Posts Tagged ‘flogger’

My Precious…There is always a penalty for that kind of misbehaviour. You really have brought this on yourself. There’s no point in pleading…You knew something like this would happen afterwards. Sometimes I think you’re naughty quite deliberately; you never seem to learn. But punishment must fit the crime; it’s for your own good and this time the full score will be played out across your body.

Allegro moderato — I will bend you over a table and lift your skirt, then I’ll slide your knickers over your buttocks and down your thighs, lightly brushing your skin with my fingers. You will shiver in anticipation at what is happening to you. The wispy garment will then be removed completely so I can test its erotic aroma with my nose for your level of arousal. Your arms will be drawn forward and I will make you hold the opposite edge of the table while I tie your wrists to the table legs. I will now blindfold you so you can concentrate on the tactile sensations stimulating your body. After this, I will splay your legs and secure each ankle to the appropriate table leg at the opposite end. I want full unhindered access to your most intimate regions. I want to see that beautiful ass so I can examine your tiny private back hole and cherish the delicate folds of your exquisite little shaven pussy. I want to open you up with my thumbs and catch the intoxicating scent of your sex as I run a finger along your enticing moist little crack. I want to see your pucker pulsate as I tease your clit and I want to draw out the juice in strings from your cunt and catch them on my tongue. If the mood takes me I shall then gently circle my finger around your prohibited place, caressing, tickling to probe its tight restrictive nature. I just love the way the annular wrinkle seems to have a mind of its own.

I will insert a number of objects into you and ask you to guess what they are… If you guess wrong, you will be smacked for being ignorant. If you guess right, you will be slapped for being a know-all. Catch 22. The objects will increase in girth as we progress. And from time to time, I may push ice-cubes into your orifices, just to make sure you are paying attention.

Adagio Silencio Lacrimentoso – I will now gag you to muffle the screams of pain, maybe pleasure – whatever, I don’t care. It is now time for the increasingly heavy chastisement to begin. This will be played across your ass and thighs with my hand or a hair brush or a flogger. It will be gentle at first, but will build like Bolero, depending on how effective the spanking is in producing a trickle of moisture from your enticing folds. I can judge that by how wet your vaginal lips become, so after each smack I will need to draw my fingers slowly up your slit, catching the liquid for me to smell and taste. And I will certainly have to penetrate your pussy with one, two or maybe four digits and massage your G spot regularly, just to confirm.

The other way to check your arousal is by tasting you directly and applying oral stimulation to your vulva and clit. For this the hood must be stretched and pulled back to allow access to the full bud. Various tongue teases are effect – stirring, sucking, flicking and stoking, amongst them. This needs to be prolonged; the effect will be electric and you will drip with desire. You may simultaneously need your vagina fully penetrated with a suitable toy to bring about the first of the orgasm. This will be done very slowly initially to prolong the anticipation. Stimulation will simultaneously be applied around your clit, to your sex hole and perhaps around your pucker.

I will also use your electric toothbrush to stimulate your clit as I test more toys in your body. I want to see your pussy clench and work them as I fuck you with them. At some point I will need to introduce anal beads too, so as to force your vagina into a tighter clasp. Scooping up some of your vaginal discharge, I will drizzle it onto your tiny brown pucker and gently massage your anus as I work the beads around and into your rectum. They will remain in you until your final orgasm. They are long and I shall relish gradually pushing them deeper and deeper into your tract, until only the end-ring is visible, sticking obscenely from your most private place – the ultimate humiliation and token of your helpless situation. Tears will trickle down your cheeks – pain, sorrow and joy, played out in close harmony.

No doubt by this point you will be moaning constantly through your gag and I will increase the tempo and scope of what I do to you, until I find the right melody and rhythm to make you resonate and burst into a concerto of orgasmic convulsions.

The movement may need to be repeated several times, depending on how effective I think the punishments have been.

Intermezzo Rubato – Just attending to the centre section of the body is unlikely to be a sufficient. Additional measures will undoubtedly be needed. I will release you, but only momentarily to strip the rest of your clothes off, before restraining you again. With you now being completely naked and exposed I can inspect your body in its entirety and explore it with my hands and mouth before deciding on which area to apply additional sensations. This will most likely include your breasts and nipples, which will need to receive special treatment. Like your clit, they need to be squeezed, pulled and sucked to get them to the right size. Pegs or clamps can then be applied if necessary. You also need to be stroked, kissed and licked on the back of your neck and down your shoulders, before attention is once more applied between your legs and to your constrained nipples.

By now, your pussy should be running like a meadow spring. And you should be in a state to receive more penetrative stimulation. But first I need to remove the gag so you can kiss me as I feel your tits and tweak your clamps. I will then reveal my big hard cock and you will take the head in your mouth. You will have to play your tongue over it until it is rock-hard, paying special attention to collecting the pre-cum from the tip. I will thrust it deep into your throat, bring those tears flooding back. The familiar taste of my bodily fluids coupled with my male presence intimately thrust against your face, will arouse your primeval passions. My musky scent-laden pubes, through which you now have to breathe, tickle your nose. I withdraw a little allowing you to catch some air and let you play your tongue deftly across the bulbous monster that will soon violate your feminine sanctum.

Scherzo Affetuoso – When my member is truly stiff I shall return to your intimate area and apply this inflexible tool to its wetness. I shall slowly move it up and down, so that you feel its rigidity on your pussy lips and clit and so realise the extent of my excitement. Depending on your reaction – how slick you become – I might need to spank your butt some more, while still rubbing along your moist little crack. Then once again I will need to taste you and discover – close up – how delicious and sticky you have become. I will need to part and hold open your cunt lips like the wings of a butterfly to study and appreciate your inner pink softness. Then I will push my tongue into this heavenly place, draw out more juices and spread your wetness from your thighs to your buttocks. The evaporation will be cooling and make the room reek of your arousal. You will feel the unfamiliar cold dampness all across your private area and know it has all emanated from your shameless pussy and your uncontrollable desires. You will imagine the lewdness of the scene – naked and prone, buttocks skyward, legs splayed, liquid-glistening anus exhibiting its violating ring-pull and your cunt folded open offering themselves for violation and penetration. They are oozing with juice, fully exposed and vulnerable; it reveals your true wanton nature.

Once again I will collect some of your self-generated libation, baste it onto your tiny brown pucker and gently massage the anal beads around as I rub the ruby-red head of my stiffness against your cunt entrance. I will bathe the tip of my cock in your delectable juices before I open your vulva with my thumbs and bury the rampant bulb into your tiny, inviting little fuck-hole. I want you to feel the girth as it stretches you and the shaft sinks past your virginal ring where the head will fit snugly into your outer recesses, just on your G spot. At the same time I will apply pressure to your now-lubricated and violated anus with one thumb, while massaging your clit with the other. I will play my minuet on G spot by just shifting slightly in a rhythmical fucking motion until I feel your passage relax.

Scherzo Appassionato – I will hold still for a while, letting you accustom to my presence, to the penile violation of your body and then, without warning I will thrust deep into you as far as my long rampant shaft will penetrate. Holding there, now occupying your inner sanctum, I want both of us to feel all the pleasures of your tightness, the stiffness of my cock and of your cervix lapping at its dribbling tip. The sweet heady scent of your sex will waft up and I shall inhale, savouring the beautiful thrilling odour that makes me ever more excited and much stiffer.

My thumb will slowly sink into your most private place along-side the beads and my cock will thrust with a passionate cadence back and forth in your constricting wet tunnel until you build towards another sensational orgasm.

Rondo Stretto – To make you cum hard, I shall stretch your clit and slide a weighted clip onto its base. As I fuck you this will pull, rub, stroke, manipulate your slick little bud till you burst into mind-blowing ecstasy. At this point, I will quickly remove the clamping on your nipples before ripping the beads out through your anal sphincter. The flow of blood rushing back into your abused nubs will be exquisitely painful, driving the whole-body orgasm you are suffering to yet another level. The sensation in your arse will also be incredible, shooting fingers and waves of pleasure though your abdomen until they meet and embrace your entire body, making the fine hairs along your spine stand up.

At this point I will probably have no alternative but to stiffen and squirt into your heavenly depths, my passion from witnessing your throws of ecstasy having become too much. You will feel the splash of spunk hitting, copiously coating the walls of your vagina as it is ejaculated from my very hard throbbing cock. Thick ropes of cum will spurt out and lash your inner depths filling you to overflowing. This will increase the strength of your orgasm even further and take it to its ultimate intensity. You will thrash and scream but the stimulation will be relentless. You will lose all control. Your body will convulse, jerk; your cunt squeeze; pulsate. Your back will arch, you will buck like a bronco, but I will hold your hips to remain buried in your constricting passage. You suddenly squirt your own luscious cum-juice in copious amounts onto my balls and down my legs. It goes on and on; relentless; unstoppable. Gush after gush of tacky solution. You push back onto me greedy for more shaft to occupy your sex.

You will lose all sense of time as your brain concentrates only on your body’s overwhelming sensory input. I will keep thrusting into you until you weaken, collapse and fall silent. You will then have been truly fucked. I will feel our mixed fluids drip from my scrotum and after a while I will withdraw my fingers and cock from your orifices.

Sonata Patetico Tenerezza – Still held in place, your open, abused inflamed pussy will be framed with a halo of foam and from its rosy centre will ooze tacky, ivory fluid which will gradually run down your protruding clit and drip to the floor forming a tell-tale little puddle of semen laced with rivulets of rich white sperm. Around it will be your own cum – a pool not a puddle. It will fill the room with your essence, your sexy aroma. I wish it were always there to remind me what a hot little minx you are.

However, your ordeal will not be over. You must suck my cock clean as I caress your hair and shoulders. Eventually I will free you from your bonds take you to the bed and draw you close, holding you in a loving embrace. Our mouths will search for each other. Tongues will touch and my cock will begin to stir again…

Author’s note – Hi everyone! I hope you all enjoy my latest story. I love hearing feedback and knowing what you all think of my stories, so don’t be shy! Have fun :)


I checked my watch, making sure it was exactly 7 o’clock before knocking on the room door. I had been pacing down the corridor for the past five minutes wanting to be exactly on time after the last time I had been late for our hotel stay. He hadn’t been particularly pleased with me and I didn’t want a repeat of the consequences for my lateness.

He kept me waiting, but I didn’t dare look at my watch – as far as I knew he was watching me through the peephole in the door. I kept my gaze down at the floor, my hands clasped together behind my back. I was wearing his favourite dress – red with black outlined roses, fitted to the waist before flowing out over my hips, coming to an end an inch above my knee. The neckline was a low scoop, my cleavage displayed for his eyes only. I wore an all lace black bra and hold ups beneath my dress but nothing else as per his instructions. Simple black flats on my feet completed my outfit. My make up was natural but pretty and my hair blow dried and falling over my shoulders.

I licked my lips nervously as I heard the door handle click, taking a deep breath as the room carpet became visible, then his shoes. My heart was thudding in my chest, and I’m sure I heard a chuckle as he saw me take in a sharp breath. I don’t think he would have known that I was recalling the times he has made me lick those shoes clean as a greeting to me though. He can’t possibly be in my head that much.

“They could do with a clean my lovely little sub, but let’s leave that for another day, shall we?” He says as a greeting, my cheeks flushing furiously as I wonder how he could possibly know what I’m thinking. My eyes dart up to his and he grins at me. I can’t help but smile back, his smile infectious, the blush slowly dulling down to a faint colouring in my cheeks as he steps back and welcomes me into the room. Picking up my bag I follow him in, turning to close the door gently behind me. I place my bag down in front of the cupboard just by the door as he watches me.

“I did enjoy putting you in the cupboard the first time we played,” he walks up behind me, his hand coming up to brush his fingertips down the side of my neck. I let out a small moan in reaction to his fingers on my neck and at the memory of him gently forcing me into the cupboard before tying my hands behind my back. He closed the door, telling me he had some things to do. Tidying me away until I was needed. Never before had I felt so objectified.

“Take off your shoes and jewellery. I’ll be sitting by the window.”

I didn’t hesitate, undoing the clasp on my watch and tucking it into a pocket in my overnight bag, my necklace following alongside my rings. I slipped my shoes off and placed them neatly next to my bag. I turned around then to see him sitting in the armchair by the window. The curtains were pulled back and the view was so peaceful. The hotel was in a secluded wooded area. He had a room at the very back corner of the hotel and outside the window was a small grassy area with trees beyond as far as the eye could see. A path came from the left of the window and disappeared into the woods approximately ten metres before the room window. No one would see in our window unless they deliberately ventured from the path.

I walked slowly over towards him, allowing him plenty of time to look over my body. His eyes were so focused on me. Taking longer to travel over my breasts, taking in the curve of my waist. My hips swayed side to side, subconsciously attempting to use my body to seduce him. I wanted him to want me as badly as I do him. Desperate and deep desire, an overwhelming feeling of lust.

There were two armchairs by the window, the one he was sat in and another directly across from him. I came to a halt less than a metre from him, slowly bending down until my knees touched the floor. I spread them slightly and rested back down on my heels, my hands resting on my thighs.

His hand came to rest on my face, tucking my hair gently behind my ear, fingers tracing my jaw before tilting my chin up, encouraging my eyes to meet his.

“Good girl,” he said softly, leaning over and kissing me deeply. My heart was racing once more, I felt my pussy flood with arousal, my thighs already slick with my anticipation and excitement. His hand moved round to the nape of my neck, entangling his fingers upwards into my hair. He grasped a handful, tugging sharply, pulling me away from the softness of his lips. I groaned in protest, but didn’t fight him, my protest turning to an expression of enjoyment as he continued his kisses down my neck toward my cleavage.

My chest rising and falling rapidly as my breathing quickened. I kept my hands on my thighs as his hand pulled me further back, my shoulders dropping back to push my breasts out for him. I felt his teeth nipping the soft flesh, biting harder each time, eliciting small gasps from me at first, continuing until I’m yelping with each one. His lips travel back up the path they came before capturing my mouth again.

Breaking the kiss, he kisses me lightly on the top of my head, whispering in my ear again, “good girl.” My entire body breaks out in goosebumps as I savour his praise, a shy smile spreading across my lips.

“Thank you, Sir.”

He leans back in the chair, taking me in. My dress is flared out over my legs and my breasts are enhanced with my shoulders being pushed back. I watch him watching me, shifting slightly side to side a couple of times, out of anticipation and need more than discomfort. My clit is throbbing with my need for him and I can’t keep the smile from my lips.

He motions for me to turn and face the window and I do so swiftly, placing my hands on the floor to turn then returning them to my thighs.

“Quiet out there isn’t it? I wonder if anyone going past will happen to look up and see you over the next couple of days. Who knows what you might be doing in front of this window at any given time,” he noticed my blush. “Oh you would like that wouldn’t you? You’re just a little slut who wants everyone to see her doing what she does best, aren’t you? Don’t shake your head, you know it’s true. Just admit it. Tell me.”

“I,” I hesitate, his hand quickly cups my right breast and pinches my nipple hard through the fabric.

“Say it little sub, don’t make me tell you again.”

“I’m a little slut who wants everyone to see me Sir. I want everyone to see me submitting to my Master,” I manage to get out, gasping several times as he teases me, releasing and tightening his grip on my tender nipple. I keep telling myself no one can see. It’s the wrong angle. But the doubt is there. He has made me wonder how much is visible.

“Good girl. You should probably try to remember what happens to bad little subs who don’t do as they’re told.”

“Yes Sir, I’m sorry for hesitating Sir. It won’t happen again Sir,” I say as his hand moves across to my left nipple, taunting me in the same way, making me squirm under his grip.

“Turn around, back towards the window,” he watches me turn. “Now bend over. I want your head on the ground, hands by your head.”

“Yes Sir,” I reply before carrying out his order. My cheeks are blushing, thinking how exposed I’m going to be in this position. My pussy is uncovered and visible to anyone who could possibly see in the room. I have no idea if there is anyone out there or not. I can only follow his instructions. I only want to follow his instructions. To please him.

He stands, and I hear him moving around the room. I keep my cheek pressed against the floor, although I’m desperate to watch him as he moves about. Desperate to know what he’s doing, what toys he might be gathering, whether he’s looking at me, whether he is paying any attention to me whatsoever or is he unpacking. The possibilities run through my mind until I come to a quiet peace, bringing my mind to silence. Submitting to him mentally as well as physically. This is what I know he wants, and something I crave every bit as much as the physical stimulation and sensations. Such a blank canvas, accepting and willing. Just for him.

My entire body is relaxed as I wait for his attentions. My body feels alive, every nerve tingling and anticipating the possibilities. I’m in a daze of submission when I feel slight pressure on my hair. He is standing on my hair, holding me down in place. My scalp stings slightly, just the faintest pressure pulling, a reminder of his control. If I were to pull away, it would hurt an awful lot more and I’m fully aware of that.

“There’s a couple walking down the path towards the trail right now. Imagine what they might see if they looked up here. Or if they went slightly off the path,” he paused, “imagine what they would definitely see.”

I start to struggle under his foot, but quickly stop as the stinging grows.

“They would see a little slut with her ass in the air. Being held in place by a man’s foot. What do you think they would think of you? Would they judge you? I think they definitely would. They would talk about you. He would probably want to fuck you. He would know that you would probably do anything. That you would be a really dirty little slut. She on the other hand would probably judge you. Think you were a whore, a desperate little whore.”

I’m squirming around by now, but I can’t get free. My scalp is burning. “Please Sir, please let me away from the window Sir. I don’t want to be seen Sir, please Sir, please,” I start to beg.

“Quiet. Just accept it.”

“Please Sir,” I whimper quietly, “please.” I start to lower my ass down to my feet, hoping to at least conceal my pussy.

He leans over me and spanks my ass hard. “Get up,” he commands, continuing to spank my ass, over and over until my back is arched with my ass high in the air again. He stops and my skin tingles as the burning heat spreads through my backside.

“Spread your knees. Wider. Do not move,” he orders before releasing my hair from his grip. He isn’t gone long before he is back. He stands beside me now, on the other side from the direction I’m looking in. I want to turn my head, but don’t want to risk the consequences. I remain still, my knees spread two feet apart. The skirt of my dress has fallen down over my upper body. I’m completely exposed to the air of the room. And whoever happens to see in the window. Completely vulnerable to whatever Sir has planned for me.

He waits, watching my body as my breathing regulates. I’m making an effort to breath deeply and slowly. Readying myself for whatever he gives me. Even that doesn’t prepare me for the first strike of the cane across my ass. Not as hard as when he uses it to punish me, but still hard enough to make my entire body jump forward and a small shout escape my throat.

“Back into position,” he tells me when I take just a little too long.

“Yes Sir, I’m sorry Sir,” I reply as I quickly correct myself.

“I want to mark you everywhere. I want you to have my marks on every inch of your flesh. Your legs, your arms, your stomach, your back, your tits. Everywhere. I want you to be reminded of me every time your clothes brush against your skin. Every glimpse of yourself in the mirror for the next few days.”

My breath catches as he gets in my head, as he builds my anxiety up, making me nervous. He lands the next stroke across my ass again, following it with another. I keep count in my head, never knowing when he might expect me to tell him how many he has landed on my ass. After twenty-four strokes, my ass is burning. I’m struggling to keep my ass in the air for him. My breathing is ragged and I’m begging him, “please no Sir, please no more.”

The feeling is so intense, the burning, the stinging. My fingers are clawing at the carpet, my eyes are closed tightly as a weak defence mechanism, hoping to block out some of the pain that way. He stops.

“Thank you Sir, thank you,” I gasp out as I feel his hands running over my welted ass. They sting, but soothe as his fingers run over the raised welts.

“Absolutely beautiful, you look so good marked like this little sub. Marks of ownership across your submissive ass.”

I thank him again, moaning now as his fingers start to slide past my pussy lips. He grazes my clit with a knuckle, making me press back against his hand.

“For all your protesting, you would think you didn’t like the cane. But your pussy certainly tells a different story, doesn’t it? You’re dripping pussy juice like a good little whore right now. Can you feel it running down your thigh? It’s halfway down right now,” he uses his finger to run up my thigh, gathering my juice on his fingers. He places his hand just in front of my mouth and I don’t hesitate to start licking his fingers, sucking them to clean my juices from him. I’m moaning around his fingers, wishing they were his cock.

“You’re a good little sucker aren’t you. Why is that I wonder?”

I am too busy concentrating on his fingers and don’t respond. His other hand comes down hard on my caned ass making me scream around his fingers.

“Answer me bitch.”

“I, I’m sorry Sir. I didn’t hear the question Sir,” I stammer out.

He sighs, before speaking slowly and condescendingly, “I said, I wonder why you’re a good little sucker?”

“I, I don’t know Sir.”

“Wrong answer,” he spanks my ass, “try again.” He keeps up a steady pace on my ass, making it difficult for me to form any words.

“Because I enjoy it Sir,” I venture.

“Try again.”

“Because I like sucking cock Sir?” I question.


“Because I suck cock so much Sir. Because I’m a cocksucking little whore Sir,” I babble desperately, needing his hand to stop its steady assault on my ass.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear that properly,” he says. I can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Because I’m a cocksucking little whore Sir. My mouth is only good for sucking cock Sir, please Sir, please stop Sir. Ahh, please, please, I’m a cocksucking little whore Sir,” I beg and admit to such a depraved title.

“Why didn’t you just say that? You know it’s true after all,” he taunted me, his fingers trailing across my pussy again.

