Chapter 49

In the confusion of getting their drinks, and then passing Angela around the table for gropes and kisses, House Chorale's Master and Madam missed the short man, dressed in a suit, that stood close by, waiting for their attention.

When Harry finally noticed him, he said, "Yes sir? Can we help you?"

"Yes sir, I'm looking for Edward Janak?"

Harry pointed to him and smiled. "Could I be rude and ask what for?"

"Just a delivery, sir, thank you so much."

A few moments later, after sending a silent prayer of thanks to the Great Whatever that the jeweler had been able to finish in time, Eddie had coaxed Tamara, Carol, Margo and Kelly into telling the whole table the story of Eddie's father coming to the house and how they'd so deftly handled the situation. At the end he pulled a small case out of his pocket and turned to Tamara.

"For you, for you all, but I'm starting with my darling."

He opened the case and allowed Tamara a moment to 'ooh' and 'aah' before taking the necklace out, and putting it on her.

A simple silver chain, with a pendant — a small silver disk with a beautiful blue topaz set in the center.

Then he turned and repeated the process with Margo, then Carol, and finally Kelly.

She looked surprised and Eddie growled, "Yeah, you too — you were a part of it as much as them."

When he was finished fastening the necklace around Kelly's neck he went back to his seat. No one was crazy enough to comment on his teary eyes and sniffles.

Margo smiled at him. "Blue is Rachel's favorite color, isn't it?"

"Um hmm," he said through tight lips.

"Oh God, girls, look at the rim!" Kelly exclaimed.

They found that on each was inscribed "Always remembered, always in my heart, always with my thanks" in very small, but very readable letters, the inscriptions laser-engraved deep into the silver.

Thankfully, when buried under four crying women, his own tears could go unnoticed.

Dommi was surprised ... she was happy and confident in her decision, but as she picked up the microphone, she found no trace of sadness in her whatsoever.

"Attention — an announcement to all my friends and patrons in our Society. Tonight marks the dissolution of my House, Duvalier."

Sounds of surprise, shock and sorrow rose from parts of the audience.

"I only founded my House to give me and this club neutral ground to stand on, and I haven't been neutral since House Chorale first appeared on our scene. If you've been around lately, you know how very fond I am of them, so with the dissolution of my own, I have petitioned them to be accepted into their House, and my petition has been granted, to my great joy. As if there were any doubt remaining, I now stand with my friends and lovers."

She cut the microphone and stood overlooking her club, her dream, as the applause started and spread throughout the cavernous room. She smiled. Not everyone was happy with her decision, but the positive response was greater than she had expected, and that boded well on so many fronts.

"All right," Madame Cornelius pronounced in a voice of weary tolerance, "I am not sure if I agree with this therapeutic mumbo-jumbo you are engaging in, but remind me who is being who this evening."

"I'm with you, Madame C," Eddie grunted. "I mean, I hope it's helpin', 'cause they're all bugfuck crazy, but this changin' roles thing..."

Madame Cornelius tilted her head back and looked down her nose at Eddie.

"When I find myself in agreement with Master Janak, it may well be time to rethink my position."

And then she winked at him as Karen almost blew her drink through her nose.

"Dissed by Madame Cornelius — Neanderthal, it just plain sucks to be you!"

Carol put herself in the middle between Karen and Eddie as the big man rose to his feet, aiming his ire at his favorite nemesis and the stocky woman rose to meet him.

"Hold on now," Carol said, "you two sit down and save your energy, you're both going to need it tonight."

"Don't remind me," Karen grumbled.

"Wimp," Eddie chortled, "I'm looking forward to my parts."

"Then you are misguided, mistaken, ill-informed or just possibly as dumb as a rock," Li Kuan said, smiling serenely. "You have nothing to look forward to from our interaction this evening."

"Except pain and humiliation," Karen chuckled. "After years of being bested by me, he's just got to be fond of those!"

Eddie got back up and Carol pushed him back down.

