Are We Human? Ch. 05

"This dick is yours, Lady Holiday," he whispered to her in humid breath. "Ah, it feels so good when you use it. You're so great at fucking weak boys like me. You're so beautiful. So strong."

Her response was more speed, more force.

"You know how badly I need you? You know how hard I get when I think about being able to serve you? Nothing makes me crazier. Nothing makes me sluttier than you do."

Her wordless reception of his enticement rocked Drew's body. Her pussy crashed down harder and harder, driven mad by the building pressure that was so close to breaking.

"I wish I could always be tied up like this, like a nice little present waiting for you. Wouldn't you love to fuck me over and over like this whenever you want?"

He strained to speak above her climbing pitch. She needed to hear what he had to say. He wanted his words to carry her right to the gushing end.

"Cum for me, Lady Holiday. Your cute slutty boy needs you to finish all over his cock. Won't you please, pleeeeeease cum for me?"

He begged her again and again for her climax. Each time she heard the word "cum," it sent another shiver through her, until the shivers compounded into a tremor that turned into a tightening of her every muscle before, finally, heavenly release.

"I'm fucking cu-"

The quaking moans that marked the end of that last thought were buried in the pillow. Drew cackled as he listened to her muffled wails of unbelievable, tingling elation. Her vagina continued to slide up and down his erection, gradually losing steam as the adrenaline rush tapered off into complete exhaustion. Carly lay motionless on top of her boytoy and let the aftershocks pummel her drained body. Drew turned and kissed her repeatedly on her head, his cock still throbbing inside her.

He hoped the gentle prodding of his own hips would wake her back up. The sound and spectacle of her orgasm made him yearn for one of his own, and he was so close to it as well. All it would take was another minute or two of her tight pussy stroking him, working to expel every drop from him in a cataclysmic display of-

Carly rolled off. Drew stared at his upright penis, now as exposed as a tree in winter, and then turned to his partner. She was regaining her footing by the side of the bed and working to fit her shaky legs back into her pants.

"Lady Holiday..." he whispered.

She turned around and tried to blink the daze out of her vision.

"Holy shit, I needed that," she laughed.

"You're not... you're not leaving, are you?" he asked, fighting to keep the tremble out of his tone.

She was finally able to regain her focus on the boy. He was red in the face, coated in his sweat and hers, and had his puppy dog eyes on again. Lady Holiday leaned down and pressed her lips against his, thanking him for his dutiful serving. When she pulled back, she stuffed her roommate's underwear back into his open mouth. Drew's eyes shot open; he tried to verbalize the shock and the betrayal, but all that came out were muffled wails like the ones he had just cackled at earlier.

"I'm sorry, Drew," she apologized, somewhat remorseful but still giddy from the post-orgasmic glow. "I'm just playing by the rules, same as you. She told me... in her words, she said, 'that bitch has a long way to go before I'll ever let him cum again.' She um... wanted you to know that."

He could've started bawling. He called and called as hard as he could, but without his words, he couldn't get Carly to turn back around. She fixed herself in the mirror and went for the door. She stopped there for a moment, and finally, mercifully, looked back over her shoulder. They stared into each other's eyes, the pitiful longing meeting the smolder that flickered with conflict. He saw the sympathy that lingered, then he saw it blow away with the swinging of a door. The click of lock left Drew alone with his suffering.

It pained him to see his prominent cock deflating in disappointment. In the cloud that the lure of sex had pulled over his judgment, he had forgotten the real meaning of the term "using": to employ for some purpose. His purpose was not to cum; it was to make others cum. His own pleasure was incidental and, in judiciary cases such as this, unwelcome. He was an object of a single use, and that was never more clear to him than when he was tied up in that bed, covered in Lady Holiday's cum, and waiting for whoever was next in line.

Drew didn't thrash anymore. He didn't try to call out for rescue. He just stared up at the ceiling, mind anemically obsessing over the same truth: "I'm a bad boy, and I deserve this." Again and again, in his own voice and in Lady Sparrow's, he heard: "I'm a bad boy, and I deserve this." If she ever came back, if she ever permitted him to speak again, he would tell her: "I'm a bad boy, and I deserve this." The cacophony behind the door faded away, leaving only one sound left: "I'm a bad boy, and I deserve this."