“I’m sorry Sir, I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to say Sir. I know I’m a cocksucking whore Sir, I just didn’t want to say it out loud Sir,” I admit.

The cool air of the room is skimming over my ass, making it prickle and sting more as it settles down to a steady burn.

“You should always admit to these things little sub. You know what I want to hear. I want to hear the truth and I want to hear you admit to your deepest and darkest desires. I want to hear you admitting my control over you, and your acceptance of what you are. And what is that?”

“A cocksucking whore, Sir,” I reply immediately.

“Good girl,” he grasps my hair in his fist and pulls back hard, bringing me up to my knees while I squeal and try not to bring my hands up to my head to try to release the pressure on my scalp.

“Let’s revisit an earlier lesson. Which hole is your favourite to get fucked in?”

My eyes flash as I remember him pinning me into the corner, asking me that very question. I responded truthfully at first, saying my pussy. I recall how he slapped me across the face, telling me to try again. I said my mouth. That gained me another slap and an order to try again. I said my ass, reluctantly, although I’d came when he bent me over and forced his cock into my ass, I still felt uncomfortable with anal. But that only got me another slap. He then proceeded to tell me that the correct answer is whichever hole he happens to be using at the time is my favourite, while slapping my face several times more. I remember staring up at him, dazed, in subspace, wanting his hand across my cheek again as I told him that my favourite hole to get fucked in is whichever hole he is using at the time.

He watches my eye flickering as I relive the memory, “answer me correctly, do not try to get me to slap the correct answer out of you.”

My eyes widen in shock at how he knew what I was thinking, “I’m sorry for the delay in my response Sir, I was lost in my memory of that day Sir. My favourite hole to get fucked in is whichever hole you are using at any time Sir.” I lick my lips as I watch him take in my confession.

“Good girl,” he responds, then slaps my left cheek three time repeatedly.

I look up at him, mouthing the words thank you Sir. He kisses me hard, his teeth capturing my lip, biting down hard briefly before pulling away. He pulls my dress up over my head before it even registers what he’s doing. He unclips my bra, sliding it off my body quickly. My tits weigh down heavily, my nipples already hard from how excited I am. His hands are immediately drawn to them, cupping them in both hands, rolling my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. I groan and press into his hands further.

He takes both nipples in his grip and pulls up. I arch and stretch my back as far as is possible, trying to alleviate some of the pressure. It’s pointless, he takes me further than that, so all I can do is breathe through the burning pain. He loosens his grip, letting me slowly rest back down towards the ground, before pulling sharply forward again. He does this several times, making my breath quicken every time. The pain is delicious and is making my pussy needy for attention. By the last time, my hips are thrusting in mid air and I’m begging for permission to touch myself. He just shakes his head and lets go of my nipples.

My hands are on my thighs, my legs spread, and they’re edging closer and closer to my pussy. He sees this and slaps my tits hard, catching my nipples, making me correct my position quickly. The burning in my nipples is spreading now thanks to the swift spanks. He turns away from me and comes back with some rope and clamps. I inhale sharply.

He tells me to put my arms behind my back and I comply, holding them in the box position. He quickly binds my arms behind my back and ties the rope expertly around my chest. The rope against my skin relaxes me, the confines of it making me feel safe and under his control. My mind flashes back to all the times he has tied me in a similar way. The times he has used the chest harness as a handle to hold on to as he’s fucked me, laying me down on my back, my arms uncomfortable behind me as he pounds his cock deep into my pussy. Laying me back on the couch, my cunt at the edge, my legs over his shoulders and his hand gripping the rope between my tits pulling me towards him to meet every thrust.

I love the feeling of the rope. As he runs the ends under and over the passes, I can’t help but shiver as it glides across my skin, especially when it makes contact with my nipples. His hands are strong and firm as they move the rope around, lifting my breasts to get the rope snug and flat. I lean back against him as he works and he stops every so often to admire his work and to smile softly at me. I feel so content and safe by the time he is finished, the stimulation and interaction pushing me towards subspace.

He crouches down in front of me and picks up the clamps from where he had dropped them in front of me. He uses his other hand to massage and tease my tits. Pinching, stroking, squeezing and spanking periodically. I’m pushing my chest out towards him, wanting more and more. He concentrates once more on my nipples, pulling on them hard, making me moan before opening one clamp and holding it open over my nipple. I look up at him, as he always demands I hold eye contact while he applies clamps. His eyes so dark and full of lust. He smiles a sadistic kind of smile as he releases his grip slowly, watching me frown, my mouth opening to moan, my breath quickening as it is fully released and bites into the tender flesh.

He leans over and licks my nipple then, sucking it slightly into his mouth, grazing his teeth over it as his hand manipulates my other nipple readying it for the other clamp. I can’t think by this point. My mind is fully taken over by the sensations I’m feeling. He releases my clamped nipple from his mouth and moves over to the other one, letting his teeth close over it immediately. My back arches in pain, he pulls back, tugging with his sharp teeth, lets go then quickly replaces his teeth with the clamp, watching me as I realise how cruel he’s going to be. I feel the cool metal against my tit as it bites down and I squeal out sharply, closing my eyes in an attempt to deal with the pain.

That only makes him take the clamp off. “Look at me when I’m putting the clamp on,” he reminds me sharply, biting down on my nipple again.

I try to apologise while keeping back a scream. I’m nodding and begging him to let go but he ignores my pleas.

He takes his mouth off my nipple again and places the clamp in it’s place, letting it close millimetre by millimetre. Torturing my mind as much as my body. I’m whimpering as I feel it close completely over my already bruised and tender nipple, but I keep my gaze locked with his. I don’t want to disappoint him. My head falls forward against his shoulder in a mix of relief and pleasure and pain when he nods at me letting me know it’s on fully.

The clamps are attached by a silver chain which hangs down in a graceful curve halfway down my body. He grabbed it, pulling it out from my body slightly, the pain sharp and centralised. He tugged it up and pushed it into my mouth, my teeth gripping onto it muffling my groans.

“Do you remember the first time we played? How I pushed the chains in your mouth then made you pull the clamps off? How I grabbed your hair and pulled your head back to help you?” He whispers in my ear as he grabs my hair and behind to pull back the very same way he did then. I can feel the clamps sliding and dragging off my nipples. I can’t scream without letting go of the chains. I try to breathe deeply, to concentrate. I looked up at him then and saw how much he was enjoying my struggle, how much he was enjoying watching me writhe in pain beneath him. I instantly relaxed, my breathing regulating. The pain intensified but it felt so good now. My thighs were soaking with juices now, my clit tingling with a desperate need to be touched. I was wriggling my arms behind my back, wanting them to be free, wanting my hands to be free to play with my self.

He came round in front of me, keeping my hair in his hand but let me lessen the tension in the clamps. The chains still held firmly in my mouth, and he pulled my head back and forward a couple of times, making me fully aware of the control he still held over the clamps that way. Even having my head pulled forward caused pain as the tension was released and blood rushed to where it had been deprived. It was almost as agonising as having them pulled taut.

His other hand went between my legs. I spread my legs even further, trying to beg him past the chains to please fuck me. I was desperate. I needed to be fucked. I needed my cunt filled. I needed my cunt to be roughly and brutally fucked. He always makes me need him like this. Desperate and needy for release.

His fingers stroked my pussy, spreading my juices over my lips. His fingers explored further back, running over my asshole several times, making me jump and my anxiety rise. I tried to shake my head while mumbling, “please no Sir. Please not my ass Sir.”

“You want me to fuck your ass? You are a dirty little slut aren’t you?”

I shake my head harder again, trying to tell him no. He tugs my head back and I stop. His finger comes forward to my pussy and pushes in. I’m soaking wet and it slides in effortlessly. The pleasure is short lived as he removes his finger and returns to my ass. I’m wriggling now, desperate to escape from the inevitable. It’s useless. His finger finds it’s intended target. My cunt is so wet it’s provided just enough lubrication for him to slide his finger into my ass. As I feel him slide right in, I realise my fight against him is futile and stop trying to get away. My face is red from embarrassment and exertion. He removes his finger pretty quickly, as soon as he feels my submission to him, as soon as he feels my surrender.

He releases my hair from his grasp and stands and goes into the bathroom. My head leans forward, my hair covering my face. I’m too embarrassed to look at him. I give in to his will so easily. But it feels so good whenever I do. Whatever he does to me always makes me want more. I can’t get over my embarrassment of any ass play though. I need to. I want to. I want to give him whatever he wants. My mind is centred on my submission to him by the time he comes back.

He takes the chains from my mouth, letting them hang down once more. I open my mouth, “please Sir…” But he cuts me off with a look. I remain on my knees, looking up at him, patiently waiting. He starts to undo his belt, unzipping his trousers and pulling out his cock. I stare at it hungrily. I know every inch of it, how it feels on my tongue and how every ridge feels when it slides into my mouth. My lips wrapped around it tightly as I take it into my throat, tightly holding onto the base as he reaches my throat.

I know how he tastes, how he smells…I crave those very memories. I’m licking my lips already as I take him in with my eyes. I tear my eyes away from his cock and look up at him. I barely get my mouth open to beg for permission when he pushes his cock in. I feel him so hard in my mouth, flicking my tongue over where I know is his most sensitive spot, over and over and over before he pushes on the back of my head and further into my mouth. I hear him groan from the sensations as I continue to run my tongue all over the underside of his cock, my lips tight around him.

He holds my hair tightly in his grip, both hands at the back of my head, painfully holding two handfuls of hair, as he starts to thrust in and out of my mouth. He picks up the pace, not giving me many chances to catch my breath. I’m gagging on him as he skull fucks me.

“Your mouth is just a hole for me to fuck. Like another cunt for me to fuck. Your mouth is just another place for me to cum. You’re my filthy little fucking cumbucket aren’t you?” He pulls out and looks at me expectantly. I’m too busy trying to breathe to answer him. He slaps me hard and thrusts back into my mouth.

“When I ask a question you answer it,” he says firmly, pounding into my throat, I gag over and over, my eyes are watering, my bound tits are soaked with my own saliva. I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I can’t focus.

He pulls out and looks at me again. I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t remember what I’m supposed to be saying, “please forgive me Sir. I can’t remember what you said Sir, I’m so sorry Sir. Please Sir, what did you ask me Sir?” I close my eyes, ashamed of myself for disappointing him. My eyes fly open when I feel him slapping me. Again and again and again. He releases my hair and pulls on the chain hanging down between my breasts.

“I said,” he slaps me again, “you’re my filthy little fucking cumbucket aren’t you?” He slaps me again, while pulling firmly on the clamps. I can feel them sliding off my nipple.

“I, I, I…ohhh, ouch, please Sir. Ow, that hurts, please Sir,” I can’t concentrate on responding for the pain shooting through my nipples.

He slaps me again, “wrong answer slut.”

The clamp pops off my left nipple first. I let out a low moan, the feeling surging back making my pussy twitch and my need to be fucked increase.

“Wrong answer again slut,” and he slaps my left tit hard. I scream out this time, looking up at him, my eyes wide.

“You aren’t very good at this game are you? I asked you a question – are you my filthy fucking cumbucket?” He slaps my left tit again as the right clamp finally slides off my nipple. My mouth opens as I moan and he slides his cock straight down my throat. I pull away, but he comes with me until I’m leaning back, my head pressed against the armchair and he’s still in my throat with nowhere for me to go.

“Well? Answer me slut. Are you my filthy fucking cumbucket?” I try to nod while looking up at him. He pulls out and slaps my right tit. Before I can answer him he’s back in my mouth, thrusting into my throat, pulling back only a few times when my gag sounds dangerously close to me throwing up. I never get a chance to answer him. He keeps asking me and I do my best to nod, but he just taunts me.

“I can’t hear you!” He teases as he thrusts harder. I can feel his cock twitching against my tongue as I nod once more and try to swallow around his cock. I’m a mess. A completely skull fucked, bound, submissive mess. I’m his, completely and totally his. His cum starts to shoot into my throat. I gag trying to swallow it while he’s still in my throat. He pulls back slightly and I use my lips, pulling every last drop from his cock, tasting it all as it lands on my tongue before sliding down my throat. He pulls back, sliding out of my mouth with a pop. I look up at him as he steps back, I’m laid back against the chair still, unable to move yet.

“Thank you Sir. I’m your filthy cumbucket slut Sir. Thank you for your cum Sir,” I say, only just above a whisper.

He smiles at me, “see, that wasn’t that hard to admit now was it?”

I smile back at him. I do love it when he’s sadistic like this.

He takes his time untying my arms and breasts. Massaging my arms and shoulders as they come loose. I shiver at every slight contact with my nipples. He brushes against them as much as possible. I’m leaning into him as he unties me. Once the rope is lying coiled beside us he tells me to go and lie down on the bed. I begin to stand, but he just shakes his head at me. I understand and stay on my hands and knees, crawling over to the bed. I climb up and lay down on my back. He follows close behind, hopefully noticing as I try to deliberately away my hips more, trying to seduce him. I’m being driven crazy by my need to be fucked now, desperate for him inside me.

When I’m lying down he grabs some shorter pieces of rope and binds my wrists to either corner of the headboard. He holds the flogger now and lets it fall down over my body, over and over. It feels incredible. Even over my tortured tits. He brings it down over my tummy, my thighs, ordering my legs apart so I feel it against my cunt several times.

He reaches for the cane, following the same path, using it just hard enough for welts to appear. My arms are the sorest place, it stings sharply whenever he brings it down on the tops of them. My thighs are striped with it almost instantaneously, his fingers trace each welt as it appears.

“Oh god, please Sir, please, I’m begging you, please fuck me Sir. Please Sir, please please please, I need you to fuck me Sir. Please,” I beg him as he taps the cane over my cunt.

He shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says simply.

I groan in frustration, pulling at the rope that binds my wrists. He brings the cane down hard across my tits then, stopping me before I can go too far with my complaint.

“Patience, or I won’t fuck you at all. Well, not your pussy at least.”

That stops me.

“I’m sorry Sir, I just want you so badly Sir,” I say quietly. I spread my legs, letting him see just how desperately I need him.

He takes me by surprise then, plunging three fingers into my dripping wet pussy.

I groan in excitement, “thank you Sir, oh, thank you.”

He fucks me with his fingers slowly and deliberately, getting me worked up until I’m begging for it harder. He continues his slow pace, frustrating me further until I’m trying to thrust up to meet him. He removes his fingers, pushing them into my mouth to clean them, stopping my protests before they’d even left my lips.

He gets more rope and wraps it around my ankles. I think at first he’s going to tie me spreadeagled on he bed, but then he uses the rope to pull my leg back, tying off the rope to the headboard. He does the same with my other leg. My legs are now tied up in the air, my cunt and ass embarrassingly exposed to him. I wriggle around trying to close my legs. I can almost bring my knees together which reassures me for a moment. Then he starts tying rope around my thighs which he then ties off the sides of the bed. I’m spread open for him, with no where to go.

He picks up the flogger again and starts using it on my ass. Every blow stings, the tips catching my pussy lips.

“Please Sir, please, please,” I begged, not even sure what I was begging for.

He stopped for a moment and I sighed in relief. I was halfway through thanking him when I saw the ball gag in his hand. He pushed it unceremoniously into my mouth, lifting my head up to fasten it tightly. He resumed flogging me, until I was writhing beneath him again. I could hardly take this. I was on edge, on a desperate needy edge. I wanted to cum so badly. I wanted his cock inside me, to feel his balls against me as he had every inch of his length inside me.

The flogger was being brought down hard on my thighs, the pain almost distracting me. I was raising my ass towards him the few centimetres I could, wanting to feel the sting.

My skin was red and burning as he ran his fingernails over my thighs and my ass. My cunt was dripping wet now. He could see this. He kept describing it to me, stopping once to even take a picture of how wet I was. I was wriggling about now, trying to beg through the gag.

“I can’t hear you,” he teased, “you want me to keep going?”

I shook my head, trying to thrust my pussy up towards him trying to mimic fucking.

“You want me to flog your pussy? Why didn’t you just say so little sub?”

And he started to flog my pussy, catching my lips and clit with with throngs. Every stroke had me groaning and yelping.

“Please,” I manage to get out round the gag, “please, please.”

But it’s no use, he keeps going, alternating where he flogged between my ass, my thighs and my pussy. He only paused to blindfold me quickly, resuming the flogging as soon as I couldn’t see.

I kept trying to beg him, however useless it was. He stopped suddenly. The pause in pain, making me realise how delightful my skin felt as it burned and prickled. I couldn’t hear much for the thumping of my heartbeat filling my ears. I thought I heard the rustle of clothes being removed but then the cane was brought down across my thighs and I soon forgot about that. He caned me twelve times, I counted every one in my head, groaning with each on. I could feel the welts forming, burning even more than the flogger. My hands were clenched over my head, my toes curling with every one.

A different sensation on my ass next. The paddle I thought to myself. It felt incredibly cool the first two strokes. The next ten were stinging and hot.

He pulled the gag out of my mouth, “how many strokes was that little sub?”

“Twelve of each the cane and the paddle Sir,” I replied without hesitating even to wet my lips.

“Good girl,” he said then thrust his cock into my exposed cunt.

I couldn’t help but cry out before thanking him repeatedly. It felt so good, my pussy was swollen from being so turned on. The walls of my tight cunt squeezing his cock as he thrust deep inside me again and again. He grabbed the wand from the side of the bed where he had plugged it in while he was undressing. Holding it against my sensitive, swollen clit he ordered me to cum. Within seconds of his command my cunt was tightening around his cock as I came hard and fast.

He pulled out then and took the wand off my clit. I begged in protest, wanting more, wanting his cum but he ignored my protests. He untied my legs and arms, sliding the blindfold from my eyes, and told me to get on my knees with my head on the bed. I complied quickly, wanting him to fuck me again and soon. He tied the rope still attached to my thighs to the sides of the bed and my ankles to the foot of the bed. My knees were about a foot apart and I couldn’t get them any closer. My hands were beside my head, gripping onto the duvet in preparation.

“What do you want?” He asked, his hand landing on my ass as he finished.

“I want you to fuck me please Sir,” I replied as his hand kept spanking me.

“And where would you like me to fuck you?”

“In my pussy Sir, please fuck my pussy Sir,” I panted through the sting of his hand.

“Not your ass then?”

“Please, no, please don’t fuck my ass Sir,” I hurriedly said.

“Why not? Don’t you like getting fucked in the ass?”

“I, ow,” I yelled as a particularly hard spank landed, “I do Sir, I just prefer my pussy Sir,” I quietly finished.

“And does that matter? What you prefer?” He asked as I felt cold lube being squeezed out over my ass and his fingers start to push it in.

“Please Sir, please don’t Sir,”

“I asked you a question, answer me,” as he spanked me with his free hand again.

“No, my preference doesn’t matter Sir,” I replied softly.

“And which hole is your favourite to get fucked in?”

“Whichever hole you want to fuck at the time Sir,” I reply obediently.

“So right now,” he pushes two fingers into my ass, “which hole is your favourite to get fucked in?”

“My ass Sir,” I replied, starting to moan as his fingers worked the lube into my ass.

“Well it would only be kind of me to fuck you in your favourite hole then, wouldn’t it,” I could picture the sadistic smile on his lips as he said that.

He started to thrust his cock into my ass then.

“Please no, please don’t Sir, please please. Please don’t Sir,” I beg him pointlessly as he slowly pushes further and further in.

“Please Sir, please don’t, please,” my pleas tail off as I realise he’s not listening to me. It’s starting to feel good. Very good. My face is buried in the duvet now, my hands tightly gripping it as shame washes over me.

He stops once he has every inch of his cock in my ass, pulling back and thrusting in and out a couple of times, hearing me moan.

“See, I knew it was your favourite little sub.”

I can’t respond, I’m too far into subspace. I’m moving with him now, meeting every one of his thrusts.

“Rub your clit, don’t cum without my permission,” he says, as his fingers dig into my hips, gripping onto me.

“Yes Sir,” I respond as I start rubbing my clit. The glass dildo lands in front of my face along with an order to fuck my greedy little cunt with it. I can’t object, I can’t argue with your description of me. I start to slide it into my pussy, tighter than usual thanks to your cock in my ass.

I’m fucking my cunt hard with the glass dildo, the fingers of my other hand rubbing my clit furiously. My orgasm is building fast, I start to ask your permission to cum, but you deny me before I even get the first word out.

I bite the duvet to stop myself from squealing in frustration. Your fingers are digging hard into my hips and you’re thrusting hard into my ass. You can feel my muscles contracting around your cock as I try not to cum. It’s becoming too much for you to hold back and you let go, fucking me harder and faster.

“Cum now, cum while I cum in your ass little sub,” you demand.

I don’t need any further encouragement. I thank you quickly in one breath before letting my orgasm go. You are cursing and groaning behind me with your cock buried in my ass, pulling me tight against you as my ass and cunt tightens around the cocks filling it. My fingers rubbing my clit hard as I ride out every second of it. Wave after wave rolls over me as I move on your cock.

My shoulders relax into the bed as it ends, my hands dropping away from my pussy. The dildo drops out onto the bed and you pull free from my ass.

I’m still so exposed to you, I start to wriggle slightly.

Amelia saw movement out of the the corner of her eye. She couldn’t move much, the spreader bar at her feet, the rope braided into her long hair, and the anal hook kept her in a position that was unnatural, but surprisingly not uncomfortable. There in the center of the circle of subs, she was forced to stand and wait for the next “activity” from the others.

