As the year 1880 wore on, Gray’s urges toward women of a certain disposition grew stronger. As the owner of a modest drapery shop just off the Strand, he was fortunate in one sense to in contact with many women, though this did not help what he viewed to be a very unnatural desire; whilst the two younger male assistants at the shop discretely displayed their animal attraction for the younger, more flower-like lady customers in typically chauvinistic fashion, as was the norm in this Victorian male dominated society, Gray fantasised at the more mature and assertive women; he longed to be under the control of a strong willed woman, something he viewed as a perverted weakness.
Gray had remained a bachelor; he had courted several women but had never found one whom he thought he could share his life with. Relationships dwindled and he remained alone; his ever growing sexual desires left frustrated. On occasion, determined to sate his lust for that that special sort of woman, he had ventured to the east of the city on impulse and had visited the seedier areas in search of relief. The result had always been the same; he found the available women repugnant and could not find the courage to consult them with respect to his desires for the stern example of womanhood he sought. The street women he met were only interested in the basic relief that most men required; each time he returned west and consoled himself with gin.
He did his best to distract himself from his feelings, joining an amateur dramatic society; converting his passion to acting at least occupied his mind elsewhere, if only temporarily, and it was this passion which would lead to his realisation of his prime desire.
Ella Hempleton was a woman amongst women in this Victorian society ruled almost 100% by the male population; though the monarch was female, this was the only concession to the fairer sex. Politics, business, and the very administration of the nation was the domain of the male; a woman’s place was in the home, under the supervision of husband or father. Ella Hempleton recognised no such order; she was very much her own mistress. Though still only middle-aged she had been widowed twice; both departed husbands, though seemingly the head of the household to the outside world, had been firmly under her control, and both had died early after a blissful life of submissive satisfaction. They had left her a rich woman, and in ownership of several businesses, including a benevolent society which took in many of the abundant homeless men who frequented the city. Whilst this society was completely legal and admired by the pompous population with whom she mingled, there was an ulterior motive for the stern woman’s charity which she used to increase her not unsubstantial wealth. Ella was part of a circle of like-minded women, who to the public were seen as no more than an amateur dramatic society; ‘The Women’s Thespian Players’, females taking part in acting still being seen as somewhat avant-garde, this was accepted by the general society as these were all upstanding women; the feminine name of the group deterred males from applying to join, leaving the women to select the males of their choice to be taken in for those necessarily masculine roles. Though they had an active interest in acting; the true fruits of the women’s labours were realised through a hidden reason for their association.
Unseen to the public, Ella had enjoyed many short-term liaisons with males who suited her stringent demands as they were passed between the women of her society, but she yearned to take on a permanent pet who she could dominate at her leisure.
She found the opportunity of a more lasting relationship through a visit from Faith Davenport, a prominent member of her circle. Faith bustled up the steps of Ella’s grand residence having arrived by hackney, her favourite lackey of the moment following behind in suitably servile fashion. With little regard to the care of pedestrians who passed in the street no more than five yards away, she pointed to the floor and the lackey knelt as his mistress pulled the bell ringer. A maid pulled the large front door open and smiled with satisfaction on seeing the male on his knees in humble recognition of his superiors. She welcomed the lady in and then with a sneer, pointed the male to a corner; he shuffled in and sank to his knees in the appointed corner, his head bowed. Having never witnessed a male in such circumstances until being employed by Ella, The maid never tired of using her new authority over all males who attended, and was in her element.
“I see he is almost ready for purchase Madam Davenport; has a home been found for him yet? He is a rather handsome example.” Faith smiled at the maid and then sneered down in triumph at the cowering male.
“Brown has fully recognised his submission to womanhood, and has been allocated a mistress who will take command of him in a week’s time; he wept like a child when I revealed this was to be his destiny, which gave me the utmost pleasure. He so thought he was my favourite and that I would retain him; I have explained that his time in my household was merely his education, and that he is worthless in my eyes, his only use being the price paid by his new owner. His broken-hearted distress at learning the truth did so arouse me.” Brown had been broken in more ways than one; he sniffled and wept as he knelt in complete submission, as Faith and the maid laughed at his child-like distress with their cunts bulging in arousal as they rejoiced spitefully at his misery. Faith grinned with pleasure and glanced toward a well-used rattan lying across the hall table which the maid was accustomed to using.
“Yes Rosie, it is likely that neither of us will ever set eyes on Brown after next week; please take this opportunity to finish his education while I converse with Ella, ensure he does not forget your kindness in a hurry.” Rosie gleefully opened the door to the room Ella resided in, before ordering Brown into another as she flexed the rattan; though snivelling pitifully, he went eagerly with his mistress of the moment, his cock rudely erect in matching the nipples and excited cunt of the young girl with the rattan. He knew his snivelling deserved a thrashing, and would wallow in submissive ecstasy as Rosie cruelly cut him with the cane.
Ella greeted Faith as the sound of Rosie’s first vigorous delivery made the broken male cry out in a mixture of agony and ecstasy to such an extent that it permeated two closed doors. Ella’s nipples swelled visibly above her corseted blouse as she smiled wickedly.
“Brown?” Faith nodded. Ella smiled with satisfaction and her cunt moistened in arousal, in keeping with her colleagues, as Brown’s audibility quietened as he began to enjoy the pain.
“You really are spoiling my Rosie; you know how venomous she is with males, having been abused by many of them when she was younger.” Faith grinned as she sipped a glass of wine handed her by her host.
“I know, but Rosie is more deserving of such pleasures than any of us, I shall be so glad when her training is complete and she is invited to join our little society; extra practice never hurt anyone – apart from the deserving male of course!” Ella nodded in agreement as Faith moved on to the purpose of her visit, handing Ella a copy of a script as she continued.
“It’s a copy of our latest play for The Women’s Thespian Players, it’s a rather risqué adaptation on the Salome and John the Baptist theme; we already have two known submissive males to play minor parts, it would be lovely if we could find another to play the lead role as John, we can have the first rehearsal within a couple of days; the dress rehearsal in a week’s time can then be used as cover for the disposal of Brown. The three new males will then witness their true fates; it will be exquisite. I have marked you down as playing the executioner; any submissive male will jump at the chance of living out a fantasy of being executed by a woman, we’ll make out we could not find a suitable male to play the part; his acting will reveal his innermost desires, as we’ve seen before.” Ella’s cunt bulged under her flowing skirts as she skipped through the script.
“This is SO arousing; we’d never get away with it in public! I see from the costume sketches that we’ll need some fine silks and veiled materials; I know just the drapery I can get them from.”
Gray settled down to another frustrating day at his business. He consoled himself by reading his amateur dramatics group’s monthly journal which he left on his serving counter. There had been no particularly arousing customers so far that morning, until a rather portly but matronly woman entered the shop; his cock made a valiant attempt to rise as he tried hard to imagine being at her feet, naked and at her beck and call. As the two dozy assistants continued with their stock assessment, oblivious to anything remotely female being on the premises, Gray took the opportunity to get close to her and oozed his most servile persona. His cock shrank as she revealed a most timid and homely personality, mentioning she needed some thicker curtains to ensure the younger of her seven children did not wake too early with the dawn light, disturbing her husband an hour earlier than was required for him to begin work. As he resumed his drapery persona, he smiled in selling her the required material, as the shop bell rang announcing another customer. As the portly woman left, Gray’s heart faltered as a woman he had actually masturbated over, glided across his floor wearing a sincere and somehow assertive smile, shapely, attractive, tightly corseted; Ella Hempleton. He only knew her vaguely as she had frequented his drapers before; he was aware she was a wealthy widow who had inherited business and a charity institution, but he also knew he was out of his league as a common draper. Despite this, he also knew there was something very special about her; her assertive manner had excited him, enough for him to have enjoyed a rewarding orgasm or two on abusing himself later. His cock swelled instantly. For her part, Ella had also sensed the warmth of his servile attentions on prior visits; coming to his shop on the second occasion on a whim to order Chinese printed fabric for the redesign of one of her rooms, which she did not really require. Her cunt tingled as she saw the obvious pleasure of the not unattractive and moderately handsome Gray, as she adopted a stance of clear authority. The maid with her was immediately assailed by the now un-dozing assistants, meeting with a look of shear contempt from the younger lady as she browsed at fabrics independently. Ella gave Gray a broad smile to ease his nerves, making his cock bulge noticeably in the loose trousers he wore.
“My man, I am in need of some of your finest silks and other materials for my seamstress in manufacturing some special costumes; be so good as to show me what you have.”
“Certainly madam, do you have a preference for the colour of the silk?” Gray’s voice faltered just a little from its usual clear baritone, pleasing Ella as she recognised his awe of her; increasing the possibilities of him being naturally subservient to her, for reasons other than being a draper in the company of a wealthy woman. She would tease it from him.
“Oh, most certainly the deepest black; black as an executioner’s hood.” Gray almost let out an audible gasp as his cock went rigid, causing him some embarrassment as he moved to the silks, Ella’s cunt moistened as she watched his excitement grow, intertwined with an awkwardness which affirmed all the right signals; he had not made any spurious retorts to her description, as chauvinistic males were apt to do, he simply complied with her request. The array of fabrics in the shop would be an ideal acquisition for the players, and Gray might be just the right candidate for her new pet; he was well-spoken and perfectly mannered already; if she could just be sure of that final factor. What would happen at the counter later would have her close to an elementary orgasm. She selected the shiniest deep black silk, and continued the tease with the excited Gray, running her sharp and beautifully manicured nails up and down the black silk.
“I do so love silk, so soft and attractive, cool against the naked skin; delicate in appearance yet strong and unyielding in nature; it so suits me.” Gray’s erect cock dribbled as he stood next to this magnificent woman, and he felt compelled to comment on this occasion.
“It does suit you madam.” Gray could not believe he had uttered the simple line, and broke into a cold sweat; Ella was delighted and took the opportunity to look him straight in the eye with a stern and confident sneer which somehow conveyed she was aware of his desire. Gray panicked a little and broke to ask her about the other materials. Ella would now affirm the strength of woman she was.
“Oh, if you would be so kind as to kneel and lift the hem of my third skirt; I know it’s un-lady like but it’s the only way you’ll see what I prefer.” Gray hesitated slightly till she smiled, nodded her approval, and pointed down as though in command of him. As he willingly sank to his knees before the superior woman, both cock and cunt tingled with satisfaction. As he fumbled with her skirts, finally finding the third which was a fine Honiton black lace material, she played her ace card.
“You remain kneeling for as long as you wish, make sure you take in the pattern of the lace; here, I’ll assist you.” With a deft tug, she lifted her skirts, allowing Gray a full view of both the material and her divine ankle and booted foot, placed neatly at a right angle. Gray was also treated to a waft of feminine scent which he imbibed gratefully; this, and the ankle boots she wore, had his cock rigid. Ella smiled down in triumph as she noted he was now transfixed by the boot. Gray would masturbate immediately she left the shop; he only wished he could do so there and then; her tight toed black ankle boots had rudimentary but very wicked looking spurs, Gray now knew for sure that he was kneeling before a dominant woman. He found the courage to slowly look up at her when he had managed to draw himself from the boot. Ella looked down into his eyes with a blank yet somehow stern expression, his face told her he was eligible for her requirements; she could already picture him leashed and naked. Gray seemed to sense she knew he wanted to be dominated, but was this as far as the situation would go – just a more than thrilling encounter? He was now yearning to establish further contact with her. Her stern look softened slightly to a wicked smile.
“I do hope you now realise what I require from you; I do hope I shan’t be disappointed.” Her cunt now blossomed with arousal as Gray remained kneeling for has long as he dare, taking another good look at the ornate but cruel spur. Ella assisted him.
“You may now rise and serve me, as per my requirements.” Gray swallowed hard and reluctantly arose to his feet, wobbling slightly with tension, his balls tingling at the possible double meaning of her last comment. Her mind was racing too, in thinking of a credible way to forge some meeting, other than simply returning for more materials; she watched him as he found the black Honiton lace all too quickly. Gray wanted to ask if there was anything else, as he would routinely any customer, but he was now mesmerised by her presence and returned to the counter with the necessary lengths of lace and silk. Ella’s heart missed a beat as she saw the dramatics journal on the counter; her cunt fully aroused and in need of attention, she almost lost her stern composure as she fired out the question.
“Are you interested in acting?” Gray was dumbfounded by this sudden change in direction but was grateful of it, if only to engage her in further conversation.
“Why… yes… I have a passion for it… I find it offers me release; I regularly have parts in plays with a local society.” He blushed in the hope that she would not ask him from what he needed release, but Ella had only heard the first line of his response; she was ecstatic.
“Then I demand that you attend my home this week, for a little rehearsal in one of my society’s productions; you shall play John the Baptist.”
Without needing to say any more, the pleased women smiled at Gray and returned to the cab, Gray’s cock maintaining its erection as he followed behind the women, with their comments on watching the disposal of males still fresh in his mind. The waiting cab driver looked down from his elevated seat and smirked as he watched Gray follow the stately women into the cab, it was obvious they had some authority over him; he chuckled as he heard them direct him to where he should sit, before the door was closed. Ella reminded the cab driver of the address for Arachne House, and pulled the slide closed, cutting the smirking cabby off from the events which would follow within the cab’s interior. Ella smiled wickedly at Gray as he sat, once again, between Faith and Constance.
“Trousers and pants down Gray; we Ladies would like to see your enthusiasm for our next play; today’s little excursion will have added spice and a little spark to all our proposed parts to be played.” The women laughed at Gray’s stiff cock and the gloved hand of Constance was on it immediately, slowly stroking it up and down, making Gray want to shoot his cream each time the tight glove teased his bell-end on the slow upward stroke. Constance smiled with pleasure as she controlled him, and Faith then cupped his balls and softly sqeezed them; the three women smiled knowingly at each-other as Ella slipped her hand into the shoulder-bag she’d been carrying, and looking Gray in the eyes with a stern smile, produced a silky cord noose and eaning forward, slipped it over his head. The women laughed as Gray groaned audibly and jerked, impatient to unload his balls as they enjoyed their tease. As Faith pulled the slip-knot tight against Gray’s neck, Ella pulled her skirts up to ensure they were not spoiled by Gray’s seed, which she knew would be released with some vigour and in plentiful quantity; the view of his mistress’s legs adding extra torment for Gray, Ella would now allow him relief.
“Yes Gray, in your next role for the thespian society, we shall require the assistance of a good friend of ours, Agnes Fairchild; she has a very special talent which is enjoyed by her many clients who include High Court judges, and politicians, whose fantasies are indulged by her. She has ‘hanged’ many men; some enjoying being ‘executed’ once a month at her gallows room, others in the comfort of their own homes, each occasion bringing them exquisitely close to death. Bound and noosed, and then suspended, they are at the complete mercy of Agnes; each time their trust in her is tested as they are taunted in delicious role-plays, often acknowledging her supreme power by giving up their seed as they hang. Yes Gray, you shall be executed by a woman, before a crowd of women, who would dearly love to see the sentence finalised and watch you snuffed out by the rope.” Gray’s cock was now stroked with enthusiasm by Constance’s gloved hand as Faith squeezed the silky slip-knot tight against his neck; the thought of being hanged by a woman, as others watched him with spiteful delight in hoping he’d be left to die, was a pleasure he could not wait to experience; the three laughed victoriously as the owned draper groaned in ecstasy as the hot semen burst from his grateful bell-end, the gloved hand of Constance working him hard, ensuring he showed the women his gratitude at being allowed to hang for them. Faith arched her back and did her best to throttle him as his hot offerings sprayed his mistress’s legs.
“We shall so enjoy seeing you naked, bound and suspended by the rope; we’ll ensure you get the full benefit of it, and there’s always a chance that a mistake will be made.” Gray spent with renewed vigour at Faith’s words, his balls ached as they relinquished all they could muster at her teasing jibe, the women sneering with pleasure at Faith’s words as Gray shot wads in a delirium of submissive heaven under their control.
Gray was held tight in the grip of the short noose as he was made to bend in the confines of the cab and lick his mess from Ella’s legs; Faith’s cunt bulging as she enjoyed the tension of the noose, and Constance’s tingling likewise as she directed him in ensuring he did not miss any morsel of the spent semen which had generously spotted Ella’s legs. His mistress looking forward to having her own excited cunt licked to satisfaction later. Having completed the task under his strict supervision, Gray was allowed to dress once more, after thanking all three for being allowed relief.
Gray left the cab nervously as he viewed Arachne House for the first time; on entering, the staff greeted the woman who owned it and her two friends warmly, ignoring Gray completely until Ella introduced him as her latest consort. They then looked him up and down with studied dismissive looks. Gray’s cock swelled as the stern eyes of the redheaded Hope, sneered upon him.
“I trust your obedience and servility are worthy of such a position; Mistress Ella knows you will be most welcome to spend some time under my authority if you are found lacking even in the most minor of respects.” Gray’s cock was almost fully erect once more as the dominant ginger woman flexed her cane and sneered at him with a wicked eagerness to punish at a moments notice. Ella and the other two stood smiling for a moment, to allow Gray to take in her promise, and the atmosphere of total female dominance that she engendered; they were very pleased with her work at Arachne House, she had broken many males in preparation for their sale to the many dominant women who required a slave; her acutely severe ways were legendary, Ella and the other women of the committee allowed her complete freedom to run Ward D with a rod of iron, and she was also allowed to take any male she chose home with her, where they would enjoy special disciplines. Ella was of course, always very interested in new inmates.
“Do we have any new prospects in Ward D Hope?” The dominant redhead gave a wicked smile as they walked along the corridors, past A, B and C; the gauping multitude of scruffy male inhabitants not given a second glance by the women. Hope flexed her cane and lifted her head as she strutted, her cunt swelling as she thought of the two new inmates she’d had the pleasure of thrashing earlier.
“Two in particular spring to mind; one will take some work in breaking, though his submission is beginning to show itself; he masturbates well on having been caned, and cannot help but display his excitement when shown his place. The other is a very pleasing find, and will be ready for sale as a ‘speciality’ in no time; he admitted to the enjoyment of being caned by a woman at first interview, and we have discovered another trait which will fetch us a very good price. The two came in together, like lambs to the slaughter, and have settled into life in Ward D very nicely.” Constance was just as interested in the progress of another submissive who had arrived a few weeks earlier; she had a strong woman who liked to entertain less submissive males in mind; a society lady who loved to be fucked by well-endowed males of a less salubrious background, while having a submissive who would never have that pleasure watch, and then take more immense pleasure in humiliating them by having them clean the delivery as the satisfied stud looked on.
“How is Granger, the come-eater, progressing? I take it he is still relishing the benefits of the protein supplied by the many pairs of balls here? Madam Grace Charnforth is most excited at the prospect of having a resident cunt cleaner on hand to entertain her and her favorite studs.” Hope smiled wickedly.
” I am so glad you asked. Granger has progressed from merely lapping at the warm seed left in bowls by other inmates; you shall see for yourself.” As the women entered Ward D with Gray walking obediently behind, the males who were not confined to rooms, immediately dropped to their knees and put their faces to the floor, quivering as the magnificent red head strutted past, she obviously enjoying her total dominance over them. Being at the rear, Gray noticed how some of the males turned their faces as she and the other women stepped past them; they looked longingly at the women and licked their lips, their yearning to be owned and dominated by such examples of womanhood was all too apparent. Constance noted that Granger’s room was empty; Hope smiled teasingly at her.
” Never fear Madam Templar, you shall witness the progress of Granger very shortly.” They stopped at room 15 and Hope swung the door open with a sneer. Her cunt bulged with pleasure and pride as the inmate fell at her feet and kissed her boots before the others had time to enter; all but Gray smiled at the naked ass in the air, striped crimson and purple with the evidence of rigorous applications of the cane wielded by Hope.
“This is Will, he has only been here a few days but has decided already that he wishes to be owned, dominated and enslaved, by a strong woman. What is your favorite treat after a caning, when I allow it Will?” The women smiled as Will lifted his head, and his erection was seen; testament to the immediate excitement Hope engendered with her powerful dominance.
” I love to be allowed to lick your asshole in thanks, Mistress Hope.” He bent again immediately as Faith brushed past him. The others laughed as she lifted her skirts and sat on his bed; she always wore no underwear on visits to Arachne House, and the hanging, followed by the teasing and ejaculation of Gray in the cab ensured she would thoroughly enjoy today’s visit.
“If you enjoy licking assholes you will enjoy licking my cunt; come and see to it immediately.” Will did not hesitate in moving to her, and the women smiled with satisfaction as he made sure to bend and kiss her feet first, his cock stiff in homage to his own recently awoken desire to be controlled and dominated by all females, brought to the fore by the treatments of the stern redhead. Without hesitation, and with his anus tingling at the subliminal humiliation at being ordered to perform before an audience, Will readily Faith’s nicely aroused cunt; its strong scent generated by the previous excitements, mingled with fresh arousal, ensured his cock bobbed rigidly as he sampled the mature woman’s essences. Faith watched over him with half-closed eyes and a broad smile, breathing heavily with her hands behind her knees as Will lapped obediently and eagerly at the moist warmth of her excitement; she moaned with dominant pleasure as the naked and broken male tongued her clitoris to a satisfying orgasm. As she sighed with relief, Hope moved toward him and tapped his erect cock with her cane.
“You will now masturbate for the ladies, and think of the caning you shall have from me when they have gone; such a display will merit a caning and I will enjoy administering it.” She sneered down at him as she tossed a towel to the floor and their eyes met as he began to stroke his cock, kneeling in submission before her and thinking of the caning promised. The women stood around him as he quickly began to convulse with pleasure; Hope pointing to the towel with her well-used cane, he groaned with pleasure as the sniggering women watched him shoot his cream in several passionate spurts. He bowed, spent, and Hope stroked his back with the cane while the women filed from the room as though nothing had happened. Hope pressed the cane against his flesh.
“I shall be back very shortly; you may expect forty strokes.” Will watched the glorious woman strut out, his flagging cock dribbling. He would be ready for purchase within a month. Ella let her true instincts about Will out, as soon as the door was closed and the wretch remained with nothing but his thoughts on the promised caning, and the fact that he was at least warm and well fed, though his balls tingled at what fate may bring him.
“He will fetch a good price Hope, he is facially attractive, fit and reasonably endowed; his obedience seems to be firmly on track, and there are several women I know who would love to own him. How long do you think he’ll need?” Hope wore a pert smile as she replied, her nipples pointing and cunt bulging as she relished caning him.
“He would probably serve a lady well already, but I am so enjoying breaking him in; with a few refinements, he should be ready within a few weeks.” Ella and the other two smirked at her remark; Gray’s cock swelled as he thought of being thrashed by the superb redhead. Hope smiled and turned as she stood at the door of the next chosen room.
“This is the ‘speciality’ who came in with Will; I think you will find this one most enjoyable.” Hope opened the door to a room which was at least twice as large as Will’s; Ella and the others were puzzled at first, a woman strutted about a blackboard, cane swishing, whilst an attractive girl sat with tearful eyes; punished by said cane on any errors she made with her English class. She curtsied elegantly in her long dress, the tightly corseted waist making her gasp slightly as she bent; her face was red cheeked with rouge, her lips cherry-red. Hope delighted in increasing the feminine feel of the girl before her.
“Oh Elsa, you are such a pretty girl; each time I look at you, I think what a sweet maid you are going to be for a deserving mistress or perhaps a head governess. I am so looking forward to taking you out onto The Strand once more; how the men of the world do look at you, any one of them would take you for a wife.” The girl shuddered and looked up with piteous eyes as Hope smiled and nodded at her strict tutor. The stern mentor pointed the girl to a bench in the corner, over which the girl dutifully bent; her mistress lifted her skirts up over her to reveal long legs and and a rounded ass, squeezed into a feminine shape by the tight corset. Ella, Faith and Constance applauded when they noticed that between her legs were a pair of shaven balls, adorned with a pink silk ribbon tied in a sweet bow. Hope strutted over with a smile and addressed her grinning tutor.
“And how is Elsa’s English improving? Has she made many mistakes today? I hope she is not failing purposely; we know how she readily accepts the cane, she told us so at interview.” Hope turned to the women with a wicked smile.
“Her alter ego, Elijah, also confessed as to how his stepmother liked to dress him as a girl before he was thrashed, and how it gave him a thrill which would make him spend under the cane; now Elijah has surrendered himself to us, he will become that girl permanently; Elijah will be thrashed from her memory completely, as she becomes the girl she really wants to be. Ladies, this is now Elsa; she will be delighted to spend for you as she continues her transformation.” The women applauded and gasped as they studied the feminine form before them, as the tutor placed a pad beneath the whimpering Elsa’s stiff cock, moved round the desk and held her arms flat; the sneering redhead cutting the air several times with her cane, before announcing punishment.
“You have a long way to go sweet Elsa, but you shall have the pleasure of being humiliated before an audience today; you will feel the cane until you show the passion you feel from the parts which will always belong to Elijah, you are a girl now and will be sold as such. A grateful mistress will purchase you, and no doubt, the master of that household may be made to service you like a girl while the true head of that household takes pleasure in witnessing it.” Hope lifted the cane high, and commenced thrashing the sweet white cheeks which blossomed red; with each stroke Elijah moved closer to being Elsa forever, the feel of the feminine clothes excited him as much as the delicious pain as the cane bit into the soft hairless buttocks, the pursed lips tasted the oily lipstick and Elsa realised she was concerned she’d smudge them; the pink bow tightened as her hairless balls retracted in readiness to come, a reminder of the sweet feminisation which overtook the once masculine soul. As the relentless cane whipped down, Elsa’s legs stiffened and her sweet buttocks pushed out invitingly; she moaned in ecstasy as the cock which was once owned by Elijah spurted cream as it became Elsa’s too, the thought of being mastered by a real male was exquisite; there was no going back now, Elsa had arrived.
Fiction with adult themes. All characters are over 18.
A splitting headache greeted me as I awoke. The soft surface I was lying upon seemed to be moving beneath me, rolling from side to side with occasional pitches from front and rear. In my confused state I wondered if the feeling was related to the headache and the vague memory of being drugged. The room in which I lay was so dimly lit that I could hardly make out any features apart from a round window through which a little light seeped. I did a quick inventory of my condition. Naked and uncovered I seemed to be lying unrestrained on a mattress. My throat was dry and raw and I felt hungry. Throbbing aches tormented my bottom which briefly brought a vision of master as he thrashed me before some lovely sex. Inside my bottom felt terribly sore as if I had been dry raped. I suddenly had a vision of many hands fondling me as my bottom and throat were assaulted. Was that a dream? Or was it real?
