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Message-ID: <41440asstr$1048461005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Vulgar Argot <gekagekREMOVEALL@CAPShotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Marigold, Part 6
Date: Sun, 23 Mar 2003 18:10:05 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Marigold, Part 6
(NC MF FF MFF DS light bondage)
by Vulgar Argot

Marigold awake with a fuzzy head and aches in muscles that, while
she'd been aware than she had them, she'd never expected that they
would be used in quite the way they had.  She had slept so soundly
that she hadn't moved at all. Now, she had a sharp crick in her neck.
She also felt an unpleasant stickiness than didn't bear investigation.

Struggling into a sitting position, she looked around the room
muzzily. Early morning light slanted in from the window. She could
hear Thule moving around in the other room already. On the bedside
table, an airline-sized bottle of vodka stood open, still about a
third full. She shook her head at it, refusing to believe that so
little could have had such an effect.

She stood up, stretching and arching her back to get some of the
cricks out of it. Thule came into the room, doing minute adjustments
on a silky, red tie. He was dressed in a grey business suit, his mane
of hair slicked back and tied into a long tail at the back. Marigold
felt that the hair detracted somewhat from the impact of the suit, but
didn't know what more he could do, short of cutting it off, to avoid
that.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" Thule asked. She shook her head in the
negative.

"Good," he said, "Before I forget, I have a present for you. I meant
to give it to you last night, after dinner. But, I seem to have gotten
distracted." He left the room and came back with a long white box tied
with string. Marigold looked at him inquisitively as he held it out.

"Take it," he said, "Open it."

Marigold liked being ordered to take a gift. It saved her the guilt
and unease normally associated with the process. Once the strings were
off and the box open, she slid out a red silken kimono, the back
painted with a lotus flower, the sleeves with similar style designs.

"I know you won't be able to wear it at home," he said, sounding
almost bashful, "but it would please me if you would wear it at
Harvard. No," he added as she started to drape it over her shoulders,
"it's not very practical to clean. You'll probably want to wash up
before you put it on."

"Thank you, Thule," she said, then sensing he was expecting more,
added, "It's lovely. I'm sure I'll be glad to have it at Harvard."

He came to her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She tried not to
stiffen under his touch. His embrace was brief, followed by a kiss on
the head.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked.

"Sore," Marigold admitted. When Thule kept staring at her without
speaking, she added, "and thoroughly violated."

Thule chuckled, "Do you mind it as much as you thought you would?"

Marigold lowered her head to try to hide her tears, but her shoulders
shook with them.

"No," she choked out, "Not that much."

He moved in, not so close that their bodies came into contact, but
enough to stroke her hair. When he finally spoke, he said, "You are a
very peculiar girl, Marigold."

She leaned her head into his hand, like a cat would, closing her eyes.
Just for a moment, she let herself sink into the old fantasy.

"Go," she said softly, "get to your meeting. I'm going to wash."

Thule leaned in to kiss her again on the top of the head, "If you get
breakfast, feel free to sign it to the room.  I'll be back no later
than two.  Until then, your time is your own."

"Thank you, Thule," she said, not sure what she was thanking him for.
Then, he was gone, briefcase in hand, ironic half-smile on his lips.

What Marigold really wanted to do was get her old, comfortable
terrycloth robe out of her luggage, wrap herself in it, and go back to
sleep, preferrably in the unused bedroom. But, that would never do.
Last night had put into stark relief how much the quality of her life
depended on Thule's favor right now. She didn't want to make him
angry.

She also didn't want to stand in the middle of the carpet with tears
drying on her cheeks and who knew what else dried on her thighs.
Spurred to action, she walked into the large, main bathroom, and
turned on the big, whirlpool tub. For a while, she just stared at the
running water, thinking nothing at all, feeling empty. She realized
that she had no idea who was standing over the tub. Two weeks ago,
she'd known exactly who she was--The Virgin Marigold, as Brianne, had
called her more than once. She'd had a wealth of adjectives to
describe herself: Christian, moderately popular, studious, serious,
chaste. She'd known a long time what she was going to do with her
life--be Valedictorian, go to Harvard, marry Elliot, go to medical
school, finish her residency, have three children, two boys and a
girl. She knew their names and everything.  She'd known something
wasn't quite right between her and Elliot, but didn't probe too deeply
for the sake of the children.  Now, that part of the plan was gone.
She'd sacrificed her high school popularity. Her chastity had flown
right out the window, not only because Thule demanded it, but because
she'd enjoyed it so much. It hadn't so much flown as been pushed by
Marigold herself.  With so much gone, she no longer felt the surety or
superiority, the essential rightness that was at the center of calling
herself a Christian.

The water level acceptable, she set the jets to pumping and stepped
into the big tub, sitting so that the water came up to her chin. The
powerful jets soothed her muscles and carried away the effluvia of the
night before.

She closed her eyes and tried to decide what she was now--not much of
a Christian, surely. She knew Jesus would forgive her for everything
she'd done, but she also know how forgiveness worked. Things would
never be the same between them again. She didn't really feel like a
whore, either. Maybe, with time, she would become a whore, but from a
practical standpoint, there had to be more to whoredom than having sex
with one man, once. Even if being taken in the ass was the most
unnatural, disgusting thing she could ever imagine enjoying, she was
sure that real whores had a much more extensive resume than she did.

As the knots in her muscles gave up the ghost, Marigold became keenly
aware of the jets throbbing against her skins, water swirling around
her, tickling her thighs and bottom. It would be so easy to just lean
into them, open herself up. Whatever she'd become, it felt a lot
better to be doing it than sitting around regretting it.

She resisted. It was too easy. She was still enough of a Christian to
recognize that as the hallmark of the Devil's Highway. The path of the
righteous was narrow and hard. The ways of sin were as easy as falling
off of a log.  Besides, she couldn't remember the last time she had
been so hungry.  Resolute, she got out of the tub, letting it drain
with some regret.

The sun was up in the sky now. While she was in the tub, the maid had
come in, changed the sheets, made the bed, and left towels.  She'd
even taken the little vodka bottle. Only a hint of soreness remained.
With all signs of the evening's debauch gone or safely hidden inside
of her, Marigold began to feel her spirits rise. She dried herself off
and slipped into the kimono Thule had given her. It turned out to be
surprisingly modest in cut, even if the feel of the fabric against her
skin was so nice that it must be vaguely illicit.

By the time that she was sitting on the veranda, enjoying the feeling
of the kimono on her flesh, sipping a cup of too-bitter coffee make
palatable by an excess of sugar and cream, looking out over the park
several stories below, street noise only a faint backgroup, the early
summer breeze and sunlight playing over her skin, the melancholy she'd
felt earlier had completely faded away.

Maybe, she decided, the difference is that I'm not a child anymore.
Maybe, it's like Paul said to the Corintians. I've just become a woman
and it's time to put aside childish things.  She chuckled a little at
the blasphemy of the thought, then harder at the idea of springing
that interpretation on Jonas some time during their Bible study.

She sat in the sun, drinking her coffee, eating her croissant, and
trying a new idea on for size. She tried on the idea that she was
older and more mature than she'd been, not a high school girl, but a
woman on the verge of striking out into the world on her own, tackling
college and her future.

That was it, she decided. She wasn't The Virgin Marigold anymore, but
she wasn't a whore either. She was just a woman.

                                                -=-

After breakfast, she spent a little time lounging around the suite,
enjoying her new identity. She was a sophisticated, sexual young
woman, still faintly sore from at her lover's hand, naked except for
the thin layer of silk he chose to wrap her in, lounging around the
New York City hotel suite he'd probably spent a small fortune on.
After she'd had enough of that, she brought out her textbooks and
tried to focus on differential calculus. But, she just couldn't
concentrate. Giving up homework as a lost cause, she decided to go and
find the hotel pool.

The bathing suit she wore had been bought the previous summer, more
for its ability to flatten her figure than to flatter it. Of course,
there wasn't much the designers could do in that department with the
material at hand. Still, Marigold almost gave up her plan of swimming
all together when she saw how unflattering it was. Up until now, she'd
almost never gone swimming because the suits couldn't do much to hide
her body. Now, she didn't want to swim because it didn't show her off.

