Oil of Roses Behind the Wall of ThornsChapter 18
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CHRISTMAS
Eddie
“Merry Christmas, y’all.”
“Merry Christmas, boss-man,” Janet said, as Perry and Bevy glared. “You got any idea where we are?”
Eddie Janak looked to Ike Abromowitz.
“Still in Pyanmar,” Ike said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Once we get back under the trucks, probably another, what, seven, eight hours to til we head off-road?” he continued, looking at their driver.
The wiry little driver nodded, grinning like a madman, and said something to Ike in his native tongue.
“Chit says we need to get back in there. No telling if the military are still patrolling this road, with the protests, but we don’t want to push our luck.”
“I’m gonna remember this Christmas for the rest of my life,” Perry grumbled. “Manure and dust, dust and manure.”
“Freedom,” Bevy said, shutting up his roommate’s grumbles.
Pillow
She’d been so close to escaping she could taste it.
Now, she was squirming around on a cold tile floor, waiting for someone to take the bag off her head, and the ring gag, with its annoying tongue depressor, out of her mouth.
Nothing to worry about, in the scheme of things. She’d talk her way out of wherever those clueless fucks at Chorale had sent her. Then she could contact Christopher, get her money, and move the hell on. She’d done her job, and could give him and his friends more than enough information on Chorale.
She had manipulated Travis and Gay into making the introduction, and Gay’s buttons were so easy to push ... her ending up with Chorale has been assured. Now, with a little more work, it would be pay day.
Pillow heard someone approaching, and began to moan softly to herself. Pity, party of one, coming up.
She kept up the moaning as straps were fitted on to her, and she was hoisted up in the air. So, some suckee-fuckee. Wasn’t the first time. She hoped whoever was clean, at least. Let them have their jollies, then start figuring out their strings, and pulling on them.
Whomever had strapped her in left the room, and she swung slowly, not worrying. At least now, if she had to piss, or shit, she wouldn’t be lying in it.
Someone else was coming, humming to themselves. Sounded like “Pop Goes the Weasel”...
“Oh, my pretty, precious playtoy...”
The voice was male, almost falsetto, high and scratchy.
Pillow was frightened ... and she wasn’t sure why, which was most unlike her. She was hard to scare, and always knew why on the rare occasion she was.
She continued her piteous moaning.
“Oh, playtoy, that won’t do at all, sweetling. Hush now, hush...”
Pillow felt cold hands moving over her body, and her moans froze in her throat.
“There, there ... you won’t have to worry about that for long, sweetling...”
A cold tongue licked its way across her back, leaving a clammy, slime-like trail.
“A day or two, and we’ll have you, and your little friend, Nell, under the knife. Remove your vocal cords, your eyes ... remove your eardrums, sew the holes shut...”
Pillow screamed, and kept on screaming.
“We’ll pull your teeth ... and you’ve inspired us, sweetling. We’re going to take Nell’s arms and legs, make you the two of you twins! You’ll be such a yummy pair!”
The bag came off Pillow’s head, She blinked, saw her tormentor, and screamed all the louder.
Harry
He had been peacefully asleep between Tamara and Merry when his bladder began to complain. Good Irish coffee wouldn’t help you stay awake, but the coffee portion affected the bladder as it always did nonetheless.
Opening his eyes, he saw Tamara’s face before him, still asleep. Harry offered up a silent prayer that Eddie would be home with his family soon.
He carefully slid himself down, and off the edge of the bed, reasonably sure he hadn’t disturbed any of his four bedmates ... to find Kendry standing there, waiting for him.
“C’mon, Master Gimpy,” she whispered, taking his arm.
Once they were in the bathroom, with the door closed, Harry said, “So, how you holding up?”
Kendry laughed softly.
“Didn’t think I’d ever let myself miss someone this much again.”
“Well, at least he and the crew are safe and sound while all the protests are going on,” Harry said, sighing as he peed.
Kendry looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and pursed lips.
“You were never in the military, were you?”
“No,” Harry said, “why?”
“Best time to do something like get the hell out of Pyanmar? When something else is attracting the police and military’s attention.”
Harry’s eyes brightened.
“Like wide-spread protests...”