Slowly it dawned upon me that I must be on a ship. Sitting up, I swung my feet over the side of the bunk until they rested on a carpeted floor. Once I felt steady I stood and shuffled across to the dimly lighted window which I discovered was covered with a curtain. Pulling the cloth aside allowed a little more light into the cabin from the moonlit night. I could now see that I was in a small cabin with a single bunk, some storage space and a bathroom through a doorway. After finding a light switch I was soon sitting on the toilet. After I finished I noticed a little blood in the bowl. My bottom was quite sore. I felt violated. Finding a glass I was able to relieve my dry throat with water.
Having explored the wardrobe and drawers in the cabin and finding my clothes, I dressed in my thong, pink skirt, white blouse and shoes. I didn’t bother with the corset and stockings. Trying the door found it locked so I sat on the bunk and waited. My life had been looking so good. I was well looked after, master was demanding but exciting and my future looked rosy. Why was I here? Who had me and what was my future? Great rasping sobs escaped my throat as I sat and cried. My questions would be answered soon as I heard the cabin door being unlocked.
A huge man entered the room seeming to fill the doorway as he entered. Well over six feet tall with broad shoulders, narrow waist and massive thighs all visible as he wore only a pair of tight shorts. His skin was as black as pitch and seemed to shine as if he was oiled. His shaved head topped a handsome but cruel looking face. He stared at me for a moment before reaching me in a single stride and slapping me hard across my face. Screaming, I curled up on the bed to protect myself.
“You were not given permission to dress. Remove your clothes immediately or I will slap you even harder. You may keep the shoes on.”
When I curled up tighter he grabbed my hair, pulled me upright and punched me in the stomach. He let me go as I doubled over in pain with the air driven from me.
“You are a slow learner slave. Get those clothes off now before I really hurt you” he snarled. As quickly as possible in my distressed state I removed my skirt and blouse but not my thong.
Reaching out, the giant grabbed my flimsy thong and ripped it from me and threw me to the floor. I curled up in a protective ball again. I was allowed to lay there for a few minutes while I regained my breath.
“Get on your knees and crawl over to me.”
Fearing another blow I rolled onto my front and raised myself to my knees. My now naked tormentor was seated on the bunk. His discarded shorts were on the floor. Between his spread legs his semi erect uncircumcised penis dangled, dribbling a little juice. Terrified, I crawled until my head was between his mighty thighs.
“Do what you think would please me.” He said as he took my hair in his hand.
Fearing more punishment, crawling forward I took the still sheathed tip into my mouth and proceeded to suck. As it hardened I tasted his precum and sweat as his foreskin gradually retracted to expose the bulbous head. I felt his hands on the back of my head pulling me further on to his manhood. Soon he was buried deep in my throat, holding it there until I thought I would suffocate. Slowly I was pushed away enough to grab a breath before he invaded my throat once more. The bastard thrust in and out, barely allowing me a breath until he stopped and with a gasp exploded into my mouth and then onto my face. I felt horrible. It was like I was back at school with those three bullies. Nobody was going to save me this time. Oh Master where are you.
Pushing me away, he slid back into his shorts.
“You are a slave. You are not a boy, a girl, not even a sissy. You are an object, a possession a commodity to be used. We own you until we reach our destination where you will be sold to the highest bidder. Get used to it. There are six officers on the ship who will need your services most days. Some of us will use you more often. You will always be naked apart from the shoes. Make sure that you are clean both inside and out and your hair and slutty makeup is perfect at all times. You will be fed well and given hormones to retain and develop your shape for sale. If you are lucky a wealthy man will purchase you for his personal use. Of course you would be valuable to a brothel for a while until your looks faded. Then it would be downhill until you were working the glory holes for pennies.” He walked out and locked the door behind him.
I threw myself on the bed and cried. Oh, how I missed my master. Now I was just a thing to be used and abused. I considered suicide but could see no way to do it. Eventually I calmed enough to explore my prison. In the bathroom were supplies of soap, shampoo, depilatory cream, wax strips, towels and an enema kit. There was a wardrobe and drawers in the main cabin. In one drawer I found cosmetics and hair grooming products. Apart from the clothes I arrived in there was nothing else to wear. Sobbing, I must have slept until sunlight flooding the room through the port hole woke me. I heard the door lock click and backed against a wall, fearing that I would be attacked again.
Into the cabin minced a young effeminate man with light make up and long hair, carrying a tray of food. He was dressed in a pink singlet that hugged his skinny torso, white Capri pants that were so tight they could have been sprayed on and high wedge sandals. His little penis was clearly outlined through the thin material of his pants.
“So! You are the little faggot who’s stolen my boys. They all used to share me but now they only have eyes and dicks for you. And, bitch’ I’m expected to bring your food. Well, inspect your meals well because I can guarantee there will be some form of my bodily fluids included in every dish.” Placing the tray on the bunk he left the room laughing.
Starved as I was I quickly inspected the salad on the tray and found gobs of semen hidden in the lettuce which I pushed aside. The rest looked ok so I hungrily gobbled it down. The orange juice tasted a little odd but still went down well. I enjoyed a black coffee as I figured he couldn’t do much to that. I used the bathroom to prepare myself for whatever may happen. Soon I was sitting on the bunk, bored stupid, clean in and out, lubricated and made up like a whore. The fairy steward wandered in to retrieve the tray.
“I see you didn’t like the lettuce but enjoyed the orange juice” he giggled as he left the room. I wondered what he had added to the juice.
The door opened again to admit another enormous man, wearing only shorts which he quickly removed exposing his large penis. He was pale skinned with long blond hair.
“Make me hard bitch” he said as he sat himself on the bunk. I dropped to my knees and soon had him stiff. Lifting me easily the giant placed me on my knees on the bed, moved behind me and brutally forced his member in to my bottom. I squealed with shock and a little pain as he stretched me wide. He soon worked into a rapid rhythm, thrusting into my lubricated bottom like a piston. I steeled myself against the assault, thinking that my master would hate me if he saw how I was being used. Closing my eyes’ I tried to imagine that it was master pushing into me. A strange feeling overtook me as my bottom betrayed me and my little penis became hard. I was pushing back to meet the brute’s thrust and enjoying it despite my disgust. My inner slut had taken control so that all I could think of was the huge monster stretching my bottom. Soon the brute climaxed inside me with my little clit spurting in response. I hated myself. The bastard pulled out of me, turned me around and forced me to clean him off.
“Lick up your mess and clean yourself out. Make sure you are looking your best as I’m sure you will have another customer before you know it” he said as he slipped his shorts back on and locked me in as he left. I cried as I licked my semen from the bare mattress. I was sure that master would never want me again if I was lucky enough to see him again. Why would he want a slut like me? This thought haunted me as I flushed myself and relubricated my bottom. I fixed my makeup and waited on the stained mattress. It was not long before the door opened to admit another brute whose only aim was to violate my body.
The days were all the same. Each morning I was given an injection in my bottom and I was fed three times a day. I mated with six of them nearly every day. They were of mixed races, toned, muscled and strong. They all had large pricks. Occasionally one might not bother with me for a day while others often visited more than once. My bottom was now stretched and used to the continual assaults which meant that I was no longer in pain. It was my brain that was in pain and turmoil. I hated the way my body betrayed me by responding to the anal stimulus and spraying my seed upon the steadily more stained mattress. Each time I thought of master, I cried. My chances of ever seeing him again seemed slimmer as each day of my slavery passed. Even if I saw him again I was sure he wouldn’t want me after all these men had been inside me. After all I was an anal virgin when he first entered me. My body was changing from the injections. I was putting on a layer of fat and my breasts were growing. I just wanted the horror to stop. Couldn’t I just die? After some weeks, I had lost track of time, the movement of the ship changed. Looking out of the porthole I could see that we were entering a harbour. Was this where I would be sold into perpetual slavery? Would I be one man’s plaything or just a slut serving a never ending line of men? I cried again.
Eventually, after much manoeuvring the ship was still. I could hear bare feet slapping on decks and water lapping against the side of the ship. Gazing out of the porthole I could see nothing to indicate where I had been taken. With a click the door opened to admit two of my captors. While one of them held me by my shoulders the other forced a ball gag into my mouth and secured it with leather straps. They then helped me into a black burqa which covered me completely. Taking off my shoes they gave me a pair of flat sandals to wear. I was fitted with leather ankle shackles with a short chain linking them together. Being able to only take very short steps I would be incapable of running away. Taking me by an elbow one of the brutes dragged me out of the room and through various passageways and eventually off the ship and into a waiting car. Forced to sit in the middle of the back seat I had a burly guard on either side of me. Traveling through slum areas with few cars but many motor cycles and bicycles, I guessed by the dress of the crowds on the street that I was in the Middle East somewhere.
The car meandered through the city, passing shopping districts and some upmarket residential areas. After about an hour we left the city, traversed a small area of agricultural land before entering the desert where the car picked up speed on a wide straight bitumen road. Another hour passed before we turned onto a side road which soon led us to a building which reminded me of a fort. Two enormous steel gates opened as we approached to allow us to enter a courtyard. A spectacular mansion stood in the centre of the compound. Bypassing this building the car was driven around behind the house and stopped at a rear entrance. Quickly I was bundled out of the car into searing heat. Although I came from a warm country where summer could be very hot, I was almost knocked over by this blast furnace climate. My guards hurried me through the door and down some stone stairs to where the temperature was more bearable. Meeting us was a uniformed woman. Dark skinned and muscular as she was, I knew that I would be no match for her. My guards left me with her.
“Follow me slave” she ordered gruffly.
Shuffling along I struggled to keep up. Through a door we entered a hall with cages on either side. The cages were six by six feet square and five feet high. In each was a naked person. There were some men but mostly young women. The only ones who could stand upright were the youngest of them. Each cage had a thin mattress, two metal bowls and a bucket. The stench was terrible. The only sound was weeping. The woman stopped outside an empty cage.
“Remove your clothing and sandals.”
Struggling, I managed to get out of the sack and kicked off the sandals. My gag was removed and my wrists were cuffed behind me before she roughly pushed me into the cage. As my ankles were still cuffed and chained, I tripped and fell heavily onto the concrete floor.
“Do not speak. If you do I will hurt you.” She walked away.
I flopped onto the filthy stinking mattress and burst into tears. I slept and awoke feeling very thirsty. Crawling across the cage to the bowls I discovered that one contained dirty tepid water. Because my hands were restrained behind me, I had to lap the water up like a dog. My body told me that I needed to use the toilet. The bucket appeared to be the only option available so I squatted with great difficulty over it. Of course there was no paper and even if there had been, how could I use it with hands restrained behind me. Back on the mattress I lay there feeling like an animal. I felt degraded back on the ship but that was nothing compared with the deep depression I now fell into. Had there been the means I think I would have killed myself. I knew that even if I somehow escaped, master would hate me. What did life hold for me?
There was no sensation of day or night as the dim lights were kept burning at all times. I was soon totally disorientated. From time to time the water bowl was filled from a hose dragged along by a naked man. Some kind of foul tasting gruel was ladled into the other bowl which had to be lapped up like the water. The bucket was replaced with an empty one occasionally. A guard would order me to push my bottom against the front of the cage so that I could receive my hormone shot. This was my only indication of days passing. I steadily felt dirtier and less human as the days passed.
Groups of men would tour the prison inspecting us and writing down the cage numbers of some. The lights were turned up for these visits and we were expected to stoop in our cages and turn as instructed so that all sides could be inspected.
In the cage next to me was a pretty young woman who spent much of her day sobbing as she lay upon her mattress. One day the female guard unlocked her cage and called her out.
“Get your arse out here slave, you have been bought by a brothel.”
“No. Please leave me alone. I don’t want to go.”
“You have no choice. At least you will be clean, clothed and well fed.”
“NO! Please don’t take me.”
The guard stooped to enter the cage. She was carrying a cattle prod which she repeatedly zapped the hapless girl with until she finally left her cage.
Another inspection took place a couple of injections later. I guessed that I had been here for at least a month. My breasts were now quite well developed and I was growing quite a bottom. Soon after the inspection the same guard arrived outside my cell herding a few women with her cattle prod. Opening my caged, she ordered me to join them. Fearing the prod, I quickly joined them. For her own enjoyment she gave me a short burst of sparks from the prod which elicited a scream from me as I rushed to join the other selected slaves.
We were herded into a large communal shower room where we were ordered to wash and shave ourselves thoroughly after our bonds were removed. The water was warm and I luxuriated in the pleasure of getting myself clean. After the shower we were allowed to brush our hair and teeth before I was separated from the group. Another guard took me to a separate room where I was given several enemas. I felt that this was a very ominous development. Once I was clean I joined the others in yet another room where we were told to put on makeup at a series of benches in front of mirrors. It was made very clear that the makeup should be extra slutty and that we should colour our nipples. I was given cheap loop earrings and a necklace. Any girls with extra piercings were given garish jewellery to replace any studs that may have still been there after their captivity. We were led along a hallway where each of us was placed in a cell which was at least full height and had a chair to sit upon. There was a proper toilet with a seat and paper in one corner. I found my shoes waiting for me so I slipped my feet into them and sat to wait. Physically I felt quite good, relishing being clean. I was very depressed, as I had no future that could be seen as in any way pleasant.
Several men were let into the cell during the next few hours and I was carefully inspected. My teeth were looked at by most of them; I heard one mutter quietly to his companion that I would be much better off without them. They all fondled my little sack and penis, most were amused at how small they were. Several suggested that those bits would be best removed. A couple probed my bottom wearing rubber gloves to see how many fingers they could fit inside me. My nipples were pulled and my bottom slapped by all and sundry. Finally I was left alone, feeling that I truly was just an object. After a long wait during which I took the opportunity to relieve myself, the door opened, a guard placed a collar round my neck and led me out, along a corridor and onto a platform where I was tethered to a pole with a chain attached to my collar. In front of me were many men seated comfortably.
A man who I soon discovered was the auctioneer climbed onto the platform. He slapped my bottom with the crop he carried which made me dance around and squeal.
“Here we have a sissy boy. It has a well-used bottom and can deep throat. Hormones are working quite well at developing it’s female looks but he may develop faster with an orchiectomy as it is fully functioning and proven potent. It was found to be very submissive and responded sexually to pain stimuli by the owner she was liberated from. What am I bid for this pretty little sissy that would make a lovely addition to a brothel looking for the exotic or for a dominant needing a pain slut? Gentlemen, how much fun could you have removing its teeth or testicles with minimal or no sedation?”
Bidding quickly commenced in a language and currency that I didn’t understand. With each bid I was cropped on my ample bottom, which kept me hopping around the stage. Finally someone owned me. After three more slaps I was led off stage to a holding cell where several women sat despondently staring at the floor.
Although of differing physical builds all were blond, blue eyed with very pale skin. One more joined us before we were chained together between our collars and led along a corridor and into a small bus with heavily tinted windows. Our joining chains were removed so that we could take our seats. The bus left the fort and headed further into the desert. We travelled for several hours until the girls started to complain about their bladders. Our guards took pity on us, allowing us to climb out and squat in the sand. One girl stupidly decided to run off into the desert. The guards herded the rest of us back onto the bus, closed the door and drove off. The girl, realizing her stupidity started to chase after us along the road. The driver tormented her by allowing her to keep us in sight. Eventually she tired and collapsed on the road. The bus was reversed to her and the guards dragged her into the bus.
“Your owner will punish you for that stupidity” the guard snarled at the quivering girl.
The bus drove on for a few more hours. We were given food and water and the bus was well cooled. Finally we arrived at another desert fort where we were quickly transferred into a passage that led under the main building. We found ourselves in a cool dimly lit dungeon with many cells. We were all held in a large cell with rough wooden benches around the walls. There was an open toilet and shower in one corner and a table with jugs of cool water and plates of salad. The escapee was dragged away to another cell out of our sight. A group of older women with many marks across their backs were led past us in the direction of the bus. One of them looked at us and cackled madly from her toothless mouth.
“Those hags are the women who you are here to replace for your owner’s pleasure. They will be used in as comfort women for the rebels who support your master. Expect to look like that in a couple of years.” We were told. All we could do was sob.
As best we could we stretched out on the benches and tried to sleep after eating and drinking. After some hours we were woken as a guard delivered more food.
“Eat and clean yourselves. You will then each be taken to be inspected by the prince. Make sure that your bottoms are well flushed as master may want to inspect you there. Cosmetics and hair brushes are in this box so make sure that you look your best.” The guard told us.
We quickly ate and took turns with the enema kits, the toilet and the shower. Within an hour we were ready to go. Clean, fragrant, shaved and bejewelled we waited to be called. Our only clothing was our high heels.
“The sissy gets to go first” said the guard when she returned.
I was led away by the guard. Along a corridor with cells on either side, through a large room with ominous machines of torture and restraint that made master’s play room look vanilla and into a clean room that had the look of a doctor or dentists examination clinic. The guard quickly restrained me on an examination chair. My wrists were cuffed to the chair arms, my head to a rest and my ankles into some stirrups which could be positioned in many uncomfortable positions. The guard stepped back and bowed as two heavy set, swarthy men in white coveralls entered.
One man, he seemed to be the boss, approached me carrying a huge rubber dildo which he tried to force into my mouth. As much as I tried, there was no way that it would fit between my teeth.
“Nice try but not good enough” he said. Turning to his companion he said ” We will remove its teeth after the other procedures.”
The stirrups upon which my ankles rested moved up and back towards me, lifting my bottom from the seat and leaving all my private parts exposed. The boss tried to force the dildo into my bottom which proved to be impossible. He smiled. “Oh good! I was worried that you may have been stretched too much by those sailors. I am going to enjoy popping your cherry.” Turning to his companion he said “we will castrate it first and then we will brand it. You may proceed to spay the little bitch. Give it a little bit of local as we don’t want it to go into shock. I want it awake for all the other fun and games we have planned for it.”
Using a large syringe the surgeon proceeded to deaden the area around my scrotum. Soon he tested with a pin to ascertain if I was numb. Thankfully I felt nothing as he tested. Putting aside the syringe he approached me carrying a scalpel. Strangely I wasn’t afraid of losing them. I hoped they healed quickly but really wanted master to do it to me.
“Do you want any sack left sire?”
“No make it as tidy as possible.”
Both men looked up as a commotion started outside the room. My head was back to the doorway so I couldn’t see what caused my tormentors to raise their hands and back up to the wall. Two men in full body armour strode past me carrying wicked looking guns (I don’t know much about weapons) and smashed the wooden ends of the guns into men’s faces. I was terrified. Are these warlords? A little pee escaped my tiny penis. Head in the sand I clamped my eyes shut. The two dropped like they had been drugged. Someone gently undid my wrist and forehead and tummy restraints. When I felt my ankles being carefully released I opened my eyes and gasped. Master, wearing armour was releasing me. I burst into tears. He slid one arm under my knees and another under my back just below my shoulders and easily lifted me and carried me out of the room.
“Bring those pricks” he called over his shoulder.
“The girls?” I pleaded.
Smiling he said “all safe.”
Smiling back, I placed on arm around his neck and tried to kiss him. He turned aside. This was a worrying development which I shouldn’t have ignored.
We raced down the halls and corridors, past our holding cell; now storing several naked guards, and out into the fort’s huge courtyard. The girls, now dressed in white paper overalls huddled in a group while several armed men formed a perimeter, facing out to protect us. Master unloaded me, helped me into some overalls and the put me with the girls. Why did he leave me? I just wanted him to hold me. My tormentors were dragged out onto the dark courtyard, still out to it but now manacled. Master spoke into a walkie-talkie thingy. Soon we could hear a helicopter approaching.
An enormous chopper with two rotors landed. I don’t know anything about helicopters but one soldier called it a chook. Master herded us onto the machine. The prince and his surgeon were roughly thrown onto the floor and we took off. We sat in webbing seats on either side of the machine. As we flew along the prince woke up. He gradually seemed to make sense of what had happened.
Courageously he spoke “You do realize that I’m a crown prince in his land. Release me immediately and I will spare your lives.”
Master stepped over to him and kicked him hard between his legs. A huge breath escaped his lungs and then he vomited.
When the prince was able to understand his surroundings again, master spoke.
“By the time my friend Rebecca is finished; you’ll be a crown princess sucking cocks for pennies. As you won’t need these any longer I may as well kick you again.” He said, as he viciously lashed out again.
Around the craft there were many quizzical looks. Only I understood master’s words having seen Mistress Rebecca’s handiwork on my maid tormentor.
“He’ll be castrated, feminized, have his teeth removed and sold to a brothel somewhere as a glory hole gurl. If he’s unlucky he won’t get sick too quickly and have a long and tasty life.” I whispered to a nearby girl. The word spread quickly and soon there were gapped tooth smiles amongst all the girls.
Within half an hour we landed in the dark. After removing our shoes as ordered, Master led us on a short walk to an inflatable boat lying in warm water lapping against a beach. After a fast but crowded blast across the water we arrived at a sleek motor yacht waited. We climbed a gang way into absolute luxury. We were welcomed aboard by the crew who led us to our quarters after a quick check by the ships physician. The girls shared sumptuous cabins while I had my own. Master gave us an hour to tidy up, (typical control behaviour). I found a lovely pale pink sheath dress that barely fitted over my new plumper body, a pair of stay up stockings, thong and killer heels which I slipped into after a complete clean-up. I applied light girly make up, subdued jewellery and put my hair in pig tails.
As I entered the main salon I was handed a glass of bubbles. Stewards circulated with trays of finger foods. Apart from the gaps in our mouths we appeared a happy group of beautiful young women. Master circulated amongst his guests reassuring them that they would be reunited with their families very soon. I was sure he was ignoring me and I was very jealous. When I tried to get close to him he gave me a look that scared me. Soon I could take it no longer and wandered a little tipsy back to my cabin. Not bothering to even remove my shoes I flopped on the huge bunk I cried myself to sleep.
With no idea of how much time had passed I was awakened by a huge slap across my bottom inflicted by master using a leather paddle. I squealed with the pain as my eyes jerked open. Expecting to see master smiling lasciviously at me, I was surprised to see something approaching contempt in his eyes.
“I suppose you want to know how I found you?” he said without smiling.
I nodded, fearing that I would just choke up if I tried to speak.
“Employing an investigation company we eventually worked out through CCTV footage that you were on a ship. Unfortunately the ship had departed as I hadn’t realized you were missing for a couple of days and the trail had gone cold. All we knew was that the ship was eventually headed to the Middle East but not by which exact route. We lost track of you for some weeks until I got lucky. Through one of my Dom friends I heard of a slave auction to be held in the general area that the ship had been heading for. Managing to get a copy of the catalogue I was happy to find you described in the prospectus, although I was disturbed by how you were described. Unfortunately I was too late to rescue at the auction house but was able to trace you to the Princes fort. You know what happened then.”
“I gather that you have had quite a lot of sex since you were taken? He asked.
“I was raped over and over again by the ships officers” I managed to choke out. “It was horrible.”
“Liar” he snarled as he slapped my face. “When we seized the ship and had the crew arrested I recovered this disk.” He threw a blue ray disk and a glossy booklet on the bed. “Look at those you little slut and we will talk again.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him while I just lay blubbering on the bed. He had never slapped my face before. Any spankings had been sexually related.
Eventually I dried my eyes and looked through the brochure. I found a picture of myself looking my best in one of master’s outfits. It must have been snapped while we were out together at some time. Another photo showed me naked apart from my shoes, probably taken on the ship. Next there was a picture of me, on my knees sucking a huge black penis. Finally there was one of me being taken from behind by yet another huge Negro. I was smiling, my eyes were shut and my little penis could be seen to be very stiff.
I was described as a well-trained, submissive pain slut who loved to deep throat and enjoys rough anal sex. I was happiest when restrained and whipped before sex. It would be perfect for any admirer of fine pale lady boys. Has been well dosed with hormones but will surely respond well if gelded. It would be suitable as a harem maid with some mild surgery, in an exotic brothel or BDSM dungeon. No wonder master was unhappy with me. By the time I had watched the disk I knew that our relationship was lost. There were hours of video showing me thrusting back against the assaults of the officers and spurting on the mattress as I came. The bliss on my face was obvious as my bottom betrayed me each time I was ravaged. Master was right. I was a little slut. I sobbed myself to sleep again.
I guess I slept through the night. The door flying open awakened me. Master stood over me looking almost satanic. Grabbing my hair he jerked me upright and slapped me hard again across each check several times. I was thrown, sobbing back onto the bed.
“Well, what have you to say?” He sat on the bed and waited.
Eventually I could speak. “Master, forgive me. I love you. My bottom betrays me. I can’t help it. Once it’s filled I just respond. I only got through it by pretending it was you inside me. I wish I was dead.”
“You are of no use to me as a sub or a lover. You are soiled goods.” He shouted. “What shall I do with you?”
“Please master, make me your maid. I’ll do anything. I could work in the kitchen. Just keep me near you.”
Slapping me hard again, “you tramp. I wouldn’t even keep you as a toilet.” He spat out. “You will be locked in here until we reach home port, by that time I will have worked out what to do with you. We will be dropping the girls off soon and then rendezvousing with a freighter to take the prince and his companion. I don’t want them on board when we get home.” He locked me in.
Before I could search for something to kill myself with, two stewards entered and removed any sharps and all the clothes, bedding and towels. I was left with a small hand towel. Apart from trying to shred the mattress I could think of nothing to hang myself with or slash my wrists with.
Three times each day I was fed. After breakfast a steward would enter to inject my daily hormone shot and bring a towel for my shower, which was taken away after I finished. This was my only human contact for the following week until we sailed into our familiar home harbour. I did have a selection of movies to watch. Otherwise I would have died of boredom.
As we sailed up the harbour, master entered the room. He wasn’t smiling. Fearing his wrath, I curled into a ball and covered my head with my arms. Nothing happened. Eventually I peeked and saw him sitting on a chair just staring at me. Oh god; he was so beautiful. My heart was pounding and I had that familiar warm feeling in my belly.
Still frowning he spoke “I won’t have you back. Although I blame myself for what happened, you are no longer the person that I thought could be my life partner.” Screaming and thrashing about on the bed I became hysterical. I hadn’t even thought that could have been possible.
He waited patiently until I had recovered to just a blubbering mess. “I will provide for you. I have signed over that unit we talked about you moving into. It is now yours. I have registered a nice little car for you and I will pay you a generous allowance. You will be comfortable and I hope you find a new life for yourself. In return, you must sign this agreement. It is a non-disclosure document. I want my privacy protected. You will have nothing further to do with me. I am moving my whole operation overseas so that the chances of us bumping in to each other will be minimal. Do you agree?”