"In answer to your question, Madame Cornelius — Harry will be trying to act like Kelly ... not that much of a stretch for him and I expect to find him stalking his prey as soon as he gets a few drinks in him. Margo will be playing me ... not much of a stretch for her either, she just has to shift from 'Big Mama' to 'little mama'. I'm going to do my best to be Harry ... which means I am looking for stupid shit to do as we speak. That leaves Kelly to take Margo's role ... and I really pity anyone who thinks she's not up to being the head-Bitch-in-charge."

"These annoying role-reversals won't be in effect come the trial, I trust?" Madame Cornelius asked.

"Oh, no ma'am," Harry replied. "Although I for one wish to God they could be."

"How long do you plan to make Madam Wilma of Fruehauf wait?" the skinny submissive asked Dominique, as he eyed her with disgust.

Dommi bit back her first response and smiled graciously.

"I have merely been waiting until everyone we had been told to expect had arrived. They have and we await Madam Wilma's pleasure."

He scampered back to the Fruehauf table, naked except for a small pouch holding his genitals and the large Imperial Eagle brand that adorned the right cheek of his ass.

The other stages were filled with performers and everything seemed deceptively normal as Dommi made her way to the three-ring-circus.

"Harry ... Margo ... it's time. The cunt doesn't want to wait any longer; she's going to extract her pound of flesh as quickly as she can."

Dominique had done her best to have the more serious players that Madame Cornelius had managed to talk into attending all seated in the northwest quadrant of the club, close enough to have very good seats for the performances later, but not so close that whatever happened concerning Sandalwood's trial would be effectively center-stage.

Harry and Margo led the five Mistresses of House Sandalwood towards House Fruehauf's table, followed by every Dom and Domme of their alliance. Where the parade into the club had been nervous, even as its participants pretended joviality, the procession to the trial was somber, with no smile on any face, no twinkle in any eye. No one was quite sure what was going to happen, but everyone knew it was going to be ugly.

As they stopped before Fruehauf's table, Margo studied the woman who sat chatting with one of her House's Doms, ignoring the throng assembled before her.

Wilma of Fruehauf wasn't at all what Margo had been expecting. Margo had envisioned a thin, pinched, bitter stick of a woman - like Joseph Goebbels in drag - or maybe something from "Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS" — blonde, large-breasted and armed with a riding crop.

Wilma of Fruehauf was short, plump, dressed in a business suit and slacks, with brown hair in loose curls hanging down to her shoulders. Her face, rosy-cheeked and smiling, made Margo think of some hill country 'hausfrau', rather than the lead Dominant of the oldest established House in all of Texas. Granted, the almost naked submissives that sat on the floor behind her didn't quite fit that picture, and the scars and brands sent an even more sinister message, but they too were smiling and chatting among themselves and for a moment Margo dared to think things might turn out well.

Then Wilma turned to face her, and in her eyes Margo saw the same coldness, the same distance, the same dancing-on-the-borderline-of-sociopath look she saw in Minerva Cornelius' eyes when she was at her most angry.

But there was no anger in Wilma of Fruehauf — if Margo had to guess, such was simply Wilma's normal state of mind.

"I believe we have business together?" Wilma asked.

"Yes Madam Fruehauf," Margo replied. "Spyderchylde of Sandalwood kidnapped our submissive, Carol. She did not attempt to flee with her, but merely took her home, restrained her and then proceeded to use her as she would. We turn Spyderchylde over to you, as head of the most senior House present, for judgment."

"No..." Wilma replied slowly, "you turn House Sandalwood over to me for judgment."

"Madam, there is no House Sandalwood anymore," Margo said. "For the theft of our property, even though neither I nor any in my House believe they knew of or approved of Spyderchylde's actions, I demanded the dissolution of House Sandalwood and the submission of its members to my House. They are ours now, Dominant and submissive alike, or they are out of Society. This was my demand, and the demand of my House, and they very reluctantly agreed, knowing that we might, or might not, return their Household status to them at some much later date. We have waited until tonight to make it official, in front of all here."

Wilma examined Margo like a lioness deciding whether to kill a wounded gazelle or leave it for the hyenas.

"You take much upon yourself, Madam Grimes."

"My apologies, but such was not my understanding. Madame Cornelius has taught me that my House is mine to run as I see fit — they insulted my House, they stole from my House, and my House, through me, demanded and received recompense for their offenses. In what way have I erred?"

