Chapter 50

Galena kept her face and body rigid, holding on to her demeanor like she was clinging on to the edge of a cliff with a long fall beneath her.

The trial and discipline of Dayna Spyderchylde had been brutal; she'd hated every minute of it and was horrified that the fun and loving power games her family played could be turned into such ugliness.

But as much as it had sickened her, when Carol returned to the club, and Galena understood the full measure of her irresponsibility, she was introduced to another facet of herself that she hadn't previously been aware of.

Galena wanted to beat Carol — she wanted to give her friend the full twenty stripes with the cane, and more besides. What if something had happened to Carol while she'd been out? What if she'd become simply one more tragedy in a night that already seemed to be full of them? What if the family that loved her, cherished her and needed her had lost Carol due to her irresponsible actions? Galena could finally understand how Harry incurred the wrath of the family from time to time. No one belonged just to themselves, they all belonged to each other and that placed severe restrictions on just how stupid it was okay to be.

With love and acceptance came responsibility and duty. Galena had understood that before, but it had become even more concrete that evening. In her 'real' family, she had to let things slide — if it was someone older, she couldn't tell them what to do, if the person was younger, she could, but she had no real authority and most times, no support from an elder if she tried. All she could do was express her concern and hope for the best.

Here ... they'd chosen her and she'd chosen them. She'd accepted her place in the House, and all that went with it. There were ties and bonds she was only beginning to identify, and hadn't yet begun to understand. She hadn't joined a House in some semi-feudal kink society; she'd joined a tribe, a clan. Other Houses might not play that way, but there was no doubt in her mind that her House saw no other way to play ... or to live.

She'd heard Dommi's tale of what had happened upstairs, and what Karen had told Stan. It made her weak in the knees to realize that these people would stand up for her like they'd stand up for Harry, or any other member of their family. She felt humbled and honored that they'd expect the same from her. She prayed that when that time came, she didn't disappoint them.

After Carol's caning, Galena shook off her fear.

"Andrea, it's time to act like we belong here," she said, downing the rest of her Cuba Libre. As they walked away, Galena put on the persona of Mistress Galena.

"Do you feel like a frolic?" she asked Andrea.

"Yes, Mistress."

She led Andrea to the table where House Franklin was seated. She found Stefan quite handsome, sophisticated and distinguished — and very hot. Swallowing the anxiety that kept threatening to return, she looked at him and said, "Master Franklin, shall we strengthen the ties between our Houses?" She was almost ecstatically happy that she'd managed not to stammer in her nervousness.

He looked at her appraisingly, then began to loosen his pants.

"And I even brought something for Lourdes to play with," she said, pushing Andrea towards Stefan's submissive.

He took her in his arms and said, "I'm pretty sure if we're going to do any tie-strengthening, you should call me Stefan."

"Then I'm Galena," she replied, as she wriggled free of his grasp so she could drop her blouse behind her.

"Oh yes, you most certainly are," he answered, lowering his face to her breasts, his arms once more pulling her towards him.

Mike Lowry and his wife Rochelle were on their way to hear one of their favorite jazz quartets perform when he received the phone call from Billy.

Rochelle had long before learned the futility of arguing with his almost pathological inability to say 'no', so she merely asked how long he thought it would take. Mike had no idea, as Billy hadn't been forthcoming with the details, so she'd decided to go in with him instead of waiting in the car.

Neither of them had expected five rather buxom women, dressed in rags and blankets and little else.

Mike had examined Dayna Spyderchylde while extracting a rather lengthy and involved explanation of events from the five of them. Rochelle had always envied him his bedside manner, the calm and quiet consolation and questioning that resulted in him almost always getting the information he needed. Her tongue tended towards sharpness, and an abrasive conversational style that had helped distance them from most of their friends over the years. As he talked to the women, all of them but one with ridiculous names in her opinion, her eyes roamed over the living room of the Grimes home.