At first I felt like spitting in his face. None of this was my fault, yet I was being punished. Then it dawned upon me that I had nothing. A rented flat, if I hadn’t been evicted, no job and only a few thousand dollars left from what the bastard had given me after our last split. I decided to take the offer.
“Ok, I’ll sign you arsehole.”
“Good.” He handed me the paper which I read. He called in a steward to witness my signature.
“All your possessions are in storage as your landlord had thrown them into the street. They will be delivered by the time you get home. I will leave details of an excellent shrink and a surgeon with experience with transgender people. Use them if you wish, they will not charge you.” He stated in his usual controlling manner and then walked out of my life.
I was still crying when the steward returned with a towel and left me alone. I showered and found a selection of clothes laid out on the bed. As the weather looked warm outside’ I chose a short summer dress in pink, matching thong and white mid heeled sandals. I didn’t bother with a bra. After brushing my hair and applying some light make up I was ready to go. I found a passport, cash, credit card and my driver’s licence which I placed in a small handbag. The yacht docked eventually and after a cursory customs check I was able to leave. There was no sign of Mr Arsehole Black as I climbed into a waiting limousine. Pulling up in front of my new address the driver opened my door and passed me a bundle of keys as I alighted. He left as I let myself through the security entrance. The directory had me listed as miss a Hazel with a number next to it. At least I could find my flat.
In the elevator I noticed that there was a basement car park. One of the keys in my bunch was for a car so I decided to see what he had given me. The lights in the basement car park came on automatically as I left the elevator. I pressed the remote and saw the flash of some indicators on a bright red European compact sedan with heavily tinted glass. I was very impressed until I saw the number plates which contained just two letters which spelled HO. Somehow I managed to control my tears and get to my unit which was on the top floor of the building.
I couldn’t fault the unit. There were three bedrooms. The main had an ensuite bathroom while there was a main bathroom for the guests. There was a beautifully equipped kitchen, a separate laundry and an open plan living and dining area. Large windows provided a view over a pretty park. I wondered if the bastard had any more nasty surprises hidden waiting to upset me like the car had. A pile of boxes with my possessions from the other flat waited for my attention. The refrigerator was stocked with plenty of fresh food and wine. Cracking a bottle of bubbly I poured a glass and settled down on a leather couch to relax before exploring the other rooms. Soon, feeling much more relaxed I decided to explore the other rooms. The main bedroom had a walk in dressing room. In the wardrobe I discovered several dresses hanging and lots of heels on racks. The dresses and shoes were all bright red and looked a size too small. A quick look at the labels indicated that they were of the lowest quality that one might buy in a market. There was a table covered with cheap cosmetics and hair products.
I opened a drawer to discover cheap lingerie. Another drawer was full of night gowns and teddies. Every item was lurid red too small and cheap rubbish. I was glad that I had my own clothes in the boxes. The bastard was certainly sending the cheap message to me. I laughed, as he would have to do better than that to upset me. There were no other surprises until I opened a drawer in one bedside table. It was full of black dildos and vibrators of different sizes and styles. Surprisingly that did upset me. Sobbing I returned to my spot on the couch, and drained the bottle of Champaign without bothering with a glass. He was such a prick. The bubbles worked. On an empty stomach the alcohol soon had me snoozing through the middle of the day.
I awoke, surprisingly feeling OK. Hunger drew me to the refrigerator. I soon settled down to a nice salad and some water. I needed to trim down a little. As much as I liked my womanly shape, I definitely needed a better diet and a gym membership. There was a red brief case sitting on a coffee table which I had not previously noticed. Flicking the catches and lifting the lid I discovered a lot of paper work. All pretty boring stuff related to my ownership of the apartment, bank accounts, car ownership etc. Three business cards were for the medical people that he had mentioned. There was a note from him. “The girl I thought you were was suited to pink. Fat tramps, like you are now, wear cheap red rubbish and spread their legs for black cock” was all it said. It was so infantile that I just laughed. I hadn’t realized he was a racist as well as an arsehole.
Within a couple of hours all my possessions were put away. Amongst my clothes was a lot of the stuff he had supplied. Corsets, thongs and stockings and shoes all in pink were soon hanging where the red rubbish had been. They were of such high quality that I couldn’t face throwing them out. One could never know when they might be needed to seduce some well hung stud. I laughed again. I really needed to lose a little weight. My first jobs tomorrow would be to buy some temporary clothes that fitted and join a gym.
Once I had fired up my laptop, he had thoughtfully provided internet access; I looked up the three health professionals. I suspected some kind of infantile embarrassing stunt. They all checked out as fine practitioners. I would contact the dentist and the surgeon in the morning. I made myself some more salad, limited myself to a couple of glasses of wine and watched a silly chick flick. My sleep was bliss until the door intercom woke me up with its incessant buzzing. At least it was daylight.
Dragging myself out of bed I pressed the button.
“Tony?” I heard a girl sob.
“Who are you?” I was brusque.
“I’m Toy. Please let me in.” she sounded frantic so I buzzed her in.
She looked terrible as I let her through the door, towing a small wheeled case. Throwing her arms around my neck she clung to me. I could feel her tummy bump pushing against me. She smelled terrible. Eventually I was able to extricate myself and lead her to one of the couches and sit her down.
“Just sit there and calm down. You are safe here. I need to pee so don’t move.”
I bolted to the loo and gratefully drained last night’s wine from my bladder. It was then that I realized that I was naked. I didn’t care and laughed. Let’s face it, Toy and I had some history and by the feel of her tummy we probably shared a child.
She was still crying when I returned. There was definitely a bump showing. I’d lost track of time during my ordeal but I guessed she might be maybe two or three months gone. After pouring us each a glass of juice, which I placed on the coffee table, I sat down and gave her a big cuddle, doing my best to ignore her stench.
“Tell me!” I demanded firmly. After all I was the father of her child. I nearly broke up again with that thought.
“Mistress has been arrested.”
“Is this a long story?” I asked.
“It will take a little while.”
“You stink. I can’t stand the smell. Come with me. Shower and then we will talk.”
Tearfully she sobbed “It’s not my fault. Mistress sometimes likes me to be her dirty little cat.”
“I don’t care whose fault it is. Just shower please.” She followed me dragging her little suite case into the main bathroom.
Still naked, I made myself a coffee and planned my day. I was a list person so I soon had several numbers to ring written down, clothes, hairdresser, doctor, gym and Toy. Oh! What to do about Toy.
Half an hour passed before she reappeared, looking and smelling a lot better wearing a cute little white baby doll and matching panties.
“Sit here Toy and tell me the story. How did you find me?” I said, patting the leather cushion next to me.
“The lawyer gave me the address. Please call me Sandra. That’s my real name. Toy was just one name she used when she played her sick games. This week I was pussy and had to roll play being a dirty stray cat.”
I felt like throwing up. So that was what a full on Ds scene was like.
“OK” I said. “Tell me the story.”
“Last night I got a call from Mistress’s lawyer. She told me that mistress had been arrested trying to meet up with some girl that she had been apparently grooming over the net. It was a sting by the child protection squad. I was told where to find some important personal paperwork and a little cash. The lawyer told me to pack a bag and get away before the cops turned up. May I stay here for a while until I sort out something else?”
“Of course you can. We need to look after the baby. What is the paperwork?”
“My birth certificate and adoption paperwork from when that bitch got hold of me.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m eighteen and a half?”
“That’s good. You look much younger. As long as we can show that the baby is safely in the hands of a pair of adults the authorities won’t try to take it.” She was smiling now that she felt safe. I was in control; this was a whole new feeling for me.
“I wish I wasn’t having it. I’m too young but I guess I’m stuck with it. I’m so glad you are looking after me. Mistress has always owned me. I don’t think I could cope without some direction.”
“Are you looking to me for a new mistress?”
“I think so. Or maybe a master.”
“I have a lot to do today so I’ll consider that while I’m out. Come with me if you wish or stay here.”
“I might rest if that’s alright. When do you meet up with master Black next?”
“I won’t be doing that again with him. He’s a prick. I’ll tell you about it sometime when you have a few hours to kill. You go and rest while I shower and organize my day.”
After making a couple of calls I had dental, hairdressing and medical appointments set up. The medical ones recognized my name and fitted me in. I had no problems getting a hair appointment back at my old work place.
After my shower I dressed. None of my bras fitted but at least my thongs were very stretchy. I found a white sheath with just enough stretch for me to squeeze into. It was just long enough to cover the lacy tops of my nude stay-ups. Brush hair, light makeup, subdued jewellery and killer heels and I was ready to go. My mirror told me that I looked hot. My braless state was obvious through the dress’s thin fabric. We fat tramps need to show off after all. I had difficulty stopping giggling as I grabbed my bag, checked on my guest who was sound asleep and left the unit.
In the elevator I noticed a button for gymnasium. That could solve my exercise issues. Checking that out will wait for later.
Next was my hair. David did it himself. I wanted more red in my naturally auburn colouring. Red might become my new pink. Ha Ha! Very happy with the result I headed off to find the doctor.
The taxi dropped me off in the middle of the city. I soon found the rooms. Shit this bloke was a surgeon. What’s this is all about? Oh well; let’s find out.
As soon as I mentioned my name I became a VIP. It helps to know a rich arsehole I guess. Sipping a well-crafted coffee I flicked through a lovely fashion magazine. A gasp brought my head up. Looking up I saw a familiar face. My saviour and first boyfriend stood looking down at me. He looked incredibly hot in a dark suit. It was my turn to gasp as I felt a familiar tingle in my belly.
“Follow me Tony” he whispered. “You are beautiful.”
Shit! I couldn’t remember his name. We had never had proper sex. The new fat, red slut imagined him inside me. I was dribbling as he led me in to a huge office. Behind an enormous uncluttered desk sat a pretty middle aged woman. Standing she walked shook my hand and gestured that I should sit.
“I’m Professor Blake. I specialise in sex reassignment surgery. John here is my pupil. What can we do for you?” speaking kindly.
“As you can see, I’m transgendered. I’m not sure how far to go in transforming myself, as I don’t have a current partner to give me any input. Orchiectomy and breast augmentation tempt me but I don’t think I want to lose my little clit just yet.” I saw a little smile cross John’s face.
“Getting rid of those annoying little bits may actually negate the need for breast enhancement, once you testosterone is suppressed. You seem to be doing quite a good job growing them without surgery.”
I grinned as I saw a little nod from my first lover. At least I knew his name now.
“I want you to talk to a colleague who will assess whether this is the right path for you. If that’s OK I’ll get you an appointment tomorrow? If the psychological assessment is ok we will move on from there.”
“Yes please” was my reply.
“John. Show Antoinette out. I’m sure that we will be seeing her again soon.”
My inner, fat red slut wanted John a lot sooner than that. The temptation of those big dildos next to my bed was playing on my mind. If I wasn’t able to get the real thing soon I could see me debasing myself getting off on a piece of rubber. Maybe I did need to talk to a shrink.
Placing his lips near to my ear, John whispered “coffee? I’m single too.”
“Have dinner at my place tonight. Here is my number.” Quickly I wrote on a scrap of paper torn from the receptionists pad. I left.
My heart was fluttering as I rode the elevator down when my phone rang.
“Time and address?” he asked shyly.
I set the time and gave him the address. I was on a mission. I would own this handsome doctor before midnight.
Shopping was in order. I needed a better dress and something for Sandra to wear. I had a plan for her too. I rang a caterer.
Dress, bras, corset and Sandra’s costume bought I headed home. I was tingling all over.
Quietly I let myself into my unit. The door to Toy’s (She would always be Toy to me) room was open. Glancing in I could see her rubbing one of the black vibrators from my room over her naked clit which was slick with her juices. She was panting with pleasure.
Incensed that she had snooped in my room, I tip toed into the room, grabbed her by the front of her baby doll which ripped away from her breasts, and pulled her over my knees. The plastic toy flew across the floor. My spanks were hard but not extreme and after a few slaps, to my surprise she shattered into a massive orgasm.
As I pushed her to the floor I felt an empowerment over take me. I knew that I had found my perfect servant, slave or maid and surrogate mother for the children I could never have.
“Bring me a drink, maid” I demanded, walking back to the leather lounge that provided the best view of the harbour from the unit.
Crawling from her room, Toy went to the kitchen and poured me a glass of Chardonnay. Delivering the drink, somehow still crawling, she then curled up on the floor at my feet.
“I am now your mistress, you little bitch. You will be my slave, servant and maid. I will treat you fairly but harshly. There will be none of that gross stuff that Jane put you through. OK?”
Her answer was to slip off my shoes and kiss my feet.
“I have a man coming to dinner. We need to prepare. Help me get ready and then you can dress yourself. I have caterers bringing the meal which you will serve. I will specify what wine we will drink.”
Preparation took the next two hours. Fifi (my new name for her) helped me wash both inside and out. She was surprised at how much trouble I took with the enemas until I explained about how I had sex and that I liked to clean my man off after he had finished. Fifi laced me into my black under bust corset and attached the garters to my noir lace topped stockings before I sent her away to shower and dress in her maid’s outfit. After slipping on a tight thong to keep my naughty little bits tucked out of sight, I settled down to apply my makeup. Instead of my usual subdued innocent look I went for a more dramatic effect; not full blown slut style but definitely promoting myself as a woman rather than a girl. Elegant silver hoops, matching bracelet and necklace, a splash of my best perfume and I was ready to slip into the dress.
“Fifi are you ready?” I called.
“Yes mistress I’m coming.”
Her heels tapped on the timber floor as she joined me. The long red dress clung to my every curve. Strapless, it showed off my shoulders and hugged my breasts showing my nipples standing erect either side of my cleavage. A split on the left side just exposed the top of that stocking. Red pumps with deadly looking chrome heels completed the outfit. One look in the mirror told me that one young doctor was going to be stunned.
And stunned he was. Fifi buzzed him in and then greeted him at the door with a curtsey. He seemed vaguely amused as she led him into my living room. Sinuously I stood and presented my cheek for him to kiss. Once he had regained his composure, he appeared to be in shock, I received a chaste peck on my cheek. Taking a hand I led him to and sat him on the lounge.
Wanting to sit on his knee, I had to make do with sitting close to him as I asked “what can we get you to drink?”
“Just something soft please. I’m on duty at ten.”
Hiding my disappointment I directed the maid to get a soft drink and a wine for me.
“So tell me about yourself since you went overseas.” I asked.
He seemed uncomfortable as he quickly filled me in about his studies and eventual return to take up a place as the professor’s student. There was an undercurrent that I didn’t quite understand. Why did he seem so uncomfortable?
The caterers delivered the food which Fifi served.
As we ate I gave him an edited version of my life since we parted all those years ago. I left out many of the really juicy parts, but felt he was still shocked by many of my escapades. Although the food was delicious I couldn’t enjoy it. I was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with John. He seemed distant when I had expected him to be all over me. Even my Chardonnay tasted tart.
As we were finishing coffee John checked his watch and announced “I must be going or I’ll be late for my shift.” He stood.
Doing my best to hide my disappointment while I walked him to the door I whispered “when will I see you next?”
“I’ll set up an appointment with the professor as soon as we get a psych report from your appointment tomorrow. You are booked for 10 o’clock for as long as it takes. You will need to be more open with her than you have with me tonight.”
“But what about us?” I was almost crying.
“I’ll see you with the professor and then we’ll see about us.” A quick brush of his lips across my brow and he was gone.
Without even closing the door I raced to my room, through myself on the bed and buried my crying eyes in a pillow. I wanted to die.
Sandra was patting my back and saying “there, there mistress, it will all work out somehow.”
“No it won’t. He hates me,” blubbering. “Can you hold me?”
Lying next to me, soon we were snuggled together. Oh hell! My little clit was hardening between my legs and soon I was passionately kissing Sandra. What was I? A total slut, dress as a whore in red and black, kissing a girl when I should have been entwined with a man. As my maid was responding to me advances, lust took over from misery.
“Help me out of my dress and get yourself naked” I ordered harshly. My dress was on the floor and Sandra was naked with her little pot belly poking out within seconds. My lingerie and shoes stayed on. After finding the right sized black dildo, some lube and a little vibrator in the bed side drawer I stripped off my thong and flopped on my back across the bed.
“Serve me wench” I ordered as I passed the black toys to her. “You may excite yourself with the vibrator as you pump my bottom with the dildo and suck my clit.”
Eyes closed with my knees against my chest I revelled in the feeling as the big black dong slid easily into my arse. I imagined that it was John inside me. Sandra worked her pursed lips on my tiny cock, sucking hard. I tried to push away the image of master sucking me. What is happening to me? Am I really turning into that slut that Master called me. I could hear the vibrator humming at Sandra’s pussy. The dildo was massaging my prostate and my tiny clit dribbled continuously into the girl’s hungry mouth. Finally the dam burst and I squirted onto her tongue. Meanwhile, although the vibrator hummed, her pussy dribbled juice and she panted, climax seemed to elude her.
“Please spank me, Mistress. I can’t cum without it.” Pleading!
Once the dong was out of me and I had calmed down, I sat up and dropped my still stocking covered legs over the bed side until my stilettos hit the floor. Sandra flopped over my knees, holding the vibrator against her dripping cunt lips. Only a couple of hard slaps had her screaming out her orgasm. This didn’t stop me from continuing the spanking until my hand was sore and she was begging for mercy. Inflicting the pain on the poor girl washed away some of my pain. Pushing her onto the floor I felt like kicking her, as if that would rip away all my pain. Such sick thoughts revolted me. I almost bolted to the bathroom to throw up. Instead I just burst into tears.
“What have I done? How did I drive him away?” a rhetorical question that Sandra answered any way as she sat next to me with an arm around my shoulder.
“I think you scared him with the up market escort look. He was expecting the innocent girl he knew and loved all those years ago. From my point of view it looked like all you wanted was his cock in your bottom as quick as possible. You may not have lost him completely. Perhaps the shrink can help you tomorrow.”
She was right. Thinking back over the last few hours I could see a change in my mindset. Even my language had changed. Dong, arse, cunt and cock weren’t normal words for me. They were slut words. I really had to get my act together. Sandra was right, hopefully the psych could help me get myself back together.
“Well, aren’t you a cute little boy?” she said as I walked into the office. I was wearing a white short flared skirt over nude stockings, matching bra, thong and garter belt. My shoes were sensible three inch heeled sandals and my makeup, hair and jewellery was conservative.
Bursting into tears I blubbered “I don’t know what I am but I’ve never been a boy.” I just stood there shaking.
Standing the bitch approached me with a tissue and led me to a couch saying “There, there, dear have a seat and we will talk. I think we will accept that you should be a girl and by your look I think you are almost there.” I calmed down slowly.
“I will recommend that you receive whatever surgery you please to achieve what you want. Now we need to get on to some other matters. I want you to tell me truthfully of your life since John left for Europe all those years ago.”
“Have you been talking to him? Why do you want to know this? Some of it is hard for me to tell. It was horrible.”
“John is worried about you. I think letting go will help you.”
So with lots of sobs and tissues I told her the whole story. It took ages but I did feel better to let it out.
“You feel like a slut because your master called you that. Just because you like sex doesn’t make you a slut. I can help you with this but it might take time. First step is to dress like you have today. Sexy but understated. I’m sure you feel better with that look anyway.”
She was right. I did prefer this style.
We talked for ages and I felt better and better. Finally I was told that I had another appointment for the following day with the professor at ten AM. With a much improved perspective of the whole situation I left the office.
Back at the unit I found Sandra still in her baby doll watching rubbish on the television. The spanking that I gave her only lasted until she appeared to be about to cum. I stopped and sent her off to shower and dress to go shopping. She sulked as she wandered off to the bathroom while I wrote a grocery list for her to fill.
When she returned she was wearing a light yellow dress which almost hid her condition and some mid heeled sandals. I handed her the note, cash and told her that the little supermarket was only a block away. She seemed confused and just stood there.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I’ve never shopped.” She whispered.
Grabbing my purse I took her hand and led her out of the unit. “Time you learned. It’s one of the things maids do.” My planned gym session would have to wait.
Food shopping done, with it to be delivered in two hours and a maid who now understood how it worked we ambled home only pausing at an upmarket lingerie shop to treat ourselves to a new baby doll for Sandra and a sexy teddy for myself.
“Can you cook?” said as I locked the door.
“No Mistress” shuffling her feet and looking down.
“I’ll teach you. And will let you cum when you do it well. Fail to learn and I’ll put you on orgasm denial until you do. Go and turn into Fifi.” This was a fun game. I wasn’t really planning to be cruel. She was carrying my child after all. I had better find a doctor for her as soon as possible. The professor should be able to suggest someone.
Soon she was back looking like a maid. “Dust all the furniture and shelves and then vacuum the floors. I’ll check your work when I have been to the gym.” After showing her where the equipment was kept, I quickly changed into tiny shorts, singlet and trainers and headed to the gym floor where I really gave myself a work out.
On my hot and sweaty return I found Fifi hard at it with the vacuum cleaner. She seemed to have the hang of it so I poured a tall glass of iced water and perched on a stool tingling all over from the workout to watch. Just as I was contemplating having a bath she finished. I checked for dust and was so happy with her work that I directed her to put the cleaner away but to keep the feather duster. Taking the duster I had her remove her frilly panties and bend over a kitchen bench.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Be careful when you dance on the Devil’s doorstep.
You never know when he might come out and ask you to come inside.
(One of my Grandmother’s sayings.)
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Doctor David Ryan Richardson rose groggily from the couch in his basement TV room and staggered upstairs to the shower. Despite not feeling well, he desperately needed to clean up and get ready for a very special night on the town. He was going to a Halloween party that he could not possibly allow himself to miss.
The previous morning, for the first time ever, he had cancelled all remaining appointments for the day and returned home sick. Unlike many of his doctor friends, he was almost never sick. That was probably because, unlike most of his doctor friends, he wasn’t around sick people all of the time, at least not physically sick people.
One of the reasons that David had become a Psychiatrist was that metal illness was not contagious – that and the fact that it gave him clear access to very vulnerable people who could not protect themselves from his sadism.
Dave had always known he was a sadist, even before he knew what the word meant. And he always knew that he was going to become a doctor, even before he knew what all was involved in making that happen.
His mother had named him David Ryan so his initials would be DR. One of his earliest memories was of her telling him that he already had doctor in front of his last name, now all he had to do was become one.
Most people become doctors because they want to help people, but not David. David knew very early in his life that he did not want to help people. David wanted to hurt people, or at least he wanted to watch people suffer. He became a doctor because his mother wanted him to become a doctor, and his mother was rich enough to pay for his medical education and powerful enough that no one, including David, ever went against what Mother Richardson wanted – at least not for very long.
Medical school was a nightmare for David – especially residency. Classes were not a problem. He held a perfect A average throughout college and med school. David was brilliant – perhaps beyond brilliant, so trying to learn all that a doctor needed to know was not the problem. The problem was…. all those suffering people you were supposed to care about… all those worried relatives who expected you to “understand”… all those do-gooders continually trying to talk you into a volunteer year or two in this or that Godforsaken country… and especially, all those sick people coughing and sneezing and oozing their filth and contagion all over you, trying to drag you down into the depths of their pit of woe. For David, THAT was medical school and it was only his fear of his mother’s power that kept him there into his residency year. Residency was even worse because he had to come into close contact with the puss and pestilence of everyday hospital life.
There was one shining spot in the midst of that dark hole of blackness called residency, and that was psychiatric rotation. Most of the other residents dreaded a cycle through psychiatric, but there David found his home. Others would complain of the poor demented souls who looked at them with such pleading eyes, begging to be released from that terrible prison of torment and pain created by their own minds. The sense of helplessness in the face of such hopelessness drained the energy from almost every other student…, but not from “Doctor Doctor.” He thrived on it.
The name of the on-call in the psych unit was never written out fully on the contact board. Even the doctor’s full initials were not used. Instead the initials of their first and middle names were written on the board in the slot permanently labeled “Dr.” When David was on call it read, “Dr. DR.” Thus, David became known as “Doctor Doctor.” He liked that nickname and often used it to refer to himself.
The other residents soon learned that Doctor Doctor was willing to trade assignments, and by making regular trades, David was able, for the most part, to avoid the normal wards which he hated, and the others were able to avoid the psych ward which they hated. It was a perfect arrangement. Normally, the supervising doctors would have objected to such continual trades, but David seemed to be such a natural in the psych ward and to have such a rapport with the patients, that they let it slide.
The other residents, and even some of the supers, were amazed that, when assigned to daily group sessions for the “permanent resident patients,” he could sit and listen for hours to them tell their same tale of woe over and over again. What they did not know is that David wasn’t really listening to what these demented souls had to say. Instead, he was warming himself in the glow of the pain and suffering that exuded from their bodies with every word they spoke. That’s why Doctor Doctor was not worn down by these useless attempts at therapy as were almost every other resident forced to participate in these sessions with the lost and unreachable. Instead, as he sat amongst their pain, he was fed… nourished… invigorated… by the feast of despair and anguish laid before him, which he sucked greedily into his body.
He sought and was accepted into a full, four year psychiatric residency, and following that went into partnership with a Psychiatrist at the hospital who was nearing retirement. During his four years of residency and another four years of partnership, Doctor Doctor honed his techniques of counseling and therapy, but more importantly he perfected his techniques of selecting, using and abusing certain, specific patients.
It was a given that Psychiatrists, male and female, would use their position to get a little sexual satisfaction once in a while. As long as it wasn’t too blatant, and as long as there were no public lawsuits, such activity was treated with a blind eye. But sex did not feed and invigorate David. Inflicting pain did, and that type of mistreatment of patients was not treated so leniently.
Doctor Doctor extensively read the histories of doctors, lawyers, teachers, pastors, and others who had been brought down by mistreatment of those entrusted to them. The lesson he learned from that record was clear. If he mistreated everyone, eventually everyone would know. If he mistreated a few, several would know and would corroborate each other’s stories once the story of one came out. But if he chose one carefully selected patient at a time as his “play puppet,” and if he made sure that selected person was not around later to testify against him, the worst that could happen would be a situation where it was the word of ONE certifiably deranged person against that of a well-regarded and highly respected Doctor of Psychiatry who had worked so hard to help so many people – all of whom were willing to publically testify on his behalf.