“Exactly. I’m not going to say anything to Tammy and the others, but I’d be willing to bet they aren’t in the embassy anymore. Now,” she continued, “I’m not saying what they’re trying is going to be all that much safer. Somebody official may figure things like I did. But with the junta doing an ‘everybody on full alert right now’ thing, like they are, anybody who figures they might make a run for it may not really give a shit. Pyanmar government tends to look at protests like these as step one on the road to revolution – and they’re far too comfortable in their jobs to let that happen. So...”
“So we don’t know anything, until we hear something.”
“Exactly.”
Harry stood up from the toilet, pulled his lounging pants back up.
“All right, let’s get Master Gimpy back to bed,” he said. “And thank you.”
“For what?”
“A reason this may be a merrier Christmas than I was expecting.”
Dominique
She’d come out for the weddings, leaving the club in Sinfonia’s capable hands, with Randy’s assistance, and just hadn’t gone back yet. She was sleeping on the floor of a room that had been her’s, until the vast majority of the wedding guests had left, and the submissives whose room it had been returned. Cindy, Rosalie, and Laura were more than willing to sleep on the floor, continue to let her have the bed, but she’d ordered them to let her have the floor. It was their room, after all. She was just ... she was just hanging around, lost, kind of like a ghost.
The weddings had affected her, leaving her melancholy, and feeling very much alone in the world. Dominique didn’t want to go back to her bedroom, high above the club.
What she wanted more than anything was a chance to talk with Carol, but she was reticent to bring her mood into happy occasions like the weddings, Christmas, the honeymoons.
So she hid out in the vastness of Chorale South, having food brought to her by her impromptu roommates, trying her best to avoid being seen by any of her friends ... any of her family.
She knew her staff were worried about her, and she’d spoken with them by phone, but felt no real desire to immerse herself in the day-to-day routine of running the club.
Dominique spent most of her time thinking, examining her life, and her situation.
“Mistress,” Rosalie said.
“Yes,” Dommi replied from her pallet on the floor.
“You were crying in your sleep, Mistress. May I please go get Milady Carol?”
“No, Rosalie,” Dommi said. “I am sorry I woke you. What time is it?”
“10:30, Mistress. I heard last night that brunch was between 11 and whenever. Would you like to come down with us? I’m sure you’d be welcome.”
“No, no thank you, sweetheart. If one of you would bring me back something, I’d appreciate it. I’m going to hit the shower while you’re away.”
Carol
It was noon before Carol stumbled out of bed.
“Candy,” she mumbled, “shower.”
“Yes, Milady.”
There was coffee waiting when she got out, and Carol sucked down a large mug-full like it was air.
“Think you can handle the stairs now, sweetheart?” Harry asked.
“Yeah.”
“But she’s still not too sure about conversation,” Candy said. “Long day yesterday. Longer night.”
“You ain’t shittin’,” Kelly said.
“Makes me glad Christmas only comes once a year,” Margo said, scratching herself. “That shower thing sounds like a plan. Radhika, attend me.”
“Yes, Madam.”
“Where are the newbies?” Kelly asked.
“Downstairs, managing breakfast I’m sure,” Harry said.
“You’re crazy,” said a muffled voice from the pile of bodies on the bed. Magda raise up on one arm. “That shit ended last night, Master Husband.”
“Harry will do,” Harry said, chuckling.
“Yeah,” Lori said, pushing Angela off her. “We’re not in charge here anymore. It’s all in the Culberson’s capable hands.”
“Sure enough,” Magda said. “Mistress Kissie said last night if she heard of us being in that kitchen again she was going to ‘whup us’, so we got to sleep in this morning. Can I have some of that coffee, please?”
There was a knock at the door, and Candy went to open it.
“Yes?”
“I’m here to see Milady Carol, my name is Rosalie.”
Carol opened the door to Rosalie’s room.
“Dommi?”
“Shit,” Dominique said, “one of them ratted me out.”
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
Carol sat on the floor beside her old friend.
“You’re camping out in some subbies room ... why? After the wedding guests left, we could have found you your own room.”
“You would have asked too many questions, Carol. Questions I don’t have any good answers for. It was ... it felt safer for me to just ... camp out here.”
“Honey, you’re still in the clothes you wore to our wedding.”
“It’s the cleaner of the two outfits I brought.”
“Okay ... would you talk with me about it? Maybe between us we can find those answers.”
