Don't Label Me! (11 page)

When she re-entered the main room he was
already propped up in a modestly sized bed. There’d be barely
enough room for the two of them but they’d make do. He had turned
down the sheets and was waiting for her.

“
Come slave, come and warm your
master.” He patted the small amount of bed space beside
him.

Snuggling up against him she nuzzled his
chest. It was lightly sprinkled with hairs. A merchant navy anchor
and mermaid tattoo adorned his left shoulder, the mermaid’s tail
extending down towards his nipple. She took the mermaid’s hint and
suckled. She was improvising, not sure how this slave girl should
behave for her master. He’d liked her kissing him in the shower so
she went with that, kissing, nuzzling and licking her way over the
landscape of his body.

He groaned his pleasure and seemed to enjoy
what she was doing but when she reached his cock she noticed to her
horror it was still flaccid. Had she failed so badly?

He must have felt her tense. “It’s not you
slave. I had a groin injury a long time ago. You won’t get any
action out of me but I do enjoy the affection. Continue what you
are doing.”

Her heart actually went out to the man
who she had believed to be her nemesis.
Goddess, grant me some kind of magic that I may bring this
man a moment’s joy.
Logically she knew that there was
little that could be done for such an injury but she couldn’t help
but pray anyway. With a new resolve she committed herself to giving
him what she could. Nuzzling his limp cock she sucked it gently
into her mouth and let her tongue dance along the its length, it’s
veins and the ridge of tissue that formed the corona. Not being
African, Jewish or American he wasn’t circumcised. He was still
acutely sensitive to the long slow lick she gave the tissue under
his foreskin. His cock shuddered and seemed to stiffen slightly
despite his claims.
Goddess yes, even if
he can’t come let me give him this.

Encouraged by his groans and the tremor that
rumbled through his body like a long inactive volcano coming to
life she continued her ministrations. She learnt from his responses
and directed her attention accordingly, giving long deep sweeps of
her tongue along the length of his cock. One side, then the other.
Never resorting to monotony but instead varying her strokes, she
watched in amazement as his cock grew from the flaccid heap of
forlorn flesh she had met into a moderately large cock. When the
tip sparkled with precum she knew he was close. Taking him wetter
and deeper than anything she had originally been prepared to give
him he came with a roar that shook the room. She made sure to suck
him down and stayed there, nuzzled, until she was sure his orgasm
had taken its full course.

Whispering her thanks to the goddess she
repositioned herself to nuzzle next to him.

A half hour later he stirred momentarily.
“Gods woman, I don’t know how the hell you did that but thank you.
I will be sure to speak highly of you. Now go. I wish to
sleep.”

Sathi nodded her thanks and quickly
redressed leaving the now snoring man to his ease. When she
returned to her own room, escorted by Roger, her guru hugged her.
“I knew you would graduate with honors.”

They made love that night like there was no
tomorrow. When she woke in the morning her guru was gone.

A hand shaking her shoulder woke her from
her dream of the past.

“
I must be working you too hard
girlfriend.”

Sathi shook herself and smiled back at her
concerned boss. “No worries, I just needed to clear my head of
those numbers for a minute. Nothing a strong cup of tea won’t fix.
The accounts are all done by the way.”

Sheila hugged her. “You’re gold Sathi. What
did I do before you?” Then she hurried off to put the electric jug
on.

“
Tea seems a poor reward for all your
hard work.” Sheila place a mug of Sathi’s favorite ceylon tea
before her.

“
Nothing I could ever do would repay
what you, Lewis and the other club members did in paying off my
debt and freeing me.”

Sheila seemed to hesitate a moment before
sitting down with her own cup. “There is something I’d like to ask
but I really don’t want you to feel obliged. Even just asking you
after what you just said makes me feel like I’m manipulating the
situation but in truth I just came up to see if you’d mind helping
me.”

Sathi rested her hand reassuringly on
Sheila’s. “Ask!”

