Chalice Spills

Too late, Chalice realizes she has been trapped. Grail has been waiting for her curled up on the divan, her half-smile a sentence dotted by the black mole on her cheek, the heels of her solid pumps exclamations pointed at Chalice.

A pointing finger catches her, then tugs her to the center of their playroom as if by an invisible thread. Chalice pads across the polished wooden floor in her fuzzy blue socks, arranging herself with her hands at her sides so Grail can get a look at her.

Caught off guard, Grail finds her lover in bell-bottoms and a babydoll, her head snuggled into a soft green crocheted cap that looks like a little bell over her head. Grail taps her toes in silent approval, her mouth a soft little smile and a period.

Chalice's face is a smooth white pearl, broken by the wide dark orbs of her eyes and the smaller twin dots of her nose. Her eyelids have settled over the tops of those big eyes, looking at the floor with both nervous impatience and excitement.

Grail raises her arm again, pointing to the far corner of the room. Chalice turns and looks. A long wooden pointer is propped in the corner. She shudders and turns back to Grail, who nods at the stick. Chalice swallows and shuffles over to the corner to claim it.

Chalice can feel Grail's toes tapping behind her. They keep pace as she walks, keeping her from moving too slow. She wraps her fingers around the stick, feeling its firmness, and lifts it, feeling how light. It gives her another shudder to hold it in her hand.

She turns back to Grail, who curls a pointer finger towards herself. Chalice recrosses the room to the divan. Grail opens her palm, and Chalice offers the pointer, trembling in her hand. Her lover's fingers close on it and all trembling stops. Chalice flinches and pulls back her hand as if stung.

Chalice steps back as the angles of her lover's hosed legs slide themselves to the floor, heels clicking onto the wood. Grail points again, and Chalice returns to the center of the room, arms at her sides, facing forward.

Grail drops her finger straight at the floor, rotating her hand in a slow circle. With a gulp Chalice turns herself around, knowing that long stick still lurks behind her. She imagines it flickering through the air. Snap snap! Chalice grimaces at the sound of Grail's fingers snapping.

Chalice turns her head. Grail's pointing hand arcs forward in a delicate dolphin dive towards the floor. Trembling but obediant, Chalice leans forward with her arms at her sides, hands opening around her ass like they are offering a gift.

Chalice hears the soft clicking of Grail's heels across the floor. There are three, and then one loud whap!

Chalice howls as the switch cracks across her ass, fingers curling over her poor, hurt cheeks. She hears three more taps, then sees the black point of one of Grail's shoes on the floor beside her. She follows it up her dark legs and body to her face, her head shaking in disapproval.

Grail raises her arm to point across the room. Chalice follows the finger to a long wooden rack, its corners dressed with leather straps. It is surrounded by a ring of feathers, some big and bushy, some sharp like knives. Chalice almost releases a sound, her knees suddenly shaking very hard beneath her, but Grail raises that finger to the middle of her lips beside that black mole. Silence. Period.

She presses the pad of her finger to Chalice's lips now, a dot of saliva on it a gift for her lover. Chalice watches the long finger, like a nail pinning her lips together. Her eyes flicker up at Grail, who furrows her eyebrows in mock concern. Yes? she nods. Yes, Chalice answers, her head trembling as much as nodding.

Grail smiles and tugs off Chalice's cap, her wheat-colored curls tumbling free around her head. Grail runs her dangerous hand through that soft hair, scrabbling down her neck and over her side to the button of her pants. She unlatches that button and they tumble to her ankles.

Her panties are triangular white sails which barely cover her ass. Grail smiles to see her soft cheeks, and steps away out of her sight. Chalice bites her lip, steeling herself for what is to come.

Whap!! Chalice's teeth claw into the skin beneath her lip, her fingers curling like dead insects into fists beside her ass. She can imagine the sharp red line drawn across both cheeks.

Whapp!! Another blow draws the line into an X, and Chalice bends, head bobbing nearly to the floor and back like one of those plastic drinking birds. Her teeth planted over her lower lip like a suitcase buckle, she contains the noise bubbling up inside her.