Margo
“Where’s Carol? We’ve got a lot of folks wanting to do Christmas morning stuff?”
“Even though it’s 2:30 in the afternoon,” Kelly added.
“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Candy, where’s Milady?”
“I’m ... not supposed to say, sir.”
“Why?” Margo asked, in a voice that was on the edge of anger.
“She’s dealing with a friend who’s having trouble. That’s really all I feel I can say.”
“So you know where she is. All right, go ask her when we may expect her,” Margo replied. “Tell her we understand, we’re just wondering.”
“Yes, Madam.”
Margo watched Candy hurry out of the foyer toward the stairs.
“Radhika, choose some assistants and start distributing stockings.”
That would keep a houseful of subs busy for a while.
Ten minutes later, more or less, Margo saw Candy returning. She came over to Margo and whispered in her ear.
“Milady is on her way, with Mistress Dominique. She asks that you all act normally, as if you knew Mistress Dominique was staying over after the weddings.”
“Certainly.” Margo raised her voice. “Harry, Kelly, Magda, Lori, over here if you would?”
Carol
It had taken her some time, but she’d gotten Dommi to agree to come down with her. Carol had found a clean bathrobe for her, had given her time to recover from the tears she’d shed, and then escorted her old friend down to the Christmas festivities.
She found the two of them seats in the foyer, close to the rest of the family, and had Rosalie get coffee for Dommi. Then she went to talk to her spouses.
“Look, she’s feeling lonely, cut off from anything like a family, except when we’re at her club. Even then, it’s not ‘real’ to her. But coming to the weddings ... she felt what she was missing. She didn’t want to go back to the way things were, but she didn’t know what to do about it. That’s the short form, there’s more to it. So, I’m moving her in here. While we’re away, I’m having the suite next to ours made into her room – hers, and the three subs she’s been crashing with.”
“What about Ricky?” Kelly asked.
“Dommi and all three of her subs have parted ways – real recently from what I gather. Sounded amicable, to hear her tell it. I’m not sure why. She’s feeling alone, and lost. For now, she needs to be here. I wish we didn’t have to leave her here while we went to Chicago, but there’s nothing we can do about that.”
“Well, we’ll ask Mom and Dad to include her in on things,” Kelly said. “She’s run a club for so many years, maybe some of it will carry over into running this asylum.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Margo said.
“Now,” Carol said, “sounds like we need to get this Christmas business started.”
Harry
Getting a little something for all their subs had looked like a nightmare, until Carol had chimed in with advice.
“It doesn’t have to be all that individualized,” she’d told Harry. “Some of these people have gotten gifts before, some of them, especially from the Elder Houses, haven’t. Some of them have never gotten a gift from their Dominants in their entire lives.”
So, a lot of gift certificates to local stores, along with bracelets engraved with their names, and ‘House Chorale’. The subs who’d been with the House longer received more personal items.
“Are you sure they’re all as happy as they look?” Harry asked Carol.
She grinned. “Oh yes, my love, they are. Between the stockings, and these gifts, plus good treatment, and the Irish coffee thing last night? We have a happy houseful of submissives.
“Though, we should have special treats for the staff, like last night, more often.”
“Good. They deserve to be happy. And we can work on special treats,” Harry said.
He watched with glee while his spouses opened their gifts.
Kelly had been the easiest to shop for. As a clothes fanatic, particularly where leather was concerned, her gifts had her squealing in something which sounded close to orgasm.
“There can not be enough leather in my closet!” she chortled.
Carol hadn’t gotten around to replacing the stereo equipment she’d inherited from Tony, so her spouses had invested in a system which was an audiophile’s wet dream, plus Harry had been slowly finding some replacements for the vinyl that had been lost. Only about thirty albums so far, but the tears in Carol’s eyes told him they’d done well with her gifts.
Margo was difficult, but between Kelly and Carol they’d come up with several outfits she was sure to love, and were more than sure to give Harry a diamond-cutter of an erection. Harry had added in a week at a very exclusive spa in Arizona, because he was pretty sure Margo might explode if she didn’t get away periodically.
Magda and Lori had gotten interesting outfits of their own, different enough from Kelly’s and Margo’s that Kelly was shooting envious looks at them. And undoubtedly planning shopping trips to come.
