Read more BDSM Stories

As I entered our bedroom, there you are, I can tell by the look in your eyes that your mind was just a turning. What am I in for this morning.
As I undress and get into bed you start to tell me what you had decided.  Even though you love making and watching me cum, you had decided that today, NO MATTER WHAT, I am only allowed to cum once you have entered me.  If I cum at any other time I would be punished, each time the punishment will be more than the one before.  I could tell by your look that you were going to thoroughly enjoy this day.  You know you will be able to punish me several times, because you also know just how to make me cum with barely a touch.
As you take my nipples in your mouth and start to nibble, suck, ohhh, just feeling your moist tongue flicking the ends was sending ripples through out my body.  Your fingers are gently squeezing my other nipple, God,I was in trouble. You continue to squeeze, suck, nibble, I start to raise my chest wanting more. Wanting it to go on for ever.
Just as I was about to groan and CUM, you bit down hard enough, stopping that wonderfull sensation, knowing that you also made it more sensitive then before.
Leaving that bitten tit you move your mouth to the next one. Taking that brown end into your mouth, sucking, biting, flicking it with your tongue.  Knowing I was not far from one more orgasam, You take the other one between your finger tips and pinch, harder each time I push my breast into your face.  Again I start to moan, trying to hold back the climax that is building, threatening to send cum dripping out of my cunt. Oh god, toooo late, I feel the juice outside my cunt as you clamp your teeth on the nipple and pull, bringing a scream of pain and delight from my throat. With both breasts swollen, red and definitely aroused you have me go down to take that awesome cock between my waiting hot, moist lips.

How I love making it hard and have you thrust it deep into my throat. To feel it close around the head as I gag and fight for air.  Already I was wet again, and I had only thought about it. Ouch, god that ass smack stung(the first of many to come)for cum-ing. As I draw you into my mouth, sucking harder, firmer and deeper with each suck and release, I feel my rosey bud being stroked, sticking out, sending shivers through out my body.  I can not hold back, cum was running out all over your fingers.  You take that cum and wipe it oall over my ass. Taking your cock out of my mouth, you lay me across it, where I receive two hard wacks from the paddle bringing tears to my eyes, and erotic shocks through my groin. With a red ass and wet cheeks I take that cock again into my mouth, how I love the feel of it deep inside. I am again sucking, nibbling just a little, wanting ohhhh so much more.  I open my mouth wide and let that huge cock go straight back, feeling it deep in the back I start to suck. You have your fingers up my cunt and I am fucking them as hard as you are thrusting your cock into my throat.  I feel it start to close around your head.  Trying not to cum, I fight for air, fucking your fingers, I can’t stop, the climax is out of control. I squirt my cum and it literally runs down your fingers, off your wrist on to the bed.
Once again I am placed over your cock, ass in the air.  This time the wacks leave welts and me screaming, promising to hold back.

Knowing that I am soooo horny and can’t control anything anymore , you lay me on my back, take your tongue and proceed to rub my clit with it, driving me crazy. I am pushing my clit and cunt into your face. Just dying to have you suck it, instead you take it between your teeth and bite knowing at that percise time I was cum-ing.  Moaning and gritting my teeth from pain and pleasure, you finally suck it.  Sending a huge wave of ecstasy through my body.  Bringing your fingers up, inserting them into a cunt so wet a sponge would be dripping. I had cum again, you clamped your choppers on my clit and pulled it through, making me scream with pleasure. You start thrusting your fingers in and out of my cunt making me fuck them, squeezing my cunt muscles onto them as you move them. Cum is all over and puddling on the bed.  Taking that cum and wiping all over my belly and lips. Making me taste what I have wasted.  You bring my knees up high, making me hold them to the side as you whip my clit, so many times that the inside of my thighs now have small welts. For one brief second you place a kiss on each one and start to suck my rosey, red bud, until I moan from the electrifing sensations.
finally you allow me to sit on that engorged cock of yours. Filling my cunt I start to fuck it.  God how dam good it feels. your hands are nicely rubbing my nipples, drawing that awesome sensation through out my body. Making me fuck you harder and faster. You feel the cum on the end of your cock, taking a nipple in each hand you twist and pull until I scream, pushing your hands away.
Now I have to be placed with my hands behind my back. I am aching all over. My tits are so tender, blowing on them would make me cum.  My ass is so red and welted that I keep fucking just so it does not hit down on your legs.  My clit is out so far I feel it will pop throught the skin soon. But I have this marvellous cock deep inside and I am fucking it, loving the feel of it as I move up and down.

Your fingers are rubbing and lightly pulling on my clit.  I have now held back at least three orgasms, and my climax is really starting to mount. It is getting extreemly hard to keep control.
Finally you are overwhelmed from making me cum all those times, you ease me off, put me on my hands and knees. Driving your massive, throbbing cock so deep I can feel you hitting the back side of my clit. Making me thrust my ass back at you meeting each drive with such urgency.  As you clutch my sides and pull me in for one last deep thrust we both explode simultaneously. I continue to fuck you, drawing out every last morsel of your juice. With our combined cum deep inside of me, I squeeze and hold it in while you pull out and collapse on the bed.  Having this insatiable need to taste you, I place my mouth on your now soft , luscious cock, sucking it clean.  I keep our succulent juice and being the good bitch that I am, I give you a deep kiss so that we can share what our two bodies created.