At first David selected people with masochistic tendencies, preferably with suicidal overtones. Such people would allow him to hurt them emotionally, physically, and mentally because, deep down, they enjoyed it. But Doctor Doctor found these relationships did not feed him adequately or warm the coldness that often permeated his soul. The flicker of the flame of pain and suffering within these people was actually weak, and all too often that flame was overwhelmed by the fire of the pleasure of release that came within or after the pain. That fire of pleasure did not feed David. It burned him and drove him away.
It was a part of David’s plan from the very beginning that if a puppet was not satisfactorily working out, or if he had just grown tired of them, he would dispose of them. That sounds difficult and risky in and of itself, but when a mentally unbalanced person is standing on the edge of the cliff of self-destruction, it is remarkably easy for someone, properly trained and skilled, to push them over that precipice while at the same time leaving a records trail that looks like all of the while they were trying to pull that poor, demented individual back from the edge.
Several rejected play puppets went over the cliff before Doctor Doctor finally refined his selection criteria. He discovered that he did not want a masochist who was drawn to pain because of the enjoyment it gave them – despite the cost of that enjoyment. What Doctor David needed, and carefully sought out, was a pain addict who was drawn to pain because they needed it – despite the fact that they derived absolutely no pleasure from it.
Some masochists progress – or regress – into pain addicts. David had even helped one or two make that transition. It starts when the person is no longer driven by the pleasure of being in pain, but rather by the unbearable distress of NOT being in pain. Like a junkie craving a fix, they begin to crave pain just to make the distress of withdrawal go away. And exactly like a junkie building up a tolerance, the pain they crave becomes more and more severe in order to give them their fix. Eventually it gets to a point where they no longer derive any pleasure at all from the pain, but are driven solely by the fact that the pain of being without pain is worse than the pain of being in pain. That is usually the point where they self destruct or seek someone to destroy them.
Although Doctor David knew that it was an impossible quest, he dreamed of someday finding the perfect play puppet. He even knew exactly what the perfect play puppet would be. That sadist’s unholy grail would be someone addicted to pain, but not willing to end their suffering through the tough road of therapy and life-style change that would release them from their addiction. At the same time that person would not be willing to end their suffering through the simple road of ending their own life. This ambivalence trapped that person permanently in the prison of their own mind. This person would seek pain, but then shriek in true agony when that pain was received. The warmth given off by that kind of pain and suffering could nourish David for a long, long time.
Seven months ago, Doctor Doctor was growing tired of his latest play puppet and gave her the final tap at the top of the precipice. He often did pro-bono work. Shelly was a “charity case.” His counseling with her was non-fee. He even arranged to pick up the portion of her in-house treatments that the entitlement programs didn’t cover. When she committed suicide, outwardly he was devastated that someone he had worked so hard to save had taken their own life by stepping in front of a bus. Inwardly he was laughing to himself about how simple it had been to put her in front of that bus.
All he had needed to do was to point out an article in the newspaper about someone who had been hit by a bus, and then add, “At least it was over so fast he didn’t suffer. One minute he was here, the next in he was in oblivion.”
David knew that Shelly took the bus to and from her appointments with him and to work. He also knew – because she had told him – that the express busses, which also drove in the curbside “Busses Only” lane with the regular busses, did not stop at Shelly’s bus stop.
David’s comment was an “impulse grenade,” and he had pulled the pin and dropped it into her mind so smoothly that she didn’t even feel it lodge in her subconscious. Doctor Doctor had waited until after the session had wrapped up and the recorders were turned off to accidentally pick up the paper lying on his desk and make his comment. No video or audio was running, so nothing would appear in the records trail should anyone ever take the time or effort to go looking.
Three weeks later, the grenade exploded. Shelly was going to work. She stood at her bus stop and watched the express bus coming. She knew it wasn’t going to stop. It wasn’t even going to slow down. It never did. But then, as it approached, suddenly the image of a quick doorway into oblivion flashed into her mind. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped off the curb.
David had the front page story on the break room bulletin board for several weeks, but took it down because he was afraid that someone might notice that he smiled deeply whenever he looked at it. Now it was in a folder in the rack on his desk. He knew it was there, and he knew what it said. That was all that was necessary. His smile was just as broad as he glanced at that folder. In fact, the other day just looking at that folder had caused him to suddenly need to call Debra, the records clerk, into his office to review some case records.
Debra was a sex addict whom David had “cured.” At least her husband and her family thought that she was cured because she no longer wore provocative clothing or snuck out of the house at night to troll the bars. What he had actually done, however, was to change her addiction from general sex to sex with him. Those modest, loose fitting dresses and skirts that she wore were merely to disguise the fact that while at work she wore nothing under them except a dildo harness that kept plugs firmly in place in her cunt and ass.
She was not a “play puppet” for his sadistic pleasure, but merely a “normal” doctor-patient sexual release like several others whom he occasionally used. He had cultivated each of them carefully and was fairly sure that none of them would expose him, but even if they did, such scandal would, at worst, bring a letter of censure from his peer review board. More likely it would be just a “strongly worded verbal warning,” and a notation in his records that “a client complaint had been investigated.”
Debra had removed the harness and both dildos before coming up to the office. David had texted her to say that he needed to review “two files.” That meant he wanted her available for immediate sex. “A fast review of a case” meant to leave the harness in place because all he wanted was a quick blow job under his desk. “Several files,” or “some case records,” meant he actually needed records work done.
Debra was a properly trained medical records clerk. It was her job, among other things, to load the disks into the recorders at the beginning of the day. For some complex legal reason, the recorder had to be in the same room as the camera and microphone, so that meant going to David’s office first thing each morning to insert the properly labeled disks. It also meant returning to the office after the last appointment of the day to remove the disks and file them. An “overnight disk” was always left in the machine so that the doctor could record any emergency or evening session.
The disks were not the only things inserted in the morning. Debra would set the disk case on a chair, reach up under her dress, remove her white “granny panties,” and hand them to David. She would then flip the dress up over herself, bend over and place her hands on the floor so that David could see her sex and ass. He would carefully fold her panties and place them in a locked drawer of his desk. From that same drawer he would remove the dildos and the tight leather harness. The anal plug was vented so that gas would not build up in her bowels during the day. The dildo in her cunt was remote controlled so that sexual passion could build up as David toyed with her during the day if he so desired. The remote connected to the internet so Doctor Doctor could access it from anywhere he was, even outside the building.
For several days following Shelly’s death, David “toyed with” Debra incessantly throughout the day and had called her up to review two files each day. At least once in the morning and once in the afternoon he had found the need for a fast review of a case. Debra knew that something was different when, on one of those occasions, he had her strip completely and lay over his desk rather than just flipping her skirt over her back. She squirmed and grunted as she tried desperately to remain quiet while his hands squeezed her breasts forcing her higher and higher into orgasmic bliss.
Three days after the accident, Debra was under his desk when a colleague called about a referral. The friend handled a lot of court-ordered therapy and had a case that baffled him. He thought it was more in David’s field of expertise and was wondering if he would accept the referral.
The patient’s name was JoAnne. She had walked up to an officer on duty at a street corner and slapped her in the face. Then she resisted arrest by kicking the officer between the legs. The fact that it was a female officer made the officer’s response no less violent. JoAnne had suffered two cracked ribs and pepper spray burns to the face and eyes plus a tazer burn to the side when she still would not stop kicking and flailing.
There were no drugs in JoAnne’s system. She appeared very normal and courteous in court and passed all psychiatric evaluations. What brought about the court-ordered therapy was primarily the fact that JoAnne, after collapsing to the ground and while she was still vibrating from the tazer shocks, looked up at the officer, smiled sweetly, and said, “Thank you. I needed that.”
The backup officer’s evaluation was “That bitch is crazier than a crack whore.”
Dr. Morrison’s evaluation was a little more clinical, but no less biting. “She’s not truly a masochist,” he told David. “We did the fully monitored image screening with pussy probe and everything. The physical tests say she receives no pleasure or sexual stimulation from pain, but the mental tests say she craves it – is almost addicted to it. I understand you have handled a few other patients like this. Would you be willing to take over her case?”
The unholy grail had been dropped on his desk like a gift from above. David knew that JoAnne was not self-destructive because she did not attempt to force the officer to kill her. But at the same time she knew and expressed the fact that she was addicted to pain. In Dr. Morrison’s short summary, Doctor Doctor could see that JoAnne was an addict who wanted a fix, not a cure. Hopefully, he could keep her dancing on the edge of destruction for many years.
She was going to be the play puppet of all play puppets, but first he had to make her his. And he had to move slowly. One does not suddenly grab the unholy grail as if it were a common cup of tea. One caresses it and strokes it and slowly works one’s hands around it until it is yours.
After his sessions with JoAnne, David would take copies of the disks home and listen to them while he masturbated himself or had sex with his sex addict neighbor. The neighbor was also one of his former patients whom he had groomed for his sexual release. Her moving in next door was not an accident. For someone who could easily manipulate someone else into killing themselves, maneuvering someone into moving next door when the house was up for sale was child’s play.
Besides, her husband was a part of her illness and didn’t really want her to improve. He enjoyed the thought of her having sex with other men as long as she made the pretense of keeping it secret from him and from the world. She would come home smelling of sex and cigarettes and want him to fuck her as much as he desired, as long as he desired, in any way he desired… and he would. Why would most men want to change that?
Whenever Cassie came over to David’s house, her husband would tell himself she was coming over for therapy. But then he would make her show him the whip and paddle marks on her ass when she came home. Sometimes he would wait for her on the back deck hoping that this would be one of those times when she ended up running across their adjoining backyards naked to get home. Then he would catch her at the back door, push her across the deck table and fuck whichever hole did not have cum oozing from it.
After JoAnne had been in therapy for several weeks, she began talking about “The Devil’s Doorstep.” David was familiar with all of the sexually oriented clubs in town because at least one of his patients belonged to each of them, but he had never heard of The Devil’s Doorstep.
“It’s a pain club,” explained JoAnne. “Membership is by invitation only. There’s sex and there’s bondage at the club, but mostly there’s pain.”
David let the topic drop for the moment, planning to pursue it further later. The following Friday afternoon, JoAnne again mentioned the club and went on to describe a pain session she had experienced there the previous night in which she had agreed to be used by “The Whipmaster.”
“He is so divine,” she said dreamily. “Or maybe I should say Devilish. He likes to string two of us up on spreader bars with our hands and ankles spread wide and then pull us up off the floor so we are suspended facing each other while our ankle spreader bars are firmly anchored to the floor at both ends. That way we can shake and vibrate all we want, but we can’t kick our legs or flail our arms and we are always lined up properly for his whips.”
She took a deep breath. It was as close as David had seen to sexual stimulation from her. “Then he stands there with a whip in each hand and sees which of us he can get to scream the loudest. He’s good – very good, and can hit from top to toes. He can even swing the whips between us and snap nipples or pussy. The pain is unbelievable when he pops you exactly on a nipple or… … your clit. He keeps going until one of us yells out our safeword.”
She paused before looking up directly into David’s eyes and saying, “I never have.”
“Would you like to see what he did to my body last night?” she asked, and then stood up and began unbuttoning her blouse. David pressed a button on his desk and the receptionist hurried into the room.
“I need a woman present,” he said softly. Diane was a highly qualified medical receptionist and was not, nor never would be, one of David’s pain or sex toys. She was the one who would testify, if needed, as to how professional David had been with all of his patients and how he observed every rule of proper procedure, including summoning her into his office whenever a patient attempted anything that could be interpreted as a sexual advance.
She gasped as she came through the door. She could see JoAnne’s back… and legs… and breasts. Actually, she could see all of JoAnne since she was bent over sliding her slacks to the ground as Diane was entering the room.
“They still throb,” said JoAnne, arching her back so that she was thrusting her criss-crossed ass toward David. “You can touch them if you want. It might give me my daily fix. Then I won’t have to go out and get somebody to beat me tonight.”
“Diane, please stand next to me,” David instructed, “I want a witness to the fact that I am touching these welts solely to observe the patient’s reaction to my touch.”
David, in a very professional manner, reached out his hand and lightly brushed a deep purple welt that ran along the joining point between JoAnne’s back and the upper portion of her ass cheeks. Speaking to the recorders, he said, “Let the patient records note that the patient reacted in pain, not pleasure at the touch. There was no indication of sexual arousal in the face, nipples or genital area.”
The same could not be said for David. He made sure to turn away from Diane before she could see the ridge beginning to form in the front of his pants. Seating himself behind his desk, he said, “Diane, please help JoAnne re-dress herself. I think that we will end this session early. It would also be a good idea to have Debra come up here and switch disks early so that I am sure that this goes into the records properly. Would you please call her and tell her that I have two files that I need to review with her immediately, please?”
Diane waited for JoAnne to finish dressing and then accompanied her out into the waiting room. A few minutes later, Debra entered the office. “Naked, on the desk,” was all that David said. He “reviewed both files” very forcefully with her before letting her up from the desk and sending her back to the records area.
After she was gone, and David had insured that everything was cleaned up, he used an air freshener spray to hide the smell of sex and summoned Diane back into his office. “What does my schedule look like for the coming week?” he asked. “We need to leave plenty of space for emergency and special sessions.”
Diane looked puzzled. David tapped the calendar on his desk, “Halloween,” he said. “I can show you fifty different studies that say that moon and weather changes and holidays like Halloween have no affect on mental illness. But they think it does – tapping his appointment book – and that is all that matters.”
“I know Thursday is Halloween,” answered Diane. “But the electronic scheduling program is set to automatically keep space open a week before and a week after Halloween. Your schedule is pretty clear right now.” She paused and then added, “Except I’ve already used one of those slots for JoAnne. She said she absolutely has to see you Monday. She seemed truly terrified of something, so I gave her the nine am slot. Is that OK?”
“That’s fine,” answered David, “but check with me before filling any more slots. We may have to prioritize appointments.”
= = = = =
JoAnne was David’s first appointment for the week. She was already in the waiting room when he arrived at 8:30 on Monday morning. Diane said, “She was here when we opened the doors at 8:00.”
He stuck his head into the waiting room and said, “Your appointment isn’t until 9:00.” When she started to tear up, he added, “But I will see you early. Why don’t you come into the office with me.”
They had barely gotten through the door to his office when she broke down and began crying almost hysterically. “You have to lock me up somewhere for a couple of days. I know you can do it. You can commit me to a locked ward for a 72 hour evaluation on Wednesday morning. I’ll be safe there.”
“Now, now,” he replied in his best I’m-showing-that-I-care-about-you voice. “Tell me more about this so I can understand what is happening.”
“Thursday is Halloween,” she answered.
“Halloween is a special night at the club.”
“Visitors are welcome. New people are invited.”
“And.. and… and…” She began and then dissolved again into tears.
“Take you time,” he assured her. “We started early. You have plenty of time. What else happens on Halloween?”
She raised her head and looked directly into his eyes. “It’s a ‘no limits night’ at the club. If you go up on stage on Halloween night, you are there until you break. And that doesn’t mean yell-a-safeword break, because safewords aren’t honored on a no limits night. On Halloween, you go until you are totally broken, and that means submit-to-slavery broken. Whatever is happening keeps happening until you are totally broken and are willing to do anything to anybody or for anybody just to have it stop. If I go up onto that stage Thursday night, I will come off that stage a slave.”
“The solution sounds simple,” observed David, “just don’t go up on stage.”
“But I need it,” she whined. “I need it so badly.”
She looked back up into his eyes. “Even knowing how things will turn out, I can’t help myself. I will go to the club and I will go up on that stage,” she dissolved again into choked sobs, “… and I will be broken.”
“JoAnne,” David began, “just about any other time of the year, I could get you in for a 72 hour evaluation with no problems, but this is Halloween. The wards will be packed. In the meantime, I will look into some things and see what I can do. Let’s book you back for Wednesday morning, first appointment. OK?”
JoAnne nodded her head, wiped away her tears and said, “Thank you. I knew you would understand.”
Doctor Doctor understood. He understood very clearly that somehow he was taking her to that club and he, not The Whipmaster, was going to break her down completely and capture her as his slave forever.
“JoAnne?” he said before she could reach the door, “Do you think it would be possible for you to give me contact information for the Devil’s Doorstep? I think it would be a good idea if I could talk to the owner or manager and work something out.”
“Of course, Doctor,” she replied as she took her smart phone from her purse. I will text them and ask them to contact you. What number should I give them?”
David gave her his auto-forward number. It came up on his cellphone as an incoming call, but the caller did not know his true number. There were a lot of reasons for using a forwarding number like that, primary of which was that his location could not be easily pinged or traced by any law enforcement authorities.
A few moments later the “bing” of an incoming text chimed in the room. It said, “Painslut Joey called. What do you want?”
He smiled and typed his reply. “I want to come to the club as a guest Thursday evening. I will bring Painslut Joey so that she can be on stage, but I want to be the one who whips her into submission.”
The response was a single word “Done.” Then his GPS program self started and an address and map point appeared on the screen giving the location of the club. He knew the area well, but had never seen anything that looked like a club in that seedy, rundown area of town.
The Wednesday session with JoAnne was uneventful, but shortly after that session extreme indigestion hit him and forced him to cancel the rest of his appointments for the day. Doctor Doctor made a lousy patient. In fact, he hated medical doctors and would not go to one unless there was absolutely no other option. Besides, it was just indigestion. He must have eaten something too spicy or had one too many drinks last night. He would go home and sleep it off.
Before he left the office, he texted JoAnne. “I will be with you tomorrow night. Please meet me in front of my office building at nine o’clock tomorrow night and I will take you someplace where nothing can happen to you unless I allow it. Does that work for you?”
Her reply was “Done.”
“They must use that a lot in her circle of friends,” he thought to himself as he closed the connection. Immediately after putting his phone back into his pocket, he began sweating and feeling very ill.
= = = = = = =
The shower improved things. By the time he had dried himself, David was feeling much better and looking forward to the evening with great pleasure and anticipation. As he dressed, he could envision JoAnne strung up on stage, naked and sweating, her body striped with welts and cuts, screaming to be allowed to submit to him as his eternal slave. He savored that image as he splashed some cologne on his face and checked his hair in the mirror. Then it was time to go.
Doctor David Ryan Richardson, Doctor Doctor, pulled up in front of his office building at exactly 9:00 pm on Halloween night. He was hoping that JoAnne was on time or at least not too late. He didn’t like waiting.
He need not have worried. JoAnne stepped from the shadow of a tree in front of the building as he pulled up to the curb.
“Where are we going?” she asked as she entered the car.
“You need to trust me,” answered David. “We are going to The Devil’s Doorstep.”
“NO!” screamed JoAnne, her face suddenly full of fear. She started to get out of the car, but the door wouldn’t unlock from her side. That was one of the many modifications David had paid to have done to his Mercedes right after he purchased it. Other modifications included removing the inside release from the trunk and modifying the seatbelts – other than the drivers – so that they could be electronically locked using a button on the dash. JoAnne’s door wouldn’t unlock and she couldn’t undo her seat belt.
“Don’t panic. Don’t panic,” he said in his calm, sooth-the-patient voice. This is best. It is really no different than me taking someone who is afraid of heights up to the observation deck at the top of a tall building. In order to conquer your fears, you need to face your fears – but in a safe way. Remember, I will be with you.”
He took her hand with his right hand and with his left turned her head so that they were eye to eye. “You will be in my hands,” he assured her. “Nothing will happen to you unless I make it happen to you.”
Had JoAnne known the true import of those words, her fear would have turned to terror, but instead she calmed down and asked, “Will you protect me?”
“Do you think I would harm you?”
She relaxed and answered, “OK, but don’t leave me alone – even for a second – while we are in the club.”
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her, “I will be right there beside you.” He then silently added to himself, “swinging the whip.”
David was surprised when they arrived at the club. He was somewhat familiar with this neighborhood and had never seen any indication of a club in the area, but then he noticed the wide alleyway that hadn’t been there before. There should have been a building there. He remembered it clearly. He had always assumed that it was a party room for the diner next door since it had advertizing for them in the blacked out windows, but now the entire building face was folded back like a huge door to reveal a wide alley and the marqueed entrance to a club that was apparently located behind the front buildings. The letters on the marquee, which were red and were intended to look as if they were dripping blood, spelled out “The Devil’s Doorstep.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” he said as they got out of the car.
JoAnne smiled at him and said in a strangely flat voice, “Aren’t we all?”
David paused for a moment trying to connect what she had just said, but then extended his arm and said, “Ready?”
In answer, JoAnne took his offered arm and began walking down the alleyway with him toward the club entrance.
The Devil’s Doorstep was everything that you would expect an “underground” BDSM club to be. It was slightly dark, slightly unkept, and smelled more than slightly of old cigarettes and stale alcohol. When he gave his name to the hostess, she said, “Of course Doctor Richardson. We have a front row table waiting for you. Please follow me.” She then led them up to a table right next to the stage area.
Shortly after they sat down a lean, middle-aged man with dark wavy hair that was combed straight back from his forehead came over to the table and said, “Welcome to my club. I am The Owner. Tonight you are a visitor. Perhaps you will join and come on other nights as well.”
From his accent, it was apparent that English was not his first language, but David could not place exactly where the accent was from. It sounded somewhat European, but had overtones of the Mideast or even the Orient. The Owner’s facial features were also not specific to any one racial or ethnic group. It was almost as if he were a blend of all the world’s racial and ethnic groups.
The Owner then bent down close to David’s ear and said softly, “Her’s will be the last scene and will begin at exactly Midnight. We close at two a.m. so it can be as long as you want. If it plays out well, I might even stretch my license and stay open until three or four in the morning.”
David took in a deep breath as he savored the image of JoAnne screaming beneath the whip for three or four continuous hours. The Owner stood back up and said loudly, “Order anything you would like. The first round of drinks are on the house for special guests like you.” He smiled and walked off to speak with other tables.
“What did he say to you?” asked JoAnne. Fear had returned slightly to her voice.
“He was just telling me that there was a discount on a lifetime membership.”
JoAnne laughed softly and answered, “I’ll bet they have even better deals than that.”
Again David couldn’t quite connect what JoAnne had said, but he had long ago learned to filter out any comments from his patients that didn’t make sense. He dismissed further thought about it from his mind as the house lights began to dim and the lights on the stage area brightened.
The Owner stepped out into the lights. “Ladies and gentlemen, our first scene tonight will help resolve a domestic dispute that has arisen from two switches falling in love for each other.” He laughed and shrugged in a Mediterranean sort of way. “Sometimes balance in a relationship is not all it is made out to be. In this case, neither is strong enough to overwhelm and conquer the other, but at the same time, neither is weak enough to submit themselves to someone not significantly stronger than themselves. Perhaps they would have been wiser to choose a different night, but tonight they have come to me, The Owner, to help them resolve their issues.”
A man and woman walked out onto the stage area. They were both naked and both had restraint cuffs on their wrists and ankles. Two sets of cables lowered from the ceiling. Each set was attached to opposite ends of a steel pipe. Another pipe was clipped just below the one to which the cables were attached. Stage hands hurried out and detached the second pipe from each rig. The man stood beneath one pipe, the woman stood beneath the second. The stage hands attached their wrists to the pipes and then bent down and attached their ankles to the second pipe which was now laying on the ground. The two sets of cables rose back up into the air until the feet of both people were off the ground. The stage hand then attached short cables from the ends of the lower pipe to attachment points on the stage floor. The cables then continued their upward motion until both the man and the woman were obviously held taut.
“Tonight, one of these star-crossed lovers will submit to the other.” announced The Owner. “And The Whipmaster will help them decide who will submit to whom.” He paused to let a figure dressed completely in black leather come onto the stage. “Whipmaster, if you please….”
The figure in black snapped two whips rapidly several times in succession toward the audience and then turned so that he was facing the two people hanging spread eagle. He made a quick motion with his arms and wrists. The whip crack echoed through the room, followed a moment later by the screams of both parties. With measured pace, allowing the couple plenty of time to absorb the pain of one strike and anticipate or dread the bite of the next, The Whipmaster repeated that action four more times. Then he went to the other side of the couple and began once again.
“He’s switching sides so the whip hand switches from one person to the other.” explained JoAnne. “Believe me, he is exactly the same with either hand, but some people have trouble accepting that, so he makes sure that both sides get equal treatment from either hand.”
David wasn’t keeping count of the blows, but he thinks it was around twenty-five or thirty that the man suddenly screamed out, “I submit. I submit.”
The Owner came out on stage and asked him, “Do you submit yourself totally to this woman to be her slave from this time forward and forever?”
“Yes,” the man cried. “Yes, I am her slave now and forever.”
The Owner turned to The Whipmaster and said simply, “You may resume.”
“What!” yelled the man. “I submitted. I gave in.”
“Yes, and it looks like you will enjoy being her slave,” answered The Owner as he brushed his hand against the man’s erect penis. “You want to be a slave, and you seem to like pain… up to a point. But did you not read the whole contract when you signed it? This is a special night. It is Halloween. There are no limits. Every scene goes until the person breaks.”
“But I broke,” screamed the man.
The Owner laughed what could only be described as a deep and evil laugh and said, “Yes, you have broken, but… .” pointing to the man’s wife “… she has not.”
Turning once again to The Whipmaster, The Owner issued a terse, single word command, “Continue!”
The Whipmaster’s pace was now much faster, and he didn’t stop at the end of every five strokes, but instead continued relentlessly. David was now keeping track of the strokes. There were sixty-three additional strokes, each one accompanied by shrill cries of pain, before the woman cried out, “I submit. I submit. I submit!”
The Owner stepped once again into the light and asked, “Do you submit to me? Are you my slave now and forever?”
She hung her head and answered, “Yes. You are my Owner from this point forward, now and forever.”
The Owner turned to the Whipmaster and said, “Give my slaves fifty lashes to remind them that I am The Owner. Then take them down and put them outside in the alley. Tie them to the slave post. I will pick them up later.” The woman screamed through all fifty strokes. The man passed out after about twenty, but even unconscious, he still had a huge erection.
“Masochists,” muttered David. “They will probably fuck each other senseless all night in that alley waiting for their new master to come and claim them.”
“Our next scene should probably be entitled, ‘Be Careful What You Wish For.’” called out The Owner. “Normally everyone here tonight receives a personal invitation from me, but this woman found out about us through her smart phone.”
He made another Mediterranean facial gesture. With his eyebrows raised and his mouth formed into an exaggerated frown, he continued, “It seems she installed a special hacker app on her phone that infected other phones and allowed her to monitor any incoming and outgoing text on any person’s phone who had ever texted her. In this case, she read my text to her employer’s phone. She contacted me because she craves sex and her current situation limits the amount of sex she can receive. She says she has never been able to get enough sex. She wanted to come on our stage on this special, Halloween, no-limits night in hopes that she could have unlimited sex.”