She sees Grail step beside her again. Her finger enters the shower of curls on Chalice's forehead, pressing its pad against her and pushing her upright. On the wall forward from where she stands Chalice can see a hanging wooden bar, two pieces of rope slanting down to its sides like a roof, holding it up and then running straight to the floor. Grail points to it.

Chalice swallows. With her pointy black shoes, Grail gently kicks her lover's fuzzy blue toes, where they peak out from under the spread of her bell-bottoms, and they curl up in fear beneath the rim of her pants. Grail points again, and her feet step free of those pants puddled on the floor.

Chalice steps to the bar and puts her back to the wall. Grail points upward, and Chalice spreads her arms in a Y, curling her fingers around the wooden dowel. She nibbles her lip as Grail loops the loose rope around her wrists, tying her tight and soundly to the bar.

Grail picks at the rim of her babydoll, pulling it up her arms and tucking it behind her head, leaving it keep her head leaning forward like a harness. Chalice's small breasts hang free from her chest, quivering with her breath and the promise of softness.

Grail cups a hand over each, kneading them with their heels. They are indeed soft, and Grail's hands are quite hard. Chalice slides her top lip underneath the bottom. Hanging from the bar, she glides around like a baby's mobile on her fuzzy feet.

Grail rubs her nipples with the fat pads of her thumbs. Shhh, she warns her, raising a finger to her lips before replacing it on Chalice's breast. Chalice's eyes wander toward the rack surrounded by all those feathers, so she shuts them knowing she won't be able to stop the sound she'll make if she sees.

The cups of Grail's palms now slide down the sides of her breasts, sharp nails gliding along her skin. Her lip quivers, trying to escape its other. She holds it tight as the nails circle beneath her arms, eyes squeezed tight to ignore their teasing.

In long, slow lines Grail's nails trace south, curlicuing along her sides as if to draw a curly border of calligraphy around her body. They slip around onto the taut canvas of her stomach, stroking delicate curves gracefully inward. Chalice bites down on her lip hard enough to hurt, trying to contain the sounds those fingers call forth.

As a nail circles into the soft cleft of her navel her mouth snaps open in an unleashed shriek.

But Grail's mouth is there to cover Chalice's and muffle the sound. She flickers her tongue once against her lover's and leaves, Chalice's mouth still wide-open stunned. Grail smiles at her, and Chalice reads the sentence on her face. That was her one save. There will be no more chances.

Chalice's lip quivers, unable to close. Grail's fingers flutter from where they had perched on her chin for the kiss, soaring south across her body. Chalice holds in her belly, on the verge of tears, knowing she can hold her mouth closed no longer. But Grail's nails fly over her midriff toward the white sail of her panties.

One nail traces a slow, delicate line from the crook of her thighs to the waist of her panties and back. Chalice's lip trembles, her mouth making no sound but the sharp intake of breath and the cool hiss of exhale, only fortunate it isn't voice.

It isn't long before Grail's fingernail brushes up against the small bump of her clit. She begins to trace short circles around it. Chalice chokes in air, a terribly loud not-noise. She begins to lift herself in synch with Grail's circle, fuzzy blue heels bobbing on and off the floor.

Grail begins scraping her nail quickly, lightly, along the tip of her clithead. Chalice shudders, her bouncing now hard and fast, her heels pounding painfully on the hard wood floor. Grail's finger-scrapes slow down, as do Chalice's bouncings, until she stops, her finger pausing, Chalice up on her toes on the verge of explosion.

And then, Grail brings her nail down on Chalice's clit, vibrating with the quick buzz of a bee's stinger.

Screaming, howling, shrieking into muteness, Chalice feels herself melt, melt from her ropes, suddenly untied, melt towards the floor, into Grail's arms. Melt into silence, away into a world of fuzzy blue.

She slowly comes to her senses, wearing nothing but a bright blue ball gag. She feels leather straps on her skin, and looks around to see a carnival of feathers surrounding her. In front of her, one pointed black foot on the rack, she sees Grail holding one of the pointiest, running her fingers along its spine as she grins down at Chalice. Period.