- The End -

Chapter 2 — New Experiences for a New Life

Read more BDSM Stories
Cloe and Anne had each been to Brads fashionable Philadelphia townhouse near The University of Pennsylvania on many occasions but never had they been there together. He had invited them there now that all the festivities surrounding their graduation were over and their parents had gone home. The girls had made it clear to everyone that they were joining Musselman Group as Brads assistants and that they were excited to get started on their new careers which would keep them on the go and out of touch for prolonged periods of time.

The door to the townhouse was answered by a strikingly good looking women in a revealing French styled maids outfit. The woman appeared to be a few years older than themselves. She invited the girls inside and introduced herself as “slave sara.” The frankness and straightforwardness of Sara’s pattern of speech took Cloe and Anne by surprise as they had not expected Brad to be involved with any other women. Sara could see that the girls were hesitant regarding her presence in the house and rushed to add that her permanent master had asked Brad to keep her for a few days while he was traveling. She was to provide service for the house that evening.
Sara said Brad would join them soon and that they were free to check out the house but to remember the packers and movers were scheduled to arrive within a day or two since he would be selling the property. Sara stood at attention in the doorway to the room averting her eyes from the two young women. Brad looked dashing as he entered the room and kissed each girl ardently. He remarked to Anne that she should study Sara carefully as she was the type of women he had in mind as the maid at the mansion in California.
Brad told Sara to stand in the middle of the room with her hands clasped over her head. He reached under her short skirt and slipped her white cotton panties down over her hips until they fell to the floor. He expertly helped Anne inspect Sara’s legs, cunt, and ass. He asked Anne to stimulate Sara’s clit  while she stood still with her legs wide spread. After a few minutes Brad nodded to Anne to indicated that he was satisfied with Sara’s obedience and submission. He then told Sara to leave the room and serve the first course for the evenings meal. With eyes still averted and on shaky legs Sara moved quickly at Brad’s command.

When the three of them were seated at the intimate round table set for them, Sara brought the first course. Brad reached under Sara’s short skirt and began to fondle the tight globes of her ass. She again stood still as he took pleasure with her. He asked Anne, now that she had inspected Sara’s clitoris, whether she thought she or Sara had the most prominent clit when aroused. Anne saw Sara blush and knew Brad was intentionally taunting her in front of other women. She decided to assist Brad in his attempt at humiliation of the submissive slave; and said that while Sara was indeed well equipped in the clit department, that her own aroused clit, was definitely larger. Brad ordered Sara under the table to examine Anne’s clit with her tongue. Then she was to tell him privately if she thought Anne was exaggerating or telling the truth.

While Sara was using her tongue as she had been instructed, Brad broached the subject which was really on his mind. He wanted to have the girls join him on the family yacht for a cruise down the east coast, through the Caribbean Islands, through the Panama Canal, and up the west coast to a port convenient to the family estates in Southern California. He told the girls he didn’t want them to pack much of their own possessions as he would provide what they needed when they got to his new home. He winked and said that they would only need a few personal items such as make up and several bikinis for the trip. Anne was only half paying attention but eventually both she and Cloe said that they were most agreeable to whatever Brad had in mind. for them.
It seemed to Brad that Sara was having as much fun as Anne so he shut down their festivities by telling Sara to get off her knees and bring in the main course. Anne’s eyes were at half staff, her breathing shallow, she had slumped in her chair, and she seemed a bit shaken. Cloe was somewhat envious and Brad nodded to her that her time would soon come; and it did.
After they had finished the wine and meal, Brad followed Sara into the kitchen and asked her directly which of the two girls had the most prominent clit when aroused. Sara did not hesitate; Anne was definitely the winner of that competition.  Of course Brad already knew this to be the case as he had already made that discovery on his own many months before. And, Sara was quick to add that she herself could not hold a candle to the well constructed Anne.
Brad removed Sara’s starched head piece, apron, skirt, blouse, and bra and left her naked except for her neck choker, high heels and thigh high hose. He reached for her nipples; she responded eagerly by pressing them upward to him. He pinched each nipple hard until he sensed that he was having the desired effect on her. Then he led her, on a leash, into the dining room. The girls were excited to see Sara, walking naked, eyes downcast on a leash. She held her hands behind her which accentuated her submission and kept her breasts jutting tautly forward. Brad stood behind Sara and handled her breasts and nipples vigorously.
Eventually, he whispered in her ear and asked her what kind of slave she was. Sara responded, “Master, I am a cock sucking, cunt lapping, pain slut. I am available for any punishment you think I deserve and for any pleasure you believe I can give. My permanent Master expects me to serve you and your guests perfectly at all times and do anything that pleases you, Sir. My reward will be to know that my permanent Master, you and your lady guests here are fully satisfied with my services and behavior.”
Brad told Sara to push herself into a corner of the main room with her back to the corner. She was to put her head back against the corner of the walls and arch her tits high. She was to sit on her heels with her legs spread apart. She was to hold her nipples tightly until he was ready for her again.
He mentioned to Cloe and Anne that they both could learn quite a bit about female submission from  watching Sara as she was a finely trained sex slave. He wanted them to ask her questions about her daily life as a slave and about the treatment she received from her master. No question was off limits; Sara would tell them anything they wanted to know.
The girls were quite aroused at the sight of Sara kneeling naked and fully exposed. Brad, for that matter, was already in full erection. He approached Sara and slipped his big hard-on into her expectant mouth. Sara was very skilled with her mouth and by reputation could take a cock down her throat without gagging. Brad let her work on the tip of his shaft with her tongue and lips and then he began to inch it further back into her mouth. Sara took a deep breath and opened her throat muscles inviting  Brad to push his cock deeply in her throat. She knew he was going to ejaculate and looked him in the eye to tell him that she was ready. With that assurance, Brad erupted. Sara swallowed several times without loosing her grip of cock.