It was obvious that the room was designed with sex in mind, and a lot of it. Everything was easily cleaned or otherwise washable, although some of it would require industrial sized washers and dryers. She could imagine what the interesting two-tiered chair was used for and the possibilities excited her somewhat. It occurred to her that this was the home of the people throwing the kinky party Mike had talked her into attending ... perhaps it wasn't going to be the disaster she expected it to be. The smell of pot was heavy enough to catch her nose and that didn't upset her either — her days of cocaine and Quaaludes were long past. Booze and pot were enough for her most days.

Then her husband's voice brought her back from her musings.

"All right Dayna, you've certainly had a night of it, but I'm not seeing any reason to send you to the E.R. Of course, if you start showing signs of infection or anything too out of line with what Margo can tell you to expect from your injuries, that will change. She did as good a job as I could have done in an examining room when she cleaned you up and bandaged you, not that I'd expect anything less."

He looked at his watch.

"Honey, we've missed the first set and frankly, I wasn't planning on staying for the second, it's been a long day. Are you all right with us going home?"

A sharp retort came to mind but before she could utter it, she was interrupted.

"I'm very sorry that my sister's injuries have ruined your night," Kathleen Marsh said. "Billy gave us the run of the house, told us to help ourselves to anything we wanted. I was thinking that drinks and bowl or three of good weed would be the perfect thing to take the edge off of tonight. Please, allow us to express our gratitude by joining us."

And to her complete surprise, Rochelle Lowry found herself nodding.

Carol was surprised to see House Velacourt in attendance. Normally they stayed away from anything that even remotely smacked of politics. She was more surprised still when Mistress Velacourt, on her way back to her table, waved at Margo, and Margo waved back.

"Madam, do you know that woman?" Carol asked, still squirming as her red and swollen bottom rebelled against her sitting on it.

"Her? Yes, nice woman, bit of a tourist I think. We talked in the ladies lounge and she asked me to explain what was going on, what the trial had been about, all this 'Society' business."

Carol snickered, tried hard not to lose it completely and only partially succeeded.

"Madam, you were played — although not unkindly I think."

"What do you mean, Little Cunt?" Margo growled, not happy with being laughed at.

"Madam, that is Mistress Velacourt of House Velacourt. They would be one of the oldest in the state had the House not effectively ceased to exist for several years, from 1940 to 1945, if I remember correctly. During that time, the House's focus wasn't considered safe to take an interest in, so by a ruling of the other Houses, Velacourt has only been in existence for sixty-one years. Most of the Dominants who play in the House really don't care. They avoid politics like the plague, in general. They're content with their place in the Society.

"House Velacourt is into oriental women — exclusively. In their previous incarnation and in the early days of their current one as well, rumor has it they weren't always aboveboard about how they acquired their playmates — a historical tradition shared by almost all of the oldest Houses. In the past thirty years, that's shifted, and since the American love for Japanese pop culture has exploded, Velacourt has grown exponentially.

"Madam my love, among the other Houses, if someone wants a well-trained submissive of Oriental descent or appearance, they can try to find a suitable candidate for training that Velacourt hasn't already snapped up, or they can simply deal with Velacourt."

Carol chuckled, "Not that dealing with Velacourt is a problem — they are very accommodating, and given their size, have a wide base of submissives to draw on — it's almost a certainty that someone they have in training will find the customer acceptable. Most often, deals are cut for cash, with the House taking part of the fee to cover training and management and the submissive keeping the majority of the funds. Not surprisingly, there are a lot of Dominants who find the idea of a submissive Oriental female very attractive, and most of the major Houses have one or more.

"They even have a group of women that have been trained as a mix of the Western and Japanese concepts of a geisha — although the members of Velacourt are very careful never to refer to them as such. They are officially referred to as 'pleasure girls'. Trained to be pleasant and accomplished companions and hostesses, they are also given equally rigorous training in being compliant pleasure slaves. The 'Western' varieties are much more affordable than the 'Eastern', as the 'Eastern' pleasure girls are trained as closely to true Geisha standards as Westerners can manage."

Carol mood became more sober and serious.

"There are rumors however that not all the deals members of House Velacourt make are anywhere near legal, and that some very powerful people in the state owe them favors."

"What do you believe, oh loving wife?" Margo asked.

"I believe that power corrupts, and that there's an awful lot of money to be made in playing to racial stereotypes with disposable women."