Wilma tried to stare Margo down. It didn't surprise her that she wasn't successful at first. Anyone that Minerva Cornelius had chosen to make a run at the leadership of their little club wasn't going to be someone who gave in easily, or was frightened of tradition and assumed power. In reality, House Fruehauf had very little actual power, especially as it didn't deign to play in the Society much ... Fruehauf's playtimes were much too perverse to be held in public, and it was a very small group indeed that was permitted to attend Fruehauf's private functions. In the perception of Society however, their age and fearsome reputation meant quite a lot, and it was that assumed power Wilma Fruehauf was used to banking on.

Margo Grimes apparently didn't care.

In a way, that endeared her to Wilma greatly. Margo was a throwback to the days when the opinions of anyone outside ones House didn't matter — a House was run as its leadership wished it to be, and that was the end of the discussion. She knew why Margo had taken House Sandalwood out of her grasp, and while she found it a weakness, she admired the woman's spirit.

But in the end, it didn't matter — Wilma Fruehauf would simply make the one member of Sandalwood she could inflict her will upon suffer the whole of her cruelty, instead of having it spread out among the House.

Madam Fruehauf looked away first.

"Very well — Dayna Spyderchylde is no longer allowed to play or appear in public as a Domme — ever. If she does, the House that owns her will be disbanded. For one year, she is not to be treated as a submissive either, but as something lower — a dog perhaps — at any public or Society function. Madam Grimes is to administer twenty lashes to her tonight, in our presence, and Minerva Cornelius is to bleed her as well."

Wilma looked at the sobbing Spyderchylde, who had fallen to her knees.

"Unless Dayna Spyderchylde would prefer permanent banishment?'

"N-n-no, ma'am."

"She is now the property and responsibility of House Chorale, if and until they should decide to pass her to some other House, but as far as Society is concerned she is now and forever more property."

Wilma leaned forward towards Dayna.

"Unless you would like to run away from our Society?"

"N-n-no ma'am!"

"Fine, I trust there's a proper whipping post somewhere in this kinky Romper Room?"

"Madam Fruehauf, if I might?" Harry said.

"Yes?"

"Madam, while it's true that my wife is senior dominant in our House, I request the privilege of applying the prescribed discipline to our newest slut. Carol was mine before there was a House Chorale and should the House dissolve tomorrow she would still be mine."

"Harry!" Margo growled.

"No, my dear," he said in reply, "I really do insist."

Enjoying the strife between the two, Wilma replied, "Of course. As she was your property first, it is only fitting you administer the whipping." She smiled at Harry. "However, should you find yourself not up to administering a proper lashing, I will appoint one of my House to take over for you."

"Thank you, your kindness is appreciated."

Before the assembled Houses, Margo had Carol cut the clothes off Dragonaria, Wolfling, Ravensclaw, Marsh and finally Spyderchylde, leaving them wearing the thongs Elenore had acquired at the last minute, while Kelly stripped the House submissives of their outfits, leaving them naked.

As they waited for the post to be brought out, Harry and Margo sat and smiled, all the while holding a muttered conversation.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing, Harry?"

"You always get the hard jobs — this one is mine."

"You picked a fucking stupid time to get noble!"

"Would you expect any less from me?"

She turned and looked at her husband.

"No ... not at all. Thank you."

"You can thank me later."

"I will."

As Dayna was fastened to the pole, facing outward, Madam Cornelius approached her, a finger-blade on each index finger. She leaned forward and said, "Girl, you know this isn't going to be enough, don't you?"

"Yes ma'am ... I will talk to Harry."

"All right then-"

"Madam, if you would," Spyderchylde whispered.

"Yes."

"Cut in the shape of a spider web."

Madame Cornelius' blades were wide and rough, covered with burrs, designed for scarification. Her fingers danced across Spyderchylde's naked torso, digging furrows from her nipples diagonally to her waist, and then continuing on to form the other lines that were the framework of a spider web. When she was finished, a thick sheen of blood extended from the woman's chest to her pubis.

"I need water to wash her so that I can see to continue," Madame Cornelius called out, only to be countermanded by Madam Fruehauf.

