Vaxhuset part 1
Författare: atticusstount Datum: 2008-11-06 19:47:25
E-post: the_shockwaves_band@hotmail.com
Läst:
19 575 gånger
Betyg: 4 (3 röster) 1 medlem har denna novell som favorit
Vaxhuset
A Cattus Tabicus Story
Part 1
In The Employ of Perversion
Fenn Gladstone was delighted to receive a position as costume tailor at Stockholm’s most well known waxworks, Vaxhuset. How wonderfully the word rolled off the tongue.
His job for the first few weeks was to replace clothes that had been tattered by numerous hands over the course of time. One of the parts of the job he was most pleased with was that on many occasions he was completely redundant, and passed the time wandering through the many attractions. Some sections of the museum, he would learn to discover were more difficult to draw himself from than others.
Sometimes with a tinge of jealousy he surveyed the effigies of certain resplendent female actresses and singers, as someone else had had the honour of measuring, in close contact, their physical nuances.
It was early one Tuesday morning that he first caught sight of Monique. The vision of her struck him like a well thrown rock. She was a vision of dark unruly locks, emerald green eyes and a medieval dress that gave the suggestion of a corset. Her hands, they were the most exquisite of all. He could not take his hands off of her fingers and wrists a she threaded a fine stitch into a silken garment.
His heart bolted in his chest as he sat closer to her. Then she looked at him, casting him one of the loveliest and at the same time most predatory smiles he could remember.
‘You must be Fenn,’ said Monique, still threading away, as if the action were a perfectly natural motor function.
‘Yes, that is me. Pleased to meet you.’ He moved forwards to take her hand, but she just returned her gaze to her sewing and continued. His cheeks burned. He strongly disliked being frozen out.
‘I’m Monique,’ she said. ‘I’m here on work experience, so I suppose I’ll have to make the most of my time here with you around.’ Was she insinuating something? This seemed to be the start of an unusually unpleasant working relationship. Fenn, being rather naïve had no idea the kinds of scenarios he could get himself drawn into in that odd, doppelganger inhabited den.
One afternoon Fenn found himself in one of the storage rooms. Some of the items from the Torture Chamber section had been brought down for renovation and replacement. The room had a damp mildewy smell that, combined with the dim lighting and paraphernalia gave the appearance of a medieval dungeon.
He caressed the features of the iron maiden, marvelling at the artisans craftsmanship. With some effort he opened it and was surprised to discover that not only were the spikes real, but were systematically placed in order (none touching the neck or face) to cause pain and discomfort but not critical injury. An odd notion struck Fenn – could such devices have been made or modified to appeal to ones particular perversion? He was familiar with Indian fakirs laying on spiked mats, and how this seemingly painful activity teased their nerve endings, often improving rather than damaging their health.
With the tip of his little finger he caressed one of the spikes from base to top, deriving a sensuous pleasure at the feeling of its surface, almost expecting it to relent to the pressure like a thing made of rubber. As the reflection of his hand coloured the metal surface, he felt the irresistible compulsion to pierce his palm - just slightly - on one of the spikes. To have such a marvellous piece just sitting there without ever having been used was a sorry sight to behold. He made a fist and pressed the extra flesh onto the spike. As he did so, and felt the first stinging sensation as blood trickled down. At first he felt he should pull away, but after a few seconds it the pain was replaced with a new kind of feeling. The fact this was so peculiar and unacceptable caused warmth to spread between his thighs. Could he, should he? Yes, of course he should. He wanted to feel a little more, so pulled down his shirt sleeve with his teeth, and pressed the whole of his left inner arm down, just enough to feel it and produce even droplets of blood.
He wondered what it would feel like to be placed lovingly, yet forcefully by someone he desired and worshipped completely; to be completely at the mercy of the iron maiden.
Another sensation took hold of him – the prickly feeling one gets on the back of their neck when being watched – he turned around just a little catching sight of his boss, Evalena Kvist, out of the corner of his eye. When she realised he had caught sight of her, not wishing for conflict she blushed and swiftly departed.
A delightful rush of humiliation at being caught – one that he had secretly cultivated since a child - flowed through him. This was a wrong but a lovely wrong. This was replaced by worry. What if his work colleagues found out? His working life could be ruined. He scoured around looking for something to clean away his bloody mess, but there was nothing. He closed the iron maiden, hoping nobody would notice. I mean, was such a device supposed to be spotlessly clean? Hardly!
His hand and arm were beginning to bleed more heavily so he rushed to the bathroom, but the caretakers had forgotten to replace the toilet paper. Damn their hides! He washed his arm, the cold water stinging him in a way that irritated rather than titillated. This just made the blood flow more heavily. So he decided there was nothing else for it but to go back to the sewing room and pretend he had had some kind of accident.
Monique’s attention was drawn instantly towards her wounded colleague. Wide eyed, she left her work to come to his aid. Fenn wasn’t sure how to interpret the look she gave him. He was a young adult, but an adult nonetheless, and he didn’t really think she was the caring Florence Nightingale type that would rush to the aid of fallen comrades.
She urged him onto a stool, and she bent down on her knees to inspect the damage. Her hands were trembling as she unwrapped the layer of cotton that was soaked flat against its ruby-coloured points of entry. Her nose was almost touching the wounds as she began to finger them, one by one, and her mingling breath seemed to tantalisingly open the wounds anew. Her third finger ran along the vein in his forearm, feeling the pulse, her eyes following it from root to destination.