The first woman in the circle was approached by her partner. He moved around in front of her and to her credit, she kept her head down and remained in her submissive, kneeling pose. The thin, silver chain that ran up and over her neck and down to hook into two nipple rings was simply too tight and distended her breasts, stretching the skin of her nipples up and back toward her neck.

The man calmly reached for her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. They locked eyes and he smiled down at her. The hand left her chin and reached for the chain behind her neck. Once there, he pulled on the chain lightly until the flesh began to turn red. Her eyelids sagged as if she was going to pass out from the pain, but she never let her eyes leave his. His free hand caressed her cheek while his other pulled harder at the chain. Tears welled in her eyes, but still she would not look away or cry out. He wiggled his finger and the heavy weight of her breasts jiggled at the end of the chain. Suddenly, he pulled harder and the soft flesh became misshapen and odd looking. The nipple rings looked like they were actually going to pull out of her flesh, so stretched were they.

Still, she did not lean backward to lessen the effect. She did not cry out. She did not wince, gasp, or look away. He was clearly pleased and turned to smile at the others in attendance. His face betrayed a silent boast of, “Look. Look what I have trained her to do. She is mine.” Everyone watched in silence, some expressing satisfied smiles to those around them and impressed nods. The whole thing lasted no more than ten minutes, and her partner turned to face her, and then spoke for the first time.

“Thank you, Beatrice.” With no other word, he moved back to his place behind her and stood quietly.

In the center of the circle, Amelia found that she was turned on by what little she had been able to witness but could do nothing about it. Mary moved around her and to her surprise, attached nipple clamps to Amelia’s perky nubs. She turned the small knob slowly, tightening the device on one then the other nipple of the bound woman. She smiled as if to say, “Lucky Girl…” Before moving away from Amelia’s chest, she attached a weight to each nipple clamp and Amelia gasped.

The mood in the room noticeably changed. Dave’s voice from beside her ear seethed, “Amelia, keep quiet. This is your only warning.”

He didn’t wait for an answer since he knew she would remain silent. Before he moved away from her, he placed a hand on each hip and slowly turned her a few degrees to her right so that she could see what was next. Before anything else happened, she felt the tug in her bottom increase, almost imperceptibly.

The next woman, the tall redhead, still held her position even though her bound breasts were now so purple that they had to be painful. Her partner, a tall man in his forties with salt and pepper hair, moved around in front of her and reached down to lift her face to his. He leaned down towards her and kissed her full on her pouty, pale lips. Her mouth lingered and seemed to reach for more as he began to pull away from the kiss. Her eyes slowly came open and it was as if the sun was rising, so bright were her orbs.

What happened next shocked Amelia. Without warning, he slapped her left breast, hard. The noise was deafening in the room. Her breast bounced towards its twin and rebounded to its original position in time to receive another blow. The leather tightened around her breast never moved, nor did it allow the blood trapped near the nipple to return to her body. The pressure had to be incredible to the girl but she remained quiet. She fought to maintain her gaze into his eyes as he struck her breasts again and again. Three strikes to the left breast, three strikes to the right. She took it all and actually at one point smiled up at him. Amelia couldn’t see this; her position allowed her a cursory idea of what was happening.

But the rest of the attendees could see what was happening and many pressed forward to see her receive her treatment. He alternated his technique. He reached down and cupped a breast in one hand while making a fist with the other. He proceeded to strike the top of her breast lightly with the edge of his fist, rapidly and with enough pressure that the entire tit jiggled and forced even more pressure into the nipple end of the tightly bound breast. Her back arched, her face betrayed her, and she was clearly feeling incredible pressure in her chest…but still, not a word from her.

After performing this act on both breasts, he stopped and took a nipple between each thumb and forefinger. He blew a kiss at her and as she pursed her lips to return the gesture, he tightened his fingers and twisted, hard. She clenched her teeth and took in a breath as quietly as she could. But still not a word from her mouth of protest.

The man effected a sharp, short bow to her when he finished and said, “Thank you, Sheri.” He then returned to his position behind her and grinned the grin of a sadist who has been allowed to practice his craft.

At the center of the circle, Mary moved around next to Amelia again and began, with a long segment of leather stripping, to bind Amelia’s breasts. Around and around, tighter and tighter, until each breast was elongated and turning a brilliant shade of red. Each nipple with its clamp and weight seemed to actually become longer with the new torture. And when she was done, the rope pulling at her anal hook became a tiny bit shorter, pulling the hook further into her. She wondered if she could stand it much longer, but for him, she would bear the pain.

And Dave held both of her hips and turned her a slight bit to the right. Before he moved away, he whispered very softly, “I’m so proud of you…”

The stout man behind the petite blond moved out from behind her and stood in front of her kneeling form. He reached down and lifted her face to look up at him. A look passed between them and then he took a fistful of hair in his hand and roughly pulled her forward. Her hands moved to catch her fall and she ended up on all fours, her belt with the flogger hanging straight down and her black heels pointing out behind her.

He moved back behind her, reached for the flogger, and removed it from the small hook hanging from the belt. The man looked around the room, making eye contact with many of the attendees and lingering on more than one woman if his eye caught that “spark” of interest in what everyone in the room knew was going to happen. The flogger came down on her ass and she showed no emotion. It struck her tiny behind again and still, not a movement could be perceived. He raised his hand again and brought the leather down in a blow that made many in the room wince with the perceived pain. The noise was deafening.

She did not move. She did not make a sound. She didn’t even cry.

So the strikes continued and her bottom turned pink. He stopped to examine it and drag his nails across the tender flesh. Then he continued. A few minutes later, her bottom was so red that it seemed to glow. He stopped and rubbed it, seeming to soothe it, or to feel the heat he had created there. Some in the crowd knew that sensation, either having been on the receiving end of similar play…or having administered it. When he was finished, he moved back towards her head and grabbed her hair again and pulled her back to her kneeling position. He ran a finger along her delicate jawline and up her cheek to end near her ear. He looked into her big eyes and saw what everyone else in the room could see; gratitude.

He said, “Thank you, Julie,” and moved back to his position behind her, satisfied that he’d impressed the party goers with his sub’s performance.

Heels clicked on the parquet floor as Mary moved towards Julie and her partner. He held out his arm and handed her the two items, before she turned and walked back behind Amelia.

Amelia braced herself. She had guessed correctly; the same punishment was administered to her. Mary came back and roughly placed the ball gag–still wet with Julie’s spit–into her mouth. It was adjusted behind her head and pulled tight. From now on, Amelia could only breathe through the wet holes in the ball holding her mouth open and silencing her voice.

And then, Mary moved out of her sight and behind her. Her ass felt the sharp sting of the same flogger that had beaten Julies’ ass red. The flogger came down again and again on her ass, accentuating the pressure of the polished steel hook embedded in her bottom. She could feel the heat building up in her backside and the sharp pains continued. Over and over she was struck and trying to emulate Julie, she remained quiet and still. Her butt felt like it was on fire but she fought to hold still and remain quiet. Movement would only upset her delicate balance that was tested with each stroke of the tool as it hit her bottom. And still the flogger came down on her ass. Mary was thorough, Amelia was near tears and fighting it before she stopped. When she finished, Mary click-clicked back over to where the man behind Julie took the flogger back and turned to caress the beautiful blond’s ass one last time with the leather before hanging it again at her belt.

And the device in Amelia’s ass was pulled a little tighter before strong hands held her hips as Dave turned Amelia a little further this time so that two women were in her sight; the twins.

[Author's Note: Thank you to MissAires for your editing help and ideas. Thanks also to N. L. A. for your help and support. I am considering turning this into a series depending on the response I receive. Enjoy!]

I saw you through the lunch-time crowd, across the bar. Sitting with your poor, unsuspecting girlfriend. Relaxing, slightly drunk perhaps, definitely smug, checking out all the cute girls with your girlfriend right there next to you. Poor woman has no idea what kind of jerk-wad you are.

I had seen you around town several times now. Admittedly it took me far longer than it should have to figure out how I knew you. But each time there was a definite spark. And I knew by the surprised look on your face that you felt it, too.

Today I watched you for a minute, unsure if I really wanted to pursue you, knowing you would be trouble. My staring caught your attention, and you looked my way with interest. Clearly you recognized me, as I did you, yet again.

We had met via a mutual friend a few months ago. When the conversation turned to ropes and sex on the beach you were clearly interested, though our mutual friend was completely oblivious. Our eyes continued to shoot sparks at each other throughout the remainder of the night, but we were the only two aware of the palpable chemistry. I told our friend later I suspected you would have been eager to join us in a three-some, but he just laughed it off. But I was right, wasn’t I?

When I saw you today, saw the recognition and need in your eyes, I knew you would still be interested. I made my decision quickly, and opted for the (somewhat) direct approach. I finished my drink off and approached you at the bar.

“Travis?” I queried innocently, laughing at the further surprise on your face. “Hi! How are you? This must be your girlfriend?” I turned to her openly, “Hi, I’m Aurora. Travis helped a few days ago with our boat engine. Well, helped temporarily, at least. I’m having the same problem again,” I turned back to him with my pouty face.

“Ah, yeah, Jill, this is Aurora. Remember, I told you about the engine that was clogged the other day?” Smart boy. I’m glad you caught on quickly. That will make things so much easier. Jill nodded submissively. Whether she remembered such a story or was just agreeing out of habit, I’m not sure.

“Are you going to be around later? Do you think you could take a look at it for us again? Jim’s pretty helpless with problems under the hood,” I pouted, making up a boyfriend to ease the story across.

“Yeah, sure. I need to take Jill in to work. Can I meet you back here in an hour?”

“Sounds good, thanks so much. It was nice to have met you, Jill.”

When you returned to the bar one hour and 15 minutes later, I was not happy. You approached me at the bar with a smile that faltered a little at my angry expression. “Buy me a drink.”

“Ah, sure,” you motioned for the bartender. “I was more than a little surprised to see you here. Though truthfully I’ve been coming here a lot, hoping for just that.”

My expression never changed, so after a pregnant silence you turned to the bartender and ordered two more drinks before turning back to me anxiously.

“You are late,” I accused calmly.

“Yeah, I, uh, like I said, I had to drop my girlfriend off at work, you know?” you stammered nervously.

“You know why I’m here?”

“Yeah, uh, well, I think so..?” You’re so nervous, I try very hard not to smile.

“You remember what I’m into?”


“You know what I want from you?”

Deep breath, nod.

“Then I want an apology.”

Deep, nervous breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry for what?”

“For being late.”

“Mistress,” I prompted with a whisper, pushing you.


“Now, put it all together…”

Deep breath, swallow. “I’m sorry I was late, Mistress.”

“That’s better. Now say it on your knees,” I licked my lips enticingly, secretly wondering how far you would go in this bar filled with people who knew you, and knew your girlfriend.

You glanced around with a slight look of panic on your face. I casually took a sip of my drink before meeting your pleading eyes. I simply stared back, coldly, one eyebrow raised, daring you. A nervous moment passed before I decided you needed some more incentive.

I gave you a slight smile and licked my lips again, leaning into you. You visibly relaxed with a smile, hoping it was over. “Travis,” I purred into your ear, my hand gliding along your thigh. “You’re here for the same reason I am, right?”

Deep breath, nod.

I smile and lean closer, my hands lightly brushing, teasing, the bulge in your pants. “You want this, right? You want me to take control?”

Your breathing increased noticeably as I massage your growing member a little more firmly, before nodding. I continued my massage for a few moments before stopping abruptly and straightening up.

“Then I want a real apology.” Cold as ice, once again.

Deep, shaky breath. You glance around again before nodding to yourself. You slip down on your knees as quickly and discretely as you can muster. “I’msorryIwaslateMistress,” you rush.

Not up to my usual standards, but a big move for you.

“Pay the woman,” I nod to the bartender, “and let’s go.”

You moved so fast I was afraid you would fall over jumping up and reaching for your wallet. I tried to take another drink, but you slapped a bill on the bar and grabbed my hand to dart off. I could only laugh at your enthusiasm.

“Do you have somewhere we can go?” I ask, trying to slow you down a bit.

“Yeah, we can go to my place.”

When we reach the parking garage I push you back against the wall and lean my body into yours. You try to lean down for a kiss, but I won’t allow it. I tangle my fingers in your hair and pull your head back firmly against the wall. You initially resist for a moment, forcing me to again pull your hair, not gently, back to the wall.

(Little did you know that not only am I experienced in restraining people in my personal life, but professionally as well. In fact I was an instructor, in my past life. I know very well how to control another person’s body, and how to use my own to do so.)

I slowly lick my lips, flashing my first of three tongue rings. My eyes burn into yours before I move my gaze down to your lips, slowly leaning forward. Impatiently you try to lean forward again, straining against my unyielding fingers. My body locks down, frozen against your struggling, not giving up an inch. You give in with a sigh, making me smile, before bringing my lips to meet yours.

My tongue comes out slowly, teasingly, and again you struggle to make it more. But that only causes me to pull back, much to your frustration. I only smile again. Your arms come up and pull me toward you, but I just shake my head.

My hands find yours and I push them up by your head, against the wall, at the same time I grind my hips into yours, feeling your hard cock between our bodies. Your eyes partially roll into the back of your head before you lean forward again for a kiss, making desperate grunting noises that really get my juices flowing.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” I query.

“Oh, yeah,” you moan, thrusting against me.

“What do you call me?” I ask, still rolling my hips into yours.

“Yes, Mistress,” you hiss between clenched teeth.

“You drive, I’ll follow,” I say, releasing your hands and walking to my car.

I’m sure we make record time to your place as we careen around corners, speeding along the narrow, treacherous island roads. When we arrive you quickly usher me around the property to your unit. You nearly attack me as I walk through the door.

“How much time do we have?”

“She’ll be working till around 10,” you say into my neck, merely slowing your lips and tongue as they work their magic.

“Good,” I say pushing you away. “Show me your room.”

You sigh before leading me through the living room, kitchen, and down a narrow hallway. As we enter the bedroom my eyes are instantly drawn to the large bed in the middle, perfectly situated on an old brass bed frame.

“Perfect,” I smile to myself before turning back to you. “Now, strip.”

You barely hesitate as you quickly remove your clothing, looking again nervous. I merely smile and take a step forward. I reach a hand out to touch your chest, and you reach for me at the same time. I slap your hands down and step closer, grabbing your hair and pulling. There is no wall to stop you this time as I viciously pull down sharply until your back arches and your knees buckle in an attempt to ease the pain.

“I have not given you permission to touch me, yet, boy,” I sneer down into your face. “Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” you answer, hands raised in front of your body like you would do for the police.

“Now,” I release your hair and take a step back, “on your knees, boy.”

You sink down quickly, looking up at me nervously. “I want a real apology for making me wait today. I don’t appreciate the disrespect.”

You are getting into your role now, and bow your head. “I am sorry, Mistress, for being late. It was very inconsiderate of me. It won’t happen again, Mistress.”

“Very good. Now, kiss my foot,” I order, sliding my left foot toward you. I am wearing black, strappy heels and am very much looking forward to seeing what your mouth can do for me.

You bend over awkwardly and plant a small kiss on the top of my foot before straightening up and looking into my eyes. “Did I tell you to stop?”

“No, Mistress,” you reply, and start to bend over again before I stop you with my fist in your hair again.

“Think of this as an audition. Let me see what your mouth and tongue can do to bring me pleasure.”

You smile at that before I release you back to your task. Now you understand what I’m looking for, and set to your task with vigor. You start with gentle kisses, tiny licks. Your eyes flash up to my face and I give you a slight smile and a nod in encouragement.

With that your hands reach out and caress my foot and ankle, your lips traveling up, still slowly, seductively. You’re good at that, and I start to get into it. My eyes want to roll back in enjoyment, but I fight it, keeping them locked onto your bowed figure.

“Very good, boy,” You look pleased with yourself as I step back and sit on the bed. “Now, last time we met we discussed using ropes. You remember that, don’t you?”

I could tell by your twitching cock that you did. But you answered anyway, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Have you ever done that before?”

“Uh, once before, with a girlfriend who didn’t know what she was doing. She wasn’t really into it, either.”

“You’ve thought about it before, though?”

“Oh yeah,” you smiled, then caught yourself, “I mean, yes, Mistress.”

I had to smile at that, you were so clearly dying for this. I would enjoy torturing you. I reached for my bag and watch your eyes flash as I removed each item and placed them on the bed. Ropes, handcuffs, my flogger, a small leather-covered paddle, some items no doubt you do not recognize yet, having never experienced this before.

I decided I was too impatient for the ropes at present, and picked up a pair of handcuffs. “Stand up,” I directed, walking behind you.

You complied without hesitation, a very good sign. I slid one metal cuff onto your wrist, slowly clicking it shut, before pulling your other arm behind you and locking the second wrist.

I let my hand gently trail down your back, fingers gently brushing, before my claws came out, bringing goose-bumps to your skin. You are under my control, and I reveled in my powerful state. Getting more into my role I scratched down your back now, leaving beautiful red trails where my nails have been.

I place a scarf across your eyes, tying it behind your head before stepping back in front of you. Your breath is trembling, but you remain still. I scratch my hand across your chest, teasing your nipples. Then I dig in, hard, scratching my way down, down your torso, then pull my fingers in, leaving only one to continue stroking down your semi-hard cock, giving it a small slap down when I reach the tip.

I watch your face, your lips slightly parted, drawing in ragged breaths. I open my hand and rub my palm gently along the underside of your cock, feeling it harden with my attention. The muscles in your legs twitch occasionally as I continue teasing. You are not accustomed to giving up control, and I imagine you are putting forth considerable effort to remain stationary.

Curling my fingers around your still hardening cock I stroke you up and down a few times, slowly, enjoying the heft of your cock in my hand. I continue stroking your cock with one hand, and use the other to grasp your balls, circling my fingers around the base. I tug down gently at first, gauging your reaction as I increase the downward pressure.

You can tolerate quite a bit, your mouth parting more, breaths coming in sharply when I begin to twist and even crush your balls in my fist. I watch your eyebrows pull together as a moan escapes your lips sending a shiver straight through to my bones. I stop stroking your cock and slowly withdraw my hands, feeling your hips push forward to maintain contact with me.Instead I walk my fingers up your torso and chest and back behind your neck and head, drawing your mouth down to meet mine.

You kiss me urgently, our tongues dueling for dominance. You try to press your body into mine but I am careful to avoid contact. I break the kiss with a chuckle, while you give a desperate sort of gasp.

I reach over to the bed and pick up my flogger, tracing it gently over your body. “Are you enjoying yourself, boy?”

You swallow hard before answering, “Yes Mistress.”

“Are you ready for more?”

You hesitate, not sure how to answer me. “I think so…”

I walk around behind you again, trailing the flogger along your skin, letting you feel the soft suede leather straps. With my hands I caress your butt cheeks, before squeezing and pinching, loving your reactions.

I realize your hands are going to be in the way of my flogger, and consider my options. If you had been a little more experienced I would simple have told you to lift them out of the way, and could trust you to keep them in place. However, not having felt before the pain I am about to cause I couldn’t trust that you will be able to resist trying to cover yourself.

I decide to collar you, locking the soft black leather with a small padlock. Then I wrap a belt around your wrists and loop it through the collar, pulling your hands up and out of the way before securing it. I stand back for a moment, watching your shoulders and arms flexing. I’m not sure if you are testing your bonds or merely trying to adjust to the new restraint.

I take a step back and start in with the flogger, very gently at first, warming up. I used a circular motion, making contact rhythmically. I gradually increased the force of the blows over the next few minutes, watching your skin grow from pink to red to scarlet. I wasn’t sure if you noticed the increase until you began squirming, then downright trying to wiggle out of the way of the blows.

After a few minutes I stopped, needing a breather myself, and watched you sag in relief. I watch you breathing deeply as I removed my sundress. Your head turned, and I felt you must be trying to listen for me, to determine what was coming next.

I stepped up behind you, letting you feel my skin against your own, wrapping my arms around your torso. Your abused ass is warm against my stomach, a reminder to both of us what had happened.

“You did very well with that, boy. I’m impressed. What did you think of my flogger?”

“Is that what you call that? Didn’t hurt as badly as I thought it would.”

I chuckled, “That was just the warm up.”

I reach up and remove the belt from your wrists, leaving the collar in place. I stepped back and get the key so I could unbuckle one of your wrists. I bring your fingers forward to touch my panty-clad pussy, let you feel the wetness though the material. “See how warmed up I am, boy?”

“Yes Mistress,” you breathe, letting your fingers wander. I allow you to pleasure me for a few moments while I contemplate what to do next. I only let you touch me through the panties, though, removing your hand as soon as you try to reach beneath.

I lock your wrists in the cuffs again, this time in front of your body. You sigh, but let your hands drop in front of yourself, making me smile. Reaching up behind your head I pull you down to me for another kiss. This one is gentler, more lingering. You fingers caress my bare skin as I lean into you.

I break the kiss, but maintain our body contact as I push the scarf out of your eyes. “Are you doing OK?” I ask honestly, openly.

You smile slightly before answering me, “More than *OK*.” You emphasize by thrusting your hips into mine, your cock stiff between our bodies.

“Just checking,” I smile back, giving you a peck on the lips and pushing your mask back into place.

Now I step away, breaking our body contact. I take two steps back and sit on the bed. “On your knees, boy,” I order, back in control again.

“Yes Mistress.” You sink to your knees swiftly, without hesitation. This is truly a good role for you, that of submissive. You present a much stronger persona, but I can easily see your true role shining through.