In addition, he’d gotten all his spouses, and himself, platinum rings inscribed with ‘Ut superesse, vicerimus, crescere nos’.
“I decided our marriage, hell, our House, needed a motto. ‘We endure, we conquer, we thrive’, roughly translated.”
“It’s perfect, Harry,” Margo said, tears in her eyes.
“Yes it is, my love,” Carol agreed.
“I think it should a little more toward ‘we kick ass’, but yeah, Harry,” Kelly said.
Magda and Lori were quiet for a moment.
“Thank you for including us,” Lori said, as Magda nodded.
“Your wedding bands may reflect your status as newcomers to the firm,” Harry said. “But these reflect you belonging with us, in the marriage, in the House, in this life.”
He found himself buried in teary-eyed females, which didn’t upset him at all.
Jason
It had taken some sage advice from Carol for Jason to find suitable gifts for his ladies.
For Donna, a sweeping black leather coat, slit up the back, with silver buckles and buttons. For Abby, the same coat in crimson leather. Both of them received chainmail leashes, and tri-strap collars with three buckles, accented with a ladder of silver O rings.
For Donna, a steel butt plug with ‘Good Girl’ on the stopper. Abby’s read ‘Sweet as Candy’.
He was glad he was wearing a bathrobe that was quite concealing when they knelt on either side of him, and whispered what they were going to do to thank him. Those whispers alone made all the trouble of ordering the coats from Uncle Antiquity worth the effort. He’d had to do it while they were all there together, and somehow hide it from his ladies.
From Donna and Abby, he received leather pants, gloves, and some flowing linen shirts in white, black, and crimson.
Along with some very stimulating promises about things to come.
From their step-parents, they received beautiful leather boots. Jason’s were less fancy, and lower topped, than the ladies, and as Donna tried hers on, he caught a glimpse inside her robe, saw how high the boots came up her thighs, and almost began to drool.
She caught the look in his eyes and nodded.
“I know, right. Just imagine me in these, and anything else your heart desires.”
“Oh...”
“Exactly,” Abby said, flipping her robe open. “Mine go almost as high.”
“Father,” Jason said, his voice cracking. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“You’re young, you’ll survive,” Harry replied amid the laughter of the rest of the crowd. “I’m not so young, so ladies, please refrain from modeling them for the rest of us.”
The crowd groaned with dismay.
From his mother, he inherited her car.
“I’m not going to need it anymore, sweetheart, and Ashley should have something to drive you around in.”
Personally, Jason wondered if Ashley would think driving a dark green 2004 Dodge Stratus was all that much of a treat, but he appreciated it nonetheless.
Margo
Margo and the others had worried about a suitable present for Harry. He wasn’t really into clothes, unless his spouses were wearing them, and the headspace he’d been in since the fire had left his wives wondering if any gift would have much impact on him.
And then Kelly had run across Nadereh, the voluptuous Arabian woman they’d bought at the party from House Tolliver. Harry had been entranced by her, but with all the hubbub since then, she’d been lost in the horde of submissives, and his attention had been drawn elsewhere.
Kelly had brought her to Margo’s office, and Nadereh had entertained them with songs, and dances, and an idea had been sparked in Margo’s mind.
“So, Harry,” she said as they proceeded toward the bunker entrance, “as I have my office, we decided to fit out a space to be all yours.”
“Can’t say I’m looking forward to the stairs down...” he said, as Camille pushed him in the wheelchair.
“That’s why there’s now...” Kelly said, as Carol made ‘drum roll’ sounds, “a ramp!”
“Marvelous!” Harry said. “And it’s gradual enough I can get down and back up just using the railing!”
“Exactly. Wouldn’t do much good to create a ‘Harry Hideaway’ you couldn’t get to easily,” Carol said.
Margo didn’t comment how worried they’d been the ramp wouldn’t be finished in time ... as the bathroom fixtures in the hideaway weren’t.
She watched her husband’s face as they approached the end of the long hallway, at the very back of the bunker. Carol had suggested they continue the pattern from the hideaway’s walls out into the hall, and her husband was clearly delighted.
“I remembered how much you loved the ‘Geometric Patterns in Islamic Art’ exhibit we visited,” Margo said. “And the décor is appropriate...”
Harry peered through the door.