“
It’s just that you seem to have a
sixth sense of some kind with people. I was wondering if you’d mind
just being in the room when I interview prospective members. You
could give some kind of discrete signal that would tell me they’re
okay or not. It was easier in the past when BDSM was a hidden sin.
People only came forward through recommendations of existing
members. Now we’re getting all and sundry turning up at our door. I
usually turn them away if they’re a total unknown but that means
I’m also rejecting potential income for the club.”

Sathi’s respect for Sheila’s powers of
observation went up another notch. She’d thought she’d been doing
well hiding the certain strangeness that had visited her of late.
The occasional snippets of what appeared to be other people’s
thoughts, glimpses of colours flashing around their being, even an
increasing sense of well being like nothing she’d experienced
before. She couldn’t put a finger on the cause of it but it seemed
to go back to the time she’d met Kit and Helena. What the
connection was she didn’t know but she could see no harm in using
her new skills to help her friend. “Is that all? Of course I don’t
mind. Why would I mind?”

“
Some can get a bit agro when I tell
them no. You might not like the vibes of being in the room. I think
you’re sensitive to such things as well, am I right?”

Yeah she didn’t like being around the ones
that flashed red or some of the sludgier or darker colors. They
felt somehow prickly, like their energy rubbed against hers.
Sometimes she’d feel nauseous or headachy after being around people
like that. “If they get too much I’ll leave the room. In fact we
could use that as your subtle cue that they’re a no-go. I’ll simply
excuse myself for some errand.”

“
Good thinking. I’ve got a few
potential members booked for interviewing in about an hour. You be
okay to leave this for a while and come down a bit before
then?”

“
Yeah, sure. I’ll just package this up
for the accountant before I come downstairs to your
office.”

The first few prospective members were nice
enough. A well groomed domme in her fifties and her forty something
hunk of a sub who quietly sat at her feet throughout the interview.
They’d obviously been a couple for some time and were just looking
to ‘come out’ and mix with like minded souls.

Then there’d been the goth girl, all dolled
up in a black lace and leather outfit, black mascara and equally
black nails. She’d been shy, still uncertain of what she was but
certainly no threat to the club. After the young woman left Sathi
spoke to Sheila about the girl’s lack of self esteem. Sheila would
make sure that she got a minder assigned to her when she started
coming to the club. The girl would grow into herself but only with
adequate protection.

“
Who’s next?” Sathi asked as her boss
scanned the names on the list.

Sheila picked up the application that went
with the name. “A Sebastian Fishwyck. A businessman with a dom
fetish. He doesn’t have a sub of his own. We’ll have to be
particularly careful with this one. We don’t need any dom wanna-be.
Fair enough if he’s willing to learn but we’ll need to be on the
look out in case he’s someone who might harm one of our more
submissive members.”

Yeah, members like their new goth. “I can’t
promise I’ll pick up everything about him but I’ll give it a go.”
If she could pick through his thoughts though she’d know.

“
Don’t sweat it. We’ll get background
checks done on him too. You’ve been doing great so far.”

Sathi sat off to the side of the office,
appearing to be going through some papers. She glanced up when Mr
Fishwyck entered the room and couldn’t steel the horror from her
face. Staring back at her from within his aura was something evil.
It had to be the biggest, snarliest beast she’d ever seen and it
was purely etheric. The nightmare of a reptilian creature had
tangerine eyes in an almost lion-shaped head. Those eyes were
peering at her curiously now, with a look something akin to a
savage beast that had just spotted its favorite prey. Sathi felt
equally hammered by the evil entwined thoughts that were issuing
forth from Mr Fishwyck’s mind. Gods she needed to learn how to
block this shit.

Sheila looked with concern at her colleague.
“You alright Sathi, you’ve gone very pale?”

“
Must have been something I ate,
please excuse me.” She rushed out of the room.

Melissa gasped, both horrified and awed. At
the gateway to the portal she’d seen were two poles and up on top
of each of those poles were what looked for all the world to be
shrunken heads. At least they didn’t look like fresh heads. If the
odd assortment of clothing and paraphernalia that hung from the
poles was anything to go by the skulls dated back to the second
world war.