Realizing she was being foolish, she wrapped herself in a hotel robe
and went downstairs.  It turned out that the hotel had two pools
downstairs, one labelled "family," the other "no children." Looking
into the door of the family pool, she saw about a dozen children,
seemingly unsupervised, running amok. At the deep end, she saw a small
group of high school aged kids engaged in some sort of horseplay that
would probably be described as "spirited" by someone too old to
remember being that age.

Boldly, she pushed open the door to the "no children" pool. There were
less than a dozen people in the room, most of them clustered around a
bar set up at the far end. Only one seemed to actually be swimming.
She waited for the whole room to turn around, throw out their arms,
pointing to the next room, and shout, "No children! You belong over
there."  They didn't, of course. Marigold steadied her breathing. I'm
a adult, she reminded herself. I paid my dues, now I belong to the
club.

Laying her robe and towel out poolside, Marigold dove into the water
and began to swim back and forth across the width of it. She would
have used the lanes, but the other swimmer was swimming crossways as
well and she would have had to risk collision each time their paths
crossed. Soon, she was pushing herself hard, swimming as quickly as
she could, enjoying the exertion. She'd lost track of how many times
she had crossed the lanes when she looked up and realized that the
other swimmer, now holding on to the edge of the pool, was trying to
talk to her. She latched onto the wall and turned to face him.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"I just said that you were a very strong swimmer," the man answered
her, his accent marking him as Australian, "You were leaving me in the
dust out there."

"Oh," said Marigold, "Thank you. I would just working out some
tension."

The man nodded, "Swimming can be good for that. I'm Paul, by the way."

"Marigold," Marigold said, taking his proferred hand, "Nice to meet
you."

"Well, Marigold," said Paul, "I know it's a bit early, but can I
interest you in a drink? It's another great way to relieve tension."

Marigold almost rejected the offer out of hand, but instead said, "All
right, but just one, I think." Paul seemed like a nice enough guy.
They were both adults. If he wanted to buy her a drink, she would
humor him. It wasn't like she was going to go back to his room with
him.

"All right," he asked, "What can I get you?"

"Something with vodka, I think," Marigold said.

"A screwdriver?"

"Sure," she answered.

Paul came back with a beer and a glass of orange juice and vodka,
which Marigold imagined was a screwdriver. She sipped it, finding it
wasn't so hard to drink as she'd expected. The orange juice cut most
of the alcohol flavor.

"So," asked Paul, "Are you here with your husband?"

Wow, thought Marigold, I'm pulling off this adult thing really well.
Of course, the truth was much too difficult to explain.  So, she said,
"Yes."

"Oh," said Paul, his face a little bit crestfallen, "I didn't realize.
Only..."

Marigold raised an eyebrow, enjoying the man's discomfort, "Only?"

"Well," said Paul, "You're not wearing a ring."

"Oh," said Marigold, her hand involuntarily flying to her mouth at
being caught in a lie, "Well, he's not really my husband yet. He's my
fiance."

"Still," insisted Paul, "No ring?"

"We'll have one soon," Marigold improvised, "We're still in college.
Once we graduate and Bartolemew gets a job in electrical engineering,
we'll get a ring and have a big wedding."

"So," said Paul, "Where do you go to school?"

"Harvard," said Marigold, "I go to Harvard. My husband goes to MIT."

"Your not-husband," prompted Paul, "Bartholemew."

Marigold nodded, "Right. His friends call him Thule."

"So," asked Paul, "Are you and Thule in New York long?"

"Only until tomorrow," said Marigold, "We've got to get back to
school."

"More's the pity," said Paul, "I'm here another two weeks. I could
always use the company of two bright young people. I travel so much."

"Sorry," said Marigold, "Are you from Australia?"

Paul nodded, "Yeah. Although, I spend more than half the year
traveling. Japan, Thailand, Singapore, Russia, London, and now New
York. I haven't seen my family in over three months."

"Family?" Marigold asked.

"Yeah," said Paul, "I've got a wife and a two year-old boy at home.  I
hate leaving them alone like this. But, a couple more years in the
business and I can start working out of the home office."

"But, no ring?" Marigold asked, glad the pressure was off of her now.

"As I said," Paul answered, "I'm on the road more than half the year.
My wife is a very understanding woman."

Seeking to change the subject, Marigold asked, "What business are you
in, Paul?"

"I travel in eavesdropping," said Paul.

"Excuse me?"

"I sell eavesdropping equipment.  Tiny cameras, microphones, little
recorders."

"How interesting," said Marigold enthusiastically.

"Really?" asked Paul, "Most people just think it's creepy. Actually, I
don't think it's much of either. I sell them to big corporations and
police departments mostly. Then, I train them in the proper use. Quite
honestly, it's a bit tedious."

The rest of the conversation went much more easily. Marigold barely
had to embellish on her initial lie after that. Paul seemed like such
a personable guy that she wished she and Thule could keep him company
while he was in New York. Of course, she'd have to get Thule to play
along with the imaginary identity she'd created for them. But, with a
screwdriver warming her system, she felt sure he wouldn't mind.

She got so engrossed in the conversation that she lost track of time.
Realizing that it was now ten after two, she leapt to her feet, "Oh,
God," she exclaimed.

Paul, who'd been in the middle of an amusing anecdote about customs
officials in Kuala Lumpur, looked up at her alarmed, "Is something
wrong?"

"No, nothing," she said, alarmed, "I just promised Thule I'd be back
by two. I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Paul."

"You too, Marigold," said Paul, "If you need anything, I'm in room
822."

                                                -=-

Marigold bolted up to their suite. She'd disobeyed Thule and didn't
know what sort of punishment he'd dream up for the slip. Letting
herself in, she called out, "Thule?"

There was no answer. It was a quarter past two and he wasn't back yet.
Marigold sighed to herself and collapsed on the couch. Thule came in
less than ten minutes later. She'd had just enough time to worry that
something had happened to him. Delighted that nothing had, she met him
at the door, wrapping her arms around his barrel chest and laying her
head over his heart. He hugged her back.

"You're in a much better mood," he commented.

Marigold had completely forgotten about the mood she'd woken up in,
"Yes," she said, tilting her head up to be kissed, "I'm sorry I was so
childish. It's time for me to put away childish things."

He kissed her, his hand holding the back of her head, his tongue
exploring her mouth. Pulling back, he said, "You've been drinking."

"Just one," said Marigold, "Now that I've had the experience of being
drunk, I thought it might be nice to find out how alcohol actually
tasted. How was your meeting?"

"Non-productive," said Thule, undoing his tie, "The two guys who are
at the center of this business concern are really excited about my
product, but they want me to come and work with them. And, I don't
think there's any way I can realistically do that from Boston, while
attending MIT, without working myself into an early grave." He threw
his jacket over a chair, "Have you had lunch?"

"No," Marigold answered, "I thought you might want to have lunch
together."

"Sounds good," said Thule, "Do you want to get changed and go
downstairs or order in?"

Marigold considered the possibility of running into Paul in the hotel
restaurant and said quickly, "Let's eat here."

"Sounds good," said Thule, "I really don't feel like getting dressed
up until we have to for dinner. I'm going to change into something
more comfortable. Stay dressed long enough to answer the door,
please."

They took lunch on the patio. For once, the conversation lacked its
usual brooding intensity. Prompted, Thule explained what the product
was he'd come to New York to sell. Eventually, he simplified his
explanation to the point of saying, "It's a tool used to model
complex, deterministic systems along topological axes in order to
facilitate Bayesian analysis."

"In other words," Marigold asked, "You've written a program that
represents data in more than three dimensions in order to make it
easier to guess what happens next?"

"Essentially," said Thule, "It's meant to be a facilitation tool for
the decision-making process."

"When did we learn that?" Marigold asked, "I must have been out."