Ten minutes into his life sentence, the door cracked open again. Drew's head fell to the side and there was Alice, arms folded across her chest, smirking at him from across the room. There was ego in her footsteps as she crossed over to the bed and inspected what was left of her White Rabbit. She picked up the condom with the tip of her painted fingernails and tossed it in the garbage.

"I hope you've been having as much fun as I've been tonight," she whispered smoothly. "Your friends are so nice to be around. Very easy to talk to."

She waited for him to protest, to cry out uselessly or struggle some more against the cuffs. Instead, all he did was stare up at her, eyes bleak and empty. It was then that she knew there was no fight left in him. Her punishment had been more effective than she could have hoped.

She pulled the underwear from his mouth and asked, "do we still think it's fun to be a disrespectful cunt-tease?"

"I'm a bad boy, and I deserve this."

Lady Sparrow chuckled and ran her thumb over his dry lips.

"Well said, bunny."

Drew was immobile as his mistress walked around the bed and unfastened the restraints. Even when he was free, he just lay there, waiting for her next command. Lady Sparrow snapped for his attention then pointed on the ground next to the bed. The boy clambered off and dropped to his knees before her. She gripped his chin between her fingers and raised his head for inspection, which she concluded with a kiss on his wet forehead.

"Lady Holiday seemed quite happy when I last saw her. You did your job well, pet," she praised in a reserved tone.

She let go of his face and approached the trunk at the back of the room. In went the key, up came the lid, and out came Drew's clothes.

"You can get dressed now. Your friends are waiting for you."

"Thank you Lady Sparrow."

He shambled weakly over to her feet and slithered slowly back into his outfit. When he was fully dressed, Lady Sparrow sat on the ground next to him and wrapped her arms around his feeble frame.

Quietly, Abby confessed, "I never thought I'd be able to do that with someone. Thank you, bunny."

She rocked his limp body side to side, her thin lips pecking him all over. Her punishment had broken him, but the aftercare was starting to put him back together.

"I know I've been rushing you into a lot of these scenes, but it's only because... I've been waiting for you for so long. This may all be new to you, but this is all I've thought about for nearly ten years. I've had dreams and visions of someone like you who could give me what I wanted."

Abby held his face in her hand again. It wasn't a scrutinizing pinch this time; it was a gentle grasp, the way a person would hold something precious to them.

"I've been close lots of times but, now that I've found you, it actually kinda feels like... all of those dreams are..."

When she didn't finish, Drew nervously suggested, "...coming true?"

"Ew!" she snapped. "That's so lame! I would never say something so mushy."

Drew turned away out of embarrassment. Abby regarded him for a moment, then kissed him by the ear.

"That's why I keep my gooey little lovebug around to be mushy for me," she said in an affectionate whisper.

Her arms encircled the bug and squeezed the life out of him. Even though it kind of hurt, there was boundless comfort to be found in the strength of his owner's embrace. They giggled at each other, then shared a proper kiss.

"Your mouth is really dry," she told him.

"Well, I've been chewing on underwear for a good three hours," he joked in a not-joking sort of way.

"Oh please, it was like forty minutes at most. I was keeping track, believe me."

She stood up from the ground and bid him to follow with a hold on his pocket watch. She led him over to the desk and handed him one of the cups that she had left there.

"Is that mine or yours?" he asked.

She scoffed, "you had your tongue up my ass tonight, does that really matter to you?"

"Only if it matters to you."

He accepted the drink and, forgetting that it was filled with a flat, lukewarm vodka Sprite, slurped it down greedily. Abby backed off as he coughed and hacked violently. When it was clear that he wasn't about to vomit, she laughed wildly. His misfortunate always did that to her.

"That's good, stay like that, pet. Your friends think you've been in here resting from drinking too much. They'll expect you to look like a sorry piece of shit and..."

She gestured her hands toward him and shook her head. Drew wiped the spittle from his chin and grimaced. The mixture had not improved with age, or with exposure to the sweaty, charged atmosphere of the bedroom. He took Abby's hand and walked wearily after her. The crowd had thinned out noticeably, but a few clusters still remained. One of these clusters, waiting by the front door, was composed of Beth, Margot, Fatima, Terry, and Nathan. The five members of Journey had all held onto their leather jackets, but somehow, over the course of the night, all of their instruments had popped. The bandmates held onto their depressing slabs of cheap plastic as if they didn't notice the fatal injuries.