He laughed. “And that is exactly what she shall get.” He laughed again – a colder laugh. “…. at least that’s what I promised her.”
After a rather long pause he continued, “Yes, ladies and gentlemen, she will get exactly what she asked for. She will get her wish for unlimited sexual stimulation. I present to you Slut Deborah.”
David was very seldom surprised by anything, but when his records clerk walked out onto the stage naked, his mouth dropped open. She stood there for a few moments very unsure of what she was supposed to do, but then two stage hands wheeled a small platform out onto the stage with what appeared to be a half-barrel on the top of it. There was a large pink phallus sticking straight up from the top. Two stage hands lifted Debra up off her feet and set her on the platform.
“That’s a Sybian female masturbation machine in case you’ve never seen one,” explained JoAnne. David had seen pictures and some videos of their use, but this was the first time he had seen one in person. He had never been motivated to investigate them because they gave pleasure, not pain.
Debra knew what to do and she straddled the machine in a kneeling position and lowered herself down onto the dildo. The two stage hands then began securing her to the platform. They attached a wide leather belt around her waist that had two large D rings on each side of it. The two lower rings they chained to the platform so Debra could not get off of the Sybian. She couldn’t even raise herself up. Then they put wide restraining cuffs on her forearms and attached them to the upper D rings on the belt, effectively immobilizing her arms. The final thing they did was to put two small clover clamps on her nipples with bright silver weights hanging from them. By the time they were finished, Debra was breathing hard and starting to grind her crotch into the machine — and it wasn’t even plugged in yet.
The Owner stepped to the front of the stage and addressed the audience. “It takes pleasure a little longer than pain to break someone, but it will be interesting to watch as the night goes on.” He then walked with the platform as the two stage hands rolled it to an area just off to one side of the stage. A small spotlight, slightly dimmer than the stage lights came up to light the area.
After the stage hands had plugged in the Sybian, The Owner picked up the remote and activated the motors. A soft hum filled the room and Debra started rocking slightly back and forth with the sensations. “That looks enjoyable,” he said. “But Slut Deborah said she wanted UNLIMITED sexual stimulation.” He looked up at the audience and smiled broadly before continuing, “There are actually limits to almost everything, including this marvelous machine, but lets see what a Sybian does on its maximum settings.”
The hum became louder and Debra’s eyes flew fully open. Her mouth formed a perfect O as she gasped and drew in deep lungfulls of air. Then she almost immediately began to climax. The powerful sensations were more than she could stand. She tried to buck and lift her body to escape the dildo rotating inside her, but the belt held her firmly in place. She twisted back and forth on the saddle, but she could not escape the intense vibrations. The Sybian’s combination of vibration and internal stimulation drove her into another intense orgasm. She threw back her head and a long “Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh” escaped her lips. This was impossible. She was already in orgasm, but at the same time was being driven higher and further into another… and another… and another orgasm.
She began grunting, “Aahh…, Aahh…, Aahh…, Aahh…,” until The Owner turned to the audience and said, “I think that will be a bit distracting from our other scenes, don’t you?” He gave a hand signal and the two stage hands came over and forced a large ball gag into Debra’s mouth. She tried to resist them, but could do little with her arms held tight at her sides by the belt. “I think we will check on her occasionally throughout the night to see how she is doing,” said The Owner.
Doctor Doctor was now watching raptly. He could feel the familiar warmth of fear and pain, and yet Barbra was experiencing pleasure, or at least she appeared to be experiencing pleasure.
“You’re a man. You wouldn’t understand,” said JoAnne. “A female orgasm is a combination of pleasure AND pain. Your nervous system overloads and every sensation is there all at the same time. If you push too far into an orgasm, your body can’t stand it and it starts blocking the pleasure. The pain, however, just keeps going. If she stays on that machine long enough, it will become one of the purest forms of torture a woman can ever experience.” She gave David a very tight smile. “And that is from someone who has experienced many different forms of pure torture.”
The light on Debra dimmed back so that she was visible, but almost in darkness. The lights on the stage came up once again. “Our next scene is very personal to me,” began The Owner. One of my own indentured slaves who is half-way through her contract made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. She has an extreme, almost unbelievable tolerance for pain, and was willing to bet me that I couldn’t break her in thirty minutes. She has withstood The Whipmaster’s greatest efforts for over three hours, so she is pretty confident that I could not come up with anything that would break her in merely one-half hour. But I think I can, so I took the bet.”
“The wager is simple. If she lasts the full half-hour, she is free from her slavery. If I break her, she is mine forever. Let’s bring out Slave X27.”
A very beautiful girl stepped out onto the stage. She was totally naked – “totally” as in no clothing, no hair between her legs, no hair on her head, no eyebrows, not even the hint of fuzz on her forearms. To be more naked she would have had to have been skinned and standing there in just her muscles. She stood there looking very haughty and confident and self-assured. When The Owner asked, “Are you ready?” She answered with a smile, “You bet your ass.”
He laughed and responded, “Actually you are the one betting your ass, but since you say you are ready we will begin. Put your hands above your head and grasp the bar when it comes down to you.”
Four stage hands had moved a rather strange looking machine out onto the stage behind her. It looked like a much larger and longer version of the kind of lift that you would use to take an engine out of a car. The boom was at least twenty feet long. There was a large tripod-like base and a rather massive counter weight on the portion of the boom that extended past the base. The boom was lowered so that a trapeze-like bar hung just above Slave X27′s head. She reached up and grasped it with both hands. The stage crew then taped her hands in place with several layers of camo duck tape. After making sure that she was secure, they lifted her up off the ground and moved her through the air to the edge of the stage.
While she was in the air, a small forklift pushed something out to the middle of the stage. It was a large plexiglass tank about three feet across and seven feet tall. It was apparently filled with water. The forklift left the stage and returned with another tank, and then another. A stage hand connected what appeared to be electrical or control cables from the tanks to something off stage.
The Owner walked over to next to the suspended slave. He made a hand motion and she was lowered until her feet almost touched the ground. Two stage hands carried in something that looked like a heavy bar of metal about two feet long. They set it down with a resounding clang just in front of the slave’s feet and, using two very short chains, cuffed her feet to the bar so that she was more or less standing on it.
“That bar weighs sixty pounds,” explained The Owner. “Not only will it keep her legs together so they will enter the tanks properly, it will make sure that she sinks immediately in the water.”
He then turned to the slave. “I know that you once almost drowned and fear water. I know that you hate winter and cannot stand the cold.” He laughed his very evil sounding laugh. “I know that I can break you.”
“One of those tanks is filled with water at 34 degrees Fahrenheit, what most people would consider freezing. The second is at 94 degrees, what most people would consider the optimum bath temperature. The third is at 125 degrees, just below what would immediately scald your skin. You will not know which tank you are going into until your feet hit the water. It might be freezing. It might be scalding. It might be just right. But regardless, you are going into the tank until your feet – or at least the bar beneath your feet – hits the bottom of the tank. That would put the water level…” Reaching up his hand and holding it a little above her head, he finished, “… about right there.”
Slave X27 no longer looked so confident.
One of the stage hands came out carrying a piece of cloth of some sort. “We are going to put this bag over your head for two reasons,” explained The Owner. “One, you won’t be able to see which tank you are being dropped into, and two, as you come out of the tank, it will be wet. When you try to breathe through it, it will most likely trigger the drowning reflex because your body will think you are still under water… or that you are being waterboarded at some government interrogation center.”.
“We will be switching tanks every thirty seconds, so you will experience the tanks sixty times in thirty minutes. If you endure, you are free. If you break, you are mine. If you die, well… some would say at least you are free.” He shook his head, laughed, turned toward the audience, and added quickly, “I wouldn’t say that.”
Fear approaching absolute terror now showed in the slave’s face. It was obvious that it was not going to take sixty dunks in the tank to break her. The Owner held the bag in front of her as he spoke. “I will break you tonight NOT because I know exactly what you fear and what you hate, but because I know that deep down you WANT to be my slave forever and for all eternity. It pleases you to be my slave. You get sexual satisfaction out of being my slave. I am so sure of this, that I will predict to this audience that once you have broken, and you no longer have any reason to hide that fact, you will cum for me as you are slowly dipped in and out of the freezing water tank. Remember, when you break, the next tank will be a very slow trip through the freezing water and we will see if I am right.”
The slave was slowly shaking her head in disagreement with what he had said as he lowered the bag over her face, but she didn’t look too sure of her answer. The Owner tied the bag in place. “Start the clock,” he commanded and the boom lifted her high into the air. She screamed as her feet went into the middle tank, even though that was the bath water tank. She screamed again as she came out of the tank, or at least she attempted to. Her voice was cut off suddenly as she attempted to inhale through the waterlogged fabric before being plunged into the freezing tank. She began screaming again as her feet hit the frigid water, and was still screaming as her head went under the surface.
The four men manning the boom were working frantically to keep to the thirty second schedule. They would drop her into a tank and then immediately begin moving her back up again. Her screaming finally seemed to be coordinated with their movement. She would scream as she came out of the tank and then thrash her head about as she tried to get another lungfull of air. Then, depending on which tank she was dropped into next, she would either scream all the way into the tank, or scream until she recognized that it was the bath water tank. Her screams were especially loud when she went directly from the freezing water to the scalding water or from the scalding water to the freezing water.
The clock read just under twenty minutes when she broke. David was truly amazed she had lasted that long. “I submit! I submit! I surrender! Please stop! Please stop! Please stop!” she screamed as soon as she started to come out of the water.
But the stage hands didn’t stop. They moved her so that she was over the tank of freezing water. Then they slowly began to lower her into the tank. It took nearly a minute for her head to reach the water and she was screaming loudly up to the point where her mouth went under water. They drew her back out of the water almost as slowly, and again she was screaming all of the way back to the top. Then they stopped. It was totally quiet in the club except for the continued humming of Debra’s Sybian. The Owner said very quietly, “Wait for it. Wait for it.”
Suddenly a new scream split the silence. This one was different. It was not a scream of terror. It was not a scream of pain. Just as The Owner had predicted, Slave X27 was screaming out in orgasm as she hung above the tanks which had broken her. The audience drowned out her screams and moans with thunderous applause. The stage hands, still keeping the boom high in the air, rolled the mechanism off stage with the slave still thrashing in orgasm beneath the boom.
= = = = =
The lights on stage went down and the light on Deborah came up. The Owner walked over and stood next to her. Her head was thrown back and her eyes were held tightly shut. Her body was shaking and quivering.
“Too soon,” The Owner observed. “We will get back to her in a little while, but first we are going to do a little product evaluation. There have been many different spanking machines throughout the course of human invention. One Egyptian Pharaoh had one powered by a water wheel that could beat a slave to death while he and his guests feasted and watched. Even today there are many different models on the market, but all of them break down into two basic categories, the swinging arm and the flail. And for each style, the implement that actually strikes the skin can be either a paddle, a cane, or a whip. So, in effect, there are only six different machines. We have randomly selected six members of tonight’s audience to help us test these different configurations to see which is most effective.”
He moved to the center of the stage and held his cupped hand up along side his mouth as if he were shouting a great distance. “Bring on the test subjects,” he bellowed, and six stage hands pushing six platforms came hustling into the stage area.
On each of the platforms was a spanking stock. The naked person on the platform was kneeling on a padded board with their stomach lying on a higher padded platform. There were straps holding their legs in place and a wide leather strap across the small of their back holding them down tightly against the bench. A slight gap separated the raised area from a short stock which captured their head and hands. The six test subjects were lined up on stage so that they were facing the audience.
Upright beams were attached on either side of the raised padded platform and held an angled mirror high above the trapped person so that the audience could clearly see each test subject’s ass. The audience could also see what type of spanking machine was on each platform. For the three on stage right, there were flails. The first of these “spanking wheels” held a series of cord-like whips. The second held multiple birch switches. The third was a series of leather paddles.
For the three on stage left, there were swinging arm machines. Again, the first was a whip, the second was a cane, and the third was a paddle. One difference between the two approaches was immediately obvious. The flailing type spanking machines needed to use something very flexible, like a whip, switch, or leather paddle, while the swinging arms could use something solid, like a cane or a heavy wooden paddle.
“Are we ready to begin?” asked The Owner.
“NO!” yelled one of the people in the stocks. She was a woman in her late twenties with what appeared to be naturally blond hair and very blue eyes. She also had almost pure white skin that would definitely show every mark of the flailing whips which were behind her. “I didn’t volunteer for this! You put something in my drink and took me backstage while I was unconscious! I didn’t agree to be up here. I just came to watch the show.”
“Didn’t you read your invitation when you got it?” asked The Owner sarcastically. “Didn’t you read the back of the ticket when you came in here? Both say very clearly that audience members must be willing to participate in the stage show if asked. You agreed in advance. Once we start, you can scream all you want to, but if you aren’t quiet until then, we will gag you.” He paused and looked the scared blonde directly in the eyes, “And I assure you, that it will be much, much more uncomfortable with a ball gag in your mouth while your ass is being beaten into hamburger.”
The blonde’s eyes remained wide open, as did her mouth, but she said nothing more.
“Our test is very simple,” explained The Owner. “We turn on the machines and let them go until you submit yourself to me as my eternal slave. When one of you yells out your submission, all machines will stop until I verify that you truly submit to me. Does everyone understand that?”
All six heads nodded slightly, although it was obvious all were afraid of what was going to happen to them.
“Since all of you will EVENTUALLY break and submit yourselves to me, I think I need to give you a little incentive to keep going. This is what is going to happen. The first one to submit, gets fucked by a Minotaur – or you can suck him off, your choice.” He turned to the audience, “See, I do care about my slaves and give them some choices in what happens to them.”
He turned back to the six now totally terrified product testers. “The second one to submit will be fucked by or will suck a Centaur. The third a Ram Satyr. The fourth a Goat Satyr, better known as a Faunus. The fifth a Telekhines. And the sixth….. ME!”
JoAnne leaned close to David and said, “The Telekhines built the Devil’s Bull.”
Again he disregarded what she said as meaningless.
The owner turned back to the audience. “Begin the test,” he shouted and all six spanking machines burst into action.
“Who do you think will break first?” asked David.
“Are you asking which machine is worst, or which person is weakest?” answered JoAnne. “The absolute worst is the swinging arm cane. It hits in exactly the same place each time and becomes overwhelmingly painful almost immediately. Next would be the swinging arm paddle for basically the same reason. The swinging arm whip and the flailing whips would be next since they sting like mad. The flailing paddles can be absolute torture if they are just the right distance from your ass, but usually they don’t get a good enough pop to be more than mildly painful. The flailing canes hurt, but are very erratic. They hit all over the place and not with anywhere near the force of a solid cane.”
“Sounds like you speak from experience,” observed David.
“I have a lot of experience, but the person with the most painful machine may not be the first to break. If I had to bet, I would say the pasty-skinned blonde will break first. She doesn’t look like she is used to pain and the flailing whips will be more than she can endure for very long.”
As if to prove her right, the blonde suddenly screamed out, “I submit. I submit. Please make it stop! Please make it stop!”
All of the machines stopped and The Owner walked over to in front of the tearful blonde. “Do you submit yourself to me as my eternal slave?”
“I submit. I submit.” She answered.
“Suck or fuck?” he asked.
“Should I release you so that you can suck the Minotaur’s cock or do I leave you where you are so it can fuck you?”
She had to try several times before she could bring herself to say anything. Finally she said, “Release me. I will suck his cock.”
One stage hand released her while two other stage hands led in an extremely large and heavily muscled man in an extremely strange costume. From about half-way up his chest, his body seemed to morph into the head of a bull. The rest of his body was huge, but more or less normal, except that he had on strange boots on that made his feet look like the cloven hooves of a bull. His shoulders also looked like the front haunches of a huge bull. Keeping in character, he snorted and bellowed when he saw the pale young girl kneeling before him.
She looked at his monstrous face and equally monstrous organ and hesitated, but The Owner said, “You have one minute or I put you back in the stocks and run the flailing whips until they have taken all skin and muscle off your ass.”
The blonde dropped to her knees and reached out to stroke the Minotaur’s sheath. It’s penis emerged almost immediately. It was exceptionally long, and it’s head was almost more than the blonde could get in her mouth. As she licked the head, the man in the Minotaur costume started to bellow and stamp around and two more stage hands came out to hold him in place. Finally the blond was kneeling in front of him with the tip of his penis in her mouth. She was working frantically trying to get him off while not being stomped on by his frantic movements.
Suddenly he rushed forward as if he were pushing further into a woman – or a cow from behind. He pushed the hapless blonde beneath him across the front of the stage, sliding her backwards on her knees, her mouth still firmly clamped on his penis. Suddenly she gasped and thick, white cum spurted from her mouth and nose. She rolled onto the stage and rose to her feet coughing, sputtering and gasping for breath.
“Take them both back to their pens,” ordered The Owner. “We will transport them later.”
While the stage hands were taking the man in the Minotaur costume and the pale young woman off stage, Richard leaned over to JoAnne and said, “That costume was phenomenal and the actor seemed almost like a real bull . The owner of the club must have access to some really first rate makeup artists… and actors.”
JoAnne smiled – or was it a grimace – “Or maybe he just has access to the real thing,” she replied.
Her comment made no sense, and David was about to ask what she meant when The Owner yelled out, “Resume.”
The spanking machines again came to life. It was only a few moments later that another of the bound women, this time a brunette, screamed out her submission. JoAnne’s evaluation of the swinging arm cane seemed to be accurate. After she verified her submission, she also chose to suck rather than fuck. “At least I will survive it,” she said bitterly.
JoAnne leaned close to David and commented, “She really doesn’t understand yet.”
David was going to ask her to explain what she meant, but instead just shook his head slightly and returned his attention to the brunette who was now kneeling beneath a black horse-like being with a human torso in place a horse’s head.
Either she had done something like this before, or she was a fast learner from watching the blonde and the Minotaur, because she quickly brought the Centaur to climax and managed to get her mouth off his massive member before he filled her head to overflowing with his spunk. As it was, her face and hair were covered in white slime as she knelt in front of the elaborately costumed man.
“To the pens,” ordered The Owner. Then he called out once again, “Resume.”
The four remaining “testers” screamed and cried out, but no one yelled their submission. After about ten minutes, the dirty blonde in the flailing paddle machine screamed, “No more! No more! I submit. I submit. Yes, I will be your eternal slave.”
“So,” asked The Owner, “Do you want to fuck or suck the companion of Pan?”
“I’ve screwed worse,” she answered. “Let him at me.”
One stage hand removed the machine from her platform while two stage hands led another strangely costumed man onto the stage and brought him around behind her. From the waist down he was a goat or a ram, but from the waist up, he was human, except that he had the huge horns of a ram sprouting from his head. He definitely knew what he was supposed to do. He placed his hands – or was it his front hooves – against the upright beams holding the mirror and hunched forward to mate with the captive girl. She screamed as he entered her and screamed again as he began thrusting. Evidently she had, indeed, screwed worse, because after a few thrusts, she was moaning and thrusting back against the Satyr’s movements. After a few minutes, whatever it was supposed to be brayed loudly and stopped thrusting. She moaned, “No. No. Don’t stop yet. Not yet. I’m almost there.”
The audience laughed and applauded as the stage hands rolled her platform into the darkness.
The machines had barely started again when one of the remaining two males yelled out, “I submit. I submit.”
“Will you be my eternal slave?” asked The Owner, and the man, dropping his head, said “Yes.”
“Suck or fuck?”
In a voice almost too soft to hear, the man answered, “Suck.”
This time the stage hands did not release him from the stocks, but instead brought another costumed man out on stage in front of him. This one was much like the previous Ram Satyr, but had a much kinder face and a smaller body that more closely resembled a small goat. His horns were also smaller and straight. They turned the man’s platform sideways so the audience could see what was happening, and then lifted up the Faunus’ hooves so that they were on the man’s back. His goat-like prick was now in front of the man’s face. It was hard to say whether he was sucking that goat-like cock or the Faunus was fucking his face, but in either case, the goat prick soon spurted into the man’s mouth and across his face.
The man looked like he was going to throw up, but The Owner smacked him loudly on the ass and said, “If you throw up, you will lick it up and eat it.”
The man was swallowing hard and trying to control himself as he was rolled off stage.
“Two machines left,” announced The Owner. “Will the swinging arm whip break her first? Or will the swinging arm paddle break him?”
It was almost twenty minutes before the crowd got their answer. The middle-aged woman in the swinging arm whip machine yelled out her submission.
“I’ve done zoo before,” she said when she asked to be fucked by the Telekhines rather than suck him.
This man was dressed in a costume that David had never seen before. He had the head and body of a very large dog and the hands of a seal with thick black flippers. He placed his flippers on the woman’s back and howled as he entered her from behind. It was very much like watching a dog mate. Dogs hump at a frenzied rate and this man was imitating the speed of the fastest canine. All the while the woman just lay there passively. She obviously didn’t enjoy what was happening, but as she said, she had “done zoo before.” Finally the Telekhines gave a long howl and collapsed across the woman’s back. Stage hands immediately came on stage and began pushing the platform off the stage.”
After they had been wheeled away back stage, The Owner addressed the remaining man. “There is no need for you to continue. You will eventually break. Why don’t you just submit to me now?”
“Never,” sneered the man.
“Then I will make you a deal,” replied The Owner. “If you can last twenty more minutes with the machine set to maximum, I will let you go free. If not, I will accept your submission and then fuck you here on the stage in front of all of these people and again every night at my place until next Halloween. It is your choice. Do you wish to submit to me or do you wish to bet a year of fucking against your possible freedom?”
“I will never submit. I’ll take your bet,” he snarled.
“Resume at maximum,” yelled The Owner.
The man made it to seventeen minutes before he screamed out, “I submit. I submit. I submit. Fuck me if you want. I am your slave, forever.”
The stage hands quickly removed the spanking machine as The Owner positioned himself behind the man’s bruised and bloody ass.
“Your blood will do for lubrication,” The Owner said with a laugh, and then opened his pants to reveal one of the largest penises David had ever seen. The man’s screams while he was being paddled were nothing compared to his screams as The Owner thrust the full length of his cock into his ass.
David said to JoAnne, “I don’t understand it, he only had to hold on for three more minutes. He had endured almost an hour of that machine before that. Why would he break when he was so close to freedom.”
“You’re right,” replied JoAnne in the totally flat voice she had used all evening. “You don’t understand. There is no freedom. Everything is already set in place.”
The last platform was rolled off stage and the stage lights began to dim. “Let’s check on Slut Deborah, shall we?” asked The Owner. The light over in her corner brightened and everyone turned to see what was occurring. She was covered in sweat and shaking in the saddle. Her cries, though greatly muffled by the ball gag, were a series of loud grunts that seemed to be timed with the thrusts of her legs as she tried to lift herself off the machine. The Owner removed the ball gag from her mouth and she cried out, “No more. No more. It’s too much. It’s too much. I can’t stand it.”
He put the ball gag back in place and asked, “Do you submit to me?” She nodded yes. “If I let you off that machine will you suck every cock in this club?” She nodded yes. “Will you lap every pussy out there?” She again vigorously nodded yes. “Will you let any man or woman out there fuck you in any hole in your body?” She was bouncing and crying as she nodded her head yes.
“Good,” he said smiling broadly and slightly laughing. “You will be the after show entertainment for the audience. You just sit there and enjoy yourself for another fifteen minutes or so. The last scene starts at midnight.”
He then went over to David’s table and said quietly, “It’s time.”
“What do you mean, ‘It’s time.’” asked JoAnne. Her voice was now tense with emotion. Her face was white. Her eyes were wide open and staring at David. “You said nothing would happen to me unless you made it happen to me.”
“I didn’t lie to you,” replied David.
Suddenly she knew. She knew that he had lied to her all along. She knew that he had brought her here for exactly this. She knew that he wanted to see her suffer. He wanted to see her break.
“How could you?” she asked with pleading eyes as two stage hands led her away. “How could you?” she repeated as she was taken behind the curtain.
The Owner then sat down at the table with David. “Before this final scene plays out, I need to explain a couple of things to you about this club. This is a very special club because… well, because it doesn’t always exist… at least not so most people can see it. In fact it only exists completely in your realm on this one day of the year. And no, there is nothing really special about Halloween as a day, but many mortals believe that there is and that is all that is important. I think you have some experience with that.”
He paused, but when David didn’t respond he continued. “In any case, on this one night of the year, we can invite outside guests into the club – mortals who are not yet bound to me or to the club.” He smiled a very cold smile. “Some go home in the morning. Most stay. You have been invited for a very special reason.”
David asked, “What are you getting at?”
“Have you ever heard of Perillos, the metal worker?” asked The Owner in response.
David sat silent.
“He was from before your time…, long before your time…, but not mine. Anyway, he was a citizen of Athens, Greece who made a fortune selling war machines to the Emperor of Sicily. He was an amazing metal worker – not as good as the Telekhines, but outstanding for a human. He had an idea that he wanted to sell to the Emperor for the perfect instrument of torture. It was a brass bull specially constructed so that the howls of a person being roasted inside of it would resonate and sound like the bellowing of a bull. It would be a horrible, but very entertaining death.”
He looked directly at David. “The Sicilian Emperor bought his design and built the brass bull. But do you know who the very first person was to be roasted alive inside that Sicilian Bull?”
“No,” answered David. “And I don’t know what this has to do with me.”
“It was Perillos, himself,” answered The Owner.
David looked even more confused, so The Owner made it clear for him. “JoAnne is your brass bull. You think that you have betrayed her so that she will hang on that spreader bar being whipped by you or The Whipmaster until she breaks and submits herself into eternal slavery to you. But you are wrong because JoAnne doesn’t really exist.”
“What? That’s not possible!” exclaimed David.
“Yes, it is possible. And if you must insist, yes, she exists, and has for a long, long time…, but the truth is, she is just the Sicilian Bull, or should I say the Devil’s Bull. JoAnne was the name of the demon who came up with the idea of imprisoning a soul inside what is, in effect, a mechanical body. She said it was her own idea, but I knew that she actually stole the idea from Perillos when she went to bring him to me. So, in honor of him, after the Telekhines had constructed the Devil’s Bull, she was it’s first occupant. That seemed fitting at the time. She was in there for quite a while until she found someone to replace her.”