"Don't worry," said Thule, "It's not on the AP calculus test.  I've
been a math geek since about the sixth grade."

Marigold was shocked to hear him speak so self deprecatingly, "Thule,
you're not a geek."

"Sure I am," said Thule, "I worked hard to earn that badge. And I
assure you, I did earn it."

Marigold tried to imagine a world where she aspired to earn the title,
"geek." She couldn't imagine it. She knew she'd have to be more
tolerant of geek culture at Harvard than in high school, but it wasn't
like she was going to MIT. She pressed on, "But, geeks are all out of
shape, never exercise, don't know how to talk to girls...."

Thule interrupted her, annoyance in his voice, "And popular girls all
spread for the basketball team on command and can't get a C+ without
blowing a teacher. Come on, Marigold. Haven't you learned anything
about those neat, little categories you shove people into in the time
we've been together?"

Marigold lowered her eyes, "I'm sorry, Thule," she said, "It's habit.
I really like the guys we eat lunch with. I think I'm up to
understanding what they're talking about maybe forty percent of the
time now. Please, don't be mad at me."

"That's so cute," said Thule, "Are you begging?"

Marigold looked up, surprised, "I...guess so."

"And," Thule asked, "Is seated the correct position from which to
beg?"

Marigold looked around in stunned surprise. Realizing he was still
waiting for an answer, she said, "No, Thule."

Thule continued to look at her, amusement warring with sternness on
her face. When Marigold figured out the game, she felt dense for not
having realized it sooner. Standing, she smoothed the robe down across
her knees before getting down on them, crouching back so that her
bottom rested on her feet. Once in that position, she looked up at
Thule, expectantly.

"Well?" Thule asked.

"I'm sorry," Marigold said, "I forgot what I was supposed to be
begging for."

Thule stood up in front of her so that his crotch was at eye level.
She could see that he was aroused. She began to think she understood
what this was all about. He answered, "You were begging me not to be
mad at you for being a shallow, superficial bitch."

She smiled to herself, "Please, Thule," she said, leaning forward,
"Don't be angry with me." She reached out her hands and began to undo
his fly, "Please," she said.

"Marigold," Thule said evenly, "A genuine apology does not require
physical contact."

Now, she was stunned. If she wasn't down here to suck his cock, what
was she down on her knees for? He couldn't actually just want her down
there, begging forgiveness for telling the truth about geeks, could
he? But, the longer she thought about it, the more she realized that
there were no obvious conclusions other than that one.

"Please, Thule," she said, "Don't be angry at me for what I said."

He looked down at her, but didn't say anything.

"Please, Thule," she said again, "Don't be angry at me."

"For what?" Thule asked.

"For what I said," Marigold answered.

"Is that what I told you to beg for?"

Marigold was stunned again, but her response time for getting over
being stunned was improving by leaps and bounds, "Please, Thule," she
recited, "Don't be angry at me for being a shallow, superficial
bitch."

"Are you contrite, Little Flower?"

"Yes, Thule," she answered, "I think so."

"Well," asked Thule, "are you or aren't you?"

"I don't know," admitted Marigold, "I'm not sure what's wrong with
what I said. I am sorry for making you angry, though."

"I'm not angry, Little Flower," said Thule, "I'm just disappointed to
see that you still think that it's possible to apply the generally
true to specific individuals as if it were gospel."

"But, most of the geeks are out of shape. Even though I've been at the
table for a week, some of them still go all pale when I talk to them.
It's the truth. What's wrong with saying it?"

"You know," said Thule, "If you'd watch tv once in a while, I wouldn't
need to explain this."

"I watch tv," said Marigold.

"Regardless," said Thule, "The problem is that you are making group
generalizations based on what you've observed and applying them to the
individuals in the group. You presuppose you know everything about a
person because you can label them."

"Oh," said Marigold, thinking, "isn't that what the software you wrote
does?"

Thule blinked down at her. She looked back up, not speaking.

"You do realize that I can do anything I want to you, don't you?" he
asked, steel in his voice, "I mean, you've agreed to do what I tell
you and, even if you hadn't, you can't very well get away with
claiming nonconsent without your parents finding out you're not at
your aunt's house, can you?"

Marigold stifled as much of her grin as she could. She'd forced him
off the argument. Keeping her voice even and demure, she said, "Yes,
Thule.  I realize that I'm yours to do with as you please."

"Stand up," he said, "Go inside. Take off what you're wearing. Put on
the kimono I gave you. Come back out here."

Marigold hurried to obey. Her body was already responding to the
anticipation of what he was going to do to her. Naked, except for her
kimono, she came back to where he was standing. He took her wrists,
leading her by them until her hands were on the metal railing that
kept them from falling over the edge.

"Don't let go of that until you're told," he ordered. She began to
tremble. Was he really going to have her right here, out on the patio?
No one from the ground could see, but it would be possible for a few
of the upper balconies to do so. Still, he was right. There was
nothing she could do to get out of it. If people were going to see,
they were going to see. Let them think of her what they wanted. She
only knew one other person in the hotel and he was two floors below
them.

Thule came up so that he was right behind her, his hands gathering up
the back of her kimono until she was completely exposed below the
waist. She trembled at the touch of his rough pants against her flesh.
He kept her lightly pinned against the railing with his hips, then
slid his hand down between her legs. She parted them willingly,
trembling under his fingertips. He touched her experimentally.

"You're already soaking wet," he said, "Did you really enjoy begging
that much?"

"Yes," she whispered. The answer stunned her, but she also realized
that it was true.  Thule laughed. Marigold's cheeks flushed.

"Well, good," said Thule, "Now that I have your attention, I will
answer the question you asked. No. That's not what my tool does. It
assigns probabilities to various outcomes of complex interactions,
then modifies those probabilities based on observable data over time."
He slid his finger into her, "That's also an excellent method for
dealing with people. If you know someone is a geek or a stuck-up,
popular, rich bitch, you can apply a specific profile to them, but
only until you start to learn how they vary from the profile. Do you
understand?" His finger traced her clit.

"I....unh....I think so," said Marigold, "I'm sorry, Thule. It's very
difficult to concentrate."

"Are you just like Brianne?" Thule asked, "Is Donna? Are you and Donna
just like each other?" He slid a second finger in, letting the first
one go deeper.

"Oh, God," Marigold answered, "No."

"Are you answering my question or protesting my actions," Thule asked,
his amusement clear.

"Answering," Marigold managed to blurt out, "I like what you're
doing."

"Well," said Thule, splitting his fingers now so that each took her in
a different hole, "The fact is that you're both part of the same
demographic to most of the school. And, to an advertiser, you and I
and even Mr. Talbot are all part of the same demographic."

"But," Marigold moaned, coming hard as Thule's fingers found just the
right spots to stroke, "that's ridiculous."

"That actually depends on the atomicity of data you need," Thule said,
his fingers gaining speed, "If you only want to market something to
'geeks' or 'jocks' or 'the 18-35 demographic,' you don't need
granularity. You need aggregation. That..." he gave a harder, deeper
push with his fingers, sending her into another orgasm, "is what my
tool does. Now, do you understand?"

"Yes, yes," Marigold moaned, "Oh, God. Yes. Yes! I understand. Oh,
yes."

"Good," said Thule, pulling his fingers out, "because I would hate to
think this lesson wasn't memorable."

"God, Thule," Marigold said, weak-kneed, "I'll never forget it."

Thule rearranged her kimono, "You can let go of the railing now."

"Aren't you going to make love to me?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"No," answered Thule, "I'm not even going to fuck you, sorely tempted
though I am. Go start the bath. We need to get cleaned up before
dinner. I'll join you shortly."

                                                -=-

They sat in the tub together, Marigold wrapped in Thule's arms as he
gently washed her skin and lathered up her hair with shampoo. As soon
as she thought she could get away with it, she began to wriggle her
bottom against him. He stiffened almost immediately, but went right on
lathering. Emboldened, Marigold started to try to wriggle so as to
impale herself on Thule. He let her get to where the tip of his cock
was inside of her and she was just about to drive down on it before
pushing her off.