"Not water, grain alcohol."

There were many things Minerva Cornelius wanted to say to Wilma Fruehauf, volumes of them in fact, but she held her tongue. Very, very rarely was Fruehauf able to exhibit any real power, and Wilma was determined to wrest every drop of pleasure out of this opportunity as she could. As long as Minerva and her friends played by Wilma's rules, the Traditionalists could not help but be impressed, and the more extreme Wilma got, the more she helped their cause.

"Very well, grain alcohol." She turned to look at Dominique. "I do assume you have some? This establishment does have a bar, does it not?"

In moments any hope of any of the people in the club missing what was going on was gone. When the bottle of Everclear was poured over her body, Dayna Spyderchylde screamed as the lines on her torso ignited, feeling to her like great wounds filled with burning pitch.

As the trembling woman calmed somewhat, Minerva came close to her and whispered, "Are you all right for me to continue? We can end this all right now; say 'to hell with the elections'. I will, if you wish it. I would gladly tell Wilma Fruehauf to go to hell, give her directions and then send her on her way with my own two hands."

"Continue..." sighed Dayna, "just make sure ... to get the webbing ... right."

While there were many things about Dayna and her House that Minerva Cornelius didn't like, there was no denying the woman had spirit and courage.

Leaning in, apparently to check her earlier work around the woman's breasts, she murmured, "No matter what else ever happens, you are a friend of my House."

"Thank you, Madame ... now please continue ... before Wilma gets pissy."

The ten minutes of careful, painstaking work it took Minerva to finish the web were some of the longest of Harry Grimes' life. This was not what he'd ever wanted. It was not what his wife wanted, it was not what any of them had envisioned when they began the journey into their new lifestyle. He watched Dayna's face like a hawk, alert for any sign, any indication that she wanted it to stop, but while she was obviously in pain, she never signaled that she wanted to give up.

Harry wondered how close he was to the point where he couldn't keep justifying the ugly things that happened in Society with the phrase "they made the sacrifice willingly" — he was pretty sure that by the end of Dayna Spyderchylde's punishment, he'd be far closer.

After allowing her a moment to recover, Margo cleaned Dayna's wounds, daring Wilma Fruehauf to say a thing. Wisely, Wilma restrained herself. She knew that no matter what, the next part of the evening's drama was going to entertain her greatly.

Harry insisted on turning Dayna to face the pole himself, giving him time to talk with her softly.

"Please, please give me any excuse to end this," he implored.

The chuckle that worked its way up through Dayna Spyderchylde's body sounded ancient and unhealthy.

"Master, quit worrying and fretting," she whispered. "You're already forgiven. Just do it hard as hell, do it right, and get it over with. Afterwards," she continued, "loosen my restraints so I can bend down, and fuck me." She softly coughed. "Fuck me as hard as you can, cum, and then walk away. Anything less might give that Fruehauf bitch a reason to get creative."

"How am I supposed to manage that? You think I'll get an erection during this?"

"Sir, think about what's going to happen when I feel better. Think about me, sucking your cock any time you want it. Think about bending me over, any time at all, and taking me in either hole. Think about me naked, and always available to you or any member of your House. Think like a Master, and you'll be fine. Don't worry, I'll be wet for you ... because I'll be thinking about all that, and your little Carol riding my face as well."

"All right, consider it done. Margo will take care of you when I'm finished. I think I'm going to be throwing up somewhere."

The flogger that was handed to him was of moderate length, four feet long, one foot of it the handle. The falls, or lashes, attached to that handle, were plentiful, thin and rough. Harry had enough experience to know the kind of marks they'd make, and with the amount of force he'd need to use to satisfy Wilma's decree, blood was certainly not out of the question.

"Dommi, a towel please, large enough to wrap around my waist?"

As he waited, he made the pretence of checking Dayna's restraints at the top of the pole, murmuring an apology to her.

The towel arrived; Harry got out of his clothes, no more self-conscious than if he'd been at home, and wrapped the towel around his hips.

"I call the count," he said, and then he began.