“Given it matches the theme we were aiming for,” Kelly finished.
“Oh my...” Harry said, his voice little more than a whisper.
The interior walls were decorated in the Islamic girih style, with repeating patterns of 10, 8, and 5 pointed stars, in various shades of blue and blueish-green. A Moroccan carved wooden inlay desk was in one corner, with a marquetry chair, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. To the left, in what had been a second separate room, behind an ornately carved wooden screen, was a magnificent bed, with a massive hand-tooled headboard. And then, behind another carved screen, in what had been yet another separate room, was a bathroom, done in green tiles, with a long, deep bathtub, toilet, bidet, and sink ... all still in the process of installation.
And leaning against the tub was Nadereh, wearing translucent harem pants, and nothing else.
“And we decided you had neglected this lovely creature long enough,” Margo said.
“This is your place, Harry my love,” Carol said. “No one, not even Nadereh, enters these rooms without your permission. If you need to escape, for any reason, or just want some quiet time – at least, quieter than elsewhere in this madhouse, come here. We will not disturb you unless it’s an emergency.”
Harry sat back on the huge bed, tears running down his cheeks.
“Thank you,” he said, sniffing. “Though ... I recognize this style of bed, the headboard.”
“Shit,” Kelly said, “you thought he would, Short Stuff.”
“Yep.”
“It’s a harem bed,” Harry said, smiling. “I’ll forgive the use of that word this time.”
“We’re sorry the bathroom isn’t finished,” Margo said. “The foreman assures me it will be by the time we get back from Chicago.”
“Fair enough,” Harry replied. “Now, Nadereh ... my apologies for neglecting you.”
“I understand, sir. Things have been chaotic. I’ve made myself useful around the estate, sure I had not been forgotten.”
“Indeed. Now, let’s get back upstairs. I need some more coffee, my beautiful houri,” Harry said.
“Houri?” Nadereh laughed. “Master, I’ll accept the compliment, but I hardly qualify for the virginal part.”
“Unimportant,” Margo said, as they headed back into the long hallway of the bunker. “I think we all agree, you’re our houri.”
“This project has inspired me,” Carol said, as they walked back. “How would you feel about our new home being decorated in this style?”
“Does it come with hot-and-cold-running houri?” Kelly asked.
“Of course it does,” Harry replied. “Nadereh’s far from the only houri in our household.”
“Fine with me, then,” Kelly said.
“Do it,” Margo said. “Same color choices?”
“Perhaps ... I’ll think on it, get your opinions when I’ve narrowed it down to three or four palettes.”
Earl
“Well thank God they’re all dressed,” Earl Culberson muttered, before getting elbowed in the side by his wife, Margaret.
“You could still get locked up down in the bunker,” she warned.
“Will I get locked up in that fuck-nest they created for our son-in-law?”
“One more word, Earl, one more, and it will be a cold day in hell before you get laid again.”
Wisely, Earl kept his mouth shut. Margaret ‘Kissie’ Culberson didn’t make threats. She stated consequences that were immutable ... immutable for at least enough time to torture whomever she was levying them upon.
Most often, Earl.
The morning had started off well, by Earl’s way of thinking. Not having to get the kitchen staff up and moving until 9:30 had meant he and Kissie had slept in until 9 – not a circumstance that was likely to repeat all that often.
Christmas brunch had rolled out like clockwork, and he’d caught enough appreciative sounds to make him feel good about Kissie’s instructions to the staff. She didn’t care one way or another about such things as whether the staff appreciated her management style, but he did. Kissie was confident in her management abilities, while still open to feedback. But until she got feedback, she wasn’t going to worry about it.
He knew she was aware of how ... how just goddamned odd the staff was, hell, the whole household was, but it didn’t impinge on her vision every time she turned around.
And Earl knew it wouldn’t bother her even if she could see it.
It hadn’t taken him long to realize the wisdom the Grimes had shown in putting her in charge, and giving him no official role in house management at all.
Every time he thought about a huge house full of people who’d drop to their knees and do all sorts of things for their ‘Dominants’, no questions asked, his mind screamed ‘Slavery’! Kissie didn’t even try to sell him the whole ‘they can leave anytime they want’ bullshit. He’d worked in a penitentiary – he knew far too much about ‘institutionalization’, and years after retiring, primarily to get away from that poisonous atmosphere, he found himself surrounded by it again.