"Thule," she pouted, "Please. You've got me so ready. I just want you
inside me again."

"Spread your legs," Thule ordered. When she did, he locked her ankles
with his own. Then, he twisted his body and began to push her forward
onto the jet. The water hit her with a rush and she trembled at the
shock of it. For a moment, she thought it was too intense, would be
too hard, but Thule backed off fractionally until it hit her just
right, then held her there as she squirmed in the jet, forced to
endure the pleasure.

Soon, she was begging, "Please, Thule, make love to me."

"Nope," said Thule, stroking her breasts, "But, if you ask nicely, I
might fuck you."

"God, Thule," she begged, "Please fuck me. Please." She began
repeating it like a mantra as the water and the situation drove her to
come again and again. Still, he held her, not moving to take her.

"Please," she whimpered, "Please, Thule, I want it so bad."

"No," said Thule finally, "If we're going to make our dinner
reservation, there's no time now."  So saying, he finally released her
and stood up to get out of the tub.

She looked up at him, dazed and stunned, "You're a bastard," she
whispered.

"Dry off," he answered, "I have something for you."

Marigold followed, her feet barely moving beneath her as she walked.
Every nerve sang with frustration. She decided that she must have
something medically wrong with her that she could want sex so badly.
Even the feeling of the towel as she rubbed herself dry was enough to
make her whimper.

Thule had another gift box, "I know I told you to bring a dress for
tonight, but that was only in case this one didn't meet with your
approval."

She took the dress out. It was grey with spaghetti straps. Sliding it
over her head, she realized that the back was non-existent, scooping
so low that it almost exposed her bottom to the air. The support built
into it was artfully hidden and reinforced with a pair of straps that
crossed under the breasts and tied in the back.

She looked at herself in the mirror, "Thule, I could be arrested for
this dress. It's obscene."

"You don't have to wear it if you don't like," said Thule, "I'm sure
that whatever you brought will be fine."

She considered it critically, "No," she said, "it's only designed to
look like I could just accidentally step out of it. It's actually
quite secure. I'd be glad to wear it."

"Are you sure?" Thule asked.

"If I drive some poor man to assault me on the street, you'll have to
defend me," Marigold said, by way of answer.

Thule smiled and went to the closet. He was already getting back into
his suit from earlier in the day. He did cut a very handsome figure in
it. But, Marigold was still aching to see him out of it. There was no
place under the dress for a bra or panties other than the barest
thong, of which she had none.  The feel of it against her bare flesh
was such that she found herself getting more aroused as she walked,
rather than less.

She squirmed until she realized that Thule was enjoying her squirming.
Then, she disciplined herself not to give him the satisfaction.

The restaurant they went to was French, somewhere in the Village, and
dark as a pit. The hostess led them through the gloom to dining area
outside, bounded on three sides by taller buildings and on the fourth
by the restaurant itself. They took the only empty table and, as they
crossed to it, Marigold felt like every eye turned to watch her. Men
leered openly. Women shot daggers out of their eyes. It was all quite
invigorating.

Thule ordered for both of them, recommending items to her, all of
which she agreed to except one. The dish she ordered instead proved
disappointing and she said so. Thule only smirked at this. She ate so
many things she'd never heard of before that night, she quickly lost
count. They drank white wine, which seemed to take the edge off of her
desire without actually lessening it. She had two glasses when even
one would have been a little too much.

Conversation was as light as the souffles they had for dessert. The
only real disappointment was again the coffee, "Why does everybody in
New York have to burn the coffee?" she asked Thule a little bit too
loudly.

"It's not burnt," said Thule, "It's French roast."

"I'm drinking tea from now on, then," said Marigold, modulating her
voice too low now and putting her cup down.

After dinner, they walked back to the hotel. Even the early summer air
made her shiver and Thule held her tight.  The moon was nearly full
and bathed even New York in an unearthly glow.

"I love you, Thule," Marigold told him as the hotel came into sight.

"Marigold," said Thule sternly, "You are not to use that word again
until I tell you so.  You don't know me well enough to love me. You
don't know what I have planned for you. I have developed a deep
fondness for you that I did not anticipate when I first decided to
force you into this deal."

Marigold giggled. They were in the elevator now, "You're lying," she
said.

"Excuse me?" asked Thule. There was a dangerous undercurrent in his
voice.

"You've always liked me," Marigold accused him, "You told me you've
been wanting to make...to fuck me for years."

They were in the elevator now. He turned to her, "I didn't
specifically want to fuck you. I wanted to break you, to make you obey
and beg. When I imagined myself fucking you, it was always
rape--painful, humiliating rape. Quite often, I fantasized about
killing you. Does that sound like I've always liked you?"

They were at the door to the suite now, so close. Marigold felt the
anticipation rising, sharp and keen through the receding fog of the
wine. You looked at him as seriously as she could manage, "You can do
whatever you want to me tonight, Thule. I just want you."

He pushed the door open. She went to wrap her arms around his neck but
he slipped away, turning her to face into the room as they both
entered.  There was another person in the apartment.

"Marigold," Thule said, "Do you remember Maya?"

"Maya," Marigold asked, the last of the alcohol draining from her
system in a rush, "what are you doing here?"

Maya looked at her, then at Thule, "I don't believe it. You really got
her to come. Until you walked through that door, I half thought you
were playing some elaborate prank to get back into my pants."  She
walked up closer, examining Marigold closely, "Mari, is that really
you?"

Marigold nodded, "I haven't seen you since you went away to school,
Maya. You're looking well."

"You look surprised to see me," say Maya, "Didn't Thule tell you that
I was going to be here? Thule, didn't you tell Marigold I was going to
be here?"

"There wasn't time," said Thule, "She'll do what I tell her."

"Thule," said Marigold, panic starting to creep into her voice,
"what's going on?"

"I asked you a question, Marigold," he said evenly, "Do you remember
Maya?"

"Of course," said Marigold, "We used to be best friends."

Maya stepped around so that she was behind Marigold, "I thought so,
too. Why aren't we best friends any more, Marigold?"

"You...you went away," Marigold said. She knew it wouldn't be enough,
but she had to try.

"Why did she go away?" asked Thule.

"Her father found out she was going to have an abortion," said
Marigold miserably, "He sent her to her grandmother's to have the
baby, then to Catholic school."

Maya was right behind her now, fingertips on her arm, "Who told my
father I was going to have an abortion?"

"Jonas," said Marigold. Tears were rolling down her cheeks now, "I
told Jonas about it and Jonas told your father."

Thule was almost on top of her too, now. He reached up and wiped away
her tears, "Don't cry, Little Flower. Tonight, if you're contrite,
you're getting absolution."

"She is?" Maya asked, "I don't remember that being part of it."

"Part of what?" Marigold asked, "Thule, please tell me."

"The night everything went to Hell," Thule said, "Maya and I planned
to kill you and Brianne and Randy Vanderbilt. I promised I'd get all
of you for Maya. She made me promise that, whatever I did to the other
two, I save a piece of you for her."

"Are you going to kill me?" Marigold asked. She wondered if she would
scream or try to stop him.

"No," said Thule, laughing mirthlessly, "Those were very angry times.
At some point, I realized that killing the three of you would just
mean you were dead. I wanted to punish you. I wanted you all to feel
the way Maya and I did that night. Do you know how we felt?"

"No," said Marigold, "What's going to happen to me?"

"You're going to talk to Maya. You're going to answer all of her
questions fully, honestly, and candidly. Then, I'm going to let her
punish you. You'll do what she tells you as if I were telling you to
do it."

"I can't," Marigold said, crying, "Please. I can't answer those
questions. I don't want to. I...I'm so sorry for what happened, for
what I did. Please, forgive me."

"I've already forgiven you," said Thule, "It's Maya's forgiveness you
need. But, she won't forgive you until you've answered her questions."

"And I make no promises then," said Maya, "I'm not in a very forgiving
mood."

"Regardless," said Thule, "You will have done what you can to achieve
forgiveness."