“Crawl forward, boy. Come to me.” You do so, a bit awkward with the cuffs, but without question or hesitation. You stop when your hands encounter my feet. You get the idea and begin to caress my thighs, drawing closer to my pussy. I watch you lick your lips and lean your head forward getting excited. I slip my shoes off and use one bare foot to massage your erection.

You moan, sending shivers through my body. I pull your head forward, watching your tongue come out to lick and kiss along my bare skin, stretching forward to reach my panties. You nose my pussy, breathing my scent in deeply, your moan again sends shivers through my body.

I lean back and lift my hips to slide my panties down. You realize what I am doing and use your cuffed hands to assist me. Your draw them down my legs, then run your hands along my skin again, feeling your way upward.

“Please Mistress,” you ask unexpectedly, “May I look at you?”

You are so sweet and polite, how can I refuse? I pull the scarf off your face. Your eyes flash to mine in thanks for the briefest of moments, before focusing on my lower lips. You stare at my shaved pussy, reaching your hands out to gently caress, before leaning in again bringing your face in closer. You lick and nibble so gently I am in ecstasy.

I lean back on the bed, raising my legs to put over your shoulders. That’s when you really go to town. And – DAMN!- you’re good at that! You suck and lick with just the right pressure, teasing with your fingers, soothing as well.

In no time I am moaning, dripping wet, so close to orgasm it’s driving me crazy. You know just what to do for me. Your tongue focuses on my clit, licking and sucking still, while first one then two fingers fuck me rhythmically.

“Oh, God,” I moan twisting my fingers in your hair, pulling you hard against my pussy. I am never quiet when I come, and you certainly have me going wild. You moan with me, deep into my pussy, sending me over the edge.

I come buckets, dripping all over your face, and you continue lapping at my sopping pussy, sending shock waves through me each time you brush over my clit. Once the shock waves stop I release your head, letting you sit back and take a deep breath. You lick your lips, savoring the taste.

I bend over and lick my juices off your chin, also enjoying the taste. We kiss again, deeply, sharing the musky taste. I sigh contentedly, causing you to smile this time. I smiled slightly at you before pushing you away to stand up.

“You’re very good at that, boy. Thank you. Stand up.” You did so as I continued, “Now I want you to close your eyes and hold on to the collar.”

“Have you been good this week, Wall Street?” Maria asked as she carelessly placed a stiletto heel in the middle of Allen’s back, forcing him down onto all fours.

When she walked into the room, he was kneeling naked, head humbly bowed as instructed. He dared to sneak a peek at her, catching his breath at the sight of her in a black leather bustier and miniskirt, whisking a braided leather flogger at her side.

“Yes, My Lady,” he answered, knowing the penalty for a negative answer. He quaked inwardly to even think about the punishment she would mete out.

“Well let me see, it’s been eight days. You must be near to bursting, I think.” The words dripped with taunting cruelty as she reached down and yanked the leash attached to his black leather cock ring. He gasped at the sharp pain but obediently rose to his feet. She reached down and grabbed his balls, feeling them for fullness and weight.

“Hmmm…these seem a bit light,” she said, squeezing them hard, casually admiring her manicure, approving of the fresh fire-engine red color even as he cringed and doubled over.

“No, My Lady, I didn’t mean to, I swear. It was a wet dream. I couldn’t stop it!” He tried to fall to his knees to beg but couldn’t because of her tight grip on his ball sac.

Involuntary or not, she knew he needed to be punished. Debating inwardly, she decided on 20 lashes; he’d enjoy 50 too much.

She began stroking his cock with her hand, rubbing his balls soothingly, nodding her approval as he began to get hard. His eyes drifted shut at the pleasure of her touch, so he was surprised at the lash of the flogger across his crotch. Although he moaned and whimpered as she administered his punishment, he remained rock hard.

The strands of the flogger left their angry red marks across his upper thighs, cock and belly. He slipped to his knees to huddle whimpering at her feet.

She could feel stirrings of arousal. Pulling on the leash again, she arranged him on his knees, facing toward the wall. Standing in front of him, she shimmied her tight skirt up over her hips, revealing sleek thighs clad in lace-topped stockings and a bare pussy, lips swollen slightly with passion.

“Lick me,” she commanded.

He placed his hands on her hips and buried his face eagerly between her thighs. Her eyes closed then, head tilting back to rest against the wall. He licked her greedily, sliding the flat of his tongue up and down the crease between her legs. Using his fingers, he parted her pussy lips and ran his stiff tongue in circles around her clit.

She allowed him to feast on her for a few minutes longer, then gave the leash another pull to get his attention.

“Stand up.” He rose obediently to face her. She put her hands on the laces of the bustier, and, never breaking eye contact, slowly unlaced it to reveal full breasts topped with erect pink nipples. Slowly she placed her hands on the back of his head, guiding his mouth to her. His warm tongue licked her nipples, slowly circling them the way she liked. Increasing the pressure on the back of his head worked to deepen the suction he applied as her passion mounted. He straightened and she could feel his hard cock pressing against her belly. She ground herself against him, grinning slightly as he trembled at the contact. Lowering his head again, he bit her nipple hard in his excitement. Although the sharp pain excited her, she couldn’t let him know.

She slapped his face sharply.

“I’m sorry, My Lady,” he apologized meekly.

She caressed his cheek, rubbing lightly at the red marks left by her fingers.

“I know,” she said softly, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips.

“Now get on your knees.” She put both hands on his shoulders and pushed him once more to his knees. Turning around, Maria thrust her ass in Allen’s face. He spread her cheeks and began to lick the crease from top to bottom. She put one hand on the wall to brace herself and used the other to caress her own breast, cupping the weight of it in her palm. She squeezed lightly, then used her fingers to pinch and pull lightly at the aroused nipple.

Allen continued to bathe her ass with his tongue. Flattening it, he used it to lick concentric circles around her tight opening. Finally, he slipped his tongue inside her, holding her hips tight to his face. He was moaning and breathing hard with excitement, his cock painfully hard and oozing pre-cum. He would cum soon just from ministering to her. Although she was close to her own orgasm, she recognized the signs in him, and he was not to be allowed relief so soon. Pulling away, she led him to a chair in the corner of the room.

She sat him down, pulling his thighs apart so she could step between them. Reaching into a pocket of her skirt, she extracted a small bottle and poured something into her palm. Turning her attention to his red, swollen penis, she began to stroke it slowly. Allen hissed out a breath as the warming liquid enhanced the sensation of her soft hand sliding up and down his engorged flesh. Using the other hand, she fondled his balls, expertly working him to the edge of orgasm, then backing off. She repeated this process until he was shaking and moaning.

Abruptly, she pulled back.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t cum,” she said simply.

She left him sitting there in a daze. Although there were restraints on the chair, she didn’t bother to use them. She was confident of her power over him and knew he would obey. She also knew that having his hands free and having to resist the temptation to stroke himself to completion was far more torture than simply binding him.

The minutes dragged. Allen sat in the chair, naked. He was wearing a silver-studded leather cock ring, tightly snapped, around his cock and balls, that kept him hard even as he tried to clear his mind of all erotic thoughts.

Finally, Maria returned. She had changed clothes and freshened her makeup. Her dark curly hair was combed into a casually trendy style and her brown eyes sparkled with energy. She had exchanged the black leather for a lacy red teddy.

She inspected him, smiling with satisfaction at his still-swollen cock and balls. She patted his head patronizingly.

“Wouldn’t your Rolex-wearing Wall Street buddies laugh their asses off if they saw you now,” she sneered.

Allen was a stockbroker by day and his secret life as Maria’s sub was the perfect antidote to the stress and uncertainty of his daily existence. They had met on the internet and quickly realized they shared complementary interests in the power dynamics of an intimate relationship. It amused Maria endlessly to play the sweet, mild-mannered schoolteacher by day and his fiery Domme by night.

Disdaining the leash, she wrapped her hand tightly around his cock and gave a sharp yank, leading him all the way across the room to the bed in the corner. She laid him on his back, arranging him for her pleasure. Reaching into the nightstand, she removed a pair of thigh cuffs, which she used to secure his hands tightly to his sides.

“I’m going to sit on your face. Won’t you like that? And if you’re very good, I’ll let you make me cum.”

Allen moaned eagerly and his cock twitched in anticipation of serving her this way.

She stood on the side of the bed and slipped the teddy over her head. Standing there, she gave him a moment to admire her full breasts, round hips and slim, strong legs. Then she moved gracefully onto the bed and knelt with one leg on each side of his neck. She lowered herself oh-so-slowly onto his waiting mouth.

He moaned again at the taste of her, musky and feminine. In a near frenzy of lust he lapped and licked at her dripping slit. He almost screamed as she reached back and viciously pinched his nipple.

“Slow down,” she snapped.

Obediently, he slowed his pace, his cock throbbing painfully in the leather ring. He thought if she didn’t allow him to cum soon, he might pass out.

He knew his punishment would be swift and severe if he came before Maria gave her permission. So he recited stock symbols in his head as he continued licking and sucking at her pussy. She moaned in satisfaction, rotating her hips, grinding her clit against his nose. He gloried in the feeling of pleasing her. The combination of lack of oxygen and her frenzied movements increased his arousal until his cock was very nearly purple with veins throbbing, his hips squirming and legs thrashing.

“Oh yes,” Maria called out, her head falling back and her legs going stiff. She squirmed and bucked over his face, his tongue lashing at her clit as waves of pleasure flowed through her body. She rode his face until the last spasms of her orgasm passed and she fell limply against the headboard of the bed.

After a few minutes, she rolled off him and cuddled him close. Looking down at his pulsating cock, she cooed sympathetically, “Poor baby, let’s see what we can do about that.”

He sighed with relief as he felt her moving above him. Finally, she was going to allow him to cum. He shrieked and nearly came off the bed as he felt her hand, full of ice cubes, close around his rigid erection. She laughed cruelly and applied them to his aching balls as well. Using both hands, she massaged him with the dripping ice cubes until he was shivering and his cock was only semi-hard.

“That wasn’t too bad, but I’ve had better,” she said, referring to her earlier orgasm.

“Right now I really need a big, hard cock inside me.”

She looked at his shriveled cock contemptuously and reached across him to rummage in the bedside table.

“This is what I need. You watch carefully and see what a full size dick looks like.”

She was holding a Goliath silicone dildo, shimmery purple and exquisitely detailed with lifelike veins and ridges.

Allen’s eyes went dark with lust and his abused cock twitched with returning life. He adored watching her masturbate and seeing the huge dildo filling and stretching her tight pussy was enough to drive him wild.

Rising, she closed her hand around him and led him back to the chair. His gait was awkward because his hands were still bound to his thighs. He stumbled once, and she yanked viciously on the leash, wringing a moan of pleasure-pain from him.

“Don’t be so clumsy.”

She positioned the chair for the best view of the bed and pushed him down into it. Then she detached the thigh cuffs and freed his hands.

“I know you aren’t going to touch yourself until I say you can,” she stated calmly.

“Yes, My Lady,” he said acquiescently.

Maria stretched out slowly on the bed, laying the Goliath beside her. She began by running her hands all over her body, stroking her breasts, belly and upper thighs. Spreading her legs, she slowly caressed the crease between hip and thigh, allowing her thumbs to lightly brush her swollen outer lips.

She returned her attention to her breasts, cupping them in her hands, then toying with the hard nipples. Looking between her spread thighs, her eyes met Allen’s and she could see him breathing heavily, his cock hard all over again. She pinched and squeezed, rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger. Then she clenched her thighs together, rhythmically applying pressure to the swollen flesh between them.

The ache became too great and she needed something to fill her. Reaching for the Goliath, she slipped it into her mouth, sensuously sliding it in and out, wetting it. Allen groaned softly as she fucked her own mouth with the huge dildo. Withdrawing it, she drew it slowly down her body, caressing her collarbone, rolling it over each nipple, dragging it down her belly.

Moving it between her spread legs, she used the tip to tease her clit, tapping it, circling it, bringing herself almost to orgasm. Then, finally, she began to put it in. Slowly, slowly, she pushed the dildo into her slippery pussy, her body vibrating with pleasure at being filled and stretched. Allen’s eyes never left the sight before him, and he unconsciously began to stroke his rigid flesh. Maria noticed with a small smile, but decided not to punish him for disobeying. Yet.

She closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of the huge lifelike cock buried in her throbbing flesh. She thrust it in and out, hard, using the other hand to pinch and pull a nipple. Just as she was on the brink of orgasm, she withdrew the Goliath and set it aside. Allen’s eyes widened as she rose from the bed and strolled slowly toward him.

“I told you not to touch yourself,” she said, looking down at his hand.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry My Lady. I got carried away. I need to cum so desperately. Please, please don’t punish me.”

Maria shook her head sorrowfully. “How else will you learn?” she asked.

“Stand up and bend over the back of the chair.”

Allen did as he was instructed, trembling with anticipation. She took a wooden paddle from the chest against the wall.

“I ought to shove the handle up your ass, but you’d like that too much. So I’ll just have to make you remember this way.”

She applied the paddle with slow, deliberate strokes, using all her strength. After her arm tired, she pushed him away from her, causing him to fall heavily to the floor.

Staring deeply into his eyes, she slowly raised her foot and planted it squarely in his crotch. Her red spike-heeled mule dug into his ball sac and he cringed and closed his eyes. She applied more pressure, then when he sucked in a breath and twisted his head pleadingly, a little more.

Looking down at him she said softly, “Next time you disobey me, I’ll crush these like walnuts.”

“Yes, My Lady,” he gasped. His face was bathed in sweat and he was trembling.

“Now, back on your knees,” she directed.

He scrambled up and knelt before her. She was amused to see he hadn’t lost his erection.

“Because of your disobedience, I never finished pleasuring myself. So I may have need of your little cock after all.”

His face lit up and his cock swelled further.

“Stroke it and make it as hard as you can for me.”

He did so and when she judged he was ready, she sank to her knees in front of him, then backed up so her ass was against his crotch.

“You are not to move,” she instructed patiently. “Can you get that one small thing right?”

He nodded eagerly.

Maria raised her hips slightly and backed into Allen’s erect cock. He moaned as she slowly slipped him inside her wet pussy, pushing back against him until he was buried to the hilt. She began moving her hips, rotating against him in a maddeningly slow, irregular rhythm.

He was stone still, head thrown back, body tense and aching for release. She reached back and grabbed one of his hands. Drawing it between her legs, she masturbated herself with his fingers, rubbing her clit furiously. Letting out a cry, she finally climaxed, her pussy shuddering and convulsing around him.

She could feel his hand tighten on her hip and she quickly moved away, making him moan as her wet pussy slid off his aching cock.

Turning around, she looked at him consideringly. He was flushed and trembling, his cock twitching and glistening with her juices.

“Are you ready?” she asked softly.

Without waiting for answer, she took him into her hand and began stroking him.

“You were a good boy and didn’t move when I told you not to. So I think I’ll let you cum. Maybe next time you’ll behave well enough to be allowed to cum inside me.”

She continued softly massaging his cock, rubbing his balls and looking into his eyes. His balls tightened and she knew he would not last much longer. She stroked harder and faster and finally his body went completely rigid and he cried out as he finally achieved release. Kneeling face-to-face with him on the floor, she allowed him to shoot stream after stream of hot cum all over her chest. As the spasms subsided, his head dropped to her shoulder and she ran her fingers through his hair and rubbed his back soothingly.

When he’d finally caught his breath, she said, “Now you have to clean up your mess.”

Obeying with alacrity, he began to lick her breasts, removing every trace of the sticky semen.

“Very good,” she praised him, then reached down to retrieve the leash that was still attached to his leather cock ring. She led him to the bed, pulling back the covers and tucking him in.

“You must be tired, so you need to take a little nap. I’ll be back in awhile.”

As she left the room, Allen burrowed naked under the covers, shivering with anticipation and no small amount of fear of her return.

“Contessa, I think I’ve found exactly what you’re looking for.”

La Contessa is on a mission; she has brought me into the Cannaregio district of Venice again to scour her contacts in the whore-houses of Venice for a girl who can play the role of a slave girl for her. She is deep in conversation with the matron of Il Torro Negro tavern. I was raised in the Cannaregio and before being found by one of her servants and entering the service of La Contessa I used to serve in the inns and brothels around here and, of course, do any work that was offered to me, whether that meant prostituting myself with a noblewoman or with some visiting merchant.

Eighteenth century Venice is a tolerant liberated city and the alleyways of the Cannaregio one its most debauched districts. La Contessa takes pleasure in visiting these places in Venice’s dark underbelly, sometimes in disguise, sometimes not. The last time I was in Il Torro Negro I was dressed as a noblewoman and debauched in one of La Contessa’s perverted scenes. But today La Contessa appears as herself, dressed sumptuously in an indigo gown woven with pearls and her ebony hair swept above her head and held by two ivory combs. Over her shoulder is a black velvet cape. She wears a plain white mask over her eyes to disguise her identity, though she is so renowned in Venice that it probably serves little purpose. All eyes in the tavern are turned on her. The brothels of the Cannaregio attract a diverse clientele and it is not unusual to find noblewomen here searching for some sexual excitement and they wouldn’t normally attract a second glance but La Contessa is a woman who commands attention wherever she goes. Her statuesque figure, her voluptuous curves and stunning dress draws the draws the gaze of everybody in the tavern.

“So, what makes you think she will be suitable?” La Contessa asks.

“I got a chance to speak with her. Her tale is a sorry one. She’s had many unfortunate encounters. But, she says she is genuinely submissive and I believe her. “

“Do you think she understands what service to me would mean?”

“I can’t say for sure your ladyship.”

“I’ve plenty of girls in my service who will prostitute themselves for me and are only too willing to suck cock and offer themselves to be fucked at my masquerade balls, but I’m looking for someone special, a girl who’s prepared to go further, who has the imagination to participate in my little games and is willing to do anything for her mistress.’

“All I can say Contessa is this girl struck me as being a bit different. I see plenty of pretty girls who come to me wanting to work here but this one isn’t like the others.”

“Hmm,” La Contessa ponders, “I’m definitely interested in her. Where’s this girl now?”

“Ah well, that’s the problem your ladyship, she’s in the hands of a merchant from Syria who’s been staying here. He asked for a private cellar room where he could keep a girl. I found him a little cell room in the cellars where he keeps her. I don’t know what he does to her there; it’s none of my business your ladyship, I’m sure you understand, I don’t interfere in anyone else’s business. But, I sometimes take her food, which is how I got to talk to her. She’s a pretty girl Contessa though I’ve got to say she’s in a bit of a sorry state at the moment.”

“Take me to her.”

“Oh, that’s a bit difficult your ladyship, only the gentleman is down there with her now.”

“Do you dare cross me Madame?”

A fierce stare, a raised eyebrow and a few harsh words and the poor matron of the house is catapulted into a state of agitation.

“Oh no, of course not your ladyship. I don’t mean to contradict you. I’m sure I can arrange something. Come with me.”

La Contessa has a satisfied smile on her face. We follow the matron down winding stone steps to the cellars where she points to a door hidden away in the corner and leaves us. My mistress gestures for me to be silent as we creep forwards. There is a metal grill in the door and La Contessa positions herself so that she can see through the door without being seen herself. She gestures for me to take a position on the other side so that we can both peep through the opening in the door.

The matron of the house was being coy about the purpose of the cell as it is perfectly clear that it’s part of the services she provides in her brothel and is designed for the use of her clientele with more sadistic tastes. It’s a dark cell fitted out with numerous chains and hooks. At first all I can see is a man’s back dressed in baggy light blue pantaloons and top and a turbaned head but as he turns to one side I can see a pot-bellied Arab man with a long black beard, who is clearly the merchant from Syria. Looking past him I can now see the girl. She is crouched in a corner, chained and shackled like a wild animal in a cage. The waves in her fair hair are matted and her body bears the marks of physical abuse. There is a metal collar around her neck attached to a long chain, which is fastened to a hook in the stone wall. At the moment this affords her some freedom of movement but her wrists and ankles have heavy metal shackles on, which have been used to secure her to the wall.

The merchant takes a pace towards her and slaps her hard across the face with the palm of his hand and draws it back again striking her other cheek with the back of his hand.

“Whore slut of Bablyon,” he shouts at her. “You’re my slut and sex slave now. When I get you back to my land you’ll be made to service all my family. I have seven sons, all of them randy. They’ll take pleasure in having a little white girl to fuck. You’ll be my sex slave for life, what do you think of that?”

The girl remains silent and the merchant slaps her violently across the face again.

“I said, what do you think of that girl?”

“Yes, very good master,” the girl replies quietly.

La Contessa is watching intently. Will she intervene I wonder? At the moment she appears content to let the scene unfold before her, her blue eyes gazing with studied fascination. I try to gauge the girl’s reaction to her abuse. Is she enjoying this treatment? I know that such a thing can be possible. I have been tormented and tortured by La Contessa many times and have learnt to appreciate the blurred line between pain and pleasure and stay loyal in my service to her because of, not despite of, her treatment of me. But, I see no hint of pleasure or engagement in the girl’s face, only a blank look. Her expression is resigned as if this is a fate that she has to accept.

The merchant pulls at the girl’s bodice and rips it apart releasing her ample breasts. He bends down and bites her on the tits. I can see the red marks he has left on her soft flesh. He reaches out for a whip that is on the floor and lashes her across the breasts with it. There girl doesn’t moan or whimper let alone scream. The act of striking the girl is arousing the merchant sexually as I can see the outline of a hard cock pressing against his loose pants.