The girls were told that what they had just witnessed included some but not all of what would also be expected of them in the future. Their eyes widened at the prospect and silently wondered if they could ever pass muster on that score. Brad merely indicated that practice with his cock would make them perfect and that he would provide them many opportunities to become as expert at sucking cock as was Sara.
Brad had Sara rise and bend over of one of the low backed lounge chairs in the room. He kicked her still sheathed legs apart. Sara knew from his demeanor that she was going to be whipped and fucked. As Brad began to spank her, he mentioned to the girls that it would be his normal practice to spank them, or have them spanked, before each fucking session from then on. He told Sara to remain stoic and silent for the spanking. Her tightly curved ass began to redden. His cock was ready to go again and he pressed it into her sloppy cunt in one quick move. She gasped but said “Sir, if it suits you, please go on spanking my ass hard while you fuck me. As hard as if might please you, Sir.” Then as she felt his thrusts get more energetic and powerful, she said “Master, do I have your permission to come to orgasm now?”  The girls were both troubled and excited as he denied her request. What mastery he had over her and what control she had over her body. They were in awe at the scene they were witnessing.
He told Anne to lay on the floor with a pillow under her hips and to spread her legs wide for Sara’s soft mouth. She was then given permission to climax at will. Sara responded eagerly to the task but to urge her on Brad again began to whip her ass, this time with a twenty thonged whip. Anne had mixed emotions as she had never been involved in the fine art of cunnilingus in her life. That notwithstanding, she came to a thunderous climax and collapsed in a deep sweat.
While still in her high heels and hose, Sara was taken into Brad’s very large, marbled tiled bathroom. At the flick of a switch a motor lowered a four foot wide bar which had been hidden from view in a narrow, hinged and hidden slot in the ceiling. Attached to each end of the bar was a customized leather wrist cuff. Brad secured each wrist into a cuff so that her arms were just about a shoulder width apart. As the bar was retracted by the push-button motor, Sara’s body  was pulled taut and stretched upward until she was barely standing on her tip toes.
He told Anne she was to whip Sara from the waist down, all except her cunt. Cloe was to whip her from the waist up including her arm’s. She was to concentrate on Sara’s breasts and nipples. For her part Sara was to continue to look at her own reflection in the large mirrors embedded along the walls of the room. She was to witness her punishment at the hands of other women. She could cry or scream and ask for mercy but it wasn’t likely that Brad would let the girls ease up on her. Brad would allow the whipping to go along until he was satisfied the girls had learned at least a little something about whipping a bound and naked women with a variety of whips; then he would finish the job on her himself.
At regular intervals one of the girls rested while the other wailed away at their section of Sara’s body. Cloe often sucked Sara’s nipples to make them long and hard, then she would whip them with a slapper well suited to the task. At first, Sara seemed defiant and hollered for Cloe to whip her tits harder. At last, Sara cried and whimpered under her harsh punishment.
Anne was not at all familiar with the use of whips or other spanking tools. Brad guided her along as she whipped Sara’s calf’s, inner and outer thighs, and her ass. Sara found another emotional and mental space in which to endure the stinging strokes which Anne rained down on her. Brad took the time to inspect Sara’s cunt along the way and repeatedly reinforced Anne’s efforts by telling her that, if cunt lubrication was any indication,  Sara was enjoying her whipping.
At length, when Sara was afire from the stinging slaps of the whips, Brad himself retrieved a thin white English style cane. He made Sara look at the cane; she shuddered knowing the pain the unpleasant implement would bring. Brad touched her ass just at the middle where it rounded nicely. He backed off a bit then swung; the snap and welt appeared almost instantly and Sara jerked wildly in her bonds. Then he hit her twice on the front of both thighs and again just below where her buttocks met her upper leg. She shrieked in pain and fainted dead away when his final stroke cut her across both breasts.
Brad was unaffected by the sight of the unconscious slave and told the two girls to freshen up and bring their underwear to him on the double. When they came to him he said he was proud of them for their participation in the nights pleasures. He said they had just started their elementary education in the trials and travails of being a sex slave. He told them to once again examine poor Sara still hanging by her wrists, well whipped and caned. He ordered them not to talk to each other or to anyone else about what they had just seen but rather to think hard an long about what it might be like for them to be his sex slave.
He told them they could still back out of his offer to come with him to California. And if they did not feel ready to give him pleasure and to endure his punishments as they had witnessed that night it would be quite fine with him. If, on the other hand, they still were determined to be with him, they should tidy up their personal affairs, sell what they could, and pack a light bag. If either or both of them were still interested, they were to make a seven word sign in black marker which would read “I Want To Be Brad’s Sex Slave!”
This sign was to be draped across their naked tits for two hours every day for the  next two weeks in the privacy of their own apartment. If they changed their mind they could get rid of the sign. But, if they wanted to proceed after two weeks, they were to sign it and arrive at the Philadelphia Museum of Art no later than 5:55 a.m. Friday the 13th with their bag and sign in hand.
He told them that when they saw a large gun metal gray limo approach them they were to put the sign around their neck and get in the car. The driver would take them to a private dock somewhere in New Jersey where the family yacht would be waiting for them..  He kissed them both gently on the lips, patted their bottoms tenderly and told them to think carefully about what they wanted to do.