"Thule," Marigold said, on her knees now, crying, "I can't. I give up.
I don't care about our deal. Get me kicked out of school. I don't
care. This is too hard."

Thule shrugged, "Fair enough." He turned to Maya, "Sorry, honey. I
tried. I can't force her to do this. It won't work." He turned back to
Marigold, "You can have the bedroom we used last night. Maya and I
will take the other. I'll drive you home tomorrow."  Walking over to
Maya, he took her head in both hands, leaned down and kissed her
deeply, passionately. Marigold screwed her eyes shut.

"All right," she whimpered, not opening her eyes, "All right. You win.
I'll answer the questions. I'll take the punishment. But, only on one
condition."

"No conditions," said Thule.

"Hear her out," said Maya. Thule had let her go, but she still held
him around the hips, "It may be one of the conditions we've already
made."

"Thule," Marigold asked, crying, "Will you stay and protect me?"

Thule detatched himself from Maya. He took Marigold by the hand and
helped her to her feet. She rose. He looked her in the eyes.

"Little Flower," he said slowly, "You have a very strange definition
for the word, 'protect.'"

                                                -=-

The three of them sat in tableau on the bed, Maya cross-legged against
the headboard, Marigold facing her from the foot, leaning with her
back against Thule. The questions started easily enough. They covered
details all three already knew. Maya had been Marigold's only real
friend back in the seventh and eighth grade. Maya's family had moved
from Argentina suddenly, before they could begin teaching their
daughter English. Marigold had gotten left back after she missed too
much school following her father's death. They'd been inseparable. In
the summer between the eighth and ninth grade, Marigold's mother had
remarried and Marigold herself had gained the attention of the more
popular girls.

"And then you told them lies about me," said Maya. When angry, the
patrician Argentinian accent was still heavy.

"No," said Marigold, "I told only Brianne--and only the truth. That
you'd let a boy feel you up and a girl kiss you while we were at camp.
I betrayed your confidence, but I didn't make anything up."

Maya nodded, "Your candor is appreciated. From that point on, you were
popular and I wasn't. You made conditions on our continued friendship.
Like an attention-starved dog, I accepted. I continued to confide in
you and you told Brianne everything I told you. She twisted it, made
it sound worse than it was, and told everyone. Is that right?"

Marigold nodded miserably, "As far as I know. I betrayed every
confidence. I didn't really listen to the gossip when it got back to
me."

"But, you knew I was developing a reputation as a slut?"

Marigold nodded, "Yes. I knew."

"And I, oblivious to your treachary, continued to tell you everything,
including how miserable all of the gossip was making me. How I tried
to kill myself because I was so miserable. How boys grabbed me in the
halls because they believed they could. You knew all of this, didn't
you?"

"Yes," said Marigold, "I told Brianne. And she used it to make your
reputation worse and you got more miserable."

"And then," said Maya, "At the end of ninth grade, I started seeing
Thule. And, he protected me. And I was happy. And I told you I was
happy."

"And when Brianne found out," Marigold continued the story, "she tried
twice as hard to make you miserable. But, it didn't work. Thule
protected you and beat up anyone who tried anything with you. He beat
James McTimson so badly he was out of school for a month."

"But, you finally found a way to betray me to Brianne, didn't know.
After summer, I came to you, crying."

"Please," said Marigold, "I'm so sorry. I know the story. Please.
Punish me for it. I deserve it. I know I do."

"But, you don't know the whole story," said Maya, "I told you I was
pregnant and getting an abortion. You not only told Brianne. You told
your stepfather. Why did you do that?"

"I was hoping he would tell your father," admitted Marigold, "I didn't
want you to kill your baby. Thule, I didn't want her to kill your
baby."

"No other reason?" Maya asked.

Marigold wept for a long time, too miserable to answer. Thule held her
tighter, stroking her hair. Finally, he whispered in her ear, "You'll
feel better if you tell it all. Don't hold anything back."

"I did it," Marigold said through her tears, "because I wanted you to
go away. I hated you for letting me betray you. I didn't want to keep
seeing you and being reminded of it. As long as you were there, I had
to spy on you for Brianne. If you went away, I thought I could stay in
her favor and not have to pay much for it."

"But, you did..." Maya began.

"I also did it," Marigold whispered, "because you were the only other
person with a perfect GPA. All I could think was, one screw up, and
I'd be behind you and Thule. I wouldn't be valedictorian or
salutatorian. I'd just be nothing."

Maya stared at her, stunned, head tilted to one side, "Really?"

"I couldn't take the pressure," Marigold said.

"I didn't realize just how petty you really were," said Maya, "You
wanted me gone because of grades?"

"Yes," said Marigold, her head bowed, "That was the real reason I told
Jonas. I wanted your father to take you out of school so you'd be
disqualified as valedictorian."

"Was it worth it?" Maya asked.

"I thought so at the time," said Marigold, "I just wanted it so bad, I
lost sight of everything else."

"And now?" Maya asked.

"I don't care now," said Marigold, "I don't deserve Harvard. I don't
deserve college. I just want to be with Thule and I don't deserve that
either."

Maya looked up at Thule, "Damn," she said, "Thule, what did you do to
this girl?"

Thule shrugged, "I've been horrible to her since day one. I
blackmailed her. I got her ostracized.  I made her into a whore.  I
ordered her around. I violated her. I made her beg. This is just as
much a mystery to me as to anyone."

"Marigold," asked Maya, "How do you feel about Thule?"

She wanted to say that she loved him. But, she remembered the
prohibition, "I want to be with him. I want him to keep me."

"Even after what he's done to you?"

Marigold nodded, "I want him to keep treating me the way he has. I
like being his whore. I like being violated by him. No matter how
badly he treats me beyond that, I've earned it."

"That's a nice dress," Maya said, "Did Thule make you wear it?"

"Yes," said Marigold, "although he said I had a choice."

"Take it off," said Maya.  Marigold looked up at Thule.

"Obey her," said Thule.

Marigold stood, untied the dress, and let it fall to the floor.

"Sit back down," said Maya, "Thule, go sit in the chair for a bit."

"You don't get to order me around, Maya," said Thule evenly.

"Please," said Maya, "I want her to feel as naked and alone as I did."

Thule leaned down to collect the dress. He leaned down to Marigold,
"I'll be right here if you need me."

Maya leaned forward. To Marigold, she looked to be fully possessed by
her old, Mayan blood--a proud, bloodthirsty warrior. He straight,
black hair was even done up with a single, thin braid in red, white,
and green beads.

"Do you know who's baby I was forcd to have because of you?" Maya
asked.

"Thule's," said Marigold, then less certainly, "I always assumed it
was Thule's....If it wasn't Thule's, who was it?"

"Randy Vanderbilt," said Maya, "When she couldn't get at me any more,
Brianne went to the one boy that Thule couldn't thrash into
submission, convinced him I was a hot, little whore. Told him how bad
I wanted it. During the summer, he raped me. He raped a lot of girls
at our school. Most shut up because they were intimidated. A few had
to be bought off. But, I was the first."

"No," cried Marigold, "God, Maya, I didn't know."

"Randy Vanderbilt raped me because you told Brianne I was a whore and
Brianne told him."

Marigold sat there, completely miserable, naked, and alone. She was
sure that she was the worst person who had ever lived. She'd spent
three years trying to convince herself that this had never happened or
that, if it did, Jesus had forgiven her and that was all that
mattered.  Now, it was all laid out in front of her.

"So," said Maya, "Do you still expect absolution?"

"I don't expect anything," said Marigold, "I'm lost. If it will
ameliorate your pain to punish me, do it. Please."

Maya nodded, "Lie down, on your stomach."  She went into the living
room and came back with a heavy, black duffel back.  Reaching in, she
pulled out a long, black strip of cloth, which she tied around
Marigold's eyes as a blindfold. Next, Marigold felt cold steel as Maya
cuffed first one hand, then the other to the bed. Maya was blind and
bound now, completely at Maya's mercy.

"Christ, Maya," said Thule, "put that away. I told you that you
wouldn't be allowed to use those."