"Fine, fuck her and her House then," Margo replied.

"No Madam ... I'm sure not everyone in the House is involved in whatever illegal activities go on. Periodically, members are banished — thrown out with no reason ever given, and they're never allowed anywhere near any of the House's submissives again. I think Mistress Velacourt is very well aware of some of the things that go on, and she does her best to handle the issue in-House, without attracting official attention. Now, we could get all hypocritical and say "why doesn't she go to the police?" but our own hands are none too clean on that account. Velacourt's membership is well over two hundred, statewide, no one but the House itself knows how many exactly, and if they were to decide, for whatever reason, to lend even a portion of their potential support? Dick Laney would lose in a landslide."

"This is very true," Minerva interjected. "But knowing their traditional stand on matters political, I did not bother inviting them. I wonder why they are here ... the answer to that question could be most interesting."

"Maybe they're tired of being non-political," Carol said. She thought for a moment. "Margo, I'm not so sure she played you as she sounded you out, tried to get a feel for how diplomatic you are, how well you can play the game. I was thinking the other day about adding someone cute and Oriental to our stable — why don't I go over and see what's available, try to feel Mistress Velacourt out on her support?"

"Because you're a submissive, my beloved wife," Kelly said from nearby where she'd been listening, "and a luscious little subbie like you might send the wrong message. I'll go."

"Kelly," Margo said, "this is a pretty serious step and when it comes to playtoys, your taste is rather wide ... maybe Carol was looking for something more specific."

"Bitch, you are consistently forgetting your place, aren't you?" Kelly asked, wonderment in her voice. "What am I going to do with you?" She looked thoughtful. "Ah, I know just the thing.

"Angela, get Papa Stripper over here."

"Kelly, don't you dare," Margo said.

"Bitch, you will be quiet!" Kelly snapped. "You say another goddamned word and he'll be mounting you as part of the stage show!" She leaned in close to her wife and lowered her voice. "I know you have insecurities about this kind of thing, and I know you think I'm over the line. But the flip side of fewer "Princess isn't here right now"s from me is that you will obey me when I'm in charge. That's the deal. Now then, last weekend I should've looked over and saw this beautiful man pounding in and out of that pussy of yours like he was breaking up concrete. I'm going to see that tonight, unless you have a very good reason why I shouldn't."

Margo sighed — she was being given an out - she wasn't responsible, it wasn't her fault.

"No, Mistress, I'm sorry, Mistress."

"All right," Kelly motioned to the recently arrived Papa Stripper. "Papa, make her a very happy woman."

"Oh ma'am, you ask de hardest t'ings of me," he answered, the quickly rising erection between his legs giving lie to his words.

"Come on, short stuff, let's go buy us someone juicy," Kelly said, pulling Carol along with her as she left the table.

As she knelt on the table, they could hear Margo wail "But the house is overcrowded as it is..."

Nicki knew her brother loved her, and knew her brother would fight to protect her.

Nicki loved her brother very much.

He had been willing to kill Stan Carter, in part to protect her, as well as the rest of his family.

Harry could have been hurt even more severely than he already was.

And it was all Nicki's fault.

Nicki was apologizing in the only way she could, given the circumstances.

She had a lot of apologizing to do ... she just wasn't sure for what, exactly.

Anything other than apologizing was something she just didn't have time for.

The wonderful session with Stefan Franklin had left Galena feeling much more relaxed.

"Tell me you didn't enjoy that a whole lot," Andrea had said as they sauntered away.

"Oh, I enjoyed it all right ... and from what I heard, Lourdes made you the main course on an "Oh, Yummy" buffet."

"The girl has skills ... and apparently so do I."

Galena said, "Less than a week out of my shell, so to speak, and I've been loved by two very handsome men ... yes, slut, my life is hell. I've seen the way Lord Newton has been eyeing me ... I think before the end of the night, it might be three."

From inside the 'Mistress Galena' persona, Galena Pessino peeked out.

"And please, dear God, don't let my mother ever find out!"