 - continue…  

Read more BDSM Stories

She slowly became aware of her surroundings.  Her head hurt like hell, her heart beating was bounding in her skull.  It felt like the worst hangover she had ever had in her life.  It was cold in the room and she went to reach down to pull the bedclothes up to her chin but found as she tried to move her arms that she could only move them very slightly.  Her arms were stretched out to the side at shoulder level and apparently tied securely to the bed she was lying on.  She became suddenly alert, startled by the knowledge that she wasn’t sure where she was or how she had gotten there.

Her mind was rushing back and forth trying to make sense of it.  She tried to pull her arms into her more forcefully but did nothing but hurt her wrists, which felt like they were tied tightly with a thin rope.  Kicking out with her feet she found that her ankles were bound too. Panic set in at that moment, her mind went blank and she started to scream but there was no sound except for the echo in her head.  There was a rubber ball gag in her mouth, she could taste the rubber and tried to close her mouth around the ball but it fitted too well.

Calm down,  she said to herself, trying to get a grip on her emotions. Slow down and think about it.  Never one to really panic about anything, she tried to relax and think about what had happened.  What did she remember last?  It came to her suddenly.  The pub.  That’s what she remembered last.  She had gone to the pub to meet with … her Master. It all came flooding back.

Kari had gone to the pub to meet Peter.  Peter was her virtual Master.  He had been training her by e-mail and by message service for 6 months now.  This was to be their first real life encounter.  Kari had spent hours getting ready to meet Him.  First having a bath and shaving her legs and underarms, she would also have shaved her pussy but Master had said he wanted to do that himself so she had left the two weeks growth as it was, then a shower and washing her hair. Rubbing in lotion to her skin making it soft and smelling of jasmine.  She had spent hours trying to get her hair just right, it was auburn in color and almost reached her shoulders, she tried it up and then down. Fussing so much, wanting it to be perfect for their meeting.  Carefully she applied some make up and then put on her sexiest underwear, a black lace basque with suspenders and stockings.  As she left for the pub at 5pm she wore a plain black dress and high heels, very understated and conservative, just as Master had told her.

Kari hated going into pubs by herself but Master had been adamant that she get a table and wait for him.  The pub was quiet when she got there, as it was still very early, she got herself a vodka and soda and chose a table near the fire at the back of the pub as per her instructions.  The longer Kari waited the more restless she became, twitching every time someone entered the pub, spending more and more time looking into her drink and trying not to catch anyone’s eye as she sat there alone.

“Hello, Kari.” said a soft, low voice beside her, just as she was thinking of jumping up and running away home.  Slowly she looked up, noting the black jeans and black shirt with grey buttons as her eyes made their journey to her Master’s face.

No words came from her, she tried to speak but there was just silence.  For such a long time she had imagined this moment and now that it had come she had nothing to say.  All she could do was look into his face, losing herself in his hazel eyes.  A tender smile lay upon his face and he bent and kissed her cheek softly.   Kari felt herself grow warmer as a hot flush rose to her cheeks.  She cast her eyes toward the floor and felt as shy and nervous as she had ever felt in her life.  Peter left her and went to the bar for some drinks. Kari watched him as he made his way through the quiet pub, taking this chance to study him, noticing how he walked in such a confident manner and how he exchanged friendly banter with the barman.  Soon he was back by her side. He handed her another vodka with a smile and with a somewhat shaky hand she accepted the drink.

The chat started slowly and a little awkwardly.  Kari was trying so hard to make a good impression that she stumbled over words and stammered.  Peter took her hand in his, “Relax, my love.” he said.  “We are only strangers in the loosest of ways.  Remember how intimately we know each other.  You have nothing to be afraid of; I am here for you now.  You belong to me, you are mine.  I know that’s what you want, so please settle yourself.”  Kari looked up at him through her fringe and felt the love that her Master had for her, she delighted in the way his thumb stroked her hand as he spoke.  Slowly she nodded at him and her face broke into a smile.  Kari felt the tension leave her body. It was true, and this was where she had dreamt of being for so long.

As they began to talk more openly Kari relaxed completely. This felt so right!  Peter stroked her hand and arm as he talked, the sensation managing to glide through her, sending electric like tingles to all her nerves.  As her Master leaned into her and whispered in her ear about what later might hold for Kari, she felt herself become aroused.

Suddenly wet and damp in such a conspicuous place Kari felt awkward again. Peter watched the blush rise in her cheeks and how she fidgeted in her seat.  “I see you are enjoying yourself, my love.” he whispered to her.  At this Kari blushed even more.  “I think you should remove those damp panties and I will carry them for you.”  His tone had not changed in the slightest but Kari knew that it was more of a request than a suggestion.  She looked up into his eyes, a frightened glint in her eyes.  She started to speak but closed her mouth again as Peter looked down at her.  “Yes, Sir.” was all she said and slide one hand up under her skirt and began to pull at her panties.  She tried to do it as discreetly as possible but as she looked up again handing the underwear to her Master she saw an old man winking at her across the bar.  The flush that arose in her face this time was hot and furious.  Peter chuckled and kissed her cheek as her put the panties in his jacket pocket. “Good girl.” he said and Kari felt pleased with herself.