"Relax, mi corazon," said Maya, "I didn't repack my bag. Everything is
in here. I'm just looking for these." She laid something on the bed,
"And this. And, of course, these."

"You still use those?" Thule asked.

"You can't beat the classics."

Thule answered, sounding bored, "Just don't set off the sprinklers."

"Would you like to help?" Maya asked, sounding hopeful.

"No," said Thule, "I never had use for these things for my own sake."

"Suit yourself," said Maya, "You always said you wanted to watch me
work some time. Here's your chance."

Marigold heard Thule get up from his chair and cross the room to where
Maya was standing. She couldn't hear what was happening and began to
imagine that they were kissing, maybe undressing each other. She
imagined Maya, topless, on her knees, taking Thule's member into her
mouth the same way Marigold herself had done on their first encounter
so long ago.

When the strap stung across her bottom, it was a relief. As long as
Maya was beating her, she wasn't seducing Thule. Marigold cried out
anyway in shock and surprise. Maya struck her again and again, soon
getting a rhythm going.

Then, to Marigold's horror, the lust and sensitivity that had built up
all day began to reawaken. She didn't want to enjoy this. It was
supposed to be painful and humiliating. And, without a doubt, it was.
But, it was arousing, too. Soon, her cries of pain were coming out as
mewls of pleasure instead. The harder Maya hit her, the more aroused
she became.

"Please," Marigold begged, "stop."

Maya did. Marigold lay there, trembling. The effect was not lost on
Maya.

"Looks like I've got the touch," said Maya, "Thule, I think she's
enjoying it. Is that right, whore? Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes," Marigold whispered, "I'm so sorry. I just wanted to let you
punish me. I wanted to hate it."

"Oh, Marigold," said Maya, "It's all right. If you're enjoying it,
it's because you believe you deserve it. Do you believe you deserve
what I'm doing to you?"

"Oh, yes," said Marigold, enthusiastically.

"Would you like me to keep punishing you?" Maya asked.

"Yes, please," said Marigold.

"Call me mistress," said Maya.

"What?" asked Marigold?

Maya slapped the strap across Marigold's bottom, hard, "I said, call
me Mistress."

"Yes, Mistress," said Marigold, "Please keep punishing me."

Maya seemed to be moving around the bed now. She asked Thule, "Now,
can I use these?"

"No," said Thule emphatically.

"Can I ask her?" Maya said poutily.

"No," Thule said again.

"Spoilsport," answered Maya.

"Maya," said Thule, "I didn't want to let you do this. I did because I
promised I would. I thought you'd earned some vengeance. I did not
except you to be....flip about it."

"Thule," said Marigold, "It's okay. Really."

"No speaking," Thule and Maya said as one.

"If you want dark and broody, I can do dark and broody," said Maya, "I
did about two years of dark and broody. But, I'm happy with who I am
now."

"All right," said Thule, "do it your way--within the rules we
discussed."

Then, Maya was straddling Marigold's legs. Marigold felt hands on her
shoulders. Then, Maya drew her hands quickly down Marigold's back and
Marigold realized that she was wearing gloves with tiny spikes on
them. They scratched her, but did not break the skin. Marigold cried
out. They hurt, but she was already getting aroused by them to. As
Maya began to work them all over her back, bottom, and legs, sometimes
in circles, sometimes in swipes, Marigold fought with all of her will
not to come from the intesity of it. She didn't last long. Soon, she
was writhing, moaning, and gasping.  Maya seemed to enjoy the process
immensely and it went on for a very long time.  When she finally let
up, Marigold's body was vibrating from the top of her head to the
bottoms of her feet.

"Did you like that, Princess?" Maya asked.

Marigold nodded into the pillows, "Oh, yes. Very much."

"Good," said Maya, "ready for whatever comes next?"

"Yes," said Marigold.

What came next was a beating about the shoulders and the backs of the
legs with a rattan cane. Again and again, it thudded against her
flesh, a barely controlled thrashing. Once, it caught her in the backs
of the knees. She cried out in real, unmitigated pain.

"Oh, Princess," said Maya, "I'm so sorry. I'm getting sloppy. I should
stop."

"You're not done," whispered Marigold, "You still have the thing that
could set off the sprinklers."

"It's okay," said Maya, "You've had enough. I forgive you, Marigold."

"Thank you," said Marigold, tears running down her cheeks, "I don't
deserve your forgiveness, but I thank you. Still, you're not done."

"She's done, Little Flower," said Thule, "Maya, let her up."

"No," said Marigold, "Let her finish....Please."

"Out," Thule half-growled, half-shouted.

For a moment, Marigold strained to comply, so strong had the command
been in his voice.  Instead, she heard Maya say, "Dammit, Thule, this
is between her and me."

"Go in the living room for a minute," Thule said more calmly, "Or take
your bag and keep going. It's all the same to me. Either way, close
that door on your way out."

Marigold heard the door slam and felt Thule's weight on the bed.  His
hand stroked her back, so gently, soothing the ache and burn where it
touched.  Marigold trembled, waiting for him to speak.

"Are you enjoying your beating, Little Flower?" he asked at last.

"I don't mean to," she answered.

"I would think it rather defeats the purpose of the process if you
enjoy it too much," said Thule.  It was not a question and did not
seem to require an answer. Marigold held her silence.

"Fortunately for you," said Thule, "Maya doesn't seem to mind. In
fact, you seem to be playing into some deep-seated fantasy of hers. I
sent her in the other room partly so she can cool off for a minute or
two. She's almost as far gone as you are."

"Thule," Marigold asked, "Are you mad at me?"

"I don't know," said Thule, "You have, once again, defied my
expectations."

"What does she have that you're so afraid of letting her use on me?"

"Oh," said Thule, sounding dismissive, "Just some candles she's been
letting burn since she started."

Marigold sounded puzzled, "What's she going to do with them?"

Thule ignored her question, "Why did you ask me to stay and protect
you if you were going to try to override me?"

"I'm sorry, Thule," Marigold said, "I didn't mean to. It's just that
I'm embarassed. You got me so worked up all day that even this is like
sex to me right now. I was hoping that whatever she saved for last
might really seem like punishment, enought to let her feel like she's
really punishing me. I can never make up for what I did, but maybe I
can help her feel like she's gotten some measure of revenge. And maybe
she'll do something so awful and unforgiveable that I won't feel so
badly anymore."

"If I let her back in here," Thule said, "I'm going to let her finish
what she was building up to."

"Let her finish," said Marigold.

Thule got up from the bed. Marigold heard the door open.

"You can come and finish if you like," said Thule, "But, if you're
going to use the ice first, gag her. The neighbors are probably
sleeping."

Marigold heard running feet for a couple of seconds, then Maya's voice
from where Thule had just been standing.

"Oh, Thule," Maya said. To Marigold, it sounded like she'd been
crying, "I'm so sorry. I've missed you so much."

Thule's chuckle didn't not sound like it held much mirth or amusement,
"Yes, and I know how you've gone about missing me these last few
years, too. Just remember. I only invited you to let you punish
Marigold tonight, not yourself and not me."

Then, Marigold heard nothing for a while except the distant sounds of
the city. Straining her ears, she heard Maya sobbing hard, deep, and
low, like a dam had burst. Thule was making comforting sussurations.

He's probably petting her hair too, Marigold thought bitterly. The
bitterness surprised her. She realized she was saying to herself, in
effect, "Beat me, scratch me, burn me. Anything to make you feel
better. But, don't be hugging my boyfriend." She had to stifle a
laugh.

Then, one of them was on the bed, kneeling. She heard and felt as one
cuff, then the other was undone from the headboard.

"Is it over?" Marigold asked.

"No speaking," said Maya, "Roll over on your back. Relax your arms for
a minute, then put them back over your head so I can recuff you."

Once Marigold rolled over, Maya threw one leg over her, straddling her
stomach. At some point during the evening, Maya had shed her skirt.
Now, her soft knees and thighs pressed against Marigold's belly, bare
flesh to bare flesh. Just below her navel, Marigold could feel the wet
silk of Maya's panties. Maya leaned forward and began to run
Marigold's shoulders, deep healing circles, bringing sensation back
into them. Marigold sighed contentedly.

