Soul Teeth, Chapter 3

Thread 1, Part 2:

Laysan, The Memoirs of a Lesbian Bondage Love Slave

Soul Teeth

(here) - recently

Chapter 3

"You are just a ten percenter, Laysan!"

"No, I'm not!"

Not all of Paty's special friends treat me with the disrespect which McNear shows. In particular, I really like Miss Alba. Well, I usually really like her, except today she seemed intent on pissing me off.

"I am Paty's slave - one hundred percent of the time. How can you say that?" I crossed my arms across my naked breasts as a rare sense of overexposure rippled through my being.

"I am saying," Alba explained, "that your lifestyle is easy and fairly free. You spend most of your time doing art, watching TV, surfing on the computer, or just laying around daydreaming. A slave is not free like that. I say that there are very few choices that you relinquish as opposed to what the term 'slave' would imply. I bet that Paty lists you on her federal income tax documents as a dependent. That's what I think that you are. A dependent. Like a child. If you were a slave, you would be considered an asset. And if you are an asset, then Paty is losing lots of money on the upkeep."

"Well, of course I'm not just an asset. Paty and I also love each other. But that doesn't make me any less of a slave. I'm a love slave. People who are merely dependents don't spend as much time in chains as I do."

"Ok, Laysan," she said. "Call it what you want. But, I bet you are only serving your mistress for about ten percent of your time, that's why I say that you are only a ten percenter."

I don't think that I can understate how upsetting her position was to me. I spend twenty four hours a day working hard to make sure that Paty is taken care of when she is at home. I do many things simply to please her. She is often my one and only thought. I am devoted one hundred percent to Paty. So, when Alba suggests that I am only a ten percenter, I feel like she is saying that I am not as devoted to her as I should be. Or maybe that I don't love her as much as I should.

I'd do anything Paty asked. She is my life and my love. As I said, generally Alba is a wonderful person. I love spending time with her. But, what the fuck does Alba know about me and Paty?

Alba is a very pretty woman. She is fairly short and petite like me, but when she walks into a room she takes up a lot more of the space than just her stature. She has a presence that seems to follow her and when she arrives somewhere, you know it immediately, and you will be awed by it. She's always so well put together in appearance and temperament. So, even now, in the midst of our argument her intonation could easily be exchanged for that of a discussion of horse care or business team dynamics. I, however, get swamped in emotion and probably start to sound a bit shrill. I know that my arguments would have more weight if I were more calm like Alba, but I just can not control the flood of feelings.

Alba is particularly rich and has an beautiful mansion that Paty and I often visit. She's got some really neat toys too. About a year ago, she introduced us to the coolest device ever. She calls it a "Meditation Shell". Basically, the device is a sturdy carbon fiber shell shaped in the form of a female body. The user gets naked, lays down in the open shell, and presses a button that causes the top to slowly enclose the user inside. The interior is lined with some sort of space-aged foam that comfortably conforms to one's body.

The device is probably not something that you would want to use if you are at all claustrophobic. Paty, for example, refuses to get in. I, personally, love tight confining places. I've never met a small box or cage that I didn't like. Even so, I must admit that the first time I got in the shell, I became a little nervous when I heard clicks snapping all around me as the shell sealed shut. And after sealing, an air pump engages that seems to cause the foam to expand and press the inhabitant in a tight, full-bodied embrace. It even presses down on your eyes and ears robbing you of your senses. My anxiety, however, quickly faded away thankfully as cool, fresh, purified air is pumped in around my face. Also, the inhabitant holds a button in their hand, that if pressed, causes the shell to immediately spring open. You could be out in seconds.

The foam even presses down on your eyes, so your world is dark. Meanwhile, all external sounds are masked by speakers around your ears that fill your head with white noise. As the foam that presses you all around warms, you begin to feel as though you are floating in some soft, comfortable void. The shell is the ultimate sensory deprivation device.

My description may seem scary, but you really have to experience the device to appreciate how wonderful it is. To me, with the restriction and noise, I kind of feel as though I have returned to the womb. And even though it is called a "Meditation Shell", I swear that I cannot lay within it for more than five minutes without falling into the most delicious sleep. Sometimes the sleep is quiet, other times I have the most vivid, beautiful dreams ever. It is awesome.

Alba graciously allows me access to the shell whenever I want. I convince Paty to take me to visit Alba and her meditation shell at least once or twice a month. The sleep is so wonderful that generally, Paty and Alba have to arouse me from the shell. And when they do I find that and hour and a half or more has passed by. When I arise I feel so refreshed and alive I am ready to conquer the world.

I had just climbed out of the shell when Alba started accusing me of being a ten percenter. So, I became even more disappointed as my euphoria quickly drained away.

"I mean," Alba continued, somehow intent on driving her point into the ground, "you don't even do tasks around Paty's house. You don't clean or cook..."

"I do too clean and cook!" I interjected.

"Well, then why does Paty have to hire house cleaners to come in once a week?"

"Paty's house is humongous! They do all the vacuuming and stuff. I still clean up after myself." I looked over at Paty hoping that she would come to my defense, but she seemed content to watch and see how things played out.

"Paty brings in food almost every night of the week," Alba continued.

"Well, duh! She owns restaurants. Of course she is going to bring home food."

"So, you tell people that you are a slave, but really you're just cruising down easy street. You're a ten percenter."

"Whatever!" I’d had it at this point and I wanted to go home. I walked across the room to a chair where I had left my clothes and started to get dressed.

"Even those clothes!" Alba laughed. "You say that you own nothing, yet Paty buys you clothes to go out in public in. Who else is going to wear those clothes. They are too small for Paty to wear!"

"Hey!" Paty exclaimed.

“Paty, relax! Laysan is several inches shorter than you," Alba laughed. "I'm not implying you're fat, sweety. I'm just saying that those are your clothes, Laysan. Saying that you 'own' them or not is just semantics."

"Fine!" I screamed as I threw the clothes at Alba. "I'll never wear anything ever again. Come on, Paty. Let's go home!"

"Laysan, cool down for a second," Paty pleaded.

"I am your slave aren't I, Paty?" Tears started pouring from my eyes. "You still love me don't you?"

"Of course I love you," Paty said calmly. "Don't worry you will always be my slave."

I gave a sidewards glance towards Alba who stood with her arms crossed and a mean smirk on her face. "See? If Paty says that I am her slave, that's all that matters," I said.

"I bet that you never even do anything against your will," Alba muttered.

"Why would I?" I asked.

"Well, wouldn't the term 'slave' imply that you sometimes must do something that you don't want to without question, simply because your mistress demands you to."

"That happens every night when Paty kicks me out of her bed." I knew that the subject of sleeping in Paty's bed is taboo, but it was the only response that I could think of quickly that proved my point. I looked at Paty and became a little nervous again when I saw that she was frowning at me.

I grabbed for the next thing that I could think of to try to cover up my mistake. "I agreed to wear this long-term gag she wants me to wear, even though I don't like to."

"Oh? She gags you for long periods of time?" Alba asked, seemingly impressed suddenly. I am sure Alba knows of my distaste of the jaw wrenching variety of gags.

I looked up at Paty to see if she was still frowning, or if she would cover for me. "Well, no, but I promised her that I would. And that in itself shows my willingness to always meet her demands."

"Wait a second." Alba raised her hands to cut me off. "So, you don't actually wear this gag you are talking about..."

"Well, not yet, but I promised to get fitted for it." I could feel the blood start to drain from my face. I did not like the direction in which this conversation was going.

"Fitted for it?" Alba asked.

"Yeah, I have to have two molars removed. And I promised her that I would."

"Wow! That must be some gag. So, when are you going to get these molars removed."

I kept looking at Paty, but she had once again become content watching instead of participating.

"I don't have an appointment yet," I said.

"Oh! In that case, make the appointment now."

The room was starting to spin. I looked around on the ground to find the clothes that I had thrown at Alba. Maybe if I ignored her, she would back off.

"Come on, Laysan. Make the appointment right now. Prove to me that you are more than a ten percenter."

"Alba, it's a Sunday afternoon. I can't make an appointment to have my teeth removed on Sunday afternoon."

Maybe this was the point that Paty was waiting for, because she finally spoke up. "I can call Ceylon right now and have her set everything up."

I stared at Paty, silently shaking my head, and mouthed the word "No". But she was already dialing the number on her cell phone.

I looked over at Alba who stood with her arms crossed, wearing a satisfied smile, watching Paty talk on the phone. What the hell have I done? How could Paty betray me like this?

No. I had promised Paty that I would get the molars taken out... Alba had tricked me into betraying myself.

"... Excellent! Ok! Let me know when she has an opening... Thanks, Cey! Bye!" Paty turned off her phone. "Ok. She'll set it up."