The Bathhouse: Part 9
"...what you’re feeling now can be the most wonderful thing you’ve ever experienced, if you let it..."
Continued from The Bathhouse: Part 8
There are faces everywhere.
I read once that humans seek out faces, seeing them where they are not, inventing eyes from drywall, lips from rippling ponds. There is a species of crab native to Japan, whose shells resemble the faces of samurai warriors and when fishermen would encounter those crabs they would throw them back into the sea. The faceless crabs were eaten and the faced crabs were left to reproduce, which meant more faced crabs in the ocean.
Something prods my awareness. I break my gaze from the face that has materialized in the soft whorls of woodgrain above me and find another at the foot of my bed, wearing an expectant expression.
“What?”
“This place. You get used to it,” the face repeats. “Like it, even.”
I want to be nice to this wide-eyed new acquaintance, but am feeling uncharacteristically ungenerous. I suppose getting kidnapped, taken to an undisclosed location, locked in a room with strangers, and shackled naked to a bed will do that to you.
Seemingly unbothered by my reticence, she bounces closer.
“Mind if I sit?” she asks, plopping down before I can reply. “I’m Alice. What’s your name?”
“…Phoebe.”
“Phoebe! Oh, I love that name. It’s great to meet you. I would shake your hand but, well…”
She laughs and gestures at me, then scratches a patch of skin beneath her collar. With her sharply drawn eyes and angular jaw, the movement is strongly reminiscent of a cat.
“So…is this…normal?”
I flap my hands a little, indicating my restraints.
“Oh, yes. We all start out like that. But don’t worry, it doesn’t last long. I mean, if you ask me, it doesn’t last long enough.” She nudges me with an elbow and winks.
“What does that mean?”
“Oooohh, you’ll see. I’m so excited for you!” She bounces on the bed to illustrate her point. “And a bit jealous! But-”
At that moment, she breaks off and her eyes roll back in her head. She gasps sharply. As though in a trance, her hands find her breasts and squeeze. A faint, pulsing buzz emanates from her neck. She moans and rolls her nipples between her fingers. The pulses grow longer and she arches her back, lips parted. One of her hands begins to snake toward the fork of her legs but stops, clenching at her abdomen. The buzzing grows into one continuous vibration and as it does her hips rock into my mattress and her hand scrabbles against her belly. She cries out, making little hiccuping gasps of pleasure. The buzzing dwindles back into silence, leaving her to catch her breath with one hand still gripping her breast.
Well. That was fucking hot. My cunt clenches around the dildo inside me, an apparently ever-present feature of my new life. The Courtesan peeks out from behind a pillar, wary but intrigued.
“Did you just…?”
“Oh,” Alice replies breathlessly, “yes. Mmmmm. That was a good one.”
She looks up at the far wall, where a list of names and numbers is displayed in red alphanumerics. “Alice” flashes and then jumps up the board. “00:37 is displayed next to her name.
“I’m getting better,” she says proudly.
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