Mistress Velacourt was impressed with the new House on the block, so to speak. Her conversation with Margo had revealed quite a bit about the House's character, and their diplomatic savvy, and she liked all that she saw. She'd also watched very carefully their interaction with House Fruehauf. They abided by the letter of politeness, adhered to the letter of Fruehauf's rulings, all the while staring Wilma Fruehauf down. Nancy Velacourt had a deep and abiding hatred of House Fruehauf and particularly Wilma. While Fruehauf couldn't come and play, given some of their predilections, Velacourt could, and she had no trouble at all stomaching Chorale leadership, where Odessa made her want to hit something, preferably Dick Laney himself, with a stick until it stopped feeling good to her. If she courted the new leadership more adroitly and more humbly than Fruehauf, who seemed to think every drop of urine they deigned to dribble was a gift from the gods, then quite possibly lines of consensus would change, alliances would shift, and she could conceivably have Velacourt's elder status returned to it. Nancy Velacourt was very familiar with 'assumed power' versus 'actual power', and she knew her bank account was full of the latter, while Fruehauf lived on the former.

Hell, if things went very well, the opportunity might present itself to use the new leadership to put the screws to Fruehauf in some way.

That was worth a lot of good will to Nancy Velacourt, and good will, like owed favors, was money in the bank.

Candy Dryson was still waiting. She dropped into a squatting position, which gave her legs a bit of a break from standing for so long, and flagged down the House's waitress and asked her for water with lemon. She thought about making herself known to the Master of the House, but between the pain drugs and the blonde on his dick, she didn't think he'd be too coherent. Some of the other House Dominants were certainly possibilities, but it was pretty clear that as far as Chorale was concerned, the four from the Grimes family were the real leaders — even the little sub. That was confusing, but she didn't think too long on it.

Candy was hoping the new House accepted her — she wasn't happy at Thacker and lord knew the Master wasn't happy with her. Still, he either thought enough of her to believe she'd make a welcome gift to a House he was trying to get in good with ... or he didn't give a fuck about Chorale at all and were using them as a convenient place to dump her.

Maybe if she went and stuck her tongue up Master Grimes' ass, he'd come, his sister would take it as a sign and give it a rest for awhile?

Kelly liked what she saw as she approached House Velacourt's table - she liked it a lot.

Sweet, beautiful Oriental girls, all kinds, over twenty of them, all of them dressed like schoolgirls, all of them looking young enough to pull it off.

Kelly's mouth was watering as they reached the table.

"Mistress Velacourt? I'm Mistress Kelly of House Chorale. I came to talk with you a bit, and our pet here is looking for a gift for the family."

"Mistress Kelly, I insist you call me Nancy. I'll be happy to talk with you and if your pet can't find the gift she's looking for here, we can make arrangements for her to see the rest of our stock. I know she'll find someone that she likes, and who will be willing to be transferred from my House to yours."

"If you're Nancy, then I'm Kelly," she replied. "What are you drinking?"

"Nothing at present, but a chocolate martini would surely change that in a hurry."

"Damn, that sounds decadent ... and good, very good. I think I'll have one as well."

Kelly waved down a waitress.

"Short stuff, you want something?" she asked Carol.

"What the two of you are drinking sounds wonderful, Mistress."

The waitress arrived and Kelly said, "Three chocolate martinis, put them on Chorale's tab ... oh hell, this whole table is on Chorale's tab for the night. Go now, my little bringer of joy!"

"Is there anything I can help you with, to make your search easier?" Nancy asked Carol.

"Yes Mistress, I'm looking for a pleasure girl trained in the Western school, with a good singing voice, soprano preferably. I know they all have training with musical instruments, I was thinking flute or acoustic guitar."

"Oh damn, I have just the girl for you, but she's not here at the moment. If she's not acceptable, I'm sure I can find someone who will be ... let me have her brought here, shouldn't take more than twenty minutes."

She pulled out her phone and looked at her two companions, "I assume you can wait that long?"

Kelly smiled, "Mistress Velacourt, we would be happy to be your guests for the duration."

"HOLY SHEEP-FUCKIN' MOSES!"

Harry Grimes had come, he'd come so hard and so much that even while he was still balls deep in Nicki, his cum was running out of her, dribbling into the hair of the young woman beneath them.

Helen had been talking with Eddie and looked over with concern.