They finished their drinks and Peter told her it was time to go.  “May i use the bathroom first, Sir?” Kari asked. “Of course, my love.” said Peter.  Kari went to the ladies room but as she washed her hands she felt a bit light headed. The room began to spin and she gripped onto the basin to keep herself upright.  It passed quickly though and Kari dried her hands and left, not really giving it any thought. It wasn’t surprising she felt giddy with all that was happening today. Peter was waiting for her by the front door.  He took her arm as the crossed the car park and got to his car.  He opened the passenger door first and let Kari in.  By the time he had gone around to the other side to let himself in Kari was feeling dizzy again. This time it was worse than before and she began to feel panicked.  Peter turned to her and held her face in his hands.  “Its alright, my love.” he said, “Just you have a sleep and you will feel better soon, perhaps its something you have drunk.”  Kari didn’t hear the last bit as she has passed out, the drug in her drink had worked just a Peter had expected it to.  Kari would sleep for a couple of hours at least.  He fastened her seatbelt around her and kissed her firmly on the lips.  “Ah my love,” he said to the unconscious woman. “Let the games begin.”

The next thing Kari knew was awakening in the cool room, tied to the bed wearing only her underwear.

When the door opened Kari started, she had been miles away trying to sort this whole situation out in her head.  On impulse she closed her eyes and pretended to still be asleep. She could sense the figure approaching the bed.  She lay so still, almost holding her breath.

“I know you are awake, my love.” said her Master’s voice. “I have been watching you for a while now.”

Kari felt the mattress move as her Master sat down on the bed.  She could feel him leaning over her and as she opened her eyes, He was looking down on her.  His hand reached up and stroked her cheek.

“You were scared, my love?”

Kari nodded.

“I am sorry I frightened you but it had to be that way.” He leaned into her and kissed her cheek.

She looked up imploring, wishing the gag were gone, wanting to ask why? Didn’t he trust her?

“Now, my love, I must leave you again.  No, no, don’t panic.  I will return soon and I am going to leave you busy.”

Kari strained her neck to see where he was going and what he was doing.  He returned to the bed with some KY jelly in his hand. Kari looked at him,  puzzled.  Peter pulled her panties to one side and rubbed the jelly onto her pussy and then around her arsehole. It was cold and she squirmed.

“Be still!” her Master demanded.

Kari froze.  She felt his fingers opening her lips and felt something hard slide into her, it seemed quite long and uncomfortable but not sore.  Then she felt a probing at her arsehole, that hurt a bit and then as it entered her, she felt herself close around it.  She had never worn a butt plug before and felt strange about it, especially with the vibrator in too.  She felt full. Her Master pulled her panties back straight and walk over to her and kissed her forehead. As he walked out of the room, he flicked a switch but nothing appeared to happen, no lights went off or came on.

Kari quickly forgot the switch as her mind returned to her abduction; she still couldn’t understand why he had done it.  As her mind flowed back and forth over the events, she slowly began aware of the gentle buzzing of the vibrator, the setting must have been very low because she could hardly feel it but it was pleasant. She concentrated on the feeling and it seemed to get stronger.  Kari began to gently rock her hips, the buzz inside her getting her wet, she could feel the moisture starting to form and trickle down the crack of her arse.

Soon Kari was rocking her hips quite forcefully, enjoying as much of the sensations as she could, wishing she could be playing with her nipples and clit too.  Suddenly her arms spasmed and then stopped.  She was left with a strange tingly feeling, the feeling was going when just a suddenly it came again joined by a spasm in her ankles spreading up her legs.  When the next time the tingling came it was also on her breasts, it made her nipples ache.  It was like being accosted by someone invisible, the pulses were becoming more intense and were hitting her different times in different places.

She strained her neck to look down her body and saw the tiny electrical wires running from under her bra, she looked up at the cuffs holding her wrists and there too were tiny wires.  Kari guessed, correctly, that Peter had wired her with electrodes and was sending varying strengths of electrical current through her body.  Once she realized what was happening it wasn’t so scary but the strong pulses were getting quite uncomfortable.  Her nipples were burning and all her muscles seemed to be pulling and spasming against each other.  As she grew accustomed to the current passing through her, she became aware that the vibrator was getting stronger and as each pulse hit her nipples her back arched and the vibrator moved within her, bringing her steadily closer to climax. Just as she thought she could take no more, Peter launched his final surprise and the butt plug came to life. The double vibration was so intense.  Kari thrashed on the bed and came to climax and as the sensations ebbed away from her, she realized that the current had stopped too. Peter was watching her!  He had to be, how else could all of those things have happened in that order.

The door opened and her Master walked into the room.  He came straight to the bed and knelt beside her on the mattress.  “That was a lovely show, my love.  I was very impressed with you.”  He kissed her face and began to undo the straps at her left wrist, as the arm was released Peter placed it by her side, her shoulder was aching and the movement felt stiff and uncomfortable.  He then reached across and released the other arm, placing it in the same position as the left.  He then removed the gag from her mouth, getting the strap tangled in her hair at the back and gently teasing it away from the strap, careful not to pull her hair.

The gag slid from Kari’s mouth and her jaw clamped shut. Her face was aching but she hadn’t realized it until the gag was removed, her mouth hurt and was very dry.  Now was her chance to ask all the questions that had been on her mind for hours now but instead she just lay there and listened to her own breathing and the movement of her Master as he went to her ankles and released them from their bondage too. Peter pushed her legs gently together and then lay down on the bed next to her.  He was fully clothed and not touching her in any deliberate way but his closeness was arousing to Kari, His scent was intoxicating. He stroked her hair and he spoke to her, explaining the necessity of the drugging and abduction, but she wasn’t listening to his words, only his voice.  He could have been reciting the Lord’s Prayer for all she cared; just the sound of his voice was enough.  The reassurance of it saying more to her than the words themselves.  She had never been in any danger, this was her Master and he loved her. He would protect her.