Fatima rushed forward and hugged Drew, inadvertently roping Abby into the hug as well. She couldn't help but look bemused as the drunk girl rubbed her tears into her breasts.

In a cracking sob, Fatima lamented, "Drew, I just wa-anted you to kn-know that I'm so sorry I was mean because I love you so much, you're su-uch a good friend and I'm so sorry that you thre-ew up! And I would ho-old your hair back if I could because I know that you wo-ould do that for me!"

Drew looked at Beth, who merely shrugged her shoulders. He patted Fatima supportively on the back.

"It's okay, I'm fine. I love you too," he soothed.

Margot came forward and took over the burden of the drunk friend.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked. "Abby said you nearly tossed her off the pot when y'all got to the bathroom."

Drew glanced over at his mistress, who made a show of not making eye contact. He should have been thankful that she had covered him with a lie instead of exposing the reality, but he knew she had taken some delight in choosing a story that made him look bad. Well, if he didn't want them to know the truth, he had to play along.

"I..."

I... what? What choice was there? It wasn't as though getting sick at a party carried the same level of stigma as engaging in brazen sexual deviancy. Sure, it was embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as the alternative.

"I guess it was too soon after last night. I thought I had recovered enough but..."

He caught a glimpse of his own wrist, and the deep red welt that marked where he had been restrained. It peeked out from the cuff of his shirt sleeve, winking at him, incessantly reminding him that he was wading into a lie. No one but him would have noticed unless he unbuttoned his cuffs and yanked his sleeves up to his elbows, put his wrists forward like he was being arrested and said

"I'm lying. This is what I was doing."

The circle tightened around Abby and Drew. Drew looked down and realized that the intrusive thought had become tangible reality. There were his scarlet letters, scrawled like flashy bracelets for all his friends to read.

"Jesus Christ," Abby muttered under her breath.

"I don't get it, what am I looking at here?" Terry asked.

Margot gingerly guessed, "Drew, are those... were you... tied up?"

She looked at him confused, as did Terry and Nathan. Fatima was curled up in Margot's arms without a care in the world, and Beth just looked amused. Abby had folded her arms and stared at Drew with her patented narrow eyes, which the friends were now seeing for the first time. Margot turned on Abby now.

"Did you tie him up?" she interrogated, the embers of anger starting to light.

"He pretty much did it himself," Abby clarified, aloof.

"Oh, is this a joke to you? Because to me, it looks more like assault!"

"Cool it, Margot!" Beth exclaimed.

Margot took hold of Drew's hands and looked into his eyes.

"Drew, did she hurt you?" she implored.

"You don't get it!" Abby yelled.

"Fuck yourself!"

"Margot!"

"Help or leave, Beth!"

"I am helping!"

"You're the only one who isn't helping, calm the fuck down!"

"Don't tell me to calm down, you c-"

"I liked it!"

The last voice was Drew's. The topic of discussion had finally found his words again, and the three arguing women stopped to listen to what he would say.

"I liked it," he repeated. "It was safe, sane, and consensual."

He pulled his hands out of Margot's grip and turned to Abby.

"I'm sorry, Lady Sparrow," he said.

She brought him into her chest and let him nuzzle the wet spot that Fatima's sobs had left.

"It's okay, pet," she soothed.

"Holy shit, you weren't kidding," Beth laughed. "She really is your Domme, huh?"

Drew whipped away from his owner's chest and gawked at Beth, then back up at Abby. Margot stared as well. Abby smirked nonchalantly, her fingers fiddling with the bunny's pocket watch.

"I thought you didn't tell them!" Drew cried.

"She was talking to you, stupid," she corrected.

"But I didn't tell her!"

Beth spoke up, "not that you remember, anyway. I figured you would have had to have been pretty blackout to tell me all the shit you said last night."

Drew resumed his gaping as Lady Sparrow threw her head back for a villainous laugh.

"Oh, you have to tell me what he said. I'm honestly dying to know."

"And I'm honestly dying to know what the fuck is going on," Margot interjected, still bitter.

Abby snapped the dumbfounded shock from Drew's face and pointed him toward Margot.

"Go on, drunkie. She's concerned about you, give her an honest answer for once."