“Get on your knees bitch,” he shouts at her. “I’m going to make you my bitch-dog you fucking slut. Now, get on all fours.”

With a clank of the metal shackles on her ankles and wrists on the stone the girl does as she is ordered and gets herself onto all fours. The Syrian merchant stands over her pulling the chain attached to her collar so the rough edges of the metal dig into her neck. He grabs hold of her hair and yanks it hard. The girl lets out a gasp and egged on by the reaction the merchant twists her hair around his fist and pulls even harder. This time the girl, anticipating what was going to happen, doesn’t react. He pulls her head around and puts his face close up to hers.

“I’m going to take you girl, like a bitch in heat. But I’m going to give you some punishment first because you’re an insolent whore. What are you?”

“An insolent whore and a bitch slut master,” she answers obediently.

She releases her hair and, whilst still on all fours, she pulls up her skirt and sets on her back-side with the whip. The blows rain down on the peachy flesh of her arse. The whacking sound of leather on skin fills the cell. The blows get harder and harder until her back side is glowing red.

“Take that you bitch. What do you say?”

“Thank you, sir.”

He throws the whip onto the ground, drops his pants and kneels in front of her. He twists her hair around his hand again and pushes her head down onto his erect cock.

“Now suck on it, slut.”

The girl responds immediately to the command and takes the angry hardness in her mouth and sucks on it. Her head bobs up and down as her lips run along the length of his throbbing member.

“Ooh, yes, suck hard you bitch, suck harder.”

Still holding onto her hair he pushes the girl’s head up and down his cock in fast rhythmic movements. He lets go of her hair and the girl continues the tempo of her sucking, her mouth moving in a frantic motions. The merchant looks at though he is about to burst, his face is bright red and he is moaning in ecstasy shouting, “suck me whore, suck me.”

Suddenly he pulls his cock out of the girl’s mouth and moves behind her. She’s still on her hands and knees in a doggy position and the merchant let’s go of her chain lead to grasp her hips and push himself into her cunt. He’s so close to coming that it only takes a few hard pushes before he releases his load into her. He moans in ecstasy. She pants for breath with the shock and force of the final penetration. She collapses onto the floor, no longer able to hold the position on her hands and knees, and the weight of the Syrian merchant’s corpulent body falls onto her.

La Contessa and I look on transfixed. I can see Mistress is not interested in the cock sucking and the forced fucking, she is studying the girl’s behaviour, her facial expressions and her reactions, weighing up her potential to participate in La Contessa’s more refined exotic play. The girl can certainly take some punishment but it’s hard to judge if she’s taking it because she has to or because she genuinely desires it. La Contessa will want more than a passive vehicle for abuse like the crude merchant; she will want a slave who is willing and open, who will be prepared to explore all the sadistic fantasies that La Contessa can offer her.

Having taken his pleasure the merchant sits the girl up with her back against the wall of the cell, he lifts her arms, spreads them out and chains her to the wall and then spreads her legs and locks them to rings set in the floor.

“I’ll be back to take some more pleasure from you later,” he threatens.

It’s at this point that La Contessa decides to intervene. She pushes the door open and strides imperiously into the cell. La Contessa towers over the merchant, filling the small room with all her feminine power and beauty. The merchant is startled. Before he can respond La Contessa proclaims her intentions.

“You have a very pliable young girl there. I am looking for just such a girl for my own household. I will offer you good money for her.”

The Syrian’s brown eyes light up at the word money but he is too experienced a haggler to sound too eager.

“She’s my sex slave now. She belongs to me. Why should I give up my slut-bitch to you?”

“I will offer you a good price for her.”

“How much?”

“Four silver soldi.”

“No, six.”

“No, four. Come, with four silver soldi in your pocket you can fuck every whore from here to Damascus five times over and still have change.”

“No, six,” insists the merchant.

“I will offer you five. Besides she’s damaged goods. It’s a good price and you know it. If you carry on like that she’ll be worth nothing. Even fully fit you’d only get one soldi for her at the slave market. Five is my final offer.”

The merchant pretends to ponder for a little while but they both know he doesn’t want to lose the sale.

“OK, mysterious masked lady, you have a deal.”

“Excellent, my servant will return with the money and collect the girl this evening. It’s been good business for me.”

“Likewise for me, Madame,” says the merchant as he takes La Contessa’s hand and plants a kiss on it.

She bristles, pulls her hand away, and throws him a disdainful look before sweeping out of the cell. Her look throughout the brief negotiations for the girl was inscrutable and I am amazed that she would hand over five silver soldi to the creepy Syrian. Against my better judgement my curiosity gets the better of me.

“But mistress, are you really going to give that rat five soldi?”

“Idiot of a servant. Do you think I would hand over good money to a worthless serpent like that. I want the girl. I’m very interested in the girl. She has potential. But, I’m not paying five soldi for her. Take my signet ring and go to the procurator of the Sestiere dei Cannaregio and demand on my behalf that he send constables to arrest him. I have plans for him. You will go with them. Say the girl has been stolen from me and then bring her back to my palace for me to deal with.”

I smile; how foolish of me to doubt La Contessa’s determination and ingenuity.

“Yes, of course mistress. It will be a pleasure.”


La Contessa is waiting in her throne room; at her feet is one of her slaves on all fours being used as her foot stool, naked save for a leather hood.

I beckon the girl into La Contessa’s chamber. She looks forlorn and bedraggled; her hair is a tussle of fair waves and her bodice and skirt are rough and torn. She has scratches on her cheek, bruises on her upper arm, sore marks around her neck, wrists and ankles where the iron shackles have been and welt marks all over her, all the results of her abuse at the hands of the Syrian merchant. But La Contessa has seen past her battered body and unkempt appearance and recognises the potential in her.

La Contessa rises up, pushes her slave onto the floor with her booted feet, steps onto him, pauses for a few moments as the man gasps trying to take the full weight of her with the sharp heels of her boots digging into his back before stepping down off him. Two deep indentations are left in the servant’s back. She comes forward a few paces, her penetrating blue eyes appraising the girl.

“What’s your name girl?” She asks.

“Kimberley, Madame, but I’m known as Kim.”

“Kim, that’s a strange name.”

“It’s foreign Madame. I’m from England.”

They stand facing each other, La Contessa still in her sumptuous indigo gown and the girl Kim, in tattered rags as if she had been dragged through the alleys of Venice. The one is imperious; the other is forlorn, but with a quiet air of dignified resilience. La Contessa runs her painted fingers sensuously down the girl’s face and gently straightens a few strands of tousled yellow hair.

“She’s very lovely,” La Contessa says, turning to face me. “I love her fair hair and pale skin. It’s so unusual to see such a complexion even in a cosmopolitan city like Venice. My companions will love her; I think they will be attracted to her peach like complexion. When she is bathed and dressed by my maids I think her underlying beauty will shine for all to appreciate. Tell me girl, how is that you find yourself in Venice.”

“It’s a long tale Madame, but I will try to be as brief as I can. I once served a master back in Norfolk in England. I submitted to him dutifully and he dominated me like a true master but he lost all his money when the wool trade collapsed and he sold me to a German merchant from the Hanseatic League. Much of his trade was through Venice and he brought me here with him as his sex slave but, just a few days ago, he bet me as a stake in a game of dice to a Syrian merchant and lost. The Syrian was even crueller and abused me terribly, as you have seen.”

“I hear that you are submissive, yet you speak of your abuse as if it were a trial for you?” La Contessa queries.

“This is true, but yet the German and Syrian did not truly dominate and control me Madame, they just used me abusively,” Kim replies.

La Contessa nods quietly to herself.

“Well spoken girl. Yes, there are but a few men who understand what it is to truly dominate. They think that beating a girl up and raping her is sadism. They are wrong, true sadism is an art form. Don’t you agree slave?” she asks turning towards me.

“Oh yes mistress,” I concur enthusiastically, “and you are its most skilled proponent.”

La Contessa curls her red lips into a smile.

“To be a true sadist you must have the artistry of a painter, the perception of a mind reader and,” she let out a wicked little laugh, “a cruel and twisted imagination. It is not brutal, it is subtle and refined. It takes a special person to possess it and, I think, a particular kind of submissive to receive it and really appreciate it. Are you that kind of person Kim?”

At this La Contessa runs her hands down Kim’s neck and pulls her ripped bodice apart so her breasts are exposed. She runs the tips of scarlet fingernails across the pale flesh of her breasts and takes a nipple between her fingers. The two women look into each other’s eyes. La Contessa squeezes the soft buds of Kim’s nipples between her hard nails. Kim expels a gasp of air and the slightest shudder ripples through her body but she does not flinch for one second and her eyes remain fixed on La Contessa. She takes Kim’s other nipple between her nails and squeezes them both simultaneously. I have been subjected to this treatment myself. I know how sharp La Contessa’s nails are, I know how painful it feels when she squeezes nipples so tightly. I watch on fascinated. La Contessa is testing the girl and she, for her part, is showing her what she is capable of taking. Her eyes have glazed over with the effort of enduring the pain but they are still locked onto La Contessa’s.

“Do you know what it means to serve me girl?”

“No, Madame,” Kim whispers.

“I am an exacting Mistress. I am cruel and capricious. I expect my servants to obey my every word without question. I demand a lot from them. The nature of my household is, how should I say, bizarre and perverted. Yet for those that genuinely give themselves up to me and embrace their servitude the rewards are great. Isn’t that so slave?”

“Oh, most definitely Mistress,” I reply with feeling.

La Contessa, still gripping Kim’s nipples tightly with her nails, twists them suddenly and firmly. The girl’s eyes flicker momentarily but then stare dreamily back into La Contessa’s.

“Do you still desire to serve me?”

“Yes Madame. Yes please Madame, I do. Very much.”

“I don’t accept just anybody into my household. There must be a test, an initiation, to see if you are truly worthy to serve me. You have passed one little examination but this will be a far more strenuous challenge. Do you still want to go ahead?.”

“Yes please Madame.”

La Contessa finally releases Kim’s nipples. They are reddened and sore and I can see the deep impressions La Contessa’s nails have made in the soft flesh.

“Very well, I will make the plans for your initiation ceremony. Julia,” she calls to her personal maid. “This girl desires to join my household. As you can see she is in a poor state. I want you to look after her. Run her a bath and put some rose water into it. I will have her smelling like the old fashioned English garden. Find some salve for her cuts and bruises. Then find something suitable to dress her in. Report back to me on her progress, I want her ready for me a week from today. You will bring her back as my little rosy faced, fair haired submissive girl dressed for her initiation into the perversions of the world of La Contessa.”

With these ominous words La Contessa dismisses the girl and myself from her presence with a wave of her hand.


I wait for La Contessa underneath the portico at the entrance to her palace which overlooks the Grand Canal. Hers is one of the grandest palaces in Venice reflecting La Contessa’s wealth and social standing. Its frontage was remodelled earlier in the 18th century to create an elegant façade. An imposing stair case fans out before me down to the canal side. Kim is by my side having been bathed and dressed by La Contessa’s maids. She is wearing a crisp white sleeveless cotton bodice laced tightly so that her fulsome breasts are lifted up to show them off in all their soft milky magnificence. I can see her breasts swelling up and down with every breath that she takes. Her skirt is decorated with a bright rustic floral pattern. Her lips have been painted a subtle pink and her cheeks with the merest touch of rouge to set off her pale skin. The knots have been combed out of her fair hair which tumbles in waves down to her shoulders and she smells fragrant. I can see La Contessa’s vision for Kim; she has been re-cast for her as a fresh and innocent peasant girl dressed in her finest clothes for some special occasion. She is lovely. At the sight of her I have to control the swelling that is rising up in my cock. I daren’t let La Contessa see any traces of an erection or I know I will be in for a severe punishment. She looks calm and serene now but I wonder if she knows what she has let herself in for. I have experience of La Contessa’s bizarre and wicked imagination and know that the ordeal she will devise for this night will be a challenging one for the girl.

I can hear a bustle of activity behind me as La Contessa, with a coterie of attendants, sweeps through the grand marbled entrance hall of her palace. As always La Contessa looks stunning. She is wearing a low-cut silk gown in bright scarlet with matching silk gloves. Over her shoulders is a huge hooded cloak, also in scarlet. Her black hair is combed long and loose tonight. She wears a magnificent pair of knee length boots designed in soft Italian leather with real silver buckles, white silk laces and long stiletto heels capped with pure silver. I reflect on much I desire to kneel at her feet and worship her. Her attire is finished with an ornate red mask to match her dress and decorated with long plumes of feathers in red, orange, yellow and gold. She looks wonderful, like she really is a phoenix rising out of the flames.

She looks across at Kim and her red lips curl into a smile of satisfaction. One of the attendants puts a black cape over Kim’s shoulders to keep her warm from the chill on the crisp spring night and then a mask of peacock feathers over her eyes.

“You look lovely my dear. You look and smell like an English rose, all fresh and innocent, but ready to be picked,” she added ominously. “You know you must give in to me completely and submit to whatever plans I have made for you. I trust you are ready for your trial. Are you nervous girl?”

“Yes, Madame, but I am still willing to submit to you.”

“Good, that is how it should be. Now we must go.”

La Contessa puts an arm through Kim’s and they step down the staircase together to the waiting gondola moored at the foot of the grand entrance to the palazzo. It is my task to accompany them both tonight and transport them to La Contessa’s secret destination. Her gondola of black lacquered wood with fittings of solid gold is a magnificent vessel, as befitting her wealth and status. La Contessa takes up her position on silk cushions under the ornate gilded ‘felce’, a small gazebo like structure in the centre of the gondola, fitted with curtains of red and gold damask tied back so La Contessa can be admired by all. Night has descended and the gondola is lit with lanterns hung from the ‘felce’ that illuminate La Contessa. Kim sits opposite her whilst I take up the oar at the stern of the boat. I push the flat bottomed vessel gracefully into the Grand Canal.

After we have been rowing for a few minutes, and whilst in full view of the crowds lining the Grand Canal, La Contessa gestures for Kim to come forward. She seductively parts her scarlet cloak so that the leather of her boots is exposed. No words are exchanged between them. Kim knows instinctively what she has to do. She gets down on her knees before La Contessa and starts to lick her boots. She runs her tongue across the sole of the boot and then takes the silver tipped heel into her mouth and sucks. She kisses the toe of La Contessa’s boot and then runs her lips up its length cleaning the silver eyelets with delicate flicks of her tongue. I can see everything whilst steering the gondola and feel myself getting aroused. I also feel a twinge of jealousy; how I wish it was me at La Contessa’s feet, licking her soft Italian leather boots.

This is the city of my birth and I still marvel at its splendour. It is never more beautiful than at night time when the candle light from the magnificent palaces that line the Grand Canal reflect on the water so that ripples of light appear to dance on its surface. The Venetians are out in great numbers in all their finery. I can hear the bustle of street traders around Ponte Rialto and the mouth watering smells of food vendors plying their trade. This is my city and I love it, love the fact that I serve La Contessa and am honoured she has chosen me to carry her along the canals of Venice on this special task. In my heart I feel the girl Kim will not let her down. The gondola glides under Ponte dei Sospiri and soon after La Contessa gives orders to turn the gondola into the network of narrow canals in the Sestiere Santa Croce. It is nine o’clock at night and the bells from the hundreds of churches of Venice peal in unison all across the city. I sense the bells are tolling for the sinister fate that awaits the girl.

The lanes in this part are less well lit and the buildings close darkly in on the narrow canals. This is another aspect of Venice I love; its narrow canals, its winding lanes, places where you can get lost and places where there are dark secrets. We are gliding down just such an area, the atmosphere dark and oppressive, the buildings looming over us. La Contessa directs me to turn left and points for me to navigate the gondola towards a small landing stage. I notice a sign by the side of the iron gates above the stone steps, ‘Palazzo dei Sadismo’ it reads and I know we have reached our destination and that it is here the girl’s ordeal will begin.

I reach out my hand and assist La Contessa from her reclining position on the cushions of the gondola. She leads the way up a short flight of steps with Kim following her and me at the rear. I can feel the tension in Kim’s body as she climbs the steps to meet her fate. It’s a sensation I know only too well from those occasions when I have been summoned into La Contessa’s presence; a tingling fear of the unknown mixed with excitement and anticipation. I wonder if she saw the inscription on the building, “Palazzo dei Sadismo” and understood its meaning.

There is an iron grille at the top of the steps within which is set a gate that has been left unlocked and which La Contessa opens, its hinges creaking ominously. We enter a vast stone room with a vaulted ceiling, which had perhaps in the past been used as a wine cellar or store room, but which now is undoubtedly being used for more sinister purposes. La Contessa is an exacting mistress and expects everything to be perfect; she has no doubt sent forward instructions as to how she wants the room set out as it has already been prepared for her.

In the centre of the chamber there are four huge wrought iron candle sticks arranged on the floor in a square, two of them either side of a wooden frame that has been fixed to the floor and by its side a large wooden chest. The glowing church candles cast a gloomy and atmospheric glow over the vaulted chamber; its flickering light casting shadows across the stone ceiling. The light does not penetrate into corners of the large stone room but as my eyes adjust to the dimness I can see the hazy outline of other pieces of metal furniture, equipment designed for torture I am sure, perhaps recovered from the torture chambers of Venice’s medieval past or more recently from the counter reformation and the resurgent power of the Jesuits. I am reminded that Venice has not always been the liberated city state of this enlightened century. The outline of the equipment is indistinct in the gloom but it is clear the room has been set up as a place of torture.

I can see that the girl is spellbound as an awed hush permeates the room. The only sound is the click of La Contessa’s silver tipped heels on the stone floor as it echoes menacingly around the chamber. The vaulted ceiling is supported by a row of pillars and on the pillar directly opposite the wooden frame there is a short, fat bearded man tied. It comes as no surprise to me that this is the Syrian merchant who misused the girl as it was me who La Contessa used as intermediary with the procurator of the Sestiere dei Cannaregio to arrange his arrest and his subsequent transfer into the hands of La Contessa. Her power and influence in the city is great and, with the offer of a small gift and the promise of an invitation to one of La Contessa’s famous balls to partake of their perverted pleasures, he was easily persuaded to do her bidding.

The Syrian has been skilfully tied, his whole body covered in a criss-cross pattern of black ropes and an elaborate arrangement of knots pulled so tightly that I can see the rope burn marks on his wrists and ankles from struggling too much. He is also gagged with a ball gag made of a wooden ball covered in leather and secured with leather straps. On La Contessa’s appearance he struggles to shout abuse at her but all that comes out is a muffled noise. If this is not the work of La Contessa herself, who I know is an expert at rope bondage; it is of a skilled practitioner of the art.

I can see that Kim looks fearful at the presence of the Syrian merchant.

“Yes, it is I who have arranged for your tormentor to be here,” announces La Contessa, “don’t you trust your new mistress girl?”

Kim stands quietly and obediently, her arms behind her back, her breaths short and shallow. She relaxes her body, which bristled with tension at the sight of her abuser, and gives an affirmative nod.

Then La Contessa turns to me and says, “Servant, you will not be required to participate in the events of the night but I do want you to observe. And I don’t expect to see you getting aroused at any of the sights. You are here to witness only, do you understand? You know what punishments I can inflict if I think you are getting pleasure when all I need is your service. It occurs to me that perhaps you could write a little account of the proceedings for me. Who knows, if it amuses me, there might even be a little reward for you.”

“Yes mistress, of course,” I reply enthusiastically.

La Contessa’s painted fingernails pull gently on the cords of Kim’s bodice, slowly loosening the laces until with one final pull the bodice parts and the girl’s beautiful breasts are released. La Contessa runs a finger gently across the soft curve of her flesh and around her pert nipples, which are standing erect. Kim expels a little gasp of pleasure. La Contessa pulls the bodice off her shoulder and lets it drop to the floor. The tension of the moment is palpable; I am witnessing the subtle interplay between the dominant Contessa and her offering, her submissive girl. La Contessa squeezes her finger underneath the waist band of Kim’s skirt and runs it gently along her midriff brushing the soft hairs over her sex before finding the hook that is holding the skirt up. As La Contessa releases it, the skirt slowly slips over Kim’s hips and drops to the floor. On La Contessa’s instruction no doubt, the girl is not wearing any underwear. Kim quietly steps out of the skirt that has fallen around her ankles and kicks off her shoes. La Contessa brushes her pubic hairs with the back of her hand and sends tingle of pleasure rippling through her body.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” La Contessa asks, turning to me.

“Yes mistress, she’s lovely.”

Indeed she is wonderfully lovely. La Contessa’s maids have done a good job. The welt marks on her back-side, the sores on her ankles and wrists from the shackles, the cuts and bruises on her face and breasts have all healed. Her pale skin glows in the candle light and she is fragrant with the smell of the rose water she has bathed in.

La Contessa manoeuvres Kim into the position she wants her and the girl quietly complies with every touch and unspoken command as my mistress raises each arm in turn and ties her wrists onto hooks on the wooden frame with black rope and again as she pulls her ankles and spreads her legs, which are also tied to the wooden frame. Kim is now helpless and completely in La Contessa’s control.

La Contessa goes back to the wooden chest and pulls some objects out. She walks back to the Syrian merchant, the clicking of the silver heels on the stone floor gaining in menace with every step. She dangles some metal objects before the merchant’s eyes. Although they are clearly some kind of clamp I have never seen anything like them before. She stares into the merchant’s eyes, her powerful feminine presence, the gentle swelling of her breasts above the scarlet silk gown and the smell of her scent all conspire to overwhelm him into submission. La Contessa’s voice is low and full of menace.