As Maya's fingertips moved more firmly down onto the pectorals, the
heels of her hands brushing over Marigold's achingly erect nipples, it
became suddenly clear to Marigold that, once again, she'd only noticed
half of what was going on. Thule had tried to tell her, but she'd been
so blinded by her own presupposition, she'd ignored the warning. As
Maya's hands closed on her breasts, Marigold let out a little whimper.

"I said," growled Maya, sounding remarkably like Thule, "No speaking."

"I'm pretty sure that was a whimper," remarked Thule.

Hearing his voice, knowing he was watching this, broke Marigold's
will, "No," she begged, "Please don't."

"But that was definitely speaking," said Thule. By the sound of his
voice, he was in the chair in the corner of the room.

Maya squeezed one of Marigold's breasts just hard enough to hurt,
"Princess, are you going to start misbehaving now, when we're so close
to done? After you volunteered your tender flesh? Speak again and I
will gag you. Put your hands back above your head."

Marigold did, coincidentally moving her breasts more fully into Maya's
hands. She felt herself blushing, but Maya seemed more interested in
binding her wrists than fondling her now. The cuffs snapped with a
frightening finality.

Once Marigold was secured, Maya asked, "Do you know what I wanted to
do to you tonight? I wanted to take one of my big, thick vibrators and
rape you with it," Her voice was savage now, "I wanted to strap it
around my waist and hear you beg and cry for mercy. I wanted to break
your spirit, then slap you in the face with it a couple of times, just
to show you who's boss. Do you think you would like that?"

"I don't know," Marigold answered, assuming it was safe to speak now,
"Everything that's given me pleasure since Thule started blackmailing
me has surprised me." She was crying now, although she'd be
hard-pressed to say why.

"Do you know why I'm not raping you right now?" Maya asked, "Do you?
Because Thule told me I couldn't do that. He's apparently gotten much
better at protecting his girlfriend from that sort of thing since..."

"Maya," said Thule, "I won't warn you again."

"But," said Maya, as if she hadn't heard him, "He let me beat you and
he's going to let me put my hands all over you, eat your pussy, and
make you eat mine. He doesn't seem to mind that at all. In fact, I
suspect, it's really turning him on. Is it turning you on, Thule?"

"Of course," said Thule.

"In fact," said Maya, cupping Marigold's breasts again, "I bet he'd
like to come over here and fuck both of us right now. Wouldn't you,
Thule?"

"No," said Thule, his voice nowhere near so calm, "I've still got
scars from the last two times I let you in. You do nothing for me
anymore, Maya. I'm fulfilling a promise I never should have made. Have
your revenge if you're so damned determined, but that's as far as this
goes."

Marigold felt Maya's thighs stiffen dangerously around her. Even
though the girl on top of her kept her voice calm, she was clearly
badly rattled by Thule's speech.

"So," asked Maya, "you really didn't invite me over to get the three
of us into bed together? You did it so I could punish Marigold,
without ulterior motive?" There was a pause as if Maya were waiting
for Thule to answer. When he didn't, Maya went on, "You did it so I
could do...this?"

The pain and burning hit Marigold so hard and suddenly that she cried
out, loudly. If Thule hadn't said anything about candles, she would
have thought she was being branded. As it was, Maya must have splashed
a whole candle's worth on her at once. It burned across her collarbone
and pectorals, splashing even on the tender underside of her arms.

"Not so much at once," said Thule, sounding disinterested, "We've
already left too many inexplicable substances on the sheets." Marigold
imagined she could see him trying to be calm when he really wanted to
rush over to the bed and free her. Maya complied nonetheless after
that, dripping little bits of wax on Marigold's stomach, chest, and
legs, drawing the process out, loving to watch Marigold flinch.

Amazingly, while Marigold did not come to enjoy the process, she found
that, after a while, it was like someone else getting hot wax poured
on them. She still felt it, but she felt like it was burning a part of
herself that couldn't get at her true self.

Eventually, Maya stopped. A moment later, she had undone Marigold's
blindfold and asked, "Thule, would you like to come and help sooth her
with ice?"

Thule came over, bringing the bucket of half-melted ice. With his left
hand, he begin peeling and smearing away the wax. His right followed,
first dipped only in the icy water, letting the warmth of his hand
moderate its cold. Maya was doing the same, but taking the opportunity
to fondle and molest her at the same time. Maya was wearing only her
panties now. Thule, absurdly, was still dressed in the pants and shirt
he'd worn to dinner. Both sets of hands were beginning to turn her on.
The ice made her skin incredibly sensitive, so much so that even a
casual breath could arouse her.

Thule uncuffed her so that he could sit behind her and sooth her back
as well. Marigold kept her eyes closed, reveling in the touch of, she
admitted to herself, all four hands. At some point, Thule's hands
became less therapeutic and more exploratory. Marigold leaned back
into him, loving being in his arms, smelling his scent and feeling his
warmth.

A hand slid between her legs, finding her clit and rubbing it
expertly. Marigold kept her eyes closed, rocking against it, not
wanting to open her eyes and see who was touching her like that. Half
twisting in Thule's lap, she tried to turn, blind as a newborn kitten,
and unbutton his shirt. Once he realized her intent, He stripped off
dress shirt and t-shirt underneath. Marigold turned again, rubbing her
back against the short, soft hair on his chest.

This time, when she came, it built slowly, gradually. Even after it
arrived, it kept building in intensity. Maya lowered her head to
Marigold's lap, kissing her way up one thigh, then the other. The part
of Marigold's mind that would have been appalled by how much she liked
that must have called it an early night because she felt only
pleasure. Her hands wrapped around the back of Maya's head, guiding
her in. Maya's tongue explored inside of her as she teased and sucked
Marigold's clit. Marigold was over the top now, moaning and growling
and making animal noises. Then, when she didn't think it could get any
more intense, Maya slid two fingers in on either side of her clit and
transferred her tongue into Marigold's ass.

Marigold was too stunned, surprised, and aroused to try to stop her
beyond some perfunctory protest noises. She let herself ride the waves
of pleasure, unperturbed by the undercurrents of right and wrong.
When Maya finally stopped, Marigold was more drained than she could
believe. At some point, Maya had taken Marigold's hand and placed it
between her own dark thighs. After a slow start, Marigold began to
find deep satisfaction in making Maya come as she mercilessly teased
and squeezed the smaller girl's clit, or drove her fingers deep
inside. When Maya pushed her head down, Marigold went almost
willingly, stopping only to suck at Maya's nipples, then bite one a
little too hard, eliciting a slight yelp of pain. When Maya looked
down, she only grinned up wickedly.

She found that she did not mind eating pussy as much as she thought
she would. While she was in no danger of giving up men for this
particularly delicacy, she reveled in her ability to make Maya squeal,
moan, squirm, and come. In fact, she'd even momentarily forgotten
Thule was there until he entered her, rock hard and seemingly huge.
She was spread out on all fours now, lapping at Maya. Thule took her
roughly, pounding away at her from the get-go. Marigold didn't care.
She pushed back against him, urging him to go faster. At the same
time, she gripped more firmly at Maya's hips so that, as her whole
body rocked forward and back with Thule's thrusting, Maya's hips went
back and forth as well.

When Thule came inside of her, they stopped as if by consensus.
Drained, the three of them collapsed on the bed, Marigold in the
middle, being spooned by Thule, and facing Maya.  Thule's hand traced
lazy circles that crossed from Marigold's leg to Maya's and back
again. Maya rained tiny kissed on Marigold's face, smiling and
laughing quietly. Lying together like that, they fell asleep.

                                                -=-

The edges of the sky were red with first dawn when Marigold awoke.
During the night, Thule had rolled over onto his back, leaving
slightly less than half the bed for the two girls. Marigold had ended
up wrapping her arms around Maya, who was barely five feet tall and
petite, like an oversized doll. When Maya slid silently from her arms
and padded away from the bed, Marigold pretended to be asleep, but
kept one eye on her old friend. Whatever had passed between them, she
didn't entirely trust Maya anymore.