Doc stepped forward and examined the
clothes. Fishing into one of the pockets he found some papers. He
recognised the script. “Poor bastards. They were Japanese soldiers.
Unfortunately the Japanese weren’t into surrendering and back then
if you tried to fight in these parts and lost you lost your head as
well. The local tribes wouldn’t take your scalp if you
surrendered.

George arched an eyebrow worriedly. “But
they don’t head hunt anymore do they?”

Doc just looked at him thoughtfully, as if
formulating an answer.

“
Do they?” George
persisted.

“
Officially they don’t but from time
to time there have been outbreaks, usually as part of ethnic
violence. The last was in the 1990s,” Doc explained.

Rob looked puzzled. “I thought they were
Christians these days.”

Doc shrugged his shoulders “And...? There’s
plenty of people around the world who label themselves as
Christians but don’t have qualms about killing other Christians let
alone people of other persuasions. The fact that someone might use
a knife rather than an AK47 or a missile doesn’t really make much
difference does it? Not all Dayak are christianized by the way.
Some are Muslim but others follow the old animist ways,
unofficially. They’ve had to rebrand their traditions as a religion
called Kaharingan and write a bible of sorts for it because it’s
illegal in Indonesia to follow a pagan faith.”

Rob leaned over to whisper in Melissa’s ear.
“Animist?”

“
They find the sacred in everything,”
she whispered back.

“
And they have a strong sense of
honor, respect for courage and they despise wastefulness. Both the
men and women have equal value and rights to inheritance,” Doc
added, who’d heard their whispered conversation anyway.

George wondered how they’d tell the
different factions apart if they met any. “What do the animist
tribes look like Doc?”

“
Not much different than the others I
suppose. I’ve never been here remember. Bali’s as different from
Borneo as Ireland is from Norway. I’m only going on what I’ve heard
growing up or was taught at school. Before they were converted many
Dayaks had marvelous tattoos. I’ve seen pictures in books. Often
they had them on legs and arms but occasionally even the neck as a
kind of magical protection against being beheaded themselves. It’s
likely the more traditional tribes might still have
them.”

It was getting boring listening to George
and Doc discuss their meagre knowledge of Dayak culture. Honestly
the best way to know the people here was to meet them. Melissa
decided to walk closer to the passageway that shimmered with a play
of light that was only visible to her. She held out her arms and
closed her eyes. Seeing instead with her third eye. “Erce, Erce,
Earthen Modor...” The ancient Saxon wiccan chant seemed alien here
but it was what she knew. Feeling no response from the energy field
in front of her she let the chant fall away and went with honest
intent instead, trusting it spoke a universal language. “Great
mother hear me, spirits of this place hear me. We come in peace
seeking a friend lost in ancient times. We mean no harm. Let us
enter your passageway. Let us pass and travel to find the one that
rests in stone, deep within this place. We wish to bring her love
and healing. Let us pass as friends, unharmed, into your sacred
space.” This time a warm caress, a tingle of energy flowed over her
skin. “Come on guys. I think they just opened the door for us.”

The jungle on the other side was a stark
contrast. More alive, darker, older. Moss dripped from ancient
trunks. There’d never been any logging or slash and burn
agriculture here. A far greater array of birds in all the colors of
the rainbow danced in the trees, shepherding the newcomers into
their forest, singing a crescendo of song.

Doc looked almost tearful. “This is what I
always dreamed my homeland should look like. Maybe it did once,
many thousands of years ago.”

“
It’s like something out of that
Avatar movie.” Melissa mused.

George and Rob followed, watchful, trying to
look into the depths of the darkness. A twig snapped nearby. Their
hearing went on alert.

Something stung Melissa’s shoulder and she
swatted it to brush it aside. It wasn’t an insect. “Ah shit guys. I
think they’re using darts.” A moment later her vision blurred and
she crumpled into a heap.”