"Harry, are you all right?"

"Yeah ... yeah ... oh..." he peered around Nicki, who was happily busy with the after shocks of her own orgasm, and looked at the young woman beneath them on the floor. "Who the fuck are you and what the hell did you do to me?"

Candy got up, grabbed the towel he'd been wearing when he came downstairs and started to clean his cum out of her hair — only to be interrupted by Nicki, who pulled Candy over and began to suck the cum out.

"Uh, hi Master Grimes," she replied, her head at an awkward angle as Nicki slurped her hair, "I'm Candy Dryson. I'm a present for your House from Master Albert of House Thacker. Uh, I noticed you were having a little problem with your erection there, and so I, uh ... I shaped an ice cube in my mouth to be a little more rectum-friendly, and then I shoved it up there with my tongue."

"That explains why I have icy water dribbling out of my ass," Harry replied. "Well damn, Candy Dryson, that did the trick all right."

"Uh, yes sir, so I noticed. Can you call your sister off? I think she's got it all."

Harry gently set Nicki down on the seat beside him. She immediately cuddled up close to him, putting his left arm around her.

"Pardon her, Candy, she's having a rough night."

"Yes sir, I've been watching and it looks like you're all having a rough night."

"You could say that ... now, why would a House we're not familiar with send us a delectable morsel like you? Are you a gift or just here for the evening?"

"Funny thing, sir, your Mistress Kelly asked me the same question, but with all that's gone down tonight I never had a chance to answer her. I'm a permanent gift, if you'll have me, sir. I'm not real sure why Master Albert sent me, I mean, me personally, as I'm real prone to acting and speaking without thinking, and I sure as hell have no idea why he sent me to you, seeing as how he's never been all that interested in politics and this part of the scene before, but send me he did, and uh ... I'm hoping you take me. He's a bit of an ass- well, he's a bit hard for me to deal with sometimes."

Harry laughed, "Candy, final approval will rely on Carol's say-so, but with that provision, you've got a new home if you want it."

"Oh yeah, I want it," she replied, drying her hair and looking at Nicki as if she were crazy. "You mind if I sit down, I've been standing here waiting a long time."

"Go ahead ... y'know, somehow, I think you're going to fit right in."

Kelly and Carol did their best to be attentive guests after Harry's outburst, and were saved from having to sneak covert looks by their hostess peering over to their table and saying, "I wonder what in the world happened over there with your Master?"

"I could go inquire, Mistress," Carol said, hopefully.

"Go ahead," Kelly replied, "and hurry back with the news.

"Nancy," she continued, "are you really interested in only Oriental women, or do other women have a shot as well?"

"You're lovely, Kelly, don't get me wrong, but no, only Oriental women. For me it started out young, growing up in a family and a House where they were readily available, and in my youthful rebellion phase I pretty much slept with anything that moved ... but at this point in my life, there's my husband, and there these beauties, and that's it."

"Shame," Kelly replied. "Ah well, I can't win them all." She smiled at Nancy. "Me, I refuse to let myself get tied down to finding one type attractive. Why, look at my spouses-"

"So that's not a rumor," Nancy interrupted. "It's true the four of you are married to each other?"

"More than true..." Kelly's gaze turned inward for a moment. "The three of them are the completion I never consciously knew I was looking for." Her eyes returned to Nancy Velacourt. "I fought it for awhile — fought it hard, but at the end of the day, I belong with them and nowhere else. Thankfully, that doesn't mean I can't indulge my more licentious habits, but I think we're all coming to understand that no matter what, no matter whom, no matter how — we're going home together at the end of the night. Us, and our little, ever-growing army."

Nancy laughed, kindly not mockingly. "Yeah ... yeah I know that feeling. At the end of the day, I want to be home with Randolph and the kids ... and ten or twelve of these. You know, it would be so much easier if we could just claim them as dependents, or tax exemptions, or something."

"I'm afraid our family's accountant is going to have a nervous breakdown this next year," Kelly replied, laughing along with Nancy. "So far we have four, counting Spyderchylde, possibly five, maybe a sixth by the end of the night that the family is supporting." She sipped her drink. "Not that I mind ... I love them all — oh shit, wait, add one to the grand total, I forgot me!"