Oh, it wasn’t anywhere near the same atmosphere, if he was being honest with himself. These people were, for the most part, happy, healthy, and had fewer sexual hang-ups than anyone he’d ever known. They might not be ‘into’ some behavior or other, but they were fine with allowing others who were to do whatever.
It just hurt him, and confused him, to see so many people choose to give up their freedom.
He recalled a conversation he’s had with Thad Newton, Donna’s father – although he hadn’t realized who Thad was at the time! Thankfully he’d avoided putting his foot in his mouth about just how goddamned inappropriate it was for a sixteen-year-old girl to marry a fourteen-year-old boy, a boy who had a much older woman as a lover.
Earl had just opined at the number of people acting like sheep around Chorale South.
“But so many people are sheep, Mr. Culberson,” Thad had said. “Kink Society, and our Karghold, have merely accepted that, and removed the stigma of being a sheep. They can’t help what they are, so why would you punish them by forcing them to accept responsibilities they neither want, nor can handle? Those who can, and are willing to handle them, do. Those who can’t or won’t, trade service for the gift of freedom from worrying about such things.”
Earl had thought about that for a long time, and wasn’t done thinking about it.
Then, when the last of the horde had traipsed through for brunch, it was time for Christmas ... and that had been delayed. It would upset him far more if it had been anyone but little Carol. He couldn’t think of that girl and not smile. As crazy as she was, Carol was a ray of sunshine most days.
If only she’d wear more clothes, and quit stressing his blood pressure ... and his penis.
Of course, that could be said of so many of the house’s inhabitants.
When he was particularly irked with Kissie, generally because she was right, and he was wrong, he allowed himself to fantasize briefly about being thirty years, even twenty years younger, and unmarried, in Chorale South.
He could fuck his dick down to a nub, and die happy.
So, after waiting for so long for Carol, and Dominique ... oh, talk about another woman of infinite charms ... to come down, it had finally been time for Christmas.
And he’d had to watch his daughter unwrap the fetish wear she’d received as gifts.
If he hadn’t been there, he was pretty sure she’d have modeled the outfits on the spot. He was surprised she hadn’t anyway. He’d seen more of his daughter’s body in the brief time since they’d moved in then he had in the almost two decades since he’d last given her a bath as a baby. Kelly Ann didn’t go out of her way to flaunt her various states of undress before him, she just wasn’t too worried about hiding them either.
There had been Margo’s new outfits. A woman of her age ought to know better than to worry about all this foolishness, but there she was, cooing like a teenager over outfits he was so happy she hadn’t modeled on the spot! He’d come to terms with finding his daughters-in-law very attractive, but seeing Margo get into those outfits ... his heart might not have handled the strain.
He didn’t want to think about Magda and Lori’s presents. He’d gotten used to working with them, preparing for the hand-off of household responsibilities, and most of the time he could forget they were just more young flesh to be married off to Harry. Well, he knew better, but still, to see the clothes they’d received ... it wasn’t Christmas so much as a prelude to depravity.
He’d shut his eyes and ignored his ears during the children unwrapping their presents. He’d stayed inside during the entirety of their wedding and reception. He liked them, they were just far too young to be anywhere near Chorale South, let alone marrying each other and living there.
Earl had heard something about Kelly and Donna fighting at the Grimes wedding. He’d avoided that one, too. He wasn’t sure why they fought, and knowing how things went in the household sometimes, he was sure he didn’t want to.
And then everyone had traipsed off to see Harry’s new fuck-nest.
His day was complete. Complete shit.
Kissie had stayed with him as the horde went off to the bunker.
He supposed he’d been growling deep in his throat, or somesuch.
Kissie’s hand hand tightened on his arm.
“Why are they giving him somewhere to run away to? Somewhere to fuck that lovely young girl, or whoever else he wants to?”
Earl had thought his wife was going to snap his arm in two – no small feat, given the size of his arms, and how tiny her hands were in comparison.
“Earl Culberson, if you’d open up your mind, and close your prejudices, you’d understand just fine! Now, I have had enough for today! Any more bitching out of you and I’ll ask Harry to take me to his hideaway. I have no doubt we’ll find something to do there ... together!”
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