurie had relaxed sufficiently the beautiful blonde had shown little mercy, pounding her bottom with the small strap-on like a woman possessed. Again, Laurie hadn't been sure about submitting to the act in the first place, but was glad she did in retrospect ... when the soreness wasn't speaking loudly enough to make her second-guess her own judgment.

On Thrust's other side laid the very pleasantly surprised Lady Claudette du Villiers. She'd figured out early in the evening, before they'd even left Dominique's, that House Chorale were ... unusual ... but after the events of the morning she knew they were most definitely far beyond merely 'unusual'. She'd spent part of the orgy cuddled up in First Mate Twat's arms while Twat and her Captain had discussed costumes for the Ball. It had been most revealing. The playfulness of the group had deceived her for a time. She'd wondered how any such child-like and carefree people ever hoped to defeat Laney in the election. They didn't seem to take said election, or anything leading up to it, all that seriously. Oh, there was anger at Laney and his political posturings, and some hurt feelings and further anger where Houses that had written them off were concerned, but she wasn't seeing any 'killer instinct', something that was probably quite necessary to win the election, and a good reason why her own House had never even considered a run at it. They didn't seem ready to buckle down and get serious.

And then the Captain and Twat, or truth be told, to be more accurate, Harry and his wife Carol, began their discussion of costume designs ... and a whole other side of the House was revealed. Everything they considered was geared towards a casual but tasteful, well, tasteful for the Samhain Fetish Ball, display of style and wealth. As materials and names of artists starting floating around the bed, she'd felt compelled to speak.

"Excuse me for interrupting," she'd said, "but I know a little about what you're discussing, and to do what you're proposing will take ... well, at least fifteen thousand dollars, for outfits I sincerely doubt you'll ever wear again."

Twat had slapped her, ever so gently, across the face. "Shush, bitch ... speak when you're spoken to," she'd growled, grinning to show no malice as she did so. "Besides, I figure in the end, it'll run at least twice that."

Claudette's eyes had widened. "Thirty thousand ... at least! I mean, your House evidently does very well for itself, financially, but that's ... that's..."

Carol kissed her open, gaping mouth then leaned back. "Claudette, if Margo decides she wants it bad enough, she'd spend much more than that.'

"But..."

"Six figures worth, isn't that right my precious?" Carol said to the moaning victim of Sybian torture by the bed.

"Um hmmm," Margo groaned, "I've ... put an upward ... limit of ... a quarter ... of a million ... for the whole thing ... not just the ... Ball ... but the whole ... campaign." She then slumped back over, lost to the surging machine between her legs.

"Who the f-, who are you people?" she'd asked.

"Honey, you read the news?" Carol had chuckled.

"Yeah."

"Then you've no doubt seen our Margo there. She's also known as Margo Wohler-Sapperstein."

"You're ... she's ... oh holy shit."

"Yes Claudette ... she has the money, if she wants to spend it that way. I don't think the whole thing will run over a hundred thousand, and it may run much less than that if we decide not to fight as hard as we can."

Claudette looked at her as if the little woman was speaking Greek.

"You haven't heard what went on at the table tonight, since you," Carol poked her cuddle-mate's breast, "were too good to come and sit with us. Even if we lose, we win. We declare victory, split off and form our own court, based at Dominique's."

"Yes ... and I'm sorry to say a good part of me hopes we lose," Harry had added. "I'm not sure I want to be a member of any group that would let Laney run it for so long. Only reason I'd vote for staying the course is because Minerva hopes we can, well, redeem, I suppose, the Society."

"So you may not fight as hard as you could..."

"Nope, that's a topic that I imagine will get discussed a lot this weekend, this next week as well. And certainly, if things devolved into a no-win situation ... well, we're crazy, not stupid. No sense pouring money into an effort that can't succeed."

"It sounds, my beloved, like you've already made up your mind," Carol chided, smiling.

'If it were up to me, darling, I would've declared victory this evening, split off our faction from theirs and thrown a party at Dominique's that would've left most of the attendees hung-over till, oh, Tuesday at least."

Margo's voice had startled them all. "I'm gonna ... talk to Minerva ... this next week ... if she agrees ... then a major ... then a major ... then we suffer ... a major setback ... and that's what we'll do."

While there might have been a little "then we'll take our ball and go home" pettiness about the idea, Claudette had no problem with it. Let those who wanted to deal with Laney and his asshole allies play their ugly little games with each other somewhere else. Her House, as well as many others, could play in the court of her newfound friends and be quite happy doing so.

Crewman Slut was monitoring Mounds' Sybian torture. The hapless Second Mate had had her position shifted several times, was kept hydrated and had even been granted a trip to the facilities, carried there and back by Slut and the thoroughly-chastised Bum as Mounds was incapable of walking under her own power. Slut had instructions to let her orgasm periodically, but for the most part she was to keep the Second Mate close to the edge; helpless, mindless and whimpering. Slut was very good at her job.