Peter began to slowly peel off the electrodes, which were placed on Kari’s skin, from the ones on her nipples to the ones on either side of her pussy, the ones on her wrists and ankles.  Then he removed the vibrator and the butt plug.  He went over to the drawers at the other side of the room and laid His toys on the top and began to clean them with wet wipes and put them away in the drawer.  From another drawer he took a piece of black leather and came back to the bed.  He took Kari’s hands and pulled her up into a sitting position.  He then sat on the bed next to her and kissed her full on the mouth, a slow and gentle kiss that lasted far too short a time for Kari’s liking.

“My love, you have done well today. I am proud of you. This is what you have earned today.”  In his hands he held the piece of leather, which was actually a black leather collar.  It was about an inch and a half deep and had bars of silver running along the middle of the leather.  He held it out to Kari, who looked up to his eyes for his nod before reaching to touch it. It was softer than she had imagined but the silver made it quite heavy.  Kari noticed there was a pattern on the silver and looked at it more closely.  On one side near the buckle was the word Peter and on the other was Kari.  Here in her hands was the symbol of her submission, she had dwelt on the idea for a long time and knew that Peter was the only man who she would ever truly call Master and she knew that to accept the collar was to signify her complete surrender to the life of a sub.  She knew from long conversations with Peter about D/s that if she agreed to be collared her life would change; in some ways only fractionally but in others beyond compare.  This was a moment she had wanted for a long time but now that it was here….

Holding the collar in her hands tightly Kari closed her eyes and wished for the courage to grasp her destiny as she was grasping the collar.  Peter just sat there waiting, not saying a word of encouragement or persuasion.  The decision was fully hers and she had to make it alone.

Kari looked up from the collar and nodded at her Master.  He smiled widely and swept Kari into his arms and held her tightly for a few long moments. When he pulled back from her, he pushed her hair back from her shoulders and moved to stand behind Kari. He slid the collar around her neck and began to fasten the buckle at the back of her neck. It fitted perfectly, made to measure as it was.  It was tight enough for Kari to feel it as she swallowed and her eyes filled with tears.  These were not tears of fear or of sadness but tears of joy as she felt the comfort of the collar, the sense of belonging, of coming home.

She belonged to her Master.

Kari turned and knelt before her Master, head bowed in submission.  The collar around her neck, tightening as she bent her head forward.  Her soul was content and she felt as if she was home at last.

Peter’s hands rested upon her shoulders then took hold of her and pulled her to her feet.  “Come, my love, the night is not over yet.”  He led her by the hand, to the door and out into the hallway.  Kari looked about her, this was the first time she had seen the house and she was curious about where everything was.  Peter took her into a room further down the hall, it was the bathroom.

The bath was large and sunken; it was already full of steaming bubbles, which smelled of jasmine. Peter urged her into the water.  The temperature was perfect, just hot enough to make her skin tingle. As Kari relaxed into the bath, Peter began to wash her gently with a flannel, soaping her all over, spending a long time washing her bottom and her pussy, the effect was arousing. After what seemed like a very short time her Master urged her out of the bath and wrapped her in a very large fluffy towel.  Once Kari was dry her Master handed her a piece of black leather.  Kari held it in her hands and looked at her Master questions written on her face.

“Put that on.” he said.

Kari realized it was a piece of clothing and opened it out.  It was a leather teddy of sorts, made really just of strips of leather that were joined together. Kari looked at it bemusedly then moved it about in her hands trying to work out how it went on.

As Kari fumbled with the leather teddy, Peter walked over to the dressing area and picked up a flat backed hair brush and went back to where Kari was standing, still no closer to getting the thing on.  Kari didn’t see the brush move but she certainly felt it strike, her left buttock seared and then throbbed, and she was so surprised she let out with a yell.

“Put it on, I said” barked Peter.

Kari blushed and fumbled more with the stupid thing.

“Please, Sir, I can’t find how to put it on.” she murmured, head bowed.

Peter sighed and took the teddy from Kari, His fingers moved along the side seam and undid all the hidden poppers so that the teddy was open all along one side.  Once it was open it was easy for Kari to step into it, carefully positioning the straps about her body.  A very thin piece of leather ran between her arse cheeks but became two pieces at the front so that her pussy was exposed and almost held open by the leather.  The straps crisscrossed her torso and back but her arse was complete exposed and the straps lifted her breasts so they looked almost on display, like sitting on a shelf.  Her breasts wobbled as she breathed.

Peter walked around her, looking at her and tugging at the straps until they sat exactly as he wanted, He then used the brush to tidy her hair, brushing it with long hard strokes, tugging at her hair.  He brushed it all over her left shoulder, leaving her neck and back quite exposed.

“Do you remember the “slave positions” I sent you?” Peter asked Kari.

“Yes, Sir.” Kari said although her mind had gone completely blank.  Some of the names of the positions were in her head, Nadu, Bara, Ko’lar, Sula, Display but she had no idea what any of them were and less idea of how to achieve any of them. She knew that Peter did not follow the disciplines of Gor but he had asked her to memorize these positions so he could command her without long explanation of what he wanted.

“Leading position!” he ordered.

Kari just stood there, mind racing. Leading, leading… now what had that meant.  Please remember she coaxed herself.  It came to her; it was in the name really.

