Belonger (An erotic novel): Part One (57 page)

The woman looked down submissively. “Yes, I
know…”

The redhead circled her with a speculative
air, turned back to her client. “Sir, is it your desire to stymie
her masturbation, or to condition her behavior so that such
arrangements are unnecessary altogether?”

“
I don’t know. I’ve tried
promises and oaths, nocturnal supervision, bondage, restrictive
lingerie, whips and straps… she can’t be stopped,” he
complained.

The Merkin was relieved. The scene was
progressing more reliably now. Manassa was auditing the exchange
with casual interest, gaze shifting from employee to customer and
back as they exchanged lines. She absently neatened a pile of pink
rubber panties, apparently unaware of the crowd’s fascination with
her activities.

“
Well, let me think,”
replied the shop hand. She made a fatuous show of musing on
possible remedies, then raised a finger theatrically. “I think I
have it. Come this way, please.”

She stepped around to the display of rubber
gloves. “Sir, are you familiar with the ritual of the helping
hand?”

“
No…”

The employee selected a pair of long, angry
red gloves, their fingers lined with clitoris-tormenting ridges to
suppress even the most determined effort of self-gratification. She
beckoned to the troublesome woman and briskly drew them onto her
hands, carefully checking the fit.

“
Your first obligation will
be to ensure that she is properly gloved for sleep. Then, when she
awakens the following morning you question her.” She turned to the
woman and spoke to her in an imperious tone.

“
How many times did you
attempt climax last night?”

“
Five,” she responded on
cue, voice rich with shame. At this Manassa sauntered over to join
them. The Merkin wondered why she chose that moment.

The redheaded auditioner smirked at this
disclosure.

“
Well! Rather
frisky-fingered aren’t you? A nice little love affair with
yourself,” she chided, turning to address her male
customer.

“
Next, you correct her
selfishness with the following technique, which thematically
bridges the behavior and its punishment.” The employee guided the
gloved woman onto a padded demonstration table, got her settled on
her back. Peeling her skirts back to display her panties, she
stripped them away with a brisk sweep.

“
Spread your legs, please.”
The woman hesitantly complied and they collectively stared at her
naked crotch. Manassa leaned over to get a good look and the Merkin
saw the other woman blush fiercely.

He assessed the mood of the audience. They
were deeply interested in Manassa, but sophisticated enough to be
aware of the linear nature of the proceedings.

“
Now the ritual proceeds as
follows…” the redheaded employee continued. She pointed sternly at
the woman spread before them.

“
Which is the hand that
helped your pleasure?” she intoned.

The woman timidly offered her right, and the
redhead drew the glove from it with a sensually protracted motion,
leering judgmentally as the Merkin had scripted.

She grasped its open end, fingers extended
like a whip, and raised it menacingly. “For each offense you will
be slapped by your own hand. And after each rebuke you will swear
as follows; ‘I will not masturbate without permission!’ Do you
understand?”

The woman nodded, genuinely intimidated. Her
gaze flickered to Manassa, who stared back, brows lofted. The
employee poised herself and brought the long, supple rubber glove
down on the customer’s crotch, provoking a shrill exclamation.

“
Say it!”

“
I will not masturbate
without permission,” the woman quavered, legs fanning in pain. Her
eyes closed.

The redhead brought the
glove down again. “The hand that
hurts
is the hand that
helps
. Say
it!”

“
I will not masturbate
without permission…” she moaned.

“
Here,” said the employee,
passing the glove to her male client. “Now you try.”

The man clutched the article, menacingly
presenting its deeply ridged fingers to his lover. He shared a
glance with Manassa, silently soliciting her opinion as to the
propriety of the ritual. The Merkin was instantly tense, concerned
that the scene might stall again. But the big woman just shrugged,
grinning at the drama of it all.

“
She masturbates in
your
bed… so
y
ou
finger it
out,” she quipped. The crowd giggled in agreement.

The customer chuckled, raised the glove high
and brought the hand down between his lover’s shapely thighs.
“Selfish slipper! Say it!”

“
I will not masturbate
without permission!” she cried.

“
Good. Maybe you’ll keep
your hands off your snooch tonight,” he gritted. The glove smacked
her pubis again and her whole body spasmed. She mumbled the
humiliating response, softening to his authority.

“
The hand that
helps
is the hand
that
hurts
,” he
declared and delivered a final, exquisite connection to her vulva.
The glove, by now amply lubricated by her femininity, issued a
terrorizing crack as it smote the same pain-reddened lips it
purportedly spent the night romancing.

“
I will
not
masturbate without permission!”
she wept.

“
You may close your legs and
replace your glove again,” said the redhead, concluding the ritual
as the Merkin had planned it. The chastened woman slid unsteadily
to her feet, cheeks blooming from her belittlement. Eyes lowered to
the carpet, she took the glove from the employee and slid it back
on with a penitent heaviness. It glistened with her painfully
coaxed oils, a musky reminder of her oath, always at
hand.

“
This is a remedy I can
believe in!” her man enthused, impressed by this bold regime. He
selected more gloves to broaden his options, and the couple were
shortly on their way. The audience clapped
enthusiastically.

The Merkin was happy the performers had
managed their lines without error this time. He observed Manassa’s
response to everything that had taken place, hoping enough context
had developed to force a path through what would follow…

“
Another patron arrives to
the boutique,”
he boomed down as
nonchalantly as possible, concentrating closely.

A very tall, charismatic gent walked into the
boutique, immaculately garbed in a conservative black suit. The
women turned to face this next client, offering themselves alertly
to service. The Merkin anxiously thumbed his script to the next
page.

“
I’m shopping for my lady,”
the customer announced. “It is to be a surprise. As she cannot try
things on personally, I would prefer the boutique to provide a
model for this purpose. My lover is a voluptuous woman, I should
mention, and as tall as myself.”

The man carefully assessed the women of the
boutique, arresting on Manassa’s great, skirted hips. His gaze rose
to levelly regard her lovely features. Nothing further emerged from
him and the Merkin held his breath, ready to insert a timely
imperative.

“
Her. She will suffice,” he
finally uttered, and the scene moved forward.

“
You got it,” Manassa
assented, turning to survey the shop’s merchandise. “She might like
a pair of gloves,” the big beauty mused, plucking about a display
of limp rubber hands. “We just had fun with those. Does she spank
you before bed?”

Manassa beamed as the audience noisily
guffawed, flung her hair back engagingly and donned a pair of
gloves in black, specially thick ones that could deliver a painful
smarting to the buttocks. The Merkin cringed. The stage was
operating on an almost random basis suddenly.

“
A good spanking with these
will finish the day nicely, I imagine. A gift you can both enjoy,”
she promised and mimed swatting him. The man backpedaled in alarm.
The scene’s calculatedly masculine premise wobbled from this
unlikely exchange.

“
Yeah, we’ll run with the
gloves,” Manassa decided, arms pumping exaggeratedly as she jogged
after him. The crowd noisily cheered her on. “Anything
else?”

“
I would like to get her a
rubber brassiere and a matching set of rubber stockings,” the man
hastily requested, trying to realign what was happening to the
script.

Manassa glanced around, quickly recalled
where these items resided. “Sure thing, guy. Right over here!” She
stepped to the appropriate displays, ran a palm along a colorful
sweep of stylish rubber halters.

“
Any color in
particular?”

“
The pink and white will do
nicely,” he decided.

Manassa grabbed the largest brassiere in this
palette, dangled it before the customer. He was instantly
transfixed by its enormous cups. She found a matching set of
equally outsized rubber stockings for her legs and threw them over
an arm.

“
That all?”

“
Yes. Please model them for
me now,” her customer requested. The Merkin relaxed as she nodded
without reservation. It was all going to happen as
planned.

“
She’ll obviously want
panties too,” Manassa added as an afterthought, plucking a
color-coordinated pair on her way to the mock dressing rooms. The
Merkin frowned, trying to gauge this deviation from the script. He
almost intervened with a narrative correction, but couldn’t come up
with a reasonable way to deprive her of the article, which was
probably too small—he hadn’t specified panties large enough for her
when itemizing the contents of the shop to the Manager.

Manassa stepped into the changing room, her
whole demeanor fancifully relaxing to suggest she believed herself
perfectly alone. She stretched, tossed the rubber lingerie on a low
bench to one side. Without looking beyond the tiny “walls” of the
space she removed her heels, then with no complication of modesty
plucked at the shoulders of her rubber-trimmed lingerie dress,
lifted it off her waist with a dramatic sweep, folded it in midair
and set it aside as the theater fell silent.

Her brassiere and panties were a soft pink
hue, stuffed with firm volumes of smooth flesh that cast deep
shadows down her belly and thighs. Her legs were enormously
feminine.

She reached for a bra strap and her breasts
popped free, offering themselves to direct observation, and the
Merkin reached under his script and rubbed his penis helplessly.
Her nipples were as large as cherries. She bent and slipped her
panties down, stepped out of them to present her utterly naked form
without any apparent concern for those watching, despite the
Merkin’s deviously exaggerated context of observation.

Even from here he could see the nude
perfection of her womanhood, the feature of her beauty that so
captivated her admirers. It was as boldly formed as the rest of
her—a luscious labial valley with a pert clitoral prominence,
utterly free of hair.

Sh
e
turned to the rubber lingerie, presenting her backside to him, twin
globes kissing along a perfect arc, and the Merkin simply stared at
her mighty legs on his stage with a sense of personal fulfillment
he had never before experienced. Manassa slipped the pink rubber
brassiere on, then shrugged into the matching panties with a
fitful, muscular effort. They were too small and her thighs flexed
sensually wide as she forcefully yanked them into place.

The audience had absorbed the euphoria of
beholding her perfectly formed body, were whispering expectantly
now, aware they were in the presence of an unpredictable,
potentially uncontainable personality.

She emerged from the dressing room to regard
the employees of the store, who commented in sincerely amazed tones
on the fit of her lingerie, touching her shyly.

“
Look at those
curves!”

“
You coming to the party
later?”

“
You seeing anyone,
sweetie?”

“
The employee presents
herself to the customer,”
the Merkin boomed
down to the stage before the scene collapsed into undirected
carousal again.

Manassa sauntered over to the client, who
stared open-mouthed at her approach.

“
What do you think?” She
twirled for him.

“
Beautiful…” he whispered.
“Absolutely beautiful.”

Manassa pointed to the small rubber tags
protruding from her lingerie at the nipples and crotch. “Plus
there’s these. Discipline is easy!”

She pinched one between thumb and forefinger
and pulled it. The material of the brassiere stretched, and when
she released the tag her nipple was snapped to a keen agony.

“
Oh!” she started, cheeks
darkening in arousal.

The other women crowded close to test this
effect, punishing her playfully as she danced from the
stimulation.

“
Let me try…”

“
Look how she
bounces!”

Manassa encouraged her customer to
experiment. “Go ahead. Do the twat if you like.”

He reached hesitantly for her crotch, found
the tag and slowly pulled it back. The crowd fell utterly quiet as
her womanhood became the cynosure of all attention.

He released the tag and the rubber panties
snapped down hard on the bulge of her vulva. Manassa shouted and
for a split instant the muscles of her legs were clearly defined as
she jumped painfully from the stimulation.