Still, she had to chuckle to herself when Maya's nefarious predawn
mission seemed to be a trip to the bathroom. Seeing this, Marigold
realized her own urge and headed to the bathroom off of the other
bedroom.

When she came out, her eyes adjusted to the half light, she saw one of
Maya's bags open on the still-made bed. It was open and a few of the
"toys" they hadn't used that evening were on top. Unable to resist,
she reached into the bag and pulled out the dildo on top for closer
examination. She paled a little at the size of it, relieved that real
ones didn't seem to grow quite so big.

As she was about to put it back, she noticed a few other devices that
had been thrown in underneath it. Most of them she couldn't even guess
a use for. But, she did recognize the alligator clips and the
electrical leads coming off of a TENS unit. Realizing just how much of
Maya's repetoire had been thwarted, Marigold gave a shudder of relief
that Thule had been there to protect her.

It also made sense to her now why Thule had wanted nothing to do with
Maya as a lover now. Quickly replacing the dildo on top of the bag,
she headed back to the bedroom where Thule slept.

There, in the first rays of sunlight, Maya had positioned herself
between Thule's legs and taken him into her mouth. Marigold thought
that he was still asleep, but then saw his hand grope for Maya's head,
find it, and hold it where it was.

She wanted to shout at Maya or do something to make her stop. A vision
of retrieving the enormous dildo and using it on Maya to get her
attention flashed through her mind. Instead, she just stood and
stared. The image hit her like a suckerpunch in the gut. She was
powerless, she realized. She may belong to Thule, but Thule did not
belong to her. What could she do if he wanted to fuck every other girl
who crossed his path? She couldn't stop him from fucking her. She
damned well couldn't stop him from fucking Maya.

She almost fled the scene, but couldn't.  Instead, she pulled the door
mostly closed, so she could observe without being seen.  She kept
hoping that Thule would push Maya away.  Through her tears, she
watched as Maya slithered up Thule's body and impaled herself on him,
sinking onto his cock with a satisfied sigh.  Slowly, she rode Thule,
moving her hips up and down. After about a minute of this, Marigold's
last hope was lost. Thule was now clearly awake, his eyes open, his
voice too low for her to make out the words. Maya's response lilted in
counterpoint. For a moment, Marigold thought that Thule was struggling
to get out from under the other girl, but as he rocked forward, he
only changed positions so that, now, Maya was flat on her back, being
driven into the  mattress by his thrusting. Thule said something to
Maya, but all Marigold could hear was a growl. Maya laughed. Thule's
assault on her redoubled. Maya cried out in a sort of panicked
pleasure, but Thule cut the cry off with a hand over her mouth.

After only a few minutes, it was over. Thule let out a strangled cry
and rolled off of Maya. Both lay panting for a few seconds. Then,
Thule spoke. Maya rose and began collecting her clothes. Marigold
retreated into the living room. She didn't want to go back in the
other room, so she quickly lay down on the couch and closed her eyes.

Maya emerged a few minutes later, then disappeared into the other
room. She re-emerged a minute later and lay the two suitcases on the
floor near the front door. Then, she came over and kneeled beside the
couch. Marigold was determined to keep pretending that she was asleep,
but Maya leaned in and kissed her full on the mouth. In surprise, her
eyes flew open.

"Princess," said Maya, "I've got to get going, but I didn't want to
leave without saying goodbye."

Marigold looked her old friend up and down. For a moment, she wanted
to forgive everything. Instead, she just said, "Okay, Maya. Take care
of yourself."

"I've left my phone number and e-mail address on the pad on the desk,"
said Maya, "Call me some time. We'll get together, like old times...no
bag. I promise."

Marigold managed a smile, knowing she would never call or write.

Then, Maya was gone. The door clicked shut and it was only Marigold
and Thule, alone in the suite. She heard the bathroom door off of the
main bedroom close. She closed her eyes and in hopes of getting a
couple more hours of sleep.

She had already started to doze again when she felt a blanket being
laid over her. She opened her eyes as Thule placed a kiss on her
forehead.

"Hey," he said, "What are you doing out here?"

"You're a bed hog," she said, "There wasn't room for all three of us."

"Sorry," said Thule with a half smile, "I didn't expect it to work out
that way. Maya's gone now. Come back to bed."

"I'm fine here," she murmured, snuggling deeper into the blanket.

Thule shrugged, "Suit yourself. I'm going to have time for breakfast
before my meeting today. Get some sleep. I'll wake you for it later."

True to his word, Thule woke her a little bit later. The sky was blue
now, "Get dressed," he said, "We're going down to the restaurant."

Knowing better than to argue, Marigold got up and headed for the
shower. Soon, she was clean, dressed, and freshly coiffed. Thule was
dressed as he had been pretty much all weekend. Almost as soon as they
had ordered breakfast, Thule's cell phone rang. Plugging one finger in
his ear, he still had to shout to be heard over the crowd. Finally, he
cupped the phone, "I'll be back in a second."

As Thule left the restaurant, Paul passed him in the doorway. When he
saw Marigold, he waved.  She had no choice but to wave back.

"Having breakfast alone?" he asked.

"No," said Marigold, "Thule just had to step out for a phone call."

Paul smiled ruefully, "Who?"

"Bart," said Marigold, remembering what she'd told Paul, "Thule is an
old nickname of his from high school."

"Well," he said, "give him my regards." As he walked away, Marigold
felt like she had dodged a bullet.

"So," Thule asked when he came back to the table, "Who was that?"

"Who was who?" Marigold asked disingenuously.

"The tall sandy-haired man you waved to and chatted with briefly,"
said Thule.

"Oh," said Marigold, trying to be nonchalante, "That's Paul. He's from
Australia."

"Hmmm," said Thule, "I presume that you know that because he just
walked up to the table and said, 'Hello. I'm Paul from Australia.'"

"I met him while I was swimming yesterday," said Marigold. For some
reason, she could not resist the urge to taunt Thule a little, "He
wanted to buy me a drink."

"And, did he buy you a drink?" asked Thule.

For some reason, Marigold hadn't anticipated that question. By the
time she said, "no," the pause had been too long to mean anything but,
"yes." So, she added, "What do you care? After summer, you and I are
never going to see each other anyway. You're obviously making plans to
get on with your life."

Thule didn't answer. He watched her and cracked his knuckles.

"Besides," she blurted out, "You never forbade me to speak to other
men."

"No," he said, "That's true. I guess I can only expect you to do what
I tell you."

The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the waitress
bringing their food. Finally, Marigold sought to break it, "So, what
was the phone call about?"

"My potential partners from yesterday's meeting," said Thule, "They
talked over the proposals I put on the table yesterday and don't think
they can go with any of them."

"So, that's it?" asked Marigold.

"There's still today's meeting," said Thule, "Different possible
client. But, it's pretty much my last lead."

"I hope you got enough sleep," said Marigold.

Thule's fork paused over breakfast, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Marigold shrugged, "Just that we had a late night--and you were up
awfully early this morning. I think you're starting to get dark
circles under your eyes."

Thule grunted, "Did you sleep well? I woke up and you were gone."

"I woke once or twice during the night," Marigold said, oh so
casually.

Thule leaned in, "Don't fuck with me, Marigold."

There was so much menace in his voice that Marigold almost recanted.
She was in no position to be adversarial. But, instead, she heard
herself saying, "Why not? I thought that was what you wanted from me?"

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence. When Thule finished
eating, he said, "Make sure you have everything packed and in the car
by one. My meeting should be over by then and we need to check out.
Meet me back here once you're done."

"And, am I forbidden to speak to other men while you're gone?"
Marigold asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

Thule stood up abruptly, "Do whatever the hell you want."

--Vulgar Argot
  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/VulgarArgot/index.html
--
"I've been accused of vulgarity. I say that's bullshit."
  --Mel Brooks

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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