“There have been many different people inside the Devil’s Bull through the centuries. The person currently inside JoAnne has spent many years looking for someone to replace her… or him – I don’t remember which it used to be any more. In any case, they have been in there for a long, long, time. The reason that it is so difficult to get out of the Devil’s Bull is that the only way to escape my bull is to find someone else willing to enter it – or should I say someone else willing to try to use the Devil’s Bull as it was intended to be used – as an instrument of torture.”
The Owner looked almost wistful. “JoAnne was really a brilliant demon,” he stated with a smile of satisfaction and a nod of his head. “She made many improvements to Perillos’ idea. The beauty of the Devil’s Bull is that the person inside of it has a measure of control over what happens to them as they roam the earth…, but not total control. They can decide where they go, whom they meet, what they do to earn a living. But the thing that they can’t control is seeking out pain.
The bull craves pain. And no matter what they do, the bull will get the pain it needs. The bull finds the pain, but it is the person inside the bull that feels the pain. The bull craves humiliation and degradation, but it is the person inside who feels the shame.”
“It takes a very special person to recognize the Bull for what it is and then desire to use it as an instrument of torture. The hunt for that person can take decades. There are not many people who deeply appreciate torture and know how to properly inflict true pain. But they do exist. You are proof of that.”
He stared intently at David for a few moments of silence, and then continued, “When the person inside the bull finally finds someone who wants to use the bull to inflict uncontrolled pain, degradation, and humiliation, then escape is simple. All they have to do is get that person to come to the club on Halloween night. At midnight, they are released and the new person takes their place. I like the arrangement, because after a century or so in the bull, the released one makes a very good and willing servant. They will do anything to keep from going back into the Devil’s Bull.”
David was trying to understand what The Owner was telling him, but he was having trouble thinking because his indigestion was pressing hard against the base of his chest. “In a few moments,” continued The Owner, “JoAnne will be brought out on stage just as you requested. Her oiled, naked body will be suspended just as you envisioned her with her wrists spread wide on a spreader bar. Her ankles will be cuffed to their spreader bar and that will be secured to the floor. Tonight, she will be stretched especially tight, and everyone will see her naked body vibrate from the tension.”
“Despite the tension stretching her, she will be free to writhe and buck as the whips crack into her flesh on her front and her back at the same time. She will be free to scream and yell and beg for mercy. She will be free to finally break and submit to her punisher as her eternal Lord and Master. Everything will be exactly as you imagined it to be except for two… … minute details.”
David was beginning to have trouble hearing The Owner clearly. The pressure on his chest was becoming unbearable. The Owner’s words were becoming muffled and faint, but that didn’t stop The Owner from completing what he had to say. “The first thing that will be different is that it will not be you who is swinging the whips. It will not even be The Whipmaster. It will be me…, … and I am the one who trained The Whipmaster and taught him everything he knows.”
“The second thing that will not be as you had imagined is that it will be you hanging from the spreader bar. The people in the club here tonight, and, after tonight, all the people of the world will see JoAnne – the Devil’s Bull that encases you – but have no doubt, it will be you. It will be you screaming for mercy. It will be you asking why this is happening to you. It will be you begging and pleading. And eventually, it will be you submitting to me, your natural Lord and Master.”
The pressure exploded in David’s chest and things went completely dark. Then suddenly everything was bright once again. In fact, David was bathed in bright light as spotlights shone down on him from all sides. The pressure in his chest was now gone, replaced by a pulling sensation caused by the spreader bar from which he was hanging with his arms stretched wide apart. He looked down at his breasts trying to comprehend what was happening to him. Then the first strikes of the whips crashed into his ass and pussy. Doctor Doctor knew deep in the very pit of his soul what had happened, and David, now JoAnne, screamed the first of many screams that would bellow forth from the Devil’s Bull.
She was racing down the sidewalk to catch the last train. Single-mindedly, she thought nothing of crossing the chasm of alley mouth.
She was snatched into the alley by a hand that snapped out of the ink. Before she could scream, she was enveloped and a meaty hand capped her mouth.
The heat of his breath chugged over her shoulder and obliquely across her cheek. She struggled against the anaconda-like constriction of the arm wrapped across her chest and around her arms. She was immersed in darkness.
“Ssshhh. Don’t struggle. You’re mine now… In my world, you keep what you catch.”
The gravely voice spurred her into a frenzy of foot-stomping, shin-kicking, and writhing. The words had been delivered so calmly and precisely.
The attacker expertly slid his hairy forearm over her mouth stifling her screams as he moved from covering her mouth to catching her neck in his arm’s crook.
The muscles flexed catching her arteries and windpipe in a vice. She tried to scream and tried to tear at any flesh her pinned arms could reach. Her nails snapped off with no effect. The man, if it was a man, didn’t react to pain. She felt herself blacking out.
She awoke bound nude to a cot. The only light was faint candle glow. It looked and smelled like a wine cellar with all the casks removed. Her normally flawlessly smooth skin was covered in goose-bumps.
The silence was interrupted when he walked out of the darkness into the candlelight.
She could only see the lower half of his dark robes and the knife in his hand.
He moved closer, extending the knife towards her sole. She pulled the foot away, but the slack bindings cinched agonizingly tight until they felt like they would slice through her skin.
In reaction to the pain, she involuntarily extended the leg out toward the knife point. Before the foot reached the dagger, the bindings bit her flesh once more. He withdrew the knife and returned it to a sheath. It had all been a demonstration of the futility of struggle.
“Please let me go, I won’t tell anyone.” came the teary-eyed imploration.
He leaned in to lightly run a hand over her thigh. His face came into view.
She screamed ear-piercingly.
He recoiled into the darkness.
He’d been wearing a grotesque crow mask; at least, she prayed it was a mask. Leaving, he snuffed the candle. The faint ether of light faded to black behind him. She only heard the high-pitched tone that one sometimes hears in the complete absence of sound. The walls were thick, and perhaps far underground. Cringing, she thought she felt tiny feet scurrying across her naked body.
It felt like an eternity was dripping away. Eventually, she drifted in and out of sleep. She always wondered for how long she had slept; suspecting it was never long. She wanted to track time, but time did not seem to exist – any more than light or sound – in her catacomb.
With the cool air and passing of time, she needed to pee so badly.
She repetitively called out, “I’ve got to pee.”
Eventually he strode in, sans robes, his flaccid dangle swaying rhythmically with each step. He had something in his hand – a bedpan and a cloth. She trembled.
She couldn’t help but stare. His body was lean and sinewy- fit but, at once, knotty and grotesque. She tried to stifle her sobs, to not give him the satisfaction. When he started to loosen one of her leg bindings, she expected an impending rape, but he just positioned the bedpan.
Despite her painfully full bladder, she could not immediately unclench and urinate.
When finally she finished, he set the pan aside and wiped her crudely with the cloth as if cleaning a spill from a stovetop. She tried to move away from the violating hand, but was bitten by her bindings.
He completely loosened the binding on her leg and extracted it. He began to gently massage away the pins and needles. She tried to kick him. He slipped the kick, and jabbed a thumb deep into the acupressure point he was working. It felt like he had driven a railroad spike into her.
His defense was agonizing, but not brutal. In one of the many contradictions screaming through her brain, she feared his calm. It meant that he would not be easily manipulated.
She had wondered if they might triangulate on her cell-phone, but now knew it would not be the case.
For all this man’s heinous vices, rashness and stupidity were not among them. The phone was still in the alley, she resigned herself to it.
One by one he massaged out her limbs methodically and then rubbed lotion over her skin – never lingering.
She tried to talk to him, but he remained silent.
Time passed; she never knew how much. With nothing to do but reflect, she experienced all manner of maddening and conflicting thoughts and emotions. She began to despise herself for being so weepy, but she couldn’t stop. Part of her mind implored her to be strong. Soon they would find her.
Periodically, he came in to care for and feed her- always wearing a different primitive gruesome mask.
She found it progressively harder to catch the crazy thoughts and to rebuke herself for them.
“No, she didn’t do anything to deserve this.”
“No, she would not rather that he talked to her than that she be free.”
She awoke one day to find the bindings gone. Had it been a week? A few days?
She heard the lumber drop hollowly and cacophonously – the door was being unbarred.
She attacked her captor with berserk fury, but he was prepared. He captured her limbs and soon had her pinned on her stomach on the ground.
After he tended to her abrasions, he did not enter her chamber again for several days. He left a bucket, and would occasionally push food and water through a small doggy-door.
Every time he dropped something off, she begged for him to enter.
She heard a sound outside the door, and once more implored, “I’ll be good…”
The 2X4 came off the door.
The man entered with a steaming bucket of water and a small bag in one hand, and a lantern in the other. A big fluffy white towel was folded under the lantern arm. He set the lantern down in the middle of the room and set the bucket and bag down by the drain in the floor.
“Take your bucket down to the end of the hall and set it down inside the door, then come back. Don’t dawdle or your water will get cold.” It was the first thing he had said to her since her abduction.
She carried the foul-smelling bucket carefully as directed. She set it down and paused looking at the door.
“Was this a test?” The thought ran through her mind. Three days ago she would have bolted out the door without question, but now she was terrified of being left alone in the dark for weeks or months as a punishment. What was on the other side of that door? A forest? A stairwell? Times Square? She didn’t know. Was it even unlocked? Would an alarm sound? All these thoughts swept through her mind before she turned and headed back toward her cell. She was angry with herself for not trying to escape, but she couldn’t make herself do it.
“That’s a good girl. Now clean up.” He said.
The rational part of her found the patronizing comment revolting, but another part of her (a part she never knew to exist before) felt comforted and pleased by it.
The bag contained a washcloth, soap, and shampoo. The hot washcloth on her face was nirvana.
“Turn this way.” The man said in response to her subconsciously modest position facing the wall with her back toward him.
She couldn’t see the man’s expression through the tribal African mask he wore, but she could tell by the tent forming in his robe that he was becoming aroused by watching her soap up and rinse off her svelte body. The hot water felt so good. She didn’t let his ogling stop her from a much needed thorough bath.
“I find the sight of you bathing rather erotic. I hope you won’t mind if I touch myself.” The man said flipping his robe up over his engorged member. He began to stroke himself lightly as he watched the show being put on. He was not going at it fast and white-knuckled, but, rather, in a light sensual manner.
She felt violated as she looked over at the man stroking his chubby while she squatted and cleaned between her legs, and she worried that she was about to experience the rape she had long been expecting.
While the warm water and cleanliness made her feel like person anew, she did start to chill almost immediately once she stopped rinsing.
The man moved toward her unfolding the towel. He wrapped it around her and then began to dry her starting with her brunette locks and working downward. Again, he was methodical but never lingered gratuitously on her private parts in a groping manner.
She didn’t know what made her do it, but she touched the member that touched her leg. First it was like an accidental touch of her fingertips and then she wrapped her hand around it. For a moment he continued to towel her dry, but, when she began to stroke, he stopped and removed her hand.
“You have an important day ahead.” He said, and then left her with the towel wrapped about her torso.
“Why did you do it? Touch it?” She asked herself.
“To feel as though I control something in my runaway world.” She responded.
She knew she should be worried about feeling the need to speak the words aloud, but she couldn’t help it. She needed to hear a human voice, and even to feel as though she were interacting in dialogue – even if it was truly monologue.
There was one recurring question that she did not speak aloud. It was odd how the exact same words could take on very different meanings with differing contexts. The question she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud was, “Why hasn’t he raped me?”
In the beginning, this horrific curiosity was considered in the context of “what does he want from me, and, if it’s not sex, what could it be?” She then always had to push the horrific alternatives from her mind. Rape would be a dreadful trauma (there was a time she couldn’t imagine worse), but it was a known quantity. The anxiety of uncertainty was killing her. Her stomach churned and roiled with it. Just recently, however, the question took on the new and disturbing context of “is there something wrong with me?”
She was undergoing some transformation that she couldn’t even begin to understand – or was she?
In a few hours the man returned.
“A great many mysteries will be unlocked over the next several hours. The first thing you should know is that you weren’t abducted at random. On the contrary, your abduction was the denouement of an extensive search and observation. You were found to be the most promising among a select pool of candidates. In short, I found you exceptional.” He said and took her by the hand.
He led her out of her cell and down the hall toward the door that she had earlier contemplated fleeing through. His left arm held the lantern out ahead of him, and his right was stretched out behind holding her hand firmly as she walked at arms length behind.
The door opened to the foot of a stairway. The stairway was lit, and he snuffed out the lantern and left it on a shelf there. Then he guided her up the stairs. The stairs opened into a large impressive kitchen with marble countertops and restaurant-grade appliances. It was so unlike the musty dank cellar she had called home for some unknown time. It was pristinely clean and sanitary.
They crossed into a dinning room in which a table had already been set, and steaming bowls of soup set out. It smelled so good, and she involuntarily salivated. She had been fed mostly cold table scraps since her abduction.
“There is someone you must meet.” The man gestured for her to turn.
A woman was walking into the dinning room. She was nude like the captive, but was not trembling and seemed well acclimated to her surroundings. She was several years older than the captive, but was quite attractive woman. In contrast, she was blond with a short hairstyle, and was more buxom than the new captive – though still tone.
“Meet B. B this is C.” He said making the introduction.
It took her a moment to realize that she was C.
B looked C up and down, and even walked around behind her.
“She’s a nervous little mouse, but I think you made a wise choice. We’ll see anyway.” B. said.
“You just don’t remember what you were like at this stage.” The man said, and then added, “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
They sat down at the table with the man at the head and the two women to either side of him.
“May I?” B said.
The man nodded and said, “Yes. I guess it’s time.”
B got up and slowly eased the mask off the man’s face.
C expected some sort of deformed, scarred, or burned face, but was relieved and curious to see that it was perfectly fine face. It had a chiseled handsomeness to it even. Some might find it a little gaunt or with a little too prominent bone structure. He was by no stretch pretty. It was a definitively masculine face. What preoccupied C, however, was how familiar the face seemed, but yet she could not place it. It was as if the man had appeared in her dreams, but that couldn’t be it.
B leaned over and the man tilted up his face upward to receive a kiss while taking B’s face between his palms gently.
After C finished watching B return to her seat, trying to figure out what the relationship between her two dinner companions was – and what role she was supposed to play in all this, she bowed her head reflectively with her hands in her lap.
“Extraordinary.” B said in an apparently surprised ejaculation.
C looked up and saw that the man was holding his palm extended toward B and casting a stern rebuking glance upon the blond woman.
B then quietly averted her eyes downward as well. B had just so expected C to ravenously tuck into the food, and was pleasantly surprised by the refined behavior. It was not the religiosity of it. It didn’t matter to B if C was saying Christian grace, practicing Buddhist mindfulness, or was a conscientious atheist. It was the fact that the young woman was in control of herself in a way that few were. After all C had gone through, she was not victim to base impulse. It was so hard, such a long and challenging process, to find a suitable candidate. One had to find a woman who was strong enough to bend to this life without breaking, but yet, deep down, had a longing to bend to it. She had to be smart and have a longing to know herself – even if it was painful at times, but yet be someone who had a void of which they could not make sense.
The bisque was other-worldly, and C realized how much more she appreciated it than she had any other food she had ever placed in her mouth. Despite the fact that her mind was a carousel that alternated between thoughts of the woman seated across from her and the view out the window over B’s shoulder, C savored the flavors. She knew virtually nothing about B, but yet she seemed to have a strong mixed gut reaction to her – as she did toward the man, though the nature of that ambiguity was different. The feelings were mixed in an odd love – hate sort of way. She found B stirred some sort of ire in her, but simultaneously C had a type of affinity for, or kinship toward, B. Some siblings had this kind of relationship, and C found it odd that she should feel this way toward a lady she didn’t really know. The woman had made a patronizing comment, but C’s dislike of her was more than that. Jealousy? Surely, that was ridiculous.
The view out the window gave C’s mind to thoughts of escape, and she considered the landscape. There was not much to garner from the view. There was a lush bucolic gradual rise that seemed to meet a backdrop of low hanging medium-gray clouds. More immediately, she noted that there were tightly spaced bars upon the windows.
When they had all finished the soup course, C was directed to bus the man’s dishes as well as her own while B cleared her own plate. B showed C around the kitchen, and gave C the man’s main course as well as C’s own plate. C was to serve the man and then could sit down to her own food. B took her own plate. This process was repeated through the remainder of the courses.
After the meal the man excused himself and retired to his study to read.
C was left alone with B, and they cleared the table and cleaned up together.
“What am I doing here? Why did he kidnap me?” C asked B.
“It’s not my place to answer such questions without his permission, but, by the end of the evening, things will clearer.” B responded as she brushed a stray lock of hair out of C’s face.
“Who are you?”
“I am B.”
“Are you a captive like me?”
B gave the smile of one looking at an endearingly naïve soul. She wasn’t sure how to answer this question. “I am very much like you in many ways, but I don’t consider myself a captive.”
“Is there an ‘A’; are we some sort of harem or collection?” C asked.
“There was an A, but she… she didn’t make it.
“No. We are not a harem. Master is not the kind to collect. He would, no doubt, say that collections were for those caught up in the avarice of desire, and rather one should simplify one’s life such that one can see and experience the beauty and innate perfection inherent in those special things that we choose to take into our lives.
“This may seem a contradiction, given that there are two of us standing here, but, for now, you’ll have to trust that your role here will become clear.” B explained ambiguously.
“I’m… I’m really scared here… Will you, please, please, help me to escape?” C said, her eyes welling up.
B stepped to C and embraced the younger woman. As soon as she did so, C returned the embrace and was wracked by a fit of sobbing. C so needed the human contact – the contact of a confidant that she could unload her tsunami of built up emotion upon. C clutched at B as though the elder woman were a life-preserver in a rolling ocean.
“Trust me, girl, this will all be alright. I can’t offer you that assistance, and right now you may think me a vile and despicable monster for it, but someday I think you’ll see it differently. There will be traumas ahead, no doubt, but you are strong enough to handle them, and I’ll be there to help you as long as I can.”
After C had cried herself out and they finished the clean-up chores, B decided to try a heart-to-heart with the girl. “Tonight is going to be hard on you – physically and emotionally. You are going to want to flee. I know this. I remember how it was. I know it’s hard to accept what I’m saying, but don’t give in to it. Nothing good will come of it. I know this is all scary and demoralizing. If you just give this a chance, hard as that may be, you’ll never see that awful cellar again. You’ll never be alone again.” B said looking C in the eye with her hands on the girl’s shoulders.
B took C by the hand and led her through the house. The house was not huge and was sparsely furnished and decorated with the exception of the study that they passed. It was floor to ceiling with books. However, the goods and decorations that were there were all high-quality and showed impressive taste. The Master had left the study by the time the two women passed by.
They found him in the bedroom lying on the bed nude. He was reading Gibbon’s “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire”. The two women just stood quietly waiting for several minutes before the Master put a bookmark where he left off, and set the book aside on the end table. B guided C toward the bed, and the younger woman could hear her heartbeat pound.
When C nervously refused to walk further, B grabbed her by the hair and pulled her forward. It was such a change from the sweet woman who had consoled her. B struggled to remain on her feet until she was pushed roughly over onto the bed.
“Don’t embarrass me. It’s time for you to do your chores.” B hissed as she pushed the younger woman’s cheek against the man’s flaccid snake.
Elaine’s pussy tingled with excitement as she sat amongst her prospective victims and was not to be brow-beaten, she settled down in her new position with aplomb, despite the protestations of Fox-Janner. The other members viewed her nervously and with a certain interest; some knew of Gordon’s particular interests in dominant women and had similar tendencies, their interest was very apparent within their underwear. In turn Elaine gently and casually eyed the other members as she adjusted her prim and confident form; she was expert at detecting those who would fall easily and had several targets marked already.
The dominant woman had balls tingling as she announced her natural authority in immediately forwarding a motion. She proposed the immediate allocation of new memberships via the golfing store clientele, and emphasised that this would be regardless of gender and would allow attendance on any day, as would be appropriate for the twenty-first century. Aubrey Fox-Janner was purple with rage.
“This is preposterous; we’ll lose some of our most influential members if this goes ahead; women already have the freedom of the course on Saturday’s.” Elaine smirked and puffed out her breasts, reinforcing the identity and irresistible eventual dominance of her gender.
“Then this club will be all the better for the removal of people with such chauvinistic ideals; there are many influential women who will undoubtedly take their places.” Fox-Janner lifted himself from his seat, to make himself look bigger; a reaction to the breasts which were already distracting many of his board members.
“I propose a show of hands; let’s see just who would agree with it.” There was much twitching amongst the members, some of whom fought to raise their arms in approval, such was their excitement at this redheaded vision, but the despotic Fox-Janner could influence their businesses which made them reluctant. Elaine swiftly selected a page from her paperwork which Penny had marked as important, pre-empting this situation. She stood and strutted round the table, showing her ample and shapely rear and black nylon-clad legs to good effect, as she passed the infuriated chairman a Maiden Downs Golf Club regulations sheet. She smiled and looked round at the members with a satisfied smile, making already stirring cocks stiffen nicely.
“The rules say that a secret ballot may be held if proposed by a board member.” Cocks now stiffened to hardened erections as the dominant redhead made her move. The scent of her glorious femininity now had most of the board transfixed.
“I am a member and I DEMAND that we have a secret ballot.” Relieved twitchers now smugly laid their arms to rest; these were already toying with seeing this magnificent woman on the quiet, in the hope of securing some favour; they had no idea that this would be completely on her terms, and would soon find themselves owned. Others still viewed her with a little contempt, but had a little admiration for her confidence, which pleased them in a strange way; they would soon realise what that pleasure was. A couple were already transfixed, having the tendencies that Gordon had, knowing him, and seeing him led around like that; they still foolishly believed that this could be some fanciful game, to be reversed at any point. Elaine would show those members that control was permanent.
Fox-Janner studied the paperwork he was already patently aware of, and reluctantly agreed, he had no choice. Elaine gave her ultimatum; she was not to be disappointed.
“I shall leave the room while you do just so.” She picked a sheet of paper and wrote ‘For’, then folded it and left it in the centre of the table.
“I trust that those more human members will have the sense to write the same. I shall return after I have had a look round at the facilities I have now become a board member of” Even before Elaine had closed the door behind her, the room was in a tumult; she could hear Aubrey Fox-Janner above the rest.
“A woman! A bloody woman on my board! I shall see that Smith ruined!” He could not know that Gordon Smith was already relieved of any possible ruination; Elaine smirked with satisfaction as she thought of the feel of Gordon’s tongue on her asshole and how he had submitted completely. Her pussy tingled sweetly as she thought of Fox-Janner’s demise; it would be divine. As she stepped from the room a woman appeared from nowhere; petite and tired looking she grasped Elaine’s hands.
“I think it’s marvellous what you’re doing; I’m Fox-Janner’s housekeeper and I hate the bastard. His attitude is bad enough in general, but his attitude to women is deplorable; I have to do work here as well as at his monstrous house, and you should see the way he abuses the Au-pairs. Mind you, in reality, he’s not 100% the domineering, all controlling male he sets himself up as; I’ve seen some of the kinky magazines he reads.” Elaine grinned from ear to ear at this unforeseen gift and immediate ally; Fox-Janner’s days in his present position looked to be numbered.
Elaine accompanied Mrs Gloria Trent around the premises; she was a woman who had become a widow at an early age and had been taken full advantage of by Fox-Janner who was her landlord. By the time the conversation was over, she had lost her tired look completely and drove home speedily in the battered hatchback car she had driven to the club so carefully, for fear of it breaking down; she could not believe the luck she’d had in meeting Elaine, who had advised her that her position in life was about to change forever. She went home to dress up for the meeting she’d been invited to at the Equestrian Centre.
Gordon was driven back to Penny’s plush office where she picked up some paperwork that Gordon had to sign, the two women smiled wickedly as they told him it would be best if he signed them somewhere where they would be more comfortable, and so they drove back to Lana’s house. No sooner had the car pulled into the drive when a near naked Eastern woman appeared at the door, cane in hand and beckoning the humiliated male indoors with a wagging finger. He obediently scuttled ahead as the impressively assertive Penny strutted behind him, smug at his total obedience. Gordon’s cock rose as he noted Lana’s Amazonian thighs and rounded buttocks in her business attire, his cock stiffened all the more as he neared the woman at the door. The see through black chiffon negligee she wore with the cane complimenting it exquisitely, had him wondering what was now in store. She strutted on black stilettos, which were the only other items she wore, into the room at the rear which gave a panoramic view of the garden, and the pole where he had been broken.
Gordon was astounded to see another male, naked but for a dog mask and dog-tail butt plug, leashed and on all fours; a dog bowl with water in it for his only refreshment. The Eastern lady gave the canine cur a stinging swipe of the cane which made a red line blush across his buttocks to accompany the mass of red lines which already existed there. Gordon’s balls tingled with fear as he noticed the male’s cock was cruelly caged. The smiling Penny introduced the couple.
“This is Maria, she is Elaine’s home assistant and co-owner of the pet you see by the bowl. That is Elaine’s ex-husband; they are still married in name, but he is of little use to her or anyone else. He is eternally thankful that Maria takes such interest in keeping him as a pet, of course, this is only because Elaine pays her to do so. You may kiss Maria’s feet now.” Gordon wasted no time in crouching and kissing the black stilettos as Maria sneered at him; he was already in awe of her. Lana pointed a cane at him and gave him a very stern look.
“Get those clothes off immediately, you have no use for those sort of outfits anymore; you’ll sign these last documents and your life of complete servitude will begin. If you are lucky, you’ll become a pet too.” The women laughed as he eagerly stripped off; though apprehensive of what lay ahead, the idea of permanent bondage to a women, however humble had his cock rock hard. The women laughed all the more when they saw his meagre cock at full excitement. He was made to kneel and watch as Lana and Penny removed their skirts and panties; they both kicked their panties off their feet and asked Maria to watch; Lana pointed to the panties.
“Crawl over here and sniff our panties. I want you to tell us if you think we’ve been excited by your work today, and whether you have earned the privilege to lick our assholes.” Maria cackled with joy as Gordon crawled like a worm to the feet of the dominant women; they stood with hands on hips in stern fashion, each clutching a cane which would be administered if the cur made the slightest wrong move. Gordon’s stiff cock rubbed on the cool floor as he eagerly sniffed at Lana’s panties first; his cock was fit to burst as his nose took in the delicious feminine scent from the sticky gusset, the women laughed at him as they watched his pathetic lust in getting the most from their soiled panties. A stern look came over Lana’s face and she whipped the cane across his back, smiling with spiteful satisfaction as he moaned in pain.
“You lick that gusset clean then move onto Penny’s.” They chuckled with contempt as Gordon licked at the sticky patch of feminine essence and soft brown tang of spice behind it; his cock slid on the smooth floor as his lubrication dribbled, he was close to coming as he moved to Penny’s feet and sampled the delicious aromas of her gusset. Penny’s pussy tingled with excitement as she relished the complete control over the male.
“You lick that gusset too.” She was anxious to have her asshole licked while the other women witnessed his humiliation. Gordon duly obliged and savoured the taste of Penny’s womanly essences as much as he savoured the actual humiliating act of submission before three women. Maria toyed with her pussy as she witnessed the humiliation of her mistress’s latest conquest for the first time; she was eager to see how he took the cane, and was keen to take another dog for a walk in public; this form of humiliation gave her an immense thrill and was incredibly humbling for the male being walked. She pondered the thought as Lana whipped him with the cane when Penny’s gusset was deemed to have been licked clean enough.
“Well? Do you think watching your humiliation at being owned by us in front of the golf club board has excited us sufficiently to be allowed to lick our assholes?” The women watched with smug satisfaction as the defeated and worthless male cowered at their feet, and awaited a response which would not influence their actions in any way, but simply enhance their pleasure in humiliating him. like many males before, and many to come, he was a toy who would be perpetually made to know his place, which was at the feet of any woman. Maria stepped up closer with her cane to fully enjoy his torment; he was now looking at three pairs of feminine shoes which contained supremely dominant women, feet which he would kiss many times in the near future.
“Please mistress Lana, the panties were very nicely scented; I’d like to think my humiliation excited you.” The woman laughed with contempt at his response, then Lana gave her smug reply.
“Good boy! We certainly did enjoy watching you humiliate yourself; you’ll lick three assholes because you’ve earned the privilege, then you’ll sign the documents giving over everything else you have. Oh, and then Penny and I will watch Maria excite you with the cane as she missed the show earlier.” Gordon’s cock bobbed fully erect as the vicious Eastern maid smiled down on the now kneeling naked male, teasing his ass cheeks with the cane with which she would thrash him to her satisfaction, after he had pleasured her asshole for the first time. Gordon’s balls tingled with a mixture of fear and submissive anticipation as he thought of the pain he would know, as Lana turned before him, bent slightly, and spread the glorious fleshy orbs of her ass to reveal a nicely seasoned and inviting brown puckered asshole which demanded the attention of a submissive slave’s tongue, but she would enjoy a tease before Gordon could relish the tangy taste of her heavenly ring.
“You get your nose in there and have a damn good sniff first. Don’t you dare lick until I tell you.” The women laughed with scorn as Gordon pressed his nose close to the sticky pucker and inhaled the deliciously tangy scent as Lana wriggled her bottom in his face, his cock dribbling as he yearned to lick her. Lana continued as he sniffed his mistress’s asshole obediently.
“I want you to have a nice long think about the position you’ve gotten yourself into while you sniff my asshole; from your capture by Elaine, through my pleasure of whipping you at the post, to the caning you are about to enjoy. I want you to know that sniffing a woman’s asshole is representative of your position in life now.” Gordon sniffed at the intoxicating scent and his balls tingled as he thought of the supreme redhead, being mercilessly lashed at the post, Angela’s rubber bondage, and the Eastern woman who would now cane him; he thought of the cur in the dog outfit and his cock stiffened as he wondered if he’d be reduced to that level. He was now resigned to being owned completely as he inhaled the delicious scent of the woman who had broken him with the whip. Lana pulled her cheeks a little further apart.
“Lick my asshole now. I want it nicely cleaned and refreshed.”
This part includes a short homosexual segment in order to reestablish the Warden deviant nature. If that offends you please skip: HOMO to HOMO End.
She was s the first to be called with two other slaves she had lashed in the Madam’s office plus one more. They were neck chained together outside the cell block and marched off. She knew this was not for the lineup but some private event or maybe a dungeon. The dungeon made sense since all four sported multiple bruises on their asses and thighs.
They were brought in to a small room where the ball and chain was removed as well as the neck chains. Next they were taken into a dimly lit room where each of them was handcuffed around a thick post. The chain between the cuffs was then attached to something on the other side of the post leaving their hands about even with their breasts.
The lights were brightened after a while and she turned her head seeing a long table near the wall behind her. The table was set with maybe twelve dinner plate settings. There were no chairs on her side. So they were to be on display for a dinner party. Six female slaves were lined up by the door where the guest would arrive at one end of the table. They were dressed in French maid’s uniforms with mid ass cheek skirts, nylons and exposed breasts with no panties.
Clients began to arrive and each was guided to a chair by a maid. Once six couples were seated the maids began so serve them food and wine. She noticed that most of the males were in their sixties and the women less than thirty; probably trophy wives or mistresses. As their party went on and the booze flowed the conversation became louder. She heard a lot of pleasurable shrieking laughs as the maids were groped and slapped.
It must have more that an hour before the clients began to get up and take an interest in the four chained slaves. A small table was brought in by the maids with a variety of implement of punishment. Only women picked out instruments. One woman picked a paddle and slapped each slave twice, once on each cheek and then their tits.
Another woman, a beautiful tall half breed Latino picked a riding crop and started with one-eight-six. “Stick out that ass bitch,” she sneered. “Display that big white ass for the riding crop.” She bent over as much as she could and arched her back presenting her ass to the woman. “Nice ass for a honky bitch, now churn it invitingly whore, show me you love being lashed.” She dug her fingernails deep into her ass flesh in several places. “Ah I see you love being lashed look at those stripes, you’ve been a slut haven’t you?”
“No ma’am I’m always good,” she replied in a cocky manner.
“Well listen to that, an obstinate bitch…I like that but I know exactly how to handle young bitches.” She emphasized ‘young’ and lashes her ass and thighs five times. “George come here I want you to fuck this mouthy bitch. You like them young don’t you?”
“I’ve got you my darling; she’s about the same age.”
“How old are you bitch?” she lashed her again.
“I’m eighteen ma’am.”
“Like hell my age, she’s a teen George, go ahead and enjoy the sluts young supple flesh after I decorate he ass a little more;” she gave her five more hard. Frenchy, drop my dear husband’s trousers.” She must have been talking to one of the maids. She watched as a black maid on her knees lowered his pants and boxers. Ok George you got a full figured teenager to fuck; Frenchy get it in you mouth and harden it; I want to hear you slurp bitch. She landed a couple of lashes on the maid’s ass, there that’s so much better. George that a nice boner. Frenchy lick her a bit for lubrication I don’t want her cunt to hurt my sugar daddy’s cock.” She lashed her ass again for emphasis laughing sarcastically.” She felt a long tongue lubricating her hole and then a fair sized cock ramming her. The woman began to fondle her roughly, digging her nails into her tits and then ordered her to turn her head up to one side to French kiss her. She bit her tongue several times, while her husband panted with lust until he came groaning loudly. The maid sucked him clean and used a towel to dry him off. They left for the table after giving her and the maid five more lashes each.
She watched, while her sister slaves tied up as she was, got lashed by female guests and fucked by their husbands. Her head spun for a minute; they were clients not guests. She was so brain washed by training, meditation and beatings that she actually believed for a moment that this was not a staged play but real life. She shook her head trying to clear out the cobwebs; but it was real life for her; she was a slave for real. The clients were actors not her.
The clients drank a lot and only a few came round fondling and beating them. Most of the sex was now performed by some of the maids crawling back and forth under the table sucking cock or licking cunts whatever was demanded. At one point she watched two maids on the table doing a sixty-nine act in the food while some clients poured drinks over them.
Long after the last client staggered out with some of the maids they were released and then chained together again before returning to the log in station along with three of the maids to be cleaned and douched before filling out their reports. When done they were brought into a long narrow room and lined up against a wall.
The opposite wall was occupied by a long blackboard with the each department name along the top, including the warden, madam, Doctor and the Dentist with their extension numbers. Most columns had one or two slave numbers marked in chalk below. The madam and Wardens had five or six numbers in their columns. A female supervisor entered through a side door looking over the seven females. She pointed at a black maid and a clerk sitting at a desk got up and chalked in that slaves number under: log in department supervisor. The super motioned for that slave to follow her and they left the room.
The clerk then began to phone, apologizing for the late call and then naming the slave numbers lined up along the wall. When an agreement was reached he would get up and chalk in that slaves number in the proper column.
When finished he transferred the information to a sheet of paper and handed a clipboard to a guard who ordered the slaves to follow. One-eight-six was taken to her own cellblock and handed over to an assistant who then knocked on the supervisor’s door and ordered her to enter. Inside she removed her chains and led her to the super’s king sized bed. A white lady boy was asleep besides her.
The super ordered her to crash on the lady boy waking him up. “Let me see some passionate foreplay girls.” One-eight-six wondered why she said girls but her fingers soon discovered that besides nice tits and functioning penis he, she or it, also had a vagina, a true hermaphrodite. She fingered it penetrating a very tight orifice with one finger. ‘It’ responded with an audible moan obviously very sensitive in the female part. “Alright girls: sixty-nine,” she reversed her position and swallowed ‘its’ sizeable stiff cock. “Finger her too and let me hear some passion.” She slipped a finger into ‘its’ cunt as her own was being expertly licked making her moan loudly while sucking and fingering her dual purpose sex partner. Soon ‘it’s’ body began to jerk shooting a load in her mouth while she climaxed herself. “Don’t swallow,” Her super’s open mouth had suddenly appeared near hers and they locked lips while the super sucked out most of his semen, swallowing it noisily. “Get me more,” she stroked and sucked ‘it’s’ cock clean returning her lips to the super’s. The ‘it’ now twisted ‘it’s’ upper body around abandoning her vagina for the supers, while One-eight-six continued to passionately neck with her, caressing and clutching her tits until her body shuddered moaning a loud climax in her mouth. Everyone being satiated they disentangled, breathing contentedly as they all went to sleep.
She and the lady boy were roused by an assistant early in the morning and taken to a shower next to the bedroom. When done, their chains were reconnected before being led out. She was taken to her bed and the lady boy, led away to ‘its’ own cell block.
She got her period that day and was put in red pants, assigned to the warden’s office. After getting her morning slaps in the face like everyone else, a guard took her to a small side office, where she was chained to a ring in the floor and then ordered to sort files alphabetically. After a couple of hours the warden came in and slapped her face about eight times, while she of course as usual held her head high and forward for each new slap. She thanked him sincerely for the beating, as he entered a door to an inner office closing it behind him. A few seconds later she heard a voice on a small speaker on the wall. It had a button on it and someone had obviously left it on by mistake.
“Connect me to Darryl Jones,” it was the Wardens voice. Would she dare push the button to the off position?
“Darryl you foxy old slave hunter what’s new?”
“Well Jose I’ve got plenty of great stock in the pipeline world wide just waiting for that magical eighteenth birthday. What are you looking for in particular?”
“Well as always pretty, young and doe-eyed, Greek gods and goddesses. A couple of baby faced midget particularly Asian Indian or black half breeds. Some Vegas stock, male or female any shade. You know I don’t care for Hollywood’s phony tits and skinny legs; I’ve got enough of those, though they do bring in cash. I’ll take a few not too muscle-bound beach bums from there though. I’m completely out of young Brazilian big ass half breeds. Then of course most of all I need some true hermaphrodites but only the rare ones with great feminine bodies and features. They’re always on my wish list; the syndicate makes a fortune with them.”
“I can get you stock in most of those categories but true hermaphrodites are a very secretive lot about their dual functions, especially as teenagers, shame I guess. They usually don’t hit the porn trade until their early twenties and you’re not looking for seniors, are you?” They both chuckled. “We’ve made a breakthrough though by hacking some medical data bases in the last few months, listing cases around the world and we’re sorting through that now. The problem is that doctors don’t include looks and body type, only photos of the genitals. The photos are helpful since we can determine whether the genitals are fully formed and vertically aligned. We lift the better candidate’s addresses to identify and secretly video tape or photograph them. Not many hang out in bars at that age with phony ID’s, where we can use date drugs and test the functionality of both genitalia.
“We follow the good ones hopefully to beaches because they don’t frequent pools with their public change rooms. Real feminine beauty with a female body is rare in this category but we have about six good candidates coming up over the next three years. So you can understand that it’s a very expensive operation tracking and separating these beauties from the chaff. Then of course they have to be abducted just on or after that magical eighteenth birthday with you hosting the surprise party or should I say deviant orgy?” They both laughed. “I’ll be shipping one hermaphrodite a Brazilian half-breed, a big ass to booth in about a week. Oh dear Jose, another regrettable drowning;” they both chuckled, “plus about five in other categories over the next month and a half.
“That will include, in three weeks a Japanese half black midget with a face to die for. She’s a rare genetic mix with Asian color and that exotic Asian slant eyed doll face but with great rising pointers and a superb caboose plus sculptured thighs from the black side. This little doll sports more curves than the Rio Grande.”
“What the hell is a caboose?”
“A caboose was the last train car, sort of a living quarter-shelter for the crew, back when they needed one.
“Ah…cozinha de navio.”
Anyway she’s a three foot nine inch goddess, that’s about three foot three inches to her full thick lips; talk about fellatio convenience.”
“That’s easy to say for a six foot Texan, but I prefer midgets and regular bodies squatting though, it’s so much more uncomfortable, some of them end up with painful cramps and fall over, which of course is a punishable offence.
“You are a truly perverted Jose.
“And proud of it Darryl, a terrified sex slaves, especially a new recruit that I can abuse for the syndicate mentally and physically, is what makes my day. The threat of a terrifying sexual encounter with me…is a wonderful persuader, leading to passionate sexual performances with our clients.”
“You got the system down path Jose. Anyway, my agent in Asia managed to obtain naked photos of this tiny living doll in a private bath house after bribing an attendant. Barring an accident or a sharp fingernail during masturbation she’s most likely a virgin you can auction off as such; the syndicate will make a fortune on her. You of course will get second helping to some very tight pussy.
“Don’t worry I prefer to have someone else drawing blood; that orifice and my favorite rear entry will still be tight as a drum for some time.”
“I know, you horny old bugger; I can’t wait to bang her myself someday, so don’t stretch her too much.” They chuckled again. “Anyway can you process that many?”
“No problem banging anything here Darryl and an average of one fresh conscript per week is about right. I thrive on breaking in new stock on a regular basis. Call met the next time you’re in the main office. I hope you’ve got time to try out some of your captives before leaving and happy hunting.”
“You can count on it. I’ll check out the album library and happy perverting to you.”
“Say Darryl, how are you going to snare this little doll in that crowded country?”
“I’ve got a deviously shrewd native agent in Japan; you’ve accommodated at least a dozen of his past acquisitions in your Asian collection, courtesy of this dude over the years. Trust me; our little princess will be having sweet dreams on cloud nine while being spirited away in the Lear, before anyone knows she’s been added to the syndicate’s stable of choice flesh.”
That’s just great Darryl. One more thing, are you still using that suicide jumping of the bridge strategy. You know leaving the poor depressed quarry’s car and shoes there.?” The warden laughed heartedly.
“No, many bridge in the western world has safety fences now that are hard to scale. A bigger problem, not only here but in many areas are those fucking video cameras, they makes it very difficult to leave our quarry’s car there and then get picked up in another. But don’t fret your perverted heart Jose, there are more than one way to skin a cat.”
They both chuckled again as he hung up. He returned to One-eight-six, slapping her a few times and then left for his beastly den and live desk chair.
He left the door wide open giving her a side view of the lineup on their x marked spots. Since they didn’t dare take their eyes off the warden, she was able to push the off button unseen, drawing a deep breath of relief. Who knows what he would have done to her if he knew. This was one secret she’d never share with anyone.
She couldn’t see his desk but imagined him settling down on a large ass and the back lean caressing his gorilla body while nibbling on his ear moaning sweet nothings of love; also a slave under the desk taking his cock in his or her mouth, holding his balls while all of them moaned with pleasure. He was busy on the phone for about an hour and then got up to pick out a sexual victim from the lineup.
He made each of the seven hug and kiss him while he fondled their bodies. He finally chose a very pretty doe- eyed Asian Indian male slapping his face hard about eight times. “Well now my pretty sweetheart it’s time for you to love me passionately. Have you ever had sex with a woman?”
“Yes warden the madam last night.”
“I know dear but in India?”
“No never warden.”
“How about a man?”
“Yes Warden my uncle taught me about oral sex.”
“Oh … really how did that start?”
“I was sent to work at a young age in his wood carving shop to learn that art and he began to fondle my genitals one day and then sucked my penis; after a month of that I asked if he would honor me by letting me suck on his penis.”
“You asked him if you could and he honored you!”
“Yes I loved my uncle very much and wanted to return the pleasure he provided for me.”
“How old was your beloved uncle?”
“He is thirty-five Warden.”
“That I’m afraid wont happen here, your clients will be male or female mostly in the sixty to eighty year range. I supposed that you miss your uncle now?”
“Yes I love my uncle very much.”
“Well consider me your uncle now. How were you abducted?”
“Someone pushed me into a flooded river when fishing; I realized now that it was not an accident. I can’t swim but two men in a boat pulled me out and that’s all I remember before waking up in the pit. My uncle must be very worried about me.”
“He probably thinks you drowned but he doesn’t need to worry; we’ll take good care of you here sweetheart. You’ll will be fucking and sucking aunts and uncles or rather grandparents every day. That’s your only function in life from now on my pretty nephew. While you’re in my office please call me uncle.”
“Now kiss and hug me passionately sweetie!” He embraced the just slightly shorter warden and kissed him gingerly. The warden stood back slapping and back slapping him four times. “I said with passion my beloved. First me explain something to you, if you don’t learn to love every one you’re assigned to with fervent passion, you’ll be spending a long time in the pits. We have an instrument for you, similar to a speculum that doctors used to examine women’s cunts. It can be fitted into your asshole, strapped and locked there so you can’t remove it and snakes love warm dark placed. Shall we try loving each other again?” They kissed passionately this time. “That was a little better now let see how well your uncle taught you; squat down and don’t forget to swallow each and every drop, are you used to that?”
“No uncle, I have always spit it out and rinsed my mouth after; that’s how my uncle taught me.”
“Well here you’ll get severely punished if you don’t swallow and no rinsing. You must show me that my and every client’s semen is a gourmand delicacy, by slurping it down while moaning with satisfaction, licking and smacking your lips, understand?”
“Yes uncle I will swallow every delicate drop.” He began sucking expertly frigging the warden’s cock while fondling his balls.
“Ah, my sweet lover you even know how to scratch my taint and finger my asshole. Your dear uncle taught you well, except of course for the joy of swallowing. Good man he was.” He barely finished his comment before blowing his load which was dutifully swallowed accompanied by loud slurps and moans of satisfaction. He made him get up and watched him licking his lips and making swallowing motions before slapping his face a few times.
“That was a good start my sweet lover, do you know what buggering or sodomizing is?”
“No uncle I never heard of those words.”
“Well my darling it means that later in the day you will get on your hands and knees while I shove my cock inside your asshole. Do you like that idea?”
Yes…yes uncle I…I would…would like that very much.” His voice trembled as he spoke.”
“You’re lying, don’t ever lie to me again; you’re scared stiff about being sodomized right?”
“Yes uncle I’m sorry I am very afraid, very scared.”
“But since you love me so much you will submit willingly and beg me to bugger you wont you sweetheart?”
“Yes uncle I love you very much and I will beg to be buggered even though I’m afraid because it will hurt.”
Bonnie saw the contest at local business. “Win a second honeymoon in the Caribbean all expenses paid. Let our Private jet fly you to the vacation of your dreams” it read. It looked fantastic. She and Don had not had much money when they married. Instead of a real honeymoon they had spent a weekend at a friends cabin. It was rustic but not particularly romantic. They both had to be at work on Monday so the time for romance was very limited. Now however, five years later, Don had a great job and Bonnie’s had improved benefit and wage wise. A second honeymoon would be wonderful. It would be a great time to start working on a family.
The rest of their congregation at church was looking at them a bit strangely. No other couple there, married for as long as Bonnie and Don, remained childless. Bonnie had been to about twenty weddings over the last five years and every one of those brides, save one married six months ago. were either pregnant or already had one or more children.
Their childless status meant that they were the judges of the church’s Holloween contests and the go to couple for last minute baby sitting. That was getting tiring. More annoying than the gossip at church were their parents. No matter the situation, either Bonnie’s or Don’s parents would steer the conversation around to the subject of grandchildren. But now Both husband and wife thought that the time to start a family was at hand. Bonnie filled out the detailed form and dropped it in the box next to the forms and thought nothing of it for the next two weeks.
The call came one Monday evening. A man who identified himself as the head of the travel agency offering the contest informed Bonnie that she and Don had won the contest! She could scarcely believe her luck. The only stipulation was that they had to take the trip by the end of the month. As luck would have it, both Bonnie and Don had some vacation time stashed away with their respective employers. Two weeks in the tropical sun! Bonnie and Don could hardly wait.
Clearing their schedules was not too hard. There was only a dentist appointment to move. Bonnie and Don bought new bathing suits and a few other things for the trip but according to several phone calls they had received since winning, there really wasn’t much to bring. Certainly not more than one suitcase. At last the big day arrived.
Their friends had given them a small but sweet going away party in a nice restaurant. After that it was a drive to the international airport. About the only thing that Bonnie and Don would have to pay for was two weeks of parking at the airport lot. But even that cost vaporized when one of their friends offered a parking space at his uncle’s house just outside the city. After making sure that parking there would be no problem, Don and Bonnie realized that a short cab ride to the airport would be the only thing they had to pay for. It seemed too good to be true.
After the Bon voyage dinner, Don and Bonnie drove to the uncle’s house. He showed them where to park and Don gave him his set of car keys in case the car had to be moved in the interim. With that it was a trip to the airport to meet with Ms. Parker, the company representative, who was to help them board the plain and get off OK.
At the airport, Don carried their suitcases (Bonnie had over packed, as usual) through the terminal to the assigned office. The airline desk for the private jet was off to one side. It looked almost like an afterthought. But behind the desk an attractive blonde wore a name tag that said Parker so the couple knew that they were at the right place.
“Ah … you must be the Hendersons. I am Jane Parker. I know who you are but I have to see your ID’s Homeland Security strikes again.”
Don and Bonnie produced their diver licenses and passports and Ms. Parker ran them through a scanner. An attendant appeared and toted off the Henderson’s luggage.
“That was Mr. Woo, your steward. He will be flying with you.”
In short order, the Henderson’s were led to the tarmac and a sporty looking corporate jet, The Henderson’s were a striking couple. Don stood an even six feet. He had blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was in terrific shape from both his job which required lots of physical activity and by smoking the guys at the health club in just about every game of racquetball he had ever played. When he golfed he carried his own clubs and never took a cart no matter how hot the weather.
Bonnie, was five foot six. Her clear even skin stood out sharply under her long curly brown hair. Her bust was perfect for her frame. Her legs were long and shapely. Her green cat like eyes were perhaps her best feature, but all of her 116 pound was quite attractive. A firm believer in her church’s philosophy that a wife should make herself as attractive as possible to please her man; she worked out at the gym four days a week. Champion spinner and fastest woman in the pool, Bonnie was proud of her physique.
Without a care in the world the two mounted the steps to the jet. As instructed, they turned off their cell phones and settled into the seats. The jet had seats for eight but, apparently, the Henderson’s were the only passengers aside from Mr. Woo, the steward. The jet taxied down the runway and was airborne moments later. Mr. Woo opened a bottle of wine and poured glasses for the couple. He also had some hor dourves on a silver tray which the Henderson’s also helped themselves to. Neither one thought it odd when they both became sleepy. It had been an exciting day. It was probably the good kind of exhaustion.
Don woke up first. He found himself in restraints! He and Bonnie were in a large warehouse or similar structure. Harsh light filtered down from the ceiling. Don’s arms were cuffed to a pulley which had him stretched to his full height. His shoes and socks had been removed and his ankles were cuffed to the floor. There was no give in the line. A gag of some sort was in his mouth. Opposite and facing him was Bonnie in identical restraints.
Although he could not talk, Don made as much noise as he could in an effort to wake his wife. At last she awoke. Her eyes flashed with fear as she looked a Don and her realization, instants later, that she was in the same predicament as her husband.
After an interval two men and a woman entered the room.
“I see that you two are awake. That is good.”
The man stood between Bonnie and Don. A huge powerfully built man, he carried a whip and he wore a pistol in a holster belted around his waist.
“Welcome to your new lives. We will be processing you shortly. We will be removing your gags momentarily. Any yelling and screaming results in a horsewhipping for BOTH of you. No one can hear you scream. We just don’t want to deal with the ear aches. If we are in a good mood we MAY answer some of your questions. Please avoid obvious ones such as where are we and who are we.
Don noticed that the second man in the room, tall and wiry, approached him. He took out a knife an sliced away the tape holding the gag in his mouth. The tall beautiful red haired woman had done the same for Bonnie. The husband and wife sputtered and Don was able to gain his voice first.
“What do you mean by our new lives?”
“A very good question.” Said the large man. “This will require some explanation. As you have by no doubt surmised your trip to the Caribbean was a sham. As far as the FAA and the world is concerned is concerned you two are dead. Our pilots filed a flight plan but deviated from it at one point and avoided radar until they arrived in this nameless country. IF you know what you are doing its not hard to have a plane send off false telemetry. At a specific location in the Atlantic an explosion was sited and your plane seemingly vanished, An oil slick and some convincing debris were released by one of our ships. The speed with which your plane apparently hit the water means that the black boxes were vaporized. There is no search and rescue mission, the depth of the water and the unimportant nature of your flight means that the authorities are NOT looking for you. I am sure that your church will give the two of you the most moving of funeral services however.”
“Oh my God,” said Bonnie.
“As a matter of fact,” stated the large man, “You should view me as something akin to God. I will controlling your lives and conducting your training until you are sold.”
“Sold?” Said Don.
“Yes, the two of you will bring quite the price on the market, especially your lovely wife. Well she is not your wife anymore really. Your marriage ended in death.”
“Please tell me this is a cruel joke.” Said Bonnie, “Why us?”
“I assure you it is no joke. We have already invested quite a bit of money in the two of you but your sales will easily double or, if we are lucky, triple our investment. As to why you two. Don is handsome and blond there is quite the market in some parts of the world for a well trained male slave although in all probability he will be sold to a very well off gay man. You better learn to develop a taste for cock Donald, and quickly. As for you Bonnie. You have every attribute of a high value slave. The only way you would bring a higher price were if you were a natural blonde but we have to take the best options we can.”
“You can’t sell us, we are human beings and free citizens.”
“Correction. You are dead citizens. The cavalry is not going to come charging over the hills. Your parents will get a nice insurance payment. Your church will hold an empty casket funeral and that will be the end of things. And selling people is what we do. Of course its illegal. It is however very lucrative.
You are probably wondering about how we decided on the two of you. You can thank your wife for that. The contest forms are a sham that we have placed in several large cities. The name of the travel agency is always different but the particulars are usually the same. Some times its a cruise. Sometimes the couple reach their scheduled destination but are apparently swept out to sea or have other ‘misfortunes’ befall them. We check out the names and ages of the entrants. With the internet being what it is today it does not take long to find out everything and anything about a particular individual or couple. It was no great feat to hack into your Facebook and e-mail accounts. For example Bonnie, we loved the sexy photo of yourself in that pink nightie that you sent Don while he was at work to cheer him up last week. Other data we need comes from our investigators, most of whom have no idea what our real business is.”
Bonnie, comprehending that she and Don were in this fix because of her began weeping.
“Oh get over it woman! You will have plenty to cry about later. Now its exposure time.”
He nodded and the man and women switch places. The red haired woman approached Don and the tall wiry man neared Bonnie. Then with deliberation and determination the man and woman began cutting off Don’s and Bonnie’s clothing. Don was too stunned to react but Bonnie began crying and thrashing in her bonds. That brought a whip strike against her buttocks by the large man.
“Move one muscle and I whip you fifty times.!”
The pain was sufficient for Bonnie to compose her self. Her blue pants suit was in tatters on the floor. She was clad now only in her bra and panties. The tall wiry man sliced through the front of her bra, loosing Bonnie’s spectacular breasts. A slice up either side of her panties revealed her full but sparsely carpeted bush.
The red haired woman cut through Don’s khaki pants and polo shirt. Then she slowly sliced away his boxer shorts. His modest size penis hung loose in the cool warehouse.
“How big is he erect?” Asked the large man,
“I’ll tell you in a moment.” Said the red head. Before Don realized what was happening her cool lips were around his flaccid penis. The woman was far more skilled than Bonnie. Involuntarily Don felt himself harden. The Red haired woman withdrew her mouth and laughed.
“You’re eager big boy,” she said.
The large man eyed Don’s engorged penis and said. “Big enough to attract buyers. I had fears he would be another pee wee like that one last month. What a disaster that was. We practically had to give him away. If not for the wife we would have lost money.”
The large man stood between Don and Bonnie and eyed them up and down and all over.
“You will be released from your restraints now. Any movement towards my gun or whip will result in a severe thrashing for both of you. Once you are released you will place your jewelry in this basket. Yes that includes your wedding rings. Dead people are not married. You no longer belong to each other. You belong to us. We decide what you will and will not wear.”
The wiry man and the red haired woman released the Henderson’s. They groaned with relief at the easing of the stretching of their joints. Both Don and Bonnie rubbed their arms and legs to restore circulation. The large man allowed them to preform this activity for a few moments then indicated the basket with the handle of his whip. Don understood what was wanted. He removed his watch his school ring and his wedding ring. With hesitation Bonnie removed her earrings, bracelet, watch, and necklace. Her eyes filled with tears as she twisted off her wedding and engagement ring and dropped them in the basket.
“Now its time to get you two cleaned up and off to your next destination. He walked over to a chest in one side of the room. From the chest he brought opt two revolvers and holsters. He gave one to the wiry man and the red haired woman who in turn pointed the weapons at Don and Bonnie.
The two gun bearers directed Don and Bonnie to a door. There was a bathroom on the other side of the door. There was a shower stall with several heads. The Henderson’s were instructed to shower and wash themselves with the soap provided. Bonnie kept staring at her naked ring finger. Aside from the occasional cleaning Bonnie had not taken off her rings even for a moment. Not even the night Don wanted her to leave it home before he rendezvoused with her for a scheduled dinner. He wanted her to play a single woman while Don played the wayward husband, Bonnie was usually tolerant of Don’s games but she drew the line at that one. She did let him tie her to the bed that night however, as a compromise.
As they showered their abductors discussed the Henderson’s as though they were not there.
“She will bring a fine price. The fact that she’s never been bred but is fertile will increase her worth exponentially.” Said the redhead
“The guys are going to cream themselves once he goes on the block.” Said the wiry man.
Don and Bonnie washed themselves in stunned silence in the tepid water.
“OK you two,” said the wiry man. “Time to turn off the water. There is one towel for both of you to use. Think of it as your last moment of togetherness.”
Don allowed Bonnie to dry herself first. He did the best he could with the damp towel afterwards. While drying himself Don thought that he could disarm the wiry man, He figured he could take the gun away and get off at least one more shot. He had visions of the wiry man lying in a pool of blood.
Don made his move. Instantly he realized that he was hopelessly outclassed. The wiry man was far more powerful than he looked. He dropped the gun and placed his foot on top of it. Then he put Don into a wrestling hold and tossed him to the floor. Before Don had time to react he was on the floor and the wiry man was choking the life out of him. Don went limp and the wiry man retrieved his gun.
“That was very stupid meatbag, and totally expected. Don’t do anything that stupid again or next time I throw your little woman around.”
The wiry man and the red haired woman led Don and Bonnie to the toilet and ordered them to relieve themselves .
“If you have to shit, now is a good time.”
Bonnie felt extremely humiliated using the toilet before strangers. As it happened she did have to go number two. With her embarrassment visible in her full body blush and her body language Bonnie did her business. Don was instructed to wash off again. Afterward the couple were led to the first room. While they were in the shower two large wooden boxes had appeared. Each was labeled “machine parts” and was rather large. The man with the whip was waiting for them.
“Your chariots have arrived.”
The large man slid aside a board and a foam lined seat appeared. Don was ordered to get into the seat. Don noticed an IV bag hanging above the seat.
“You two will be asleep for the next phase of your journey.” The read haired woman produced some alcohol and taped the IV needle to a vein. Before Don even had time to protest he felt himself losing consciousness. Vaguely he could visualize Bonnie being led to the second box. A gag was placed in his mouth and then blackness.
Don came to in a small windowless concrete cell. He was on a tiny cot under a blanket he was naked. The only change he noted on his person was that all of his pubic hair had been shaved off save for a small rectangle an inch or so above the shaft of his penis. He checked his face and discovered that he must have been shaved there recently as well for the five o’clock shadow he had at their last location was absent.
Don got up and explored the cell, It didn’t even have a toilet just a round shit hole and a roll of toilet paper at the base of the far wall. Thick iron bars sealed him in. There was an formidable looking lock. Beyond the bars was an open court blazing with sunshine. Across that expanse was another cell which mirrored his own. Don saw a figure on the cot in the second cell. Hoping against hope Don yelled “Bonnie?”
Eventually the figure roused itself. And answered “Don?”
“Oh thank heavens!” said Don. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
Bonnie kept the blanket wrapped about her self and approached the bars of her cell.
“I seem to be OK but I don’t have any hair … down there. I can tell that my underarms and legs have been shaved as well. Are you OK?”
Don and Bonnie assessed each other on their situation and then began speculating as to where they were and what was going to happen to them. Don said that based on the, heat, the intensity of the light and the angle of the sun that they were probably in the tropics. But that meant that they could be anywhere from the Caribbean to South America or even Africa, Australia and the East Indies were also not out of the realm of possibility. There was no way on telling how long they had slept of how far they had traveled since their time in the warehouse.
“We could be anywhere at all. Wherever we are I have a pretty good sense that it is well off the beaten track. Even if we could get out of these cells we would find ourselves in the middle of nowhere,” He depressingly opined.
Presently a figure entered the expanse between their cells. Both Bonnie’s and Don’s heart fell when they recognized the large man with the whip and the gun from the warehouse.
“Good you are both awake.” He sneered and then announced. “This is what will happen to you now. These cells will be your home between training sessions. Your training will take between two weeks and a month depending upon how difficult you make the process for yourselves. Under my tutorledge your wills will be stripped away and a compliant personality will take its place. When I am finished with you you will both be submissive, willing to please toys that will be sold to some rather high heeled clientele. When I am done with you all you will want to do is serve your new master. You will fuck on command, you will suck on command, you will offer your cock your asshole and pussy to any cock and pussy that has authority over you. The woman will no doubt be pregnant shortly after she is purchased. She has more value, for as a female she can produce more slaves on a regular basis, The male will probably be sterilized. Depending on the client he may be castrated after sale.”
A/N: Some of this is an area that I am unfamiliar with. Don’t worry though; I did a ton of “research” before writing this. As always, a big thank you to Brenda for beta-ing my mental sewage.
Warnings: Femdom, drug use, abduction, anal play, urethral play, and nonconsensual sex acts in this work of fiction.
Please also note: This is a work of fiction that takes place in the Victorian era. That means I skipped over a lot of important steps regarding sterilizing, etc. Do not try any of this at home without proper preparation and sterilization!
Overhead, Jonathan heard Eliza snicker as she pinched his left nipple causing him to close his eyes and exhale slowly though his nose. He was beginning to get an erection from her gentle touches. Due to the opium flowing though his veins, he found himself not really caring that he was currently drugged and bound; the anger would come later. What he needed right now was more of whatever she was willing to give.
“Now Dr. Maxwell, you stated that I have below average intelligence in your notes. I think you need to be punished for that.”
He opened his eyes and looked at his captor questioningly. What was she playing at? His gray orbs widened considerably when she produced two clothespins from a tray from shelf. What on earth was she going to do with…OH GOOD GOD! She attached one to the stiffened peak of his left nipple, and flicked it lazily back and forth. The weight of the wood caused both pleasure and pain to spark up and down his spine, bringing his manhood to full attention. She then pinched his right nipple a few times causing him to squirm in the chair before repeating the same actions with the other clothespin. He tossed his head and groaned, saying something unrecognizable into the cloth covering his mouth.
Eliza stepped back and surveyed her struggling captive. It had been years since she had a man prone and begging for her touches. At least he looked like he was begging. It was hard to tell. She frowned; unfortunately she would not be finding release with the good doctor today. No, her needs would have to come later; there was work to do first. Dipping her hands in the warm oil that she left out for this occasion, she grasped his erection and began a slow languid stroke. Once his eyes closed, and he began to writhe from the stimulation, she then began stroking his testicles with her other hand in the same lazy rhythm before gradually moving downward.
Jonathan’s eyes snapped open in fear when he felt her oiled fingers tracing slow circles around his puckered entrance. She wouldn’t try to perform a pelvic massage on him, would she? He was a male! As the tip of her digit began to breach him, he began to buck to try and get away from the invasion. No! This was wrong! This was a sin!
“If you keep stiffening up, this is going to get very painful for you.” Eliza drawled, “I’d really rather not hurt you, but we *do* have to cure you of your madness.”
To punctuate her point, she reached up and flicked one of the clothespins. That action caused pleasure to dance along his nerves as she resumed the stroking of his erection with one hand. The other hand was prodding at his anus again, but between the opium and the mind-numbing bliss of her touch, he lost his will to fight. He was restrained anyhow. It was pointless, she was going to have her way no matter what.
“See? This isn’t so bad.” She stated as she began pumping a single digit in and out of his flexing hole, going deeper with each stoke, “However, this might be a little uncomfortable for a minute. Just breathe and relax.”
He felt a burning sensation in his backside, and Jonathan could feel her pushing two small fingers into the tight ring of muscles, stopping at the second knuckle then pulling out only to enter once more.
Eliza alternated between occasionally flicking a clothespin and stroking his now rock hard erection as she pumped her fingers in and out of his ass. With every thrust, she sunk her digits deeper into him until finally deeming him ready for her to move on to his prostate. Upon feeling the small protrusion, she then began to rub the pads of her fingers lightly against it to stimulate a response. Well, more of a response than having him moaning and struggling on the table. He would do that regardless.
Finally she knew she had made progress when he began struggling and trying to arch his back off of the chair. Perfect! She began hitting the now overly sensitive spot mercilessly while she pumped his cock, causing his manhood to leak a good amount of pre-come all over his stomach while he thrashed about. When she noticed his testicles tightening further and his stomach muscles begin to tense, she pulled her fingers almost all the way out. She also slackened the hand stroking him, denying his release. However, she absently continued to scissor the two digits still partially in his flexing hole as she looked down at his sweat-drenched face.
“Are you enjoying your pelvic massage Dr. Maxwell?” she smirked. She didn’t really expect an answer, but judging by the nearly purple erection and the way he trying to buck into her loosened hand, he was damn well enjoying it.
Removing both of her hands from his person and ignoring the noises of protest, she reached over to gather the last tools of her debauchery. She really didn’t need to use them, as the doctor would probably be able to release easily by being stoked alone. But Clinton always admired her creativity in matters such as this, and Dr. Maxwell admired Clinton, so why not?
While his eyes were closed and he seemed to be trying to gain control of his senses, Eliza dipped the metal rod into the bowl of oil. She then brought it up to his face and said, “I’m sure you know what this is, correct?”
He looked at the instrument nearly cross-eyed, since it was so close to his face. Then nodded slowly, with fear creeping into his mind again.
As if he never answered he continued, “It’s a dittel sound, a uterine dilator, and it’s not going to hurt you. If anything it’s another way to stimulate your prostate, which is what I was just doing a few minutes ago.”
Jonathan could only draw in air through his nose, as he started to shiver. When he was in university, he had seen these used on men who had episodes of syphilis. The only way to open the scarred tissue was by dilation with the various sized steel rods, one of which, albeit thin, was currently being held by his tormentor. His tongue poked against his gag as he tried to protest, but she was already grasping his erection and teasing his slit with the metal tube.
“Relax and don’t move, otherwise you will hurt yourself” she warned before beginning to apply a slight pressure to the handle, sliding it in painstakingly slow.
Jonathan was frantically trying not to move as he felt the thin rod begin to slide into his cock. His hands clenched as he stilled completely and took deep breaths to keep the blind panic from bubbling up in his chest. As the insertion progressed, he began to realize that he was in no pain, and while the feeling was strange, it was not entirely bad. It was just intense. Everything since he woke up was intense, and he was mindless from not only pleasure but also exhaustion from struggling mentally with what was happening. Taking a few deep breaths, he willed himself to go slack. He did not want this part of his anatomy to get damaged.
Once Eliza felt the tension leave his body, she slid the sound all the way in until she met with the barrier at the end of his passage. Stilling for a moment, she allowed Dr. Maxwell to get used to the intrusion. She then slid it slowly up and down his shaft to insure he was more comfortable. Honestly, she was surprised, it was obvious that he had never used this instrument before. How he managed that with the type of practice he ran completely baffled her.
Mentally shaking her head, she began to focus on the task at hand. Holding the sound in place carefully with her thumb and forefinger, she grinned as she reached up and loosened the knot in the back of his gag, pulling the fabric down and around his neck. Maxwell licked his lips and continued panting, his eyebrows knitting together again in apparent confusion. He really was adorable; she was glad that she was going to be keeping him.
She smiled down at him and pushed back the hair stuck to his sweaty brow. “I want to hear every delicious sound you are about to make.”
Turning her attention back to the tray, Eliza reached over and grasped a small tuning fork while maneuvering Dr. Maxwell’s penis to point slightly downward for better access to his already over sensitized prostate. She struck it gently on the side of the chair and held it to the side of the sound — the result was instantaneous.
Jonathan began crying out between his clenched teeth and mumbling incoherent half words. Every nerve in his groin had electric sparks shooting outward toward his limbs, and he was unable to control his shaking. His chest was heaving and his upper torso contorted painfully backward as the straps holding him down bit into his skin painfully. The clothespins on his nipples danced with his movements, making the pressure worse. He desperately needed to come.
“Pleaaase…nnngghhhah!” It came out half garbled, but she understood as she hit the tuning fork forcefully one last time against the chair and held it against the sound. As soon has he shrieked and his body wrenched upwards again, she removed the rod quickly. Heat tore its way up from his tightened balls, through his twitching shaft covering his stomach, chest, and even his chin, with thick white strands. He fell apart at the seams as wave after wave of euphoria continued to assault him, tears cascading down his temples and mixing with his hair.
Eliza was beside herself. She never had such a responsive male! And it was obvious he hadn’t released in a long time. Scooping most of the seed off of his body with her fingers, she poked out her tongue and tasted it before sliding the rest into his still open mouth.
“My, you are delicious. Now be a good boy and eat up.”
Any concentration Jonathan still possessed after the drugs was now gone after his orgasm, so he did as he was told and swallowed his salty cum with only a small whimper.
I’m aware that the Dittel sound wasn’t invented until 1880 or so by Leopold Ritter von Dittel (May 29, 1815 — July 28, 1898). They were invented to increase the inner diameter of the urethra and to locate obstructions within it, obstructions usually caused my STDs and kidney stones.
Tuning forks were supposedly used to diagnose problems with the central nervous system and hearing in the Victorian era, but I cannot find a date as to when this began. They were invented in 1711.
What starts as a magazine interview ends in a life changing experience. When Irene is discomfited by questions, her replies are not always the ones most desired.
For readers with a little less time than is needed to read a novel here is a try of mine at a short story. It sort of fits with the rest of the world that I have written about in ‘Denise’ and ‘Diane’. Hope that you like it. I am definitely encouraged by e-mails and comments so let me know what you think, for better or for worse.
Saturday Afternoon Interview In Manhattan.
Sitting in the window of Southgate near Central Park looking over the greenery and rocks of the city sanctuary. Irene seemed relaxed, sipping her coffee and perusing the excellent menu whilst talking about the most outrageous behaviour. She was primly dressed in black and fur but showing a plunging neckline and fiercely high red heels. She had agreed to meet me when I contacted her about her latest undertaking, the purchase of land in upstate New York and up towards the Hamptons on the isle. I really wished to inquire about her business rather than her investments but that might have been dangerous. For me.
“You have invested in land that is not zoned for building?”
“Yes, there are a few houses and farm buildings there but nothing significant.”
“Why in such isolated locations?”
“For me the isolation is an asset not a disadvantage.” She said, sipping her coffee with pursed lips.
“But you have bought for 100 Million, so investment must be uppermost in your mind?”
Placing down the cup delicately she traced the rim with her forefinger. For a moment she seemed to be deeply considering her answer.
“Investment for me is not losing value. That is I pursue my own goals and interests for my own reasons. It so happens that I have a small stake in a business venture up in the north of Long Island and I wanted to buy adjacent land to add value and privacy. As for the upstate land, well, that is a long shot, we shall see if I have judged the market right.”
I considered my options carefully. Here I was, the bogus reporter for an American Investment magazine, and there she was a woman involved in some sort of shady dealing over the last ten years. Why bogus? Because I am a private detective… Normally involved in divorce and other sticky personal cases that require tracing, patience and impersonation as well as a talent for recording and filming. A woman who was trying to trace the disappearance of a friend of hers had hired me. God knows, normally these cases are sorted in a few hours of searches on the web and some shoe leather being left on the sidewalk. A quick few hundred bucks and a days work. This one was not working out. Already I was out of pocket on expenses with nothing to show the client. The only lead was Miss Irene Clearmont, a sexagenarian woman who was connected to all the right people and came out of nowhere just ten years ago. Difficult to get to talk to, impossible to trace, money in spades and privacy of impenetrable proportions.
“So tell my readers about your investments in Long Island!”
“I have part of a special farm in the north of the island. We do selective breeding, training and some very specific education. The work is somewhat secretive because we are making great strides and have to protect our methods.”
“This sounds interesting, can you give me any more clues about this fascinating business.” I felt myself leaning forward a little as if in conspiratorial mode.
Irene, on the other hand, just smiled and finished her coffee. I felt one of her shoes touch the inside of my thigh, a somewhat unexpected move from this attractive but older woman. The flat of her stiletto rested between my legs and gently rubbed against my erection. With a smile that would have been coy in any other woman she opened her small clutch bag and took a lipstick. With a delicate touch she renewed her lips in plum red before she consented to continue.
“If you wish you can join me there, but it may be a little discomforting for you. Today, before I agreed to this interview, I called your magazine only to be informed that you are not on their books as a reporter. I fact it turns out that you are a private investigator and are poking about in areas of my life that I consider to be inviolate and untouchable.” For a moment she smacked her lips to smooth the lipstick. “This is not acceptable. I am prepared to help you if you can offer a proposition that interests me!”
“I am sorry to deceive you but I need to move forward on a disappearance case that I am working on I did not mean …”
“To deceive me!” Irene finished my sentence and wriggled her foot in my crotch. “I can see three possible courses of action, each of which has advantages and disadvantages for me, the variable being your reaction.”
By now I was feeling pretty taken by her, a raging hard on and a mystery.
“So what choices do you see?”
Miss Clearmont leaned forward and I leaned also as she spoke in a whisper.
“Well we could go to my limousine and get fucked as we head to see my investments in Long Island. I like fucking and being fucked and you do offer some possibilities in that direction. Second you can walk out of here and tell your client that the pursuit of this matter, whatever it is, is beyond your capabilities. The third possibility is for you to be completely open with me and tell me what you are investigating and who your client is.”
She leant forward a little more and I felt her unzip my pants under the table. I could scarcely resist her as her hand freed my erection to stand proud against the sole and heel of her shoe. A slight motion of her foot pulled my prick to attention and pressed it against the metal tip of the stiletto. Both her hand were again in sight but a slow rhythm had started and already I could feel myself moving towards orgasm.
“So what is it to be my little P.I.?” she said with a grin. “Sex or honour? Because both are not available, just a choice of one.”
Her heel dug under my balls and pressed on the delicate join between ass and testicles. The sole firmly pushed and stretched me to orgasm, a surge that erupted in the privacy under the table but was clear to both of us.
“Let us go to see your investments.”
“I hoped that you would see it my way.”
A Long Trip
I left the restaurant with Irene on my arm. She called her chauffeur on the mobile and the Mercedes pulled up at the kerb with a whisper. I opened the door for her and she slid into the leather cell with a practised action. Joining her I closed the door and turned to face.
The car pulled away from the curb with a susurration barely discernible from the inside. Irene opened her bag and pulled an envelope from it. For a moment she fumbled at the closure and then passed the photos to me.
A large house and stables, a Ferrari parked outside. These were the backgrounds of the two photos. The foreground of the one on top was a naked woman in chains and a hood with the purple marks of a savage beating on her breasts and thighs. The second was a woman of generous proportions wearing a long fur coat and holding a riding whip. A glimpse of flesh showed in the fur, a plump of sex and a rosette of nipple.
“You run a brothel?” The question slipped out involuntarily, but it was what I had been thinking of.
Irene laughed and reached to fondle me for a moment. “No not a brothel, something much more interesting!”
I must have looked a little blank as she felt that she had to elaborate. “Sex, power and satisfaction. We offer sex but not just for a straight payment for service. We train the willing and unwilling and then offer the benefits of that indoctrination to a world wide selection of exclusive clients to experience in the privacy of their own surroundings.”
I did not stop her hands from slowly undoing my belt and pants. My mind wandered into realms of tension and pleasure. This woman, this sixty year old medusa was forcing people into slavery, sexual slavery and now she was fucking me. A single one of her fingernails stroked me from balls to the damp tip of my straining erection.
“Do you want me to show you how it works? How we train and force compliance? How the victims are defiled and degraded for the subtle but painful wishes of out degenerate clients? How the torture and suffering of those we force bring pleasure as the slave is violated and punished for uncommitted crimes? Does this excite you? This power to extinguish and maim, rape and ruin?”
“Yes.” I whispered as the pleasure took control and Miss Clearmont took charge.
I did not feel the restraints go on my wrists and ankles, all I could feel was the hands that made my prick strain to come a second time. The soft fleeting brushes of fur on the very tip and the firm grip on my balls. By the time that she had almost brought me to come I was naked and helpless and struggling, not against the restraints, but against the gratification of orgasm being over too soon. God, it had to last forever this feeling of falling, the tales of slavery and servitude. The pleasure stopped before I came, the hands revoked their gift and the body of my evil partner withdrew from contact. For a moment I was just dazed, a quivering mass of flesh, lying on soft leather and my long discarded clothes. Then awareness came. Awareness of the cuffs that encircled my ankles and the soft pocketed gloves enclosing my hands. Both with delicate chains leading to eyelets in the upholstery. I sat up and lifted my immobilised hands.
“You are far too self centred to be a partner of mine!” she said. “I need service and attention and now I shall show you what I mean.”
Still a little dazed from nearly coming I said, ” You do not need to tie me down to make love to me!” but reason and argument was not a realistic strategy.
Her hand moved to the centre console of the car and pressed a knob. A small sound and I felt my legs and arms being pulled. The chains were being wound into the car and I was being stretched across the back seat in the process. Irene moved to a facing seat and watched as I was pulled and stretched, immobilised and exposed for her complete attention. She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a mask. With me struggling and begging she pulled it over my eyes and mouth. A leather hood covering my head and laced tight to unmoving grip. For a moment I struggled for air before she unplugged the brass screw mouth opening. I felt her strong hands hold my head as she screwed something else over my mouth and into the mask. Then a wrench and a tube penetrated my open mouth and forced its way over my tongue.
“Don’t try to talk my bitch, that is the first lesson. The second is to relax and put yourself into my hands. You are about to please me and pleasure me. If you do well you may well be glad you did. On the other hand I am very demanding. I need to feel real volume inside me, I need to be fucked and penetrated and you are the ideal tool.”
As she spoke I could feel her mounting me. At first I thought that she was going to fuck my straining cock but then she shuffled up my prone body and settled herself on the dildo that was my mouth’s air supply.
Every stroke was a breath to me as her sex opened and closed the air holes running along the length of the fearsome latex device. Grasping the handle on the top of my mask she used me to satisfy herself and then again her ass. I was nothing more than a fuck doll, a tool for her pleasure and a thing for her grasping cunt to control. It decided if I could draw the very breath of life. As I gasped for air, she came with a wrench at my balls and scored my chest to bloody ribbons with her sharpened claws, a tiger coming as the staked goat shudders in terminal pain. She orgasmed not just from friction but from the frisson of my forced service.
And that is the end of the story, at least as far as I am concerned. I have passed though Miss Clearmont’s business and found out that intruding on her privacy is a monumental mistake. I did solve my case but have had and will have no opportunity to pass on the fact that the missing person was trained and sold to a south American brothel. I am now on the block. Most male slaves, and there is not much demand for them, pass to the gay SM scene and do not usually last long because the scene is so cruel and because what comes so cheap is not valued. It appears that I am to be discounted to almost nothing. Use once and then throw away.