“These are my newest toy. I know a trader of silks from China who, being aware of my special predilections, told me of these and I asked him to bring them back for me. Ahh, the Orient” she sighs wistfully, “now there’s a place where they know something about torture. Perhaps one day I shall travel there and refine my art. But, in the meantime, I have these. They’re called clover clamps and they are ingenious little things. When they close on your nipples they will hurt but then they will tighten with every touch so that, when a cord is attached to them, all I have to do is flick it,” and she demonstrates by flicking the merchant’s nipple with her finger nail, “and it will increase the pain. So, what do you think of that?”

She is playing with him and relishing every moment of it. She is in her element, teasing with cruel words and suggestions. The look on the merchant’s face is one of sheer terror but all he can do is grunt into his gag. La Contessa squeezes one end of the metal clamp and the other opens up. She stares into his eyes as she holds the metal object directly in front of him before moving it down and releasing it onto his nipple. There is a grunt of agonised pain through the gag. She does the same for his other nipple. La Contessa deftly ties pieces of thin cord to the ends of the clamps and steps back to her new slave girl, each purposeful click of her heels taking her nearer.

Now she faces the girl and wordlessly opens the clamp and holds it in front of her. From the shadows in the stone room I watch Kim’s reaction intently. She stares at the sinister metal object transfixed. With her other hand La Contessa plays with her nipple, stroking it, digging her nails in, squeezing and twisting it. Finally, she pulls her hand down and releases the clamp on the girl’s nipple. I notice Kim’s body tense and her lips expel a little gasp of air just at the moment the clamp tightens on her nipple and then, after the initial shock, her body relaxes into the pain. I look on enthralled. I know these clamps to be severe instruments capable of inflicting exquisite levels of pain yet the girl has taken them unquestioningly. I know La Contessa will be pleased with her. She repeats the process with a second clamp on Kim’s other nipple.

She takes the cord in her hand and jerks it hard making the merchant squirm in pain before tying it to the clamps attached to Kim. La Contessa laughs. I too, from my place in the shadows, smile at this ingenious piece of invention. The cord is taut between the slave girl and her former tormentor. La Contessa pulls the cord, just lightly at first, and the clamps close tightly on the two sets of nipples. She takes hold of the cord in her hand and pulls hard. The merchant lets out a muffled scream into his gag. Kim is silent, her eyes glazed into the effort of embracing the pain. La Contessa turns to the merchant.

“Do you see how the girl is stronger than you? Do you see how the girl can take the pain without whimpering?”

She takes out a leather thonged whip from the chest and begins to strike the merchant’s cock and balls with powerful harsh strokes. His body pulls and twitches from within its rope restraints, which only causes the clamps to dig more tightly and also to send a ripple along the taut cord that pulls on the girl’s nipples.

La Contessa laughs wickedly at their predicament.

“Don’t you see how you are two slaves joined in pain and punishment. Each movement you make will cause the other to suffer.”

This time she whips the merchant on the nipples, directly on the clamps, and once again he lets out muffled screams of pain. La Contessa turns to Kim and whips her right across her cunt. Her body jerks in reaction to the stroke. But Kim appreciates the game. She knows that every movement of her body will send a ripple down the taut cord and inflict pain on the merchant. She can also see that her acceptance and resilience is far greater than his and through her pain she can make the merchant suffer more. With each stroke of the whip she jiggles her voluptuous breasts and sends a surge of pain down the cord. La Contessa finds this hilarious. She is laughing out loud wickedly as she continues the play alternately whipping one of them or pulling on the tight cord to inflict the maximum torment, though it is the Syrian merchant who suffers the most.

“I could do this all night,” she smiles to herself, “but there are many more torments I need to administer before the night is out. Servant, you can untie him now.”

She pulls the nipple clamps off the girl first and then off the merchant but cannot resist the temptation of one final sharp tweak with her fingernails. I do as La Contessa has commanded unravelling the complex arrangement of knots. My youthful and muscular physique would always have been too much for the overweight Syrian but in his current state he is in no position to offer up any resistance. Once the ropes are released I drag him across the cold stone floor to the position La Contessa wants. He is soon lying on the floor his face directly below Kim’s sweetie, his wrists tied to the bottom of the wooden frame and his ankles to a set of wooden spreader bars.

La Contessa stands over him. She is a magnificent sight and I almost feel envious of the merchant in that position staring up at La Contessa’s voluptuous curves a stunning presence in her figure hugging scarlet silk gown. La Contessa shed her red cloak long ago and now her slender arms and shoulders are bare. She still wears the mask though, the bright fiery colours a contrast to her dark beauty. What a wonderful sight for the merchant, one that he hardly deserves. Once again I am trying to resist the swelling in my cock.

La Contessa rests one of her boots on the merchant’s chest. The shiny black leather and the glittering silver buckles are placed under his very nose. She raises the silver tipped heel over his sore and tormented nipples and presses down hard putting the full weight of her body down on the nipple. The Syrian grunts in anguish. She runs the sharp silver down his chest and across his stomach leaving a long red scratch. Finally, she rests the silver tip on the end of the Syrian’s cock, which lies flaccid and exposed on the stone floor. She presses hard, releases for a moment, and then presses even harder. The merchant’s body jerks up and down his body twisting with the pain and pulling on the restraints on his ankles and wrists. I can see spittle oozing from the side of the ball gag as he tries to scream. La Contessa is not finished yet though. She continues digging the sharp silver heels into his balls and then his cock again. Kim looks down into his face and witnesses his torment and humiliation.

La Contessa turns to me and gives me an instruction to undo the ball gag. As the leather covered ball is finally pulled from the merchant’s aching jaws he starts to spew out angry words in his native tongue. La Contessa turns on him, her eyes fiery with anger.

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear anything form you or it will end up very badly for you. What you have experienced so far is a mere fraction of what I am capable of. You will suffer in silence. Let it be known that La Contessa will extract her retribution from worthless males like you. There is one final act of humiliation I need to witness before I banish you from my presence.”

She gently strokes Kim’s sweetie and gazes into her eyes.

“Slave girl, this is your final act of retribution on your abuser. I think you understand what I need you to do.”

Kim nods. At first it is just a trickle of water as she starts to release her piss over him but soon it is a gushing torrent of hot water form her body, which covers his black beard and trickles into his mouth. It’s as if Kim has been saving it all up, holding it in her bladder, knowing the use that her golden waters will be put to. When the girl’s piss has been emptied all over her tormentor’s head La Contessa finally looks satisfied.

“Now servant, I want you to take this one away. I have finished with him. There is a cell at the end of the dungeon. You can lock him in there until he can be returned to the custody of the procurator.” Turning to the girl, La Contessa proclaims, “Now, my girl it is all about you, about your initiation to see if you are fit to become my slave girl. I’ve extracted retribution on your behalf from your abuser and I’m pleased with how you have acquitted yourself but there are more ordeals for you to face before I can fully admit you into La Contessa’s world.”

“Yes Madame, I understand Madame. I’m ready tosubmit to you.”

Whilst La Contessa is exchanging these words with Kim I take the merchant, his wrists tied together, and lead him away to the cell. When I return La Contessa is putting a blindfold of white silk over Kim’s eyes and over her peacock feathered mask.

“Can you see girl?” she asks.

“No, Madame,” Kim replies, breathless and nervous.

La Contessa gestures for me to stand quietly in the shadows as she retreats into the darkness at the end of the chamber. The gloomy candle-lit room descends into silence. I cannot tell if Kim is aware of my presence but I am aware of the tension building up in her as she waits; waits for some unknown trial. We both stand there in hushed silence, Kim on the wooden frame, me in the dark shadows, for perhaps an hour, maybe more. The sense of anticipation is great for me and I am only an observer, it must be overwhelming for poor Kim stretched out in blackness, waiting.

I hear the click of silver tipped heels on stone again. La Contessa is returning. There are black shadowy figures following her, four of them, all dressed in tight fitting black suits that show off the contours of their well formed male physiques. They are all wearing elbow length black silk gloves. Each is also wearing an animal mask – a lion, a zebra, a chimpanzee and a jackal. Once again I am astounded by La Contessa’s inimitable sense of theatre. La Contessa circles Kim speechlessly but her presence fills the room and the sound of metal on stone echoes around the chamber building up the tension. The black masked figures are silent and Kim cannot be aware of them.

One of the mysterious masked figures, the jackal, gently runs his silk glove across Kim’s shoulder and down her arm. I am watching intently and her reaction is astonishing. You would have thought she had received a stroke from a cane not the merest brush of a silk glove on her bare flesh. All the pent up anticipation had left Kim in a state of wild agitation. She must have been expecting the worse so the merest touch triggered an extreme reaction in her.

I can see La Contessa smiling to herself, pleased at the reaction her mind games have elicited from Kim. Soon there were silk covered gloves running all over Kim’s naked body; on her back, across her arse, up her thighs, across her stomach and over her swelling breasts. It is a sensual overload for her as she sighs and moans contentedly. She must know that pain will follow but for now she is wallowing in the sensuous touch, knowing that the severe torment is at least delayed. A hand runs over her pubic hairs, it runs silken fingers across her cunt. Kim moans. Silken fingers are inserted into her sopping cunt, first one, then two and then a third and are gently manipulated inside her. Kim gasps. Gentle hands run over her back side and a finger is inserted into her tight little arse hole. Kim groans.

It’s at this moment, with hands all over her and inside her, that La Contessa chooses to reveal the shadowy figures toying with her. She pulls the end of the white silk of the blindfold and lets it float gently to the floor. Kim looks around her bemused, disorientated. A lion’s mask is in front of her, a jackal is on its knees at her crotch pushing fingers into her, at her shoulder with hands on her heaving breasts is a chimpanzee and behind her she can catch a glimpse of the zebra with silk gloved finger in her arse and another hand running across her back-side. La Contessa steps back admiring her creation and smiling. The tempo of the movements increases; a second finger is thrust into her arse. Her senses are in overload, her body is tensing, building up eagerly for an orgasm and some release but the hands keep her hanging on the edge.

Suddenly, before Kim gets the release she is desperately yearning for, fingers are withdrawn from her orifices and hands removed. It’s like they have sensed some elemental danger and their instincts are warning them of some impending threat and their victim, Kim, has to be left, strung out to face this new presence.

I have been concentrating so much on the shadowy animal-masked figures and Kim’s reactions that I too have failed to notice another figure emerge from the darkness behind the girl. Black cloaked, leather gloved, wide black rimmed hat and finally, a white mask, its visage an upturned sinister grin. A leather gauntlet closes over Kim’s nose and mouth. She is shocked. She has not been aware of the shadowy figure that has sneaked up behind her. She can see La Contessa before her, no longer smiling, but severe and serious and realises that there is another presence in the room. She struggles for breath as the hand closes tightly around her gasping for every morsel of air that she can suck from between the gloved fingers. Kim is at the point of expiring when the hand is taken away and she can draw in a long deep draught of fresh air.

“La Contessa, it’s always a pleasure to receive you as a guest in my dungeon. You know how much I admire your bizarre and exotic imagination.”

La Contessa smiles appreciatively at the compliment.

“Il Padrino, you know how much I enjoy the use of your dungeon and sharing in our pleasure of the sadistic arts.”

“La Contessa, this is obviously the girl you spoke of who needs initiating. Do you think she is ready and willing?”

La Contessa nods, “Yes, I believe so. I think she is naturally submissive and can be trained to be my slave girl. Kim, you have come this far on a journey, you will not let me down now that you face the final stage of your initiation?”

“No Madame. No, I promise I won’t.”

“You see, Il Padrino, her answer comes from the heart. I think she is ready.”

The dark figure emerges from behind Kim.

“Girl, this is a partner of mine in the arts of domination, Il Padrino, or The Master, as I believe you might say in your native tongue,” La Contessa announces before turning to the mysterious cloaked figure. “She is lovely isn’t she? Marvel at her pale skin like delicate porcelain, like a little antique doll ready for us to play with.”

“Yes, so fresh and innocent and fragrant.”

“You should have seen her earlier when she was dressed as an English country rose. But, she’s not so innocent; she’s been rescued by me from abuse and savagery by a crude and ignorant male who does not understand our skill and art.”

La Contessa and her companion Il Padrino work together to untie Kim from the wooden frame. They steady her as she adjusts her body weight to a standing position. La Contessa’s attention to detail and artistry at creating her scenes is evident as Kim stands before them, la Contessa in her sleek scarlet silk gown and Il Padrino, all in black save for the unsettling white mask with its lurid grin.

Il Padrino pulls Kim’s arms behind her back and starts to bind her wrists together with long strands of silky black rope, twisting it two or three times around her slender white wrists and then pulling and knotting tightly. He starts to twist the remaining portions of rope up her arms. Kim remains passive and compliant, allowing him to bind her tightly without a murmer of complaint or resistance. As Il Padrino kneels to work on her legs La Contess threads a piece of rope under Kim’s breasts and draws it under her bound arms and across her back where it is knotted tightly. Mistress and Master work silently and skilfully with concentration, each knowing what the other is doing, both working together to put the girl into a complete and tight restraint. La Contessa draws two long pieces of rope from behind Kim’s back and pull’s them between her breasts and then over her shoulders pulling hard on the rope as she does. Meanwhile Il Padrino, kneeling at her feet, ties her ankles together and winds the remaining lengths of rope tightly round her legs up to the soft milky flesh of her things, supporting the weight of her body as he goes.

I gaze into Kim’s eyes from the shadows and see a whole range of emotions in them; fear, anticipation, acceptance and excitement are all there as she relinquishes control to the two dominant figures, one female and one male. La Contessa and Il Padrino finish their work. The girl is bound from toe to neck in a criss-cross pattern of black ropes. Las Contessa’s work on her breasts is especially artistic as an intricate pattern of ropes surrounds them and has been pulled tight so that her bosoms stand out tight and bright red with the tension of the ropes. Her breasts will so sensitive to touch now.

La Contessa reassures her, “Are you alright girl? Are your ready to go further?”

“Mmmm, yes Mistress,” Kim replies dreamily.

Il Padrino ties more ropes onto the knots at her back and threads them into the hooks at the top of the wooden frame. As they both let go of Kim Il Padrino pulls the rope supporting Kim and her body is pulled into the air, her back suspended by the rope tied around her arms.

She whimpers, “Oh, please, no.”

La Contessa reassures her, stroking he face as Kim hangs at an angle her feet barely touching the ground.

“Trust, you must learn complete trust in your Mistress. Let your body go girl and your whole being will drift into the experience.”

Kim nods quietly. She releases the tension in her body, lets the weight of her body go and allows the ropes to support her. More ropes are thread around her back and her ankles. Il Padrino pulls the rope pulley he has created within the frame and Kim’s body lifts into the air so that she is completely suspended, supported only by the ropes. Her body rocks and sways gently as Il Padrino steps back to admire his work; a naked body given up to bondage, entwined in black ropes with only a rosy skinned arse exposed.

La Contessa stands in front of Kim, their looks respectively dominant and submissive. The blues eyes behind the phoenix mask of fiery red, orange, yellow and gold silk and feathers gaze into the cool blue, green and turquoise feathers of the peacock mask. Two exotic birds locked into a bizarre exchange of power and control as one surrenders herself to the other.

“How do you feel girl?” La Contessa asks gently stroking her face.

Kim can barely utter a word so absorbed is she in the world of bondage into which she has been placed.

Finally she whispers, “Good. It feels right Madame, to be tied and bound. I can’t explain but, it feels good to surrender myself to you Madame.”

“Yes girl, I know it is. I understand. It’s where you belong, isn’t it? You know you must also suffer for me if you desire to offer yourself completely.”

“Yes Madame, I know.”

Il Padrino moves alongside La Contessa.

“Is she ready to be punished now?”

“Yes, she is ready,” replies La Contessa.

Il Padrino holds a flogger with long leather flails, but at its end of its handle is a golden lion, the symbol of Venice.

“Kiss the implement of your punishment girl,” he says as he puts the gilded handle to Kim’s lips.

Kim, still swaying suspended on the wooden frame reaches her head forward to gently touch the golden lion with her lips. Il Padrino runs the leather thongs of the flogger across her masked eyes and down her cheeks. Without the need for any order Kim instinctively knows what she must do as she touches the strands of leather with her lips.

“How many strokes should we give her?” he asks, “I think a round hundred would be good.”

Kim’s eyes widen to the size of saucers as she hears this proposal and she lets out the merest whimper of protest.

La Contessa laughs, “You think you can’t take a hundred; one day you will for your Mistress girl. Cruel though I am, even I think that might be a little excessive for an initiation. Tell me girl, how many strokes do you want?”

Kim goes silent for a moment as she contemplates her answer. I can guess what’s going through her mind. It’s a loaded question; choose too many and she will inflict a punishment on herself that she may not endure; choose too few and the Mistress and Master may not be satisfied it is enough and, perhaps, even insist on the full hundred. I know how La Contessa’s mind works. Kim announces her decision in a clear voice.

“I will accept whatever Mistress decides I must receive.”

La Contessa laughs again, “Excellent girl, you learn very quickly. Then I declare that you should take fifty strokes, forty with the flogger and the last ten with a cane, but don’t expect any restraint with the force of the strokes and there will be no mercy given even if you plead. La Contessa has chosen and you must submit to her judgement.”

“Yes Mistress, of course Mistress.”

Il Padrino runs the leather gently across Kim’s back side, which stick out invitingly from her suspended position. The first stroke hits with a lound slap that echoes around the dungeon. The Master is true to La Contessa’s warning; it’s a powerful stroke that’s delivered. The girl lets out a grunt of pain and her body rocks in the rope swing with the force of the stroke. Will she be able to endure fifty of these? The next four strokes come down building up in power with each successive stroke.

“How many’s that girl?” Contessa asks.

“Five,” Kim whispers through gritted teeth.

Il Padrino gives her a short rest and gently runs his hand across Kim’s arse, following the red marks he has made on her flesh with his finger. Kim moans with pleasure from the little respite she has been given. He delivers the next five strokes in quick succession. The punishment is heavy and I can see in the girl’s eyes that she is suffering. Her breathing is heavy and she expels little grunts with each stroke but does not flinch or plead for mercy. La Contessa takes up the flogger now. It’s her turn to administer the girl’s punishment. The ornate flogger rests comfortably in her experienced hands. She fits the role of the severe dominatrix perfectly. The golden lion on the handle rests in her hand and reflects the colours of her mask and scarlet silk of her gown. The thongs of the flogger dangle menacingly against her silver buckled boots.

She puts her mouth to Kim’s ears and whispers, “Your new Mistress will deliver the next ten strokes.”

Kim mumbles an acknowledgement. If she thinks she will get any respite from La Contessa’s hand then she will be sorely mistaken. She is skilled in this art and can deliver a stroke as hard as any male. The flogger strikes Kim’s back-side hard three times. I can see the soft flesh of her arse wobble with the force of the stroke and her bound body sway back and forth. I feel myself getting aroused from watching the spectacle. The sound of the flogger on flesh, her little moans and whimpers and the sight of her beautiful rounded arse in the air receiving this punishment has given me a hard-on underneath my breeches. La Contessa glances across at me knowingly. She misses nothing and I know that when we return to the palace there will be my own reckoning to face for this lapse.

I can see Kim is going deep into herself and her own ordeal of pain and pleasure. The force of the strokes combined with the rocking of the suspension takes her into a dream like state as she prepares herself to receive each new stroke. The punishment continues; the stinging whack of the flogger interspersed with the occasional gentle stroke of La Contessa’s or Il Padrino’s hand on her throbbing arse. By the fortieth stroke with the flogger her back side is glowing red and imprinted with darker lines where the implement has created a deeper impression on her skin.

There is a swishing sound now as Ill Padrino stands in front of Kim wielding the cane. He is a mysterious and magisterial figure in his black cloak, wide rimmed hat and white mask. He offers the cane up to Kim’s lips and she kisses its tip. Il Padrino and La Contessa administer five strokes each, all hard and relentless. Kim grunts at each stroke but accepts them bravely. The cane leaves a criss-cross pattern of red lines across her arse. The fifty strokes have been delivered and the girl has survived them.

A heavy silence fills the air. The audience of the four men in animal masks who are still in attendance and myself look on in admiration and respect at the Kim’s powers of endurance.

“Well girl, have you anything to say?” La Contessa asks angrily.

Kim has drifted into her own little world and looks confused at being brought back to earth.


A light of realisation switches on in her brain.

“Thank you Mistress. Thank you Master.”

“Yes, I should think so too. For forgetting to thank us without being reminded you will be given another five strokes of the cane.”

La Contessa sets upon poor Kim with another five heavy strokes. Kim, thinking she had endured the punishment, lets out a squeal with the shock of these extra, unanticipated, strokes. I think these are probably the hardest for her to take.

“Thank you Mistress,” she gasps after the final hit; she won’t be making that mistake again.

“Good, I am satisfied with what you have taken girl; and you Pardino?”

“Yes, Contessa, I think she has taken her punishment well.”

La Contessa signals for me and the chimpanzee masked man to untie Kim’s arms and legs and help her down and sends the remaining assistants on another errand. As the two of us untie the carefully constructed arrangement of knots we support Kim’s body as we bring her down from the suspension frame. The other men return with another piece of torture equipment; a rack, which they place in the centre of the vaulted room in the middle of the cast iron candlesticks. Surely Kim is not going to have to endure more punishment?

Kim has drifted off into her own sub-space. The movement has still not returned to her legs and she needs to be supported. Il Padrino stands before her. He brushes her bush of fair public hair with his hand and runs fingers across her cunt lips.

“Ooooooh,” moans Kim.

“Look, she’s wet Contessa. She’s sopping. I think she’s been aroused by her punishment.”

“Is this true girl, are you turned on?” La Contessa enquires.

Il Padrino pushes a second finger into her pussy and moves them both around inside her in a circling motion.

“Oooh, I think I must be,” Kim replies guiltily.

“So, you get pleasure from receiving pain?”

“Mmm, yes, I must do Madame.”

“Hmm, it’s lucky for you that you’re not a male slave because I don’t tolerate any of them getting sexual pleasure,” she tells Kim casting a meaningful glance across at me, “but in a girl slave, well, if you feel aroused, then I can’t possibly let you go without letting you get some satisfaction.”

La Contessa has a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“Assist her onto the rack,” she orders.

We help Kim, now unbound except for the ropes still wrapped tightly around her tits, onto the rack. She lays down and waits for the next stage in her initiation into the world of La Contessa. Leather cuffs are attached to her wrists and ankles and her arms are stretched out onto the rack whilst her legs are stretched out with chains attached to the cuffs and pulled over the wood frame so that her legs are spread up into the air and her wet cunt exposed to view.

The girl is tied to the rack and the four animal masked figures stand beside her, two at either side, with La Contessa and Il Padrino at either end. La Contessa leans over her, her ample cleavage thrust into he face as she first caresses and then gently nips the girl’s swollen and reddened breasts. She produces the wicked metal clamps again and closes them around the girl’s nipples. Kim simpers with pain. La Contessa goes to each of the masked figures in turn and unbuttons their black suits at the crotch and pulls out four erect penises. The scene is bizarre; Kim spread out on the rack and the dark masked figures, lion, chimpanzee, jackal and zebra now with hard erections sticking out of their shadowy black bodies illuminated by the candle light.

He knelt before Mistress Afro. His hands on his thighs palms up and eyes cast down in proper slave fashion at her front door. He had removed his clothes and placed them in the box she left on the porch.

She smiled down at him at her, her eyes glittering and her mouth upturned in a smile. He had been trained and trained well.

“Yes?” She asked “What do you want?

“Permission to enter Mistress Afro Ma’am?” He said in half a whisper and normal voice.

“Please enter and welcome pet!” Mistress Afro said.

He crawled in over the marble threshold and followed behind her, glancing up at her long brown legs and firm buttocks. He did this not to leer lastly at her but to make sure he did not run into her.

She turned around and laughed at him a little.

“You are such a good subbie boy, aren’t you? She said and did not wait for an answer. “You didn’t know if you had my permission to stand, so you took it upon yourself to crawl. ”

She petted his bald head. “Good boy!”

“Now stand and let me examine my latest acquisition.”

He stood to his full 5’9 “height, his back straight.

She walked around him and she towered over him. He kept his eyes cast down at the floor.

“Not bad a little soft in the middle.” She said as she poked him with her Oak crop.

“Spread your legs!”

He spread his legs wide. She looked at his cock and balls.

“Well typical cock size for a white male and your balls are nice and big. Better targets for me to aim for” She laughed wickedly.”

She took the crop and tapped his balls. He bit his lip. She hit them a little harder and he winched a little but did not cry out.

“Good you are well trained!”

“Tell me little one have you played with yourself recently?”

He said softly “Yes Ma’am!”

She smiled at him and gave his cock a whack with the flogger.

“You will always address me as Mistress, never as Ma’am slave!” She growled.

“Sorry Mistress Afro.” He said somewhat annoyed with himself.

“Go over to the table!” She pointed with the crop. “And bring back what you feel I should punish you with”

He walked to the table and picked up a leather flogger. He started to walk back but she stopped him. “Did I tell you to walk yet?”

“No Mistress.”

“Crawl back with the flogger between your teeth and make sure you get no slobber on it.”

He took the flogger between his teeth, then knelt on the floor and crawled back to where she was waiting for him.

He raised his head toward her hand. She took the flogger out of his mouth.

She tapped the arm of her white leather couch.

He crawled over and then bent himself over the couch arm.

She raised the flogger and brought it down hard on his soft white ass.

“Count to twenty for me, pet.” She ordered.




And so it went till each side had twenty slaps.

She stepped out of the room and came back shortly. He stayed bent over the arm of the couch.

He heard the glop coming out of a tube and then she applied the cream to his tender red ass.

“This will help with the soreness “She said. “Now get back down where you belong”

He knelt back on the floor; she walked over to the couch and ordered him to sit in front of her.

“As a reward for being so good while I flogged you, you may remove my shoes and massage my tired feet.

He nodded and removed her 3 inch golden sandals from her feet. He took her feet in his hands and started to massage the soles of her feet. Her brown toes were very long.

“MMM you are doing a very good job, my pet.”

He nodded.

“You may speak freely “She said.

“Thank You Mistress Afro!” He said

Once he knew her right foot was relaxed he switched to the left foot.

She hiked up her white dressing gown and showed him her treasure.

“One day if you are really good, you will get to lick my treasure, my dear one.”

“Thank You Mistress it would be an honor!”

When she had enough of her foot massage, she had him follow her to her basement. There she opened a storage cabinet and took out something he could not see.

She turned around. In her hand she had two items. One was a training collar. The other a cock cage.

“Will you accept these two items as your loyalty to me? ” She asked him.

“Yes Mistress Afro, oh yes!” His eyes formed tears.

“Bow your head” She ordered him.

He bowed his head and she put the small collar around his neck. To the vanillas in the world it looked like one of those sports necklaces but this head a lock on it.

Inscribed was Property of Mistress Afro… She locked the collar around his neck.

Next she encased his cock and balls in the cock cage. She locked it. She put the key in a locket around her lovely throat.

“You can pee in it, but you not are able to masturbate unless I release you.”

He nodded and thanked her

“Now you go and put your clothes back on and go home, I will see you next week. Same time.” He reached down and stroked his white face.

“And shave off that poor excuse of a beard”

She slapped his still tender white ass before she opened the front door.

He heard the door close behind him and lock.

As he put on his clothes he thought to himself.

“What a wonderful woman my Mistress Afro is!”

Orange nail polish. This is what he remembered about Her. He was kneeling in the doorway of her studio.

He didn’t hear her come into the hallway, his heart was racing too fast , the heartbeats pounding in his ears. The palms of his hand were sweating onto his green khaki pants.

He was nervous as all get out. Wouldn’t You be if you were about to met the Mistress of your dreams.

They had been talking for a few weeks on the phone.

Her open toed shoes showed off her recently manicured feet. Bright orange toenail polish adorned the perfectly shaped digits.

“You may stand ” She said , her voice made him feel like a school boy getting his first crush.

He stood to his full five foot eight inch height. They were eye level now, he kept his back straight but his eyes cast down.

“You may look at me, marcus!” She said.

“Thank You Mistress!” He said.

He gazed into her beautiful green eyes. . She looked into his as well and her long fingers moved up and caressed his chin. Her touch was very light.

“Yes!” She said as she gazed into his hazel eyes.

“I see the passion you spoke of in your eyes!” She said. “I believe we can harass that to make you more confident.”

She walked away and crooked a finger at him. He followed Her.

Soon they were in her studio. She stood next to a medical examination table.

“Take off your clothes and put them on the chair.” She told him.

He did as he was told. He stood before her and she walked around him.

“Hmm, Hmm!” She kept saying.

“You are quite hairy, aren’t you boy?”

“Yes Ma’am!” He said.

“This can be cured rather quickly!” She said as she patted the exam table top.

He sat on the table.

“Lay down boy!” She growled a little.

He lay down on the table and she had him put his legs in the stirrups.

She left him for a moment or two. She came back and he heard something being set on the table next to the bed.

She Velcro’d his legs into the stirrups.

She started applying hot wax to his crotch area. It was warm and it stung a little when it was applied. She let it set for a few moments and then yanked it off.

He bit his lip and some blood flowed from his mouth.

She ripped off another piece of wax. He moaned as the wax ripped off his crotch hairs.

“You did well marcus, very well.” Mistress Orange said to him as she released his legs from the stirrups.

“Come!” She said as she walked to the Saint Andrews cross.

When he got to the cross, she had him turn away from her. She cuffed him to the cross.

“Now that I see you can take some mild pain, let’s see what your pain threshold is.”

She got out her favorite flogger. She let it hit his back lightly as first. Then she increased the speed and hardness.

He leaned his head into the cross and let the tears flow from his eyes. He kept his mouth closed.

It seemed like it was an hour but it was just a few moments.

She released him from the cross and let him sit down to rest for a few moments. She applied a special salve to his welted back.

After she determined that he was rested enough she went and sat in her favorite chair.

She slipped out of her shoes and told him to crawl to her.

He did as he was told; he crawled on the hard wood floor the oak wood hard on his knees.

“Since you did so well today my sweet boy, I am going to allow you to worship my feet.

She wiggled her sexy toes at him.

He started to lick the soles of her feet and then slowly work up to her big toe.

He licked it lick like Popsicle. Long slow licks with his tongue.

Than taking her big toe into his mouth and sucking on it. He then kissing and licking her other toes as well.

She was amazed how talented his mouth was. Over and over he took great care to worship her feet.

Finally after worshipping all ten digits she commanded him to stop.

He looked up with some sadness in his eyes.

“No pet you did very well, don’t worry.”

“On Your next visit, if you do as well as this time, you will get to worship my feet again.

He smiled at her

“Thank You Mistress Orange.” He said.

“Most welcome, now you may get dressed, and I have another appointment coming in twenty minutes.

He dressed and asked permission to leave.

She walked him to the door and kissed his cheek,

He walked from the studio feeling like a brand new man.

Over the next few weeks, Mistress Orange tamed the passion in her new pet’s soul.

He became more confident; his life had more of a purpose now

He owed it all to Mistress Orange.

My name is Michael – family and friends call me Mike. At that time I considered myself an unremarkable 23 year-old, English WASP with a degree in psychology and a post-graduate certificate in education.

I was working through my last summer before starting teaching in a secondary school near my old home town. I was brought up with the ‘protestant work ethic’ and had always had a job of some description as I went through my further and higher education. Quite simply it meant that while many of my friends and fellow students had a slightly easier life at Uni’ they also had student loans they would be unlikely to see the back of until they reached their thirties. Mine was about the price of a new car and I reckoned with some careful saving I’d get shot of it pretty quick.

As a psych’ grad I also actually enjoyed working with people. They are wonderful to watch and many of the jobs I’d done had made me invisible; bus boy, barman, sous chef to name but a few.

The last one I’d done had been in my distant University town and had been in the legal firm of ‘Fox and Draper’ as ‘office support’.

The money was better than anything I’d done before and didn’t involve me wearing a name badge. I wore a suit and tie, and ran around the place organising typing, copying, filing, ordered stationary, all of those boring office jobs that hardly get noticed but no office can run without. I was there three afternoons a week during term time, and five days a week during holidays. It was great for me AND my CV and the solicitors and legal exec’s all seemed to like me, I loved it.

Except for Miss Connery; Sally Connery was office manager, technically my boss and a major BITCH. She was a complete pain in the arse that found joy in other people’s mistakes and delight in pointing them out loudly and going over them and all manner of the most improbable knock-on effects they could have resulted in.

I had little to do with her in the early days fortunately. The brief I worked for discovered pretty quick that I had a brain in my head and gave more challenging work. He ribbed me about ‘only being a teacher’ and that with my brain I could have found a proper job!

But for all that, he kept me away from her as much as he could, until he took a 6 week job on in New York and I was thrown into the pool with all the other unfortunates. Sally realised that I had been saved almost two months of her attitude and opinion and went after me with both barrels. Don’t get me wrong, the other office staff I dealt with were pretty good, but totally subjugated by this fucking harridan. I was no dummy but she talked at me and treated me like a fourteen year old straight from school, not a school teacher in waiting.

I pointed this out to her once –

“Oh,” she screamed, “Oh, so you’re so much cleverer than us mere mortals are you?” she snarled, “It’s funny but I don’t see Office manager written on your paycheck BOY!” As she shouted at me I saw the flexing of her muscles and her large boobs heaving, I dragged my eyes away from her big tits because I wanted to look this cow in the face; “And until I do, you’ll do as you are bloody told, by ME!” she screamed at me, spittle flying from the edges of her mouth, “Me, the silly old Office Manager that ISN’T a school teacher but could think and work you under the bloody table BOY!” Her flushed face was inches from mine; I’d seen her reduce some of the office girls to gibbering crying wrecks in this way and there was no way I’d be giving her the satisfaction. I grinned.

This made her worse.

“That’s it BOY,” she shrilled, “You are OUT THE DOOR!” She was incandescent with rage.

“What?” I sneered, “based on what?”

“Based on the fact that I’m the bloody office manager, and I DECIDE ON THE IDIOTS I EMPLOY HERE AND NOT YOU!”

I thought she was going to have a heart attack.

“Can I have that in writing?” I asked, “Plus I want a month’s wages in lieu of notice.” I hadn’t totally wasted my time in a law firm!

“GET OUT!” she screamed.

“No,” I said quietly, “write me a letter and give me my cheque and you’ll never hear from me,” I paused and smiled, “or the employment tribunal again. After all, the rest of the staff now know that you think they’re idiots. Perhaps they could have a go after me?”

“Emp…” she shook her head in self-righteous disbelief, “tribunal!” she growled.

“Tribunal, Miss Connery, I’ve handled two of them for Mr Croft,” He was the barrister I had looked after, and he was good, “You are kicking me out because I’m not a mousy little spinster that will put up with your hormonal outbursts, so,” I put on Mr Croft’s best court voice, “Can I suggest that you go away,” I waved my hand generally in the direction of her office, “you write me my cheque, cross it and I’ll leave you to your… let me see, yes; your idiots.” I straightened to my full six foot and looked down on her.

She stormed away from me and slammed the door to her small office growling and snarling all the way, demanding that one of the girls come with her. The poor unfortunate lady had the full blast of venom that should have been mine. I could hear muffled shouts and screams from her small box room of an office.

I put my head round the door of one of the legal exec’s and told her what was going on.

“Oh fuck Sally Connery,” she said, “the insane bitch thinks she runs the place, word is she used to get it from the old boss and hasn’t been the same since he retired.” One of the senior partners came in laughing that I’d really put the cat among the pigeons with ‘that mad old bag’.

Ten minutes and one coffee later, she was demanding I go into her office. I did so.

“Here’s your bloody cheque, get your things and get out of my offices!” she snarled looking at me like something trodden into the carpet.

“Thank you Miss Connery,” I smiled. I tore open the envelope and saw that it was for £1,000. More than the one month in lieu I’d asked for. I tucked the cheque into my jacket pocket and dropped the envelope on the floor from my trembling hands. She took it as defiance.

“GET OUT!” she screamed, and I turned my back on her and slowly walked out, turning to smile and wave one final time. I apologised to the other staff on my way out for the hard time they would undoubtedly get because of my dismissal, but that cheque was almost a tenth of my loan.

I paid the cheque into my account on my way back to the house I shared with some mates, two weeks later handed in my dissertation and left that sleepy town that would always have such a place in my heart.

Back home, Mum told me of an opportunity to work in a small hotel she did the books for. It was shift work and due to finish when the summer season finished, a fortnight before I was due to start as a secondary school teacher.

The hotel was small, family run and being my mother’s son, I was instantly welcomed. The work was not unpleasant and went from serving breakfasts and cleaning and preparing rooms in the mornings and waiting on table, bar duties, and room service in the evening; occasionally I would be the night steward and would find myself sat at the front desk all night by the phone and computer ready for emergencies, phone calls and finally to get the food and linen deliveries from five o’clock onwards.

I had the option to sleep over if I wanted to and this was improved by meeting the lovely Yvonne, a French girl my age studying at the art college nearby. I wasn’t a virgin but hadn’t that much experience, but Yvonne was so wonderfully open and passionate that she taught me everything she knew and enjoyed about making love in a few short nights. Being a devotee of the contraceptive pill we dropped the whole condom thing that same week. We shagged almost constantly – her room, my room, unoccupied rooms, the hotel’s old and rather dated pool in the basement and once even over the bar as we closed down for the night.

She told me she was going home for her family holiday in the last two weeks in August and asked me to come with her. I didn’t really have the money, and the hotel probably wouldn’t have let us both go at the same time. It was with some sense of relief; I’d finally get a chance to catch up on my rest.

The hotel was probably the first time I’d been called ‘Michael’. To everyone else, including Yvonne, I was Mike, but because the manager already had a silver badge with the hotel’s crest on engraved ‘Michael’, that was who I became.

It was the first dull, boring Saturday of two dull boring Saturdays without Yvonne and I had finished in the bar washing the last of the glasses and putting the room straight and arranging the tables and servery for the breakfasts the next morning.

I walked out to reception, looking forward to a reasonably early night and the rude email or text conversation I was going to have with Yvonne. She had already sent me a rude picture of her in half of her bikini and I was hoping for the full strip tonight.

The manager appeared, a rare thing for this time of night and called me to him.

“Aah, Michael,” he grinned, “We have a special request; Mr Reynard, a very old friend of ours has called room service with a special request; he wants Stilton cheese, mixed crackers, some bread and a bottle of Taylors Port. He asked for you especially.” He smiled encouragingly.

“Mr Reynard?” I said, “Don’t think I’ve dealt with him but I’ll get his order straight away. I’ll turn in after if you have nothing else.” I finished with a smile, I liked this man.

“That’s very kind of you Michael; I’ll see you in the morning.”

I headed for the kitchen and cut a vast slice of Stilton cheese, and arranged a selection of crackers, biscuits and bread around it, adding a few large lumps of reasonably fresh baguette on the plate next to it. I went back to the bar, grabbed the bottle and two glasses and arranged them on the big tray I was so handy with these days.

Mr Reynard’s room was the best in the place, and was actually a suite, and I took the lift to the third floor. At the door I straightened my tie; Mr Reynard was an ‘old friend’, had this entire suite to himself, could get room service at eleven o’clock at night from the manager so probably tipped well!

I knocked;

“Ah Michael,” said the refined voice, “do come in.”

I opened the door and stepped into the room which was almost in complete darkness but for one lamp which illuminated an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair. I walked to him with my tray held high.

“Your order Mr Reynard,” I said.

“You’re… you’re not Michael.” He said.

“Yes I am sir,” I said placing the tray on the folding stand that each room had. He put a hand on my arm as I stood next to him.

“Hold there a moment if you will,” he said, and I had to blink back against the bright light he’d switched on against the darkness of the room. “Oh, you are ‘A’ Michael, but not ‘the’ Michael I was expecting.” It came to me.

When I introduced myself, the manager’s wife had said that it was fitting that I was a Michael as they’d just lost an old and valued member of staff by that name. Mum told me that the ‘old Michael’ was a bit of an old retainer that had been with the hotel since he was a boy, knew all of its secrets, how everything worked and how to fix it if it didn’t and was generally the ‘go to’ guy.

Yvonne told me he’d been a bit of a lothario on the quiet and she confessed that although in his late fifties she’d slept with him a couple of times and he was a great lover; sadly he’d died in his sleep the previous winter from a heart attack. It seemed that Mr Reynard was expecting him.

“I’m sorry sir,” I said standing straight, “The other Michael passed away early this year, I…” from the corner of my eye I saw something on the bed move. I turned my head as my glance had been inconclusive. When I looked again I saw it was a person, a woman I guessed from the well filled, black leather bra and the black leather string panties with flaps of skin just visible either side, on their hands and knees, arse in the air.

She was kneeling across the bed, sideways on.

“Open the Port Michael,” said Mr Reynard. With trembling fingers I pulled off the foil top and dragged the capped cork from the bottle with a loud pop. The figure on the bed turned her head slightly. I saw that ‘she’ was wearing some kind of gag, a mask across her eyes and a pair of ear phones connected to an iPod. She was also tied to the bed by her elbows and knees, straps carefully secured to points under the bed edges I must have seen but never thought about. Clever old Michael, I thought, and grinned at the thought of my predecessor and what he must have got up to.

I poured a large measure into the glass for Mr Reynard, and he raised the glass awkwardly as if this kind of thing was hard for him. I guessed but his limited movement and laboured breathing he must have had a stroke or suffered some debilitating illness.

“I have a proposition for you Michael,” he said after his first sip of Port, “This is my friend, we shall call her Bee for the purposes of this discussion. Every year she and I come here for a short holiday, part of which always involved Michael and his particular talents.” He picked up a piece of Stilton and squeezed it between his fingers and sniffed it. “My friend Bee here has particular fancies and predilections for certain sexual activities – Michael was kind enough to take care of them for her after I suffered a couple of strokes. We always came to this hotel before and Michael had always helped us with our equipment up until that point when he took a more active role.” Mr Reynard smiled.

“Well as you see, Bee is all dressed up with nowhere to go, and no Michael. You seem to be a fit young man Michael and I hope that, for this year at least, you might be able to help us out. There was always a substantial sum of money involved, in cash I might add, and I can confirm that that part of the bargain would still stand. Are you interested?”

I was flabbergasted. Here was this strange old man, with his younger woman that had obviously travelled to our town for a ‘dirty weekend’ and judging by the paddle, and whippy thing on the end of the bed needed a bit of a spanking before she was fucked.

My first thought was obviously the woman, how did I know that she was up for this. I kind of guessed that it was most unlikely the old boy in the wheelchair could have dragged her up to the room and dressed her in the stuff and tied her down. But I asked just the same.