A sea of stony faces watched Harry whip Dayna Spyderchylde, long strokes, hard strokes, alternating from left to right and right to left, shoulders to mid-back. Harry did his job. By the third stroke, Dayna was sobbing. By the sixth, blood was beginning to seep out of the bright red stripes on her back. By the fourteenth, blood was openly flowing ... and then just six strokes later, it was done.

Harry calmly walked over, his erection evident under the towel, and loosened the leather thongs holding Dayna upright. She slumped down; he pulled her hips back, forcing her feet to follow. The towel dropped to his feet and he slammed into Dayna's cunt with a vengeance.

The woman hadn't been lying. She was wet and ready for him. It was that which kept him going, and allowed him, with the help of some visualization, to climax inside her relatively quickly.

His cock dripping cum, he pulled out and left her leaning against the pole.

"If you have no further need of me," he said, bowing to Madam Fruehauf, "I'm going to clean up and get to know our new House member better."

Wilma smiled and nodded graciously as Harry took Dommi by the arm and started walking her to the stairs up to her office.

"Are you okay, Harry?" she whispered.

"Just hurry ... I need to get to your private bath before I vomit."

They took the stairs with no regard for Harry's leg, but Harry wasn't worried about that in the least. He wouldn't let it go out; there was nothing that would cause him to fall at that point. Dayna had paid far too high a price that evening; nothing would be allowed to detract from whatever her sacrifice had won them.

Once inside Dominique's office, however, he slumped to one side, sank to the floor and crawled into her toilet.

Dominique had never heard a man cry, scream and throw up, all seemingly at the same time.

And when the vomiting was done, the screaming and crying still continued. He held the cold porcelain in his arms and gave voice to his sorrow, his pain, his disgust and his rage.

His erection at the end of the lashing had had nothing to do with Dayna Spyderchylde. The dark and ugly part of himself had pictured Wilma Fruehauf in his power, choking on her own blood as he raped her ass, holding her hair with one hand and stabbing her in the back with a stiletto he held in the other, the knife's piercing of her flesh in perfect synchronicity with each thrust into her bleeding anus.

As he huddled around the toilet, he killed her again and again, running the fantasy like a loop in his mind.

Dominique Duvalier could understand the tears and the screams, but the fresh erection truly disturbed her.

As soon as Harry had walked away, Margo had slowly walked over to Dayna's slumped form.

"Unless you have any objections, we'll take our property and trouble you no further," she said.

"Trust me, Madam Grimes, it's been no trouble at all," Wilma Fruehauf replied. "Anytime you wish to someone to render judgment, please don't hesitate to call."

Margo smiled, and in spite of herself, Wilma Fruehauf felt a chill race up her spine. Margo approached her and whispered in her ear.

"Madam Fruehauf, I believe there's a special place in hell reserved for us after tonight — the difference between us is, the torment will be worth it to me, just so I can have a front row seat for yours."

She leaned back and snapped, "Time to go, children."

Dayna was picked up and carried her to the table by her sisters of the former House Sandalwood. Margo got her bag of first aid supplies and went to work. Kelly seated herself calmly where Margo usually sat at Chorale's table and smiled her nastiest smile at House Fruehauf.

The Dominants allied with House Chorale closed ranks around the table where Margo had laid out the beaten Spyderchylde, blocking it from view. No one was to see Margo sobbing as she worked.

"Get Billy ... over here..." she said.

Within moments, Billy was let through the cordon around the table.

Still sniffling, Margo said, "Billy, have the Sandalwood subs taken home, take the five mistresses to our house. Take my cell with you, call Dr. Mike Lowry, his private number is in the phone, ask him to get to the house and take care of Dayna. If she needs to go to the hospital, fine. Tell him I'll owe him, big. I think you can move them all in two limos. Come back as soon as you can."

Having done all she could, she finished drying her tears and stood up, putting her 'Madam face' back on.

"You are in disgrace," she said loudly. "Throw back on your rags and leave. I'll deal with you all later."

After they dressed, Billy escorted the dejected former members of Sandalwood out of the club.

Margo walked back to their table and sat next to Kelly, in a subordinate position.

"Madam Grimes, I was wondering if I might speak with you," said a voice from behind her.