Kari went to her Master’s left side and stood a little way behind Him.  Clasping her hands together in the small of her back, she bent at the waist and stepped forward so that her head touched her Master’s hip, he had swept her hair over her left shoulder so that he could have easy access to her collar to lead her.

Peter’s hand fell onto the top of her head, “Good girl, you remembered.”  He stroked her hair and then slipped his finger into the ring on the collar, designed for a leash, and led her from the bathroom.

Kari tried to look up as she was lead along the hallway but her Master held her firmly by the collar and made it impossible to raise her head.  She was walking along bowed at the waist, watching her feet when they stopped in front of a large wooden door.  Peter let go of the collar and slipped his hand under Kari’s chin, gently lifting her into a standing position.  He pulled her face to his and softly kissed her on the lips. Kari was a little surprised by the gesture but smiled despite herself, a knot of apprehension had formed in her belly and she dreaded what was behind the door. This worsened as Peter spoke.

“Now, my love,” he said holding more firmly on to her chin, “This is where you prove yourself worthy to wear that collar I have given you.  I do not believe you will let me down but be warned if you do the consequences will be dire!  I am not talking about punishments; I am talking about taking back that collar you seem so happy to be wearing.  Oh I see I have frightened you. No my precious, I know you will be a good girl for me tonight so there is no need to be worried.”

With another soft kiss to her lips, He pushed her back into leading position and knocked loudly on the door.  The double door swung open.  Kari couldn’t see the room from her bent position but she could see the polished floor and smell the candle wax, the flickering light told her that candles lighted the whole room.  From the corners of her eyes she saw a set of female feet to her left by the door and with a subtle move of her head she saw another pair at the other side.  The feet were bare and the toenails painted.  Peter walked her to the center of the room, into a circle that was marked on the floor.  He stood her in the Centrex of the circle, turned her round to face back toward the doorway and let go of her collar.

She didn’t move, remaining still in the bend leading position, waiting for instruction.  She didn’t wait long.

“Display!”  Was all that was said by Peter in a firm and commanding tone?

Immediately Kari stood erect, she spread her legs slightly wider than her shoulders and linked her fingers behind her head.  This had the effect of flattening her stomach and lifting her breasts, changing their shape, making the nipples seem all the more erect as they had been since she had donned the leather costume.

As she lifted her head, she quickly looked toward the doorway where the women had been and sure enough there were two slaves, standing one on either side of the doorway, like sentries. They wore similar leather garments to the one she wore, they were collared and other than that were as naked as she was.

“Eyes down!” her Master snapped and struck her with what felt like a slipper, it was a sharp retort on her arse cheek and she cast her eyes down, her face burning with shame.

Peter walked around her slowly.  He seemed pleased with her, tapping his thigh softly with a leather paddle as he went.

There was a loud knock on the door and the women swung the doors open.  Although Kari had her eyes cast down, she could just about see what was happening.  At the door were two men, she didn’t know them but suspected that they were Masters, probably the owners of the slaves at the door. As if to prove this as soon as the doors were closed the slaves dropped to their knees and crawled to the men’s feet.

“Welcome Gentlemen!”  Greeted Peter.  “Please come in.”

“So this is she then?” questioned one of the men.

“Yes, this is my new slave.  Quite the beauty isn’t she?”

“I will give you that, Peter, but does she behave as well as she looks?”

The heart in Kari’s chest pounded in her ears. She was terrified.  Peter had told her of these kinds of “events” but she had never expected one on her first night.  These events were evenings where some of Peter’s friends came to the dungeon with their slaves.  Some nights it was just an evening of talking while the slaves served them and other turned into orgies of a sort.  Kari suspected that this was not going to be a chatting night.

Peter was standing by Kari’s side, “Oh she does, and she behaves very well.”  Peter stroked her cheek as he said this and smiled at Kari.  Then he stepped back from her and ordered her into the leading position, she immediately bent at the waist, hands clenched in the small of her back, her head at her Master’s hip.  Peter ran His hand over her bare shoulders. “Good girl, I promise you will be rewarded if you please me tonight.” He whispered softly so only she could hear him.  He slipped his finger into her collar and turned her slowly and walked over to the far end of the room.

Kari couldn’t see what was ahead of her and walked smoothly along, keeping pace with her Master’s long strides.  Peter stopped suddenly and Kari almost stumbled but her Master steadied her by tightening His grip on her collar. Peter pulled Kari upright and let go of the collar.

In front of Kari was a narrow bench, it was horizontal to her, about waist height, 12 inches across and covered in black leather.  The legs of the bench had straps in place, leather straps with large silver buckles.  Peter placed His hand in the small of Kari’s back and gave her the slightest of nudges.  Kari stepped forward, placing herself directly in front of the bench. Peter must have gestured in some way because the two slave-girls crawled over to Kari and pulled at her ankles until the straps positioned them and she was buckled in.  Her legs were spread apart, not uncomfortably so but wide enough for her to feel the leather straps cut into the sides of her pussy.  The slaves then took hold on her hands and pulled her forward so that she was leaning on the bench, the leather cover was cool against her belly.

“Wait!” said Peter and he reached across and snapped open the poppers of the leather garment Kari was wearing, the garment seemed to completely fall part and Kari was naked but for her collar.  Kari saw Peter nod from the corner of her eyes and the slaves held her hands again, pulling her tightly over the bench. There was a bar about 2.5 feet away from the bench and Kari found her wrists being tethered to it. Naked and fully exposed, Kari was in a world of disbelief, she couldn’t really comprehend that this was happening and yet at the same time she felt surge after surge of energy, she was here at last and she was pleasing her Master.  She felt so invigorated that he would choose to show her off this way on her first night.