“Well you ask, Michael,” said Mr Reynard, “Lift the headphones from her ear for me,” he said, and I did so, hearing the gentle tones of light classical music emanating from them, “Bee,” he said, we have a bit of a change of plan, we have a younger Michael with us this evening and he wants to assure himself that you are a willing participant in this.” She bobbed her head slightly. “OK, Bee you will nod your head just twice in answer to each of my questions; are you here of your own accord?” She nodded twice, “do you wish young Michael to spank you, paddle you and flog you?” She nodded twice, “and after that he may fuck you as he sees fit?” She nodded twice again.

“There,” he said, “is that sufficient for you?” he smiled at me cutting as the Stilton with a sharp knife, “one thing I must point out Michael, this shall remain a total secret between you, me and my friend Bee here. I have information relating to the running of this hotel that could cause all sorts of mischief if it got into the wrong hands. I’d hate for you to be the one to explain to your friend the manager why the press are suddenly taking such an interest in his hotel!”

“Err… fine,” I said, “that’s no problem,” still not sure if I wanted to do these things to this so far anonymous woman and her elderly lover.

“Let go of the headphones,” he grinned in the half light, “Give her a wee slap there, Michael,” said Mr Reynard, “just to get us all in the mood.” I turned side on to the woman and her pert shapely bottom pointing up into the room. Raising my hand I slapped her on the right cheek of her arse, and she flinched in shock rather than pain.

“Oh it’ll need to be much harder than that for her to really enjoy it,” he said, and I smacked her harder. Her whole body moved forward under the impact and I heard a muffled ‘urrgh’ sound from under the gag. I struck her a third time, then moved onto the other cheek.

“You need to warm her up somewhat Michael,” said Mr Reynard, “Once her bottom is lovely and pink you can have a go with the flogger and the paddle – those are her real favourites.”

I moved to one side of her and laid my right arm across the small of her back, she wriggled just a bit and I got the impression that this was what she wanted. With my stronger right arm I began a vigorous hand spanking covering as much of her arse as I could. To my left sat Mr Reynard, eating his cheese and drinking his port as if nothing untoward was going on.

“That’s very good Michael,” he said, “I suggest you try the flogger,” I picked it from the bed, it was a weird looking thing that looked like the handle from a dogs lead with a collection of short leather thongs hanging off of it, and I raised it in my hand. “Stroke her with it first Michael,” he said, “let her know that she can expect to feel it,”

I did as instructed and stroked all over her shapely pink arse with it and she wriggled; I hadn’t noticed what a hard erection I had and I straightened it in my pants; Mr Reynard suggested that I strip off should I so desire, I put down the flogger and said that I would just remove my trousers and shirt, which did leave me much more comfortable.

I also decided that if I was going to fuck this woman eventually then I wanted to see what she had going on. Taking her tiny leather panties at the edges on her hips I gradually removed them, just as I did with the lovely Yvonne when I stripped her each night. The bare arse of Bee came splendidly into view and I thought about how I would look forward to climbing behind her and pushing my hard cock into the hairless flushed and swollen pussy I could see before me. I left the panties at her knees, as far as they could be removed without releasing her from her bonds.

“The flogger Michael,” said Mr Reynard, “lay it on young man.”

With way to much force, I whipped her across both cheeks with the flogger and I heard her scream against the gag, a sound that for one moment made me stop. Too hard, I thought and proceeded to hit her much more softly with it.

She wriggled obscenely as I whipped her pink arse gently increasing the pressure. Seeing her flushed skin and hearing her pant against her gag, I guessed that she was well on her way to orgasm.

OK, this was rich Mr Reynard, who had some dirt on the hotel, probably the sexy goings-on here over the years, probably most of it arranged by my predecessor. He was going to pay me in cash, and wanted a good show. Perhaps it was time that Bee had an orgasm.

Using my left had to gently flog her buttocks I slipped my well trained (thanks Yvonne!) right hand between her thighs and using her own moisture gently strummed her hard clitoris. She gasped, and rolled back forth as much as her bonds would allow.

“If you think she’s taking advantage Michael, you can punish her for it you know.”

“I’ll take off her headphones Mr Reynard, perhaps we can tell her.” I moved forward to her head and removed the small headphones from her, now seeing that under her long hair was a the black nylon eye mask and a red rubber ball gag that she drooled around readily, the large blue non-hotel towel under her face successfully catching her oral discharge.

I put my hands back to her cunt and began to flick her clit slightly harder; moving around slightly more so Mr Reynard could see, I gave up her clit and started to pump my fingers in and out of her pussy, scrubbing at her g-spot. She stopped crying out and moaning instead letting herself get into the pleasure she was receiving and I guessed awaiting her first orgasm from me. It didn’t take too long. Following a series of gasped ‘oohs’ and ‘aaaaahs’ from under Bee’s gag, I saw her tremble all over and flip her head back and for the first time letting me see the mane of bleached blonde hair tied in a ponytail fly back.

[Reading this chapter without reading chapters 1 thru 5 will make following the actions and motivations almost impossible. This chapter includes nudity, oral, anal, coitus and more.]

* * * *

They both started laughing and that got Beth to squirt Liz in the face with more of our juices. She lapped up a lot of it and used a napkin for the rest. When I backed out of Beth she said, “No, No, Liz that’s mine for the moment.” She got off the table and swallowed my shrinking cock. A minute later she stood up and said, “Liz belonged to my previous Master. That makes us sisters, sort of.”

I faced the naked Liz with her face coated in Beth’s and my cum. “Why did you undress?”

“My Master said, “On the table, please. Naked.” Once Beth was on the table there wasn’t room, so I improvised. If I did wrong, I’m sorry.”

“Beth gave herself to me, you didn’t. We’ve just met.”

Beth spoke up, “If you don’t want her, be angry at me, not Liz. It’s my fault, Master. I’ve been almost crazy since we came back. You were hurting and I was doing everything I could to be here for you. I remembered how it was for us when… Jerry died. Liz has been here almost every day helping me comfort you and she’s been taking care of me, too. Last night she crawled into your lap naked and slept with you for six hours. She and I lived together while we were Jerry’s and every day since.”

“I’ve been that far out of it?”

“Know what day it is?” Liz asked.


“Friday.” She smiled when she said it. I’d really been gone. “When Jerry died we didn’t eat for three days. When we finally came back to life we ate and had sex for hours.”

“Hungry?” I asked. We all sat and ate more of the lasagna. When I was full I said, “So, what’s next?”

“As you wish, Master.” Beth and Liz said.

“God! Are you two serious?”

Beth led me into the bedroom, opened the bed and got me in the middle. She got on my right and Liz on my left. They both held my dick and slowly stroked.

Beth said, “Remember, this is only new to you. I started focusing on you years ago, so did Liz. We’re serious. When we got back from our date I told her everything. On Monday she transferred everything she has to you. She has been dreaming about tasting your cum for as long as I did.”

Liz added, “Now I have and I love it.” She moved up to her knees and swallowed my cock completely. We three danced naked with each other most of the night. I ate them both to numerous orgasms and they somehow coaxed two from me.

We talked and played all weekend. On Monday morning two vehicles left from our house, headed for work. Liz drove her Malibu and Beth rode with me in my truck. Liz finished moving in the next weekend. My home had four bedrooms, but only one bed. Kaye and I had planned to have kids, once upon a time. We replaced the queen-sized bed with a king. Each of us got a bedroom as our office and storage space.. In Liz’s we put a hide-a-bed couch, just in case someone was a naughty girl and needed to sleep alone.

Back at work the word was out, courtesy of Alison, that Kaye had died and Beth was taking care of me. A month later the word leaked that Beth had moved in. Nothing at work was said about Liz.

I asked Beth and Liz about their families as we had dinner one night. Beth had been raised in Omaha and she told me her parents had both died while she was in college. Liz said she had been raised in foster homes and had no memory of any family except foster parents. Living with Jerry was their adult experience of family, until me.

People at work began discussing their plans for Thanksgiving. I certainly had a lot to be thankful for. So, at dinner one night early in November I said, “I want to have Thanksgiving Dinner here. I am so grateful to you both for making my life Heaven. We can invite people who know us and accept us. We can share our joy.”

Just before Thanksgiving Liz got promoted. The same week I got promoted and Beth got transferred to another department. She got transferred because otherwise I would have been her boss.

We invited Alison and her husband Mike, Phil and his wife Veronica and Bob and his wife Norma for Thanksgiving. Bob and Norma declined, they were going to Norma’s parent’s home for the day. Beth and Liz were nervous about the meal and about socializing as a threesome. I asked about the nerves.

“Jerry kept us separate. He had friends who knew he was married to Liz and friends who knew he was married to me. The only people who knew we were both married to him were other Masters and their subs. Alison and Phil know I love you and live with you. They know Liz and I are related and that she lives with us, but when they look around our house they’ll know we both sleep with you.” Beth said.

Liz added, “There’s only one bed.”

“We don’t need to buy another bed. They already accept us. They know you’re sub and they’re Ok with it. I don’t think anyone could spend time with us and not see and feel how happy all three of us are.”

We ate a little more dinner and I asked, “You said the only people who knew we were both married to him. How could you both be married to him?”

Beth said, “The year I gave myself to Jerry I was his only sub. We didn’t marry. Two years later Liz joined us and things in Jerry’s life had him consider being married. People knew I lived with him and other people knew Liz lived with him. He didn’t want the conflict of being married to one of us…”

“And shacking up with the other one, so he came up with a plan. Each of us went to court and changed our names. I changed my name in Tacoma and Beth changed hers in Seattle. Then the three of us flew to Los Angeles and got married in a single ceremony.”


“I changed my name to Elizabeth Evans.” Liz said.

“I changed my name to Elizabeth Evans. Jerry was Jerry Evans. We stood in front of the minister in L.A. and I was to Jerry’s right, Liz was to his left and Jerry’s friend Walter stood next to Liz.”

“The judge asked, “Do you Elizabeth take Jerry as your husband and we both said “Yes”.

“Incredible! You both were legally married to Jerry!”

“He decided she was Liz and I was Beth.”

“Amazing. Jerry was a remarkable man.” I said, shaking my head in wonder.

“Yes. We agree.”

“Where is he buried?”

“Not far from here. We could take you there.” Liz offered.

“It’ll be cold, but we’ll show you what we do when we visit him.”

“Let’s finish dinner and go.” I said.

“Master, it needs to be dark when we go. I can explain, but it would be better to show you, if that’s Ok.”

“Ok. We’ll go at seven.”

At seven we got in the truck and both ladies were wearing t-shirt dresses and nothing else except shoes. Both carried towels. They had me park in Marina del Rey near the breakwater that edges the channel into the marina. I knew there wasn’t a cemetery for miles. Jerry had been cremated and his ashes were in the ocean! We got out of the truck and walked on the sand to an area away from the lights and walking path right to the edge of the surf. I carried the towels.

Liz said, “Honey, after Jerry died we did as he asked and had him cremated. We brought his ashes here and did just what we’ll do now.” They both took off their dresses and shoes. They held hands facing the ocean and said, together, “As your final resting place we give you to the world to touch and caress. We know you will always touch us and feel our love as we bathe in you.”

Then they ran and splashed into the ocean until they were completely wet. They embraced and kissed, turned towards me and walked back out of the water. I wrapped them in towels and helped them dry. We walked back to the truck and dried them some more. The dresses were reapplied and we drove home.

“May we have some heat, please?” Liz asked. I turned it on and they thanked me. We were quiet most of the way home. It was very present for me how they loved him and cherished his memory.

When we were in bed, after a hot shower, I asked, “Would you like to change your names again?”

“To?” Liz asked.

“From Evans to Peterson. I think Elizabeth Peterson has a nice ring to it.”

Beth snuggled in extra close and asked, “I like the way it sounds.”

Liz grabbed my growing attention and stroked me slowly as she said, “Me too.”

“Then we’ll do it within a year.” I said.

“As you wish, Master.”

“As you wish, Master.”

“Good! After Thanksgiving we’ll go buy rings. I know the perfect place to get them.”

Liz had been stroking me for much longer than necessary to get me hard. I said, “I want a pussy on my face for me to eat and a pussy on my cock for me to fill.”

As one I heard, “As you wish, Master.” I also heard lots of giggles. I got Liz’s pussy to eat and Beth to ride me. Just as I was about to taste Liz I said, “You hold each other’s tits and when you cum pinch hard.”

It was hard to hear them as they repeated, “As you wish, Master” because I had a warm thigh over each ear and my attention was on the wet, dripping pussy that had lowered itself to my mouth.

Beth had perfected a technique of rising and falling on my cock while rotating her hips either clockwise or counterclockwise. It produced the most intense sensations and could not be tolerated for long without me spewing seed. When I wanted her to hesitate so I wouldn’t pop too quickly I grabbed her thighs and squeezed. I didn’t need to say anything.

Liz gave me enough of her warm fluids that I could have filled a glass with them, but that would have been such a waste. I loved the feel of her lips and inner sanctuary as I explored her each time I wanted to. Her lips were much larger than Beth’s and she responded to having them sucked and extended differently than Beth. Beth’s clit was the size of a blueberry and well enshrined with a fleshy hood while Liz’s was barely the size of a pea and almost always exposed, erect and begging for attention.

Having two such different and beautiful women to please and be pleased by made my life better than my best dreams, most of the time.

Liz began to shudder, clamp her thighs against my head and flood my mouth with more of her juices. I released my grip on Beth’s thighs and she resumed her bounce and rotate motion. I thrust up into her and thought I heard one of them yelp. I thrust up and held it as I erupted up into Beth. As I did I sucked on Liz’s clit and she shuddered hard.

Beth fell to the side, freeing my cock and then she engulfed it with her mouth. Liz fell off me and buried her face into Beth’s cunt to get all the combined nectar she could gather. I watched and enjoyed.

We slept well and woke into a bedroom I’m sure still smelled like an orgy. We showered and I decided for the seventy-third time we needed a bathroom remodel. We dressed and as we ate a quick breakfast I asked, “What needs to happen tonight?”

“We need to buy food for Thanksgiving. I already have the bird but we need lots of other stuff.” Liz said. She tended to be the chief cook in the family.

“Get whatever you need and put it on a card. Can you be home by 6:30?”


“Beth and I will have dinner ready at 6:45 giving us a few minutes to put things away, then eat. Then we are spending the evening in the playroom.” Neither said, “Oh goodie” but their body reactions said it for them. It had been two weeks since we last played and they craved it. I was learning to crave it, too.

While we finished preparations to leave for work I went to the play room and found two nipple clamps the size I wanted.

In the kitchen I said, “Bare a breast for me, please.” They unbuttoned their blouses and unhooked their front closure bras. Liz bared her left breast before Beth so I pulled on her nipple first, pulling it out and then applying the small clamp and tightening it. She knew I wanted to know how much it hurt. When she said six I stopped and released her breast. She took a few deep breaths to accustom herself to the pain and she thanked me. I said, “Button up, thank you.”

I did the same to Beth and she thanked me, asking if she could also be slapped. I slapped her other breast and said, “I only asked for one to be bared.”

She redressed and we went to work. After an hour I called Liz. She answered and I said, “As soon as is convenient, go to the ladies room and move the clamp to your other breast. Tighten it to level six and masturbate to orgasm. Then go back to work. Call me between 11:45 and noon.” I hung up and called Beth, repeating the same message.

At 11:46 my phone rang. I said, “Pete.”

Liz said, “Thank you, Master for loving me so much.”

“How do you know I love you?”

“I can feel you sucking on my tit! I can feel it clear into my dripping cunt!”

“You are correct, I do love you. I want you to be my wife. Listen carefully. When I hang up you will go back to the ladies room and remove the clamp, massage your breast and then masturbate again, to orgasm. At the top of each hour you will pinch both nipples hard for one minute.”

“As you wish, Master.” She said. I hung up.

A minute went and the phone rang again. I answered, “Pete.”

It was the contractor I had called when we first got to work. We made an appointment for Saturday morning for him to come and give me an estimate for two projects, the remodeled bathroom and a covered patio in back.

Within seconds after we hung up the phone rang again.

“This may be the longest day of the year, Master.”


“Because my mind is already in the playroom and you are already pushing my limits.”

“I only do those nasty things to you because you love them. Right now I’m reaching across the building and putting a finger inside your pussy. Feel it?”

“Yes, Master.”

“When I hang up, go back to the ladies room and remove the clamp from your breast. Pull one of your pussy lips out far enough that you can get the clamp on. Tighten it to level six and wear it for an hour. I will be sitting at the lunch table thinking about the clamp on your pussy. Do not cum while we are at lunch! When the hour is up, remove the clamp and masturbate to orgasm. Within three minutes of your orgasm be back at work. Whatever seeps, flows or drips from you after you go back to work you allow to run down the inside of your legs. I want you to marry me and wear my ring as a symbol that you belong to me.”

Her voice trembled a little as she said, “Yes, Master.”

At five minutes to five my cell rang. I answered and Liz said, “It’s five minutes to five. Time to go home. This friendly reminder of the time is brought to you by my pussy. Thank you.” She giggled and hung up.

I laughed and stopped work, cleaned up my desk and walked to my truck. Beth was standing beside it when I exited the building.

She smiled at me as I approached and unlocked the truck. After our hello kiss I opened her door and assisted her up into the cab. She got a towel from behind the seat and hiked up her skirt so she could sit directly on the towel. I went to my door and got in.

When I started the truck I rolled down the window and said, “It smells like pussy in here.”

“I worried all afternoon that people around me could smell me!” Beth said.

“Why, were you turned on?” I smiled at her.

“You’ve been teasing me all day! First the nipple clamp, having me masturbate, the clamp on my lip! I’ve been hot all day!”

“Yes, it is nice weather we’re having.” I headed home.

Beth sat with her legs spread and the breeze cooling and drying her. I asked, “Does the breeze feel good on your pussy?”

“Yes, Master.”

“It would feel even better if you put your left foot up over my knee. Your legs would be wider spread and more air would get to you.”

“As you wish, Master.” She lifted her left foot and spread her legs wider to get her left foot up on my knee.

A block later I said, “You would enjoy riding all the rest of the way home with your eyes closed. Then you could focus on the sensations you’re having.”

“As you wish, Master.” Her eyes closed. A block later I reached over and touched her wetness, withdrew my fingers and sucked on them loudly.

“You are right Master. It is as if you are touching me, turning me on.”

Every time I crossed into a new block I stroked her exposed lips and opening once. By the time I pulled into the driveway she was squirming and I knew she wanted to cum. ‘Not yet, my Sweet,’ I thought.

The house we live in is at the end of a street. No neighbors live very close to us and our land is surrounded by a large hedge, giving us considerable privacy. There was very little danger of us being seen from anywhere in our neighborhood from where I parked.

“When we get out of the truck, let’s take everything off before we walk to the house.”

We got out and we both stripped, Beth carried her clothes, her purse and the towel to the back door. I opened it and we went inside. I handed her my clothes and said, “Honey, please take care of all this and meet me at the door to the playroom.”

“As you wish, Master.” She hurried away in the direction of the laundry room. I went to the playroom and got what I wanted. I chose a butt plug from the six available. There were three sizes in two different colors, as was true of many of the toys we owned. I picked the smallest of the plugs in pink with a knob at the end that resembled one of those mirrored balls they have on the ceiling of dances.

Beth arrived at the door and looked at the floor as she said, “What would you have me do, Master?”

“Face away from me and bend over.” She turned quickly and bent far enough over that her head was within inches of her ankles. She looked up and watched as I approached her ass with the plug.

“Thank you Master.” She said, even before it touched her. I slowly pushed it in until the only thing showing was the ball.

I asked, “If you sit with that inside you, will it damage you?”

“No, Master. No damage.”

“Good. Stand please.” She stood, but did not turn. “Face me with legs spread, please.”

She turned and spread her feet shoulder width apart. “Wider, please” The instant they were as wide as I wanted them I slapped her pussy hard, almost like cupping it. When the slap hit I held my hand in place. The sound the slap made was very wet.

With my hand in place I asked, “After lunch did you masturbate as I asked?”

“Yes, Master. Thank you.”

“When you got back to work did your juices run down your thighs?”

“Yes, all afternoon.”

I moved my hand and a flow of juices started down her thighs. “Like that?” I asked.

“Yes, Master. My legs and nylons were soaked most of the afternoon.”

“I want you to bend over, just like before and put your back against the hallway wall. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, of course, Master.”

She stood up, bent over so her head was again close to her ankles and walked in little steps until her back bumped the wall. I knelt and pointed my hard cock into her mouth. She opened and took the two inches I gave her. I licked her dripping pussy three licks, pulled out of her mouth and stood back up.

“Watch, but do not cum!” I pressed my saliva coated cock into her pussy lips and pressed deeper and deeper into her. Her back being against the wall made it sure that she wasn’t going anywhere as I pushed in.

“Are you watching my cock disappear into you?”

“Yes, Master. Thank you for having me watch and feel it.”

I pressed against her, penetrating as deeply as was possible… and I stood there without moving for as long as I could stand it. Then I slowly pulled back, using my hands on her ass to assure she didn’t lean to follow me. When I was all the way out I said, “You may have more, exactly like that when dinner is ready. I’ll be waiting.” I walked into the bathroom and closed the door. I had to hold onto the sink for support. I so wanted to continue fucking her just like that until my cum dripped from her cunt into her waiting mouth. ‘Later. Make it last.’ I told myself. I splashed cold water on my face and went to the kitchen to help.

May 2018
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