Margo turned around to see a dark-skinned woman, who couldn't be older than twenty-five, well-rounded but with obvious muscles beneath her curves, long straight black hair hanging down to mid-back. She was dressed in a set of black, rough leather chaps that covered very little except the fronts of her legs, a pair of biker boots and a black mesh-t-shirt that came halfway down her torso, revealing a moderately sized set of breasts with large, dark nipples. She was somewhat square-faced, reminding Margo of Karen in a way, but more conventionally pretty.

"Yes."

"I'm a present from House Thacker."

"Then you need to speak with Mistress Kelly, she's in charge for the evening," Margo said, hiding her smile. She was anxious to see how the 'Queen' handled such things. For her part, Margo realized she was falling behind in her duty as the 'little mother' of the group, and after checking out her compatriots at her table, she moved off to the tables of their allies.

She walked off to Kelly's leering inquiry, "Are you a real present or just a loaner?"

Before she could answer, they were interrupted by other events.

Carol had run away, in a manner of speaking. She was supposed to be Harry but couldn't be as her soul was sick with how House Fruehauf had handled Dayna, so she had thrown on her cape, wrapped it around her and gone to their limo. Once safely ensconced inside, she'd told the driver to head for Pine Forest Cemetary.

In the midst of all that was going on, no one saw Stan Carter heading up the stairs to Dommi's office.

Harry had recovered somewhat, cleaned up a bit and was seated at Dommi's bar, sucking down his third bourbon. If they hadn't won by the end of the night, he no longer cared. New Society, old Society, he wasn't going to play anymore sick, sad games for something as ultimately meaningless as the Fetish Ball election. Let people play where they liked, let them do whatever, but the whipping of Dayna Spyderchylde had been the last straw for him. There were parts of the scene that Harry enjoyed more than he'd ever thought he could, he'd done things he'd never even dreamed of, but when it came right down to it, fetish society was sick. It wasn't sick because of the fetishes themselves, or the dark desires of those who played in it, the fetish scene was sick because anytime people had power, real or perceived, they used it to hurt others and the scene was all about power. All the problems in the Society were fixable, taken on a per-case basis, but taken as a whole — Harry no longer believed anything they ever did would really and truly make a difference. Even if they fulfilled all of Madame Cornelius' dreams for a fair and egalitarian Society, animals like Wilma Fruehauf would still have power because she wasn't some sort of freak, she was representative of a group of people with similar attitudes and practices. They hurt people because they enjoyed it, and they didn't care if that enjoyment was reciprocated.

His musings were disturbed by Dominique.

"Harry, Stan Carter is here to see you."

Harry's spirits sank. Stan was a perfect example of the kind of human animal he was thoroughly sick and tired of.

Dominique showed Stan in while Ricky poured Harry another bourbon.

Harry turned around on his stool and eyed his visitor.

"Carter, I'm having a really bad night, what the fuck do you want?"

"Well boo hoo for you, Grimes. I want Camille back, and a hell of a lot more."

Harry began to laugh, a laughter that came from the ragged edge of shock and a sick heart.

"Carter, what do you think would ever convince me and mine to give you back Camille? You don't really even want her, you're just trying to soothe your ego."

"Grimes, did you know there are two-faced secrets?" Carter answered. "Secrets that in one place, say, here in Fetish-land, are worth a lot of good will — used correctly, they might even be worth a lot of political capital. But in other places, like the real world? Same secret could destroy your career, your reputation ... pretty much your whole damn life. Funny, isn't it?"

A coldness crept over Harry. He knew the answer before he asked the question.

"What are you talking about, Carter?"

The smirk on Stan Carter's face was a poisonous mixture of vengeance and joy.

"So Grimes, banged your sister lately?"

Karen had Patricia on her lap, just holding her, smelling her, face buried in her lover's hair, letting the odors of soap and sweat wash the stench of House Fruehauf out of her nostrils.

Eddie was hugging Tamara tightly to his left side, while with his right hand he arm-wrestled with Li Kuan. Both of them had anger to flush out of their systems, and being who they were, the physical contest was helping them to do just that.

Ricky came running to the table and spoke urgently in Kelly's ear.

"Eddie, Karen — Dommi wants you in her office right away."