Drew was still reeling from the rocky road that led to this confession, but he managed to pull himself together long enough to finally tell the truth.

"It uh... turns out I'm kinda into kink. Like... really kinda into kink. So this past week I've been exploring it a lot with..."

Drew gestured toward Abby, but she shook her head.

"You know I deserve a better introduction than that, bunny," she crooned.

He bit his lip as he corrected, "Margot, Beth, this is my mistress, Lady Sparrow."

With a satisfied sigh, Lady Sparrow extended her hand to the two women.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both. I apologize for the misunderstanding earlier, but... your friend here is a tad skittish about our dynamic. You can probably guess why."

Beth shook first, grinning from ear to ear.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Sparrow. I can't wait to get to know you."

She turned her grin on Drew, who quickly retreated into the dark safety of his owner's bosom. Abby chuckled and played with his hair. Her hand still stretched toward Margot, who observed it suspiciously.

Abby acquiesced, "I know you're just making sure your friends are safe. I can assure you, his safety and happiness are my top priority as well. If it makes you nervous, I would be happy to discuss it with you until you feel that you can trust me and my methods of play."

Margot probed her for another few moments, then sighed and relinquished a limp handshake.

"I don't need details. If this is what Drew wants, then fine. Just know that if you do him wrong, I'll do you even worse. Believe that."

"I do believe it," Abby said. "I hope you'll believe me when I say that won't be necessary."

"We'd all be better off," Margot agreed seriously.

A voice piped up from behind, "so uh... is everything good?"

Beth, Margot, and Abby turned toward dining room, while Fatima and Drew stayed nestled in the embrace of their caretakers. Terry and Nathan were shifting uncomfortably, all hands loaded up with beer cans.

"Did you guys miss that entire conversation?" Beth asked.

"Just the yelling..." Terry said to his shoes.

"And all the parts after the yelling," Nathan said, also to his shoes.

Margot rolled her eyes and walked Fatima over to the two men.

"Be useful, for once," she scolded.

She confiscated two of their beers and helped drape Fatima's arms around their necks. She walked back over and handed one of the beers to Beth.

"I hate boys," she muttered.

"You oughta try my approach," Abby smiled. "Makes life a lot more bearable."

"I don't see that happening, but thanks anyway."

"I'm definitely considering it," Beth admitted.

"What? Are you serious?" Margot exclaimed.

Beth raised her hands and defended, "if you heard the same things I did, you would 100% be interested, too."

"Now I really need to know what he said. Let's get brunch sometime," Abby invited.

"I'll get your number from Drew."

"Not if I get yours first."

The two of them laughed, provoking Margot to go join Terry, Nathan, and Fatima by the front door.

"It looks like we're done for the night," Beth announced. "So where are you sleeping tonight, Drew?"

The bunny raised his head and looked over at his friends. His confession had not gone as smoothly as it could have (in all honesty, the process was a bit of a dumpster fire), but in the end, his friends were still waiting for him at the door. His freak flag was laid out on the table, but none of the other guests thought to leave the table without him. They accepted him, they accepted him, gooble gobble, one of us.

He looked up at Abby now, who cast down one of her sweeter gazes on him. In an instant, Drew knew where he belonged.

Recognizing the look in his eyes, Abby decided, "my pet will stay with me tonight. He has a big mess to clean up in the morning, doesn't he?"

She pinched his cheek. Dred giggled and nuzzled himself back into her breast.

"This is really weird," Nathan whispered to Terry.

"I don't understand any of this. Like any part," he agreed.

"Beth will explain on the way," Margot told them curtly. "Come on, dude, party's over!"

Beth placed her hand lightly on the nape of Drew's neck.

"Take good care of him, Lady Sparrow," she said, hushed as though he were sleeping.

Abby put her hand on top of hers.

"That's my job, dear."

Beth let her hand slip away from Drew and backed up to the door, still regarding the pair of kinksters with sparkling fascination. Beth thanked Abby for her hospitality, and the three remaining conscious members of the band repeated in chorus. Abby accepted their gratitude and bid them a safe journey home. Once the door had closed firmly behind them, she walked her pet back to her room and brought him to the bed.

"Next time we go around telling our friends about our dirty little kinks, how about we open with 'these are my dirty little kinks!' and not 'this woman you've never met just tied me up!'? I think it would save all of us a lot of grief." Abby chided.