Lost in thought for a moment, Kari didn’t see the slaves slide under her prone torso but she certainly felt them as them clamped their mouths to her breasts, which hung down from her chest.  The suckling on her nipples, both at the same time made her groan gently. As the suckling became sweet, sharp nips as the girls pinched her nipples between their teeth, Kari groaned more loudly and moved her hips slightly, trying to rub her clit on the bench.  Moisture was forming on her pussy lips; she could feel it. Part of her felt ashamed at enjoying this but a larger part of her wanted more.

The paddle struck her left cheek, not hard but enough to make her gasp and wonder at the stinging feeling. She was even more surprised when a second paddle connected with her right cheek.  She knew different people had aimed them by the difference in the attacks, she couldn’t have said what the difference was but she could tell anyway.  The slaps to her buttocks took a regular rhythm, still not done forcefully but the repeated strokes becoming intense and hot, the stinging grew and become a gentle throb, as if her arse had a pulse.

A shadow fell across Kari’s face and she glanced up, Peter stood in front of her, he held her face in his hand, smiling down at her, he mouthed the word “good” to her and she nodded, not knowing if he meant she was being good or asking if it felt good but the nod must have pleased Peter because he bent and kissed her mouth, licking her lips and slipping his tongue into her mouth.  The kissing felt strange as the alternating slaps took her arse.  Her arse was really starting to burn now, the gentle throb becoming an ache. Kari began to feel dizzy. She felt her head sag and the spanking stopped. Peter must have made them stop seeing she had had enough for now.  The slaves were still playing with her nipples and they were getting very sensitive.  The moisture on her pussy felt like it was flowing freely now and she felt some fingers dip into her and then felt them slide over her arse.  The sensation was almost unbearable but the hand moved slowly and softly, caressing her.  Heat rose from her reddened cheeks and the hand felt cool against her skin, another joined the hand, which had also visited her wet pussy before beginning its caresses.

The hand under Kari’s chin lifted her face again, Kari’s eyes were closed and she didn’t see her Master’s cock but she felt it was he touched it to her lips.  He was hard and the tip of the cock was wet and shiny.  Opening her mouth wide, Kari looked up into her Master’s face as took the cock deep into her mouth.  Peter took hold of both sides of Kari’s face and began to fuck her, slowly at first, with firm, long strokes.  Sliding all the way to the back of her throat and causing her to gag then pulling all the way back so that he almost left her mouth and then plunging right back into her.  Kari began to suck, running her tongue along the underside of the cock as it slid in and out of her mouth.  Sucking harder and really tasting her Master Kari’s mind drifted again but she was brought back when she felt something touching her pussy. Groaning loudly as she felt one of the other men take hold of her hips and then slam his cock deeply into her.  The cock began to pump into her, speeding up quickly, she wondered if he could feel the heat off her arse on his stomach as he fucked her.  Her body was a torrent of sensation. From the slaves on her tits, the man fucking her and best of all her Master spraying his cum into her mouth.  Kari sucked harder, swallowing as fast as she could not wanting to lose a drop of the jizz.

Her Master stepped back and let his cock fall from Kari’s mouth, only seconds later to be replaced by another cock.  Kari took up the task with vigor, as if she was trying to swallow this new cock, her mouth was still filled with her Master’s taste and her pussy was twitching in delight at the cock pumping in and out of her.  Orgasm wasn’t far away and it felt like it was going to split her apart when it came.  The cock in her mouth was forcing its way in and out of her mouth, the balls attached to it hitting off her chin which was getting wet with saliva. Deep guttural moans came from Kari’s throat as the cock in her mouth erupted and filled her mouth with hot seed. Spasms took control of her pussy as she came, her vision blurred and her thighs shook.  Deep inside her muscles clamped themselves to the cock thrusting in and out of her and then she felt the cock leave her and a spray of cum splattered across her back. Exhausted, Kari slumped forward over the bench and rested her head on her arms.

When she became aware of her surroundings again, she found herself still bound to the bench but the room was silent.  Many of the candles must have gone out because it was darker now.  Peter was standing by her side, his hand resting on her back.  Looking up at Him, Kari caught the smile on His lips.

“You are awake then.” he said.

Kari nodded.  Peter moved around the bench and undid the buckles that confined her, and then helped her to stand up.  Her body was stiff and aching.  The skin covering her arse was tight and tingly.  Peter took her hand and led her back through the hallway, back to the bathroom.  He started the water in the shower and took off his clothes, throwing them to the floor. He was naked he held out his hand to Kari and pulled her into the shower stall with Him.

The warm water was like heaven on Kari’s body, Peter began to soap her and caress her body as he washed her. Kissing her face and neck as he washed, telling her over and over how pleased he was with her and how proud he made her.  After the shower Peter walked Kari back to the room she had woken up in earlier. The bed linen had been changed and it looked most inviting to her weary body.  Peter turned back the covers and invited Kari to get into the bed.  When she was lying there he got in beside her and took her into his arms. Sleep came quickly to Kari and just as it overtook her, she heard her Master say, “Yes, my love, you did well tonight.  However, there is something we must see to tomorrow.” He kissed her sleeping brow. ” Oh yes, I am going to enjoy teaching you not to cum unless I say you can!”

- The End -

Read more BDSM Stories

Chapter l — The Graduates Graduate

When Brad Mