Amazingly enough, Shake was actually feeling quite good about the relationship he was forging with Nabiki. Sure, the strange traditions of her homeland were making it maddeningly difficult to get into the Japanese sex-toy’s panties, but it did seem that she was looking out for him, especially since she’d rolled him and Carl inside before any of the neighbors noticed (of course, by now, most of the others in the neighborhood had trained themselves to ignore the goings-on between the residents of those two houses, but that’s another matter entirely). Yes, it was quite good to see a submissive taking the initiative to help her Master avoid public humiliation (after all, that sort of thing was supposed to be her milieu), especially given the rather… provocative location of his straw in relation to Carl’s posterior—had it been a particular human appendage, the situation might have been called a “hot dog.”
Unfortunately, that didn’t explain why Nabiki had spent the last few minutes snapping photo after photo of the pair’s predicament with an evil-looking grin on her face. “Uh, heh-heh, do you think you could, you know, stop taking those pictures?”
Nabiki looked at Shake quizzically. “But Master, it is the duty of a slavegirl to have an intimate knowledge of her Master’s every kink and fetish, so that she may better serve him in the future.”
“Whoa! Hold on here,” Carl said. “This, uh, this ain’t like that. I ain’t inta, uh, whatever the hell this freak is. This is, uh, you know, an accident.”
“Really? Because in Japan, stuff like this usually happens very much on purpose. I’ll have to be sure to ask about that as I continue my research.”
“Ask? Ask who?”
“Why, the other persons in the neighborhood. Given the confusing nature of this situation, I’ll need as many second opinions as possible to adequately serve you.”
This did not bode well for Shake’s masculinity. “Whoa! Wait, uh… is there, uh, any possible way that you could avoid all this research? I mean, this is America, and we, uh, prefer things to be, uh… help me out here, Carl.”
“Private. As in not tellin’ nobody about nuthin’.”
“Right.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I suppose I could be persuaded to forgo the standard research procedures...”
“Really?”
“…provided that you meet certain conditions that will make my servitude much, much less complicated in the future.”
“In other words, you’re gonna blackmail us,” Carl replied.
“Don’t be silly. I’m merely allowing Master Shake to choose the method of dominance that best meets his personal needs, in full accordance with our contract.”
Shake was elated; it appeared that he had indeed been successful at protecting his property from Carl’s pasty, white, middle-aged charms. “Whoo! Yeah, baby!”
Carl, on the other hand, was not so enthusiastic. “Right… an’ me?”
“I’m going to blackmail you. So, I guess that means you were half right, at least.”
“Wonderful.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some photographs to develop.” Thus, Nabiki headed outside and down the street to the nearest 1-hour photo hut.
“Could you at least move his straw-thing away from my butt?!” Carl called back as the door slammed shut.
Through a haze of THC-laden smoke, a small, elderly woman let out a peal of laughter. “So I just told them I was going on a ‘business trip.’”
Setsuna joined her friend in laughter—she’d known Cologne for a while, and she still had yet to meet a more enjoyable connoisseur of cannabis sativa. “And they bought it?”
“Bought it? I’m the goddamn Matriarch. I could tell them I was going to negotiate a treaty with the President of Uzbekistan and they’d probably believe me.”
“Is Uzbekistan even near the Bayankala Mountains?” Michiru asked. She still wasn’t certain how or when the shriveled crone had showed up at the Time Gates, nor had she any clue why Setsuna had let a non-Senshi into her sanctum, but she’d shrugged it off, mostly because the old woman kept coming up with some really deep shit.
Speaking of which, Haruka was still sitting on the couch, staring at the Time Gate, and becoming increasingly disgusted by the images she saw. “Um, Cologne, was it?”
“Yes?”
“What did you say your restaurant’s name was?”
“The Nekohanten… why?”
“I, uh, think you need to see this…”
The wizened Amazon casually strode over to the Gate to see what the fuss was about… and nearly tripped over her own two feet in shock. “Shit!”
“Exactly,” Haruka said with a nod.
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(Posted Sat, 22 Aug 2009 02:20)
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