‘I had an accident. I touched something I shouldn’t have.’ Said Fenn. The emerald disks of Monique’s occulae longingly studied Fenns’. A blush was forming on her face, neck and breasts, following carefully the rise and fall of her rapid breathing.
‘Was the injury the accident,’ she inquired. ‘Or the fact you may have gotten caught?’
‘Yes, something like that.’ Said Fenn. ‘This isn’t a common, everyday occurrence you know.’
‘I know. It seems like a stroke of luck we are working in a place like this.’
Fenn’s heart began to race even faster as he grasped her insinuation. He felt the need, however, for her to verify her point. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand in what sense you mean “lucky”.’
‘Don’t play the innocent with me,’ she said, with a sharp new edge in her voice. ‘Here you are, able to spend a fraction of our time here sewing together clothes, and the rest of the time you are free to indulge yourself in, shall we say, recreation with very specialised toys.’ She stood up and piece of cloth from a plastic wrapper inside her bag. As she knelt down to clean him, Fenn could not help but delight in the childlike way her bare heels slid out of her black ballerina type shoes. On of her ankles was decorated with a chain of little barbs: a subtle symbol of her particular sexual disposition, for those with a keen enough eye to spot it.
The cloth was laden with antiseptic, and stung him, a fact which seemed to please Monique, who had a devilish grin forming on her face – her beautiful, angelic face. He revelled in the feeling of her locks brushing his wounds, and how they felt against his lips. At the same time he wanted to withdraw into his safe little shell of normality, deny everything, perhaps even tell his boss that she saw did not bear any relation to his true inclinations.
The scent of her that imbibed those locks intoxicated him. He wanted to take on between his fingers, caressing it for what may seem like an eternity, tasting it like a piece of dark chocolate.
She stood up. Her expression changed to one that was more firm, more analytical. She placed a hand under his hair, stroking and eventually pulling, just enough to arouse and not cause him to withdraw.
‘I am lucky I bumped into a creature like you.’ The Norwegian lilt of her voice became even more pronounced as she became sternly passionate. ‘As you can see I am a very thoughtful keeper. Some have the tendency towards neglect, but not I. I have something for you. It’s in my bag, there in the corner.’
He was standing erect for just a moment before she scowled slightly, gesturing for him to fall on all fours. ‘That’s better. Best not strain your hind quarters_’
Fenn opened the bag, first pawing as a cat would a ball of twine, then opening it with his teeth.
Monique continued, ‘_I mean, what would people think if they saw my tabby cat walking on his hind quarters?’
Fenn smiled broadly at being referred to as “my tabby”.
The emerald eyed Owner continued, toying with one of her ebony locks. “I mean, just think! I would be forced to take him to the vet. Can you imagine the worry?’
Fenn withdrew a velvet covered collar. It was replete with an identity tag and tiny studs, those of course being arranged lovingly on the inside. The human-feline padded towards his owner, placing his gift at his owners (now bare) feet.
‘Good, very good indeed,’ she picked up the collar, briefly thumbing the inner-studs. ‘I didn’t think it was possible to train cats – they are far too independent after all - but I can see, at the very least, some potential in you Fenn. Now come closer, kitty, so I can put your collar on.’
Fenn obediently came forwards, and at that moment realised he was Fenn no longer, but had assumed become his feline alter ego, Cattus Tabbicus, or Tabby for short. Mistress Monique lifted her skirts, revealing a few inches of delicious bare flesh above her stockinged thighs. She grabbed the back of Tabby’s head, and drew him towards her groin. He felt an instant rush of adrenaline as he felt both the silk of her stockings and the warm, velvety softness of her skin against his chin and cheek. She closed them tighter still; the pressure on each side of the feline’s skull was light at first, but with a swift movement, Owner hooked a collar around his neck.
The pleasure increased several fold, running up and down his spine in gloriosu waves as little by little the tightness of her clutch increased.
What if someone burst in at a given moment? Owner was only there on a temporary basis, so had no reason to fear reprisal due to indiscretions. She was barely twenty and had the whole of her working life to iron out the creases from her CV. Between her legs, breathing air that was tinged with her inner essence, he gloried in the sensation of relinquishing the petty vestiges of rather his vastly overrated humanity.
When the collar was in place she released him, and put him across her lap. In the motion that had seemingly been drawn telepathically from him she petted and pulled his head and neck, occasionally applying just a little pain with her fingernails, tantalising him with the whole hot-cold sensation that was connected directly to a special part of his brain that only she and one other had learned how to access.
‘So many little nerves,’ she said in a hoarse whisper. ‘I’ve learned how to tweak and toy with them. My little Fenn, you have no idea what a dedicated owner I am.’
As he sat there, being petted into a state of near ecstasy, he recollected for a brief moment his previous owner. She had not been nearly as kind and empathic as Monique. No. Amongst other rough punishments, she had left him tied up for almost two days in that cold cottage in the north.
To be continued.
Fler noveller av samma författare
| Titel | Kategori | Betyg | Datum |
|---|---|---|---|
| Vaxhuset part 1 | Kinky | 4.0 | 6/11-08 |
Beautifull!!
Absolutely lovely!!!!
I cant wait to read the following episodes!
Nothing but top points for this!