"So, what are you going to do with yourself?" Nancy asked, chuckling. "Remain at home?"
"No, no I don't think the family will let me — not that I'm all that eager to, in the long term. I needed some time at home with them, to adjust to everything, to deal with Harry's almost dying. I'm thinking I'll be going back to school next semester, or maybe the semester after that. Now, that said, I still have no clue what I want to do with my life, but being a housekeeper isn't on the career list. Thankfully, the upside of ending up with so many dependants is that I won't need to. Hell, after this weekend Carol may well be able to step into a supervisory role over a true household staff ... which will make her crazy until she learns how to delegate, but I think will be good for her overall. She doesn't get to spend enough time on her knees, so to speak. That makes her unhappy which makes us unhappy.

"What do you do when you're not hanging out with lots of yummy women?"

"Hang out with even more yummy women," Nancy replied. "My job is making sure these girls are trained and trained properly — as the head of my House, I end up 'managing director', I guess you'd say. We're a going concern, and it eats up every bit of time I let it."

Carol returned and relayed the story of Candy Dryson and the anal ice-cube.

When the three of them could stop laughing long enough to catch their breaths, Nancy said, "You have a most unusual Household. Perhaps poor Candy has finally found someplace she belongs."

"What's the story on her?" Kelly asked, looking at Carol to gauge their voodoo woman's reaction, as well as wanting the scoop from Nancy.

Carol smiled and nodded, very slightly, as Nancy said, "That poor girl hasn't fit in anywhere since House Gaunt took her in when she was twelve. Don't let me give you the wrong impression — she's as well-trained a slut and as compliant as any of my treasures, but aside from the bedroom — well, she's never mastered thinking without saying, or thinking without acting. When she screws up, she doesn't argue, takes her punishment and holds no grudge, but from what I gather from the Houses she's belonged to, she spends so much of her life out of favor with her Masters and Mistresses that she's just too much trouble to keep. So she gets passed on to someone else and the same thing happens. She's been through every elder House, except us, of course, and Albert Thacker's trying to dump her on you."

Nancy Velacourt looked at them bemusedly. "From what I picked up while talking with Mistress Grimes, and from the two of you, I'd say take her. Your house may be just the place she was made for — young, vibrant, chaotic, not too full of itself. She'll serve you well, if somewhat unpredictably."

Kelly and Carol grinned at each other. "Sounds like our kind of slut," Kelly chortled. "Although another sub in the house will make Margo cry..."

"Yeah," Carol agreed, "but it's kind of fun when she whines."

"Never let her hear you say that," Kelly warned.

"What, do I look suicidal?" Carol replied.

Carol and Kelly were getting shoulder and neck massages from two of House Velacourt's other protégés when the girl Nancy had sent for arrived.

Five foot six, with a pretty oval-shaped face, a cute button nose and deep brown, almost black eyes, dark brown hair down to her mid-back, more curvaceous than most of the other girls Nancy had brought with her — she was dressed in a pink halter top and black micro-shorts, her breasts almost spilling out like overfull pudding cups, her tummy slightly rounded, her bottom barely contained by the shorts both above and below them.

Both Carol and Kelly were drooling before they knew it.

"Ah, I can tell by your reactions that my appraisal of your House's ideal physical type was correct. You seem to like women with real bodies and little Usagi here fits that bill perfectly."

The girl continued to stand before them, head bowed, eyes peeking out at the two of them.

"Usagi is somewhat of an oddity — we've had her since she was six. She's fully trained in the 'Western' tradition, well-versed in American culture, she is of course completely adept in the bedroom arts, she can cook, clean, entertain both adults and children, dances, sings, is fully versed in etiquette and how to dress for any occasion ... she is a perfect companion in the Western sense. I had thought to place her with a businessman, someone who needed a young lady of impeccable manners and fashion sense to be his escort anywhere and everywhere, but who had other, more practical uses for her as well, such as housekeeper, or nanny. And I beg you; ignore the outfit she's wearing tonight." Nancy sighed. "She was probably naked until my call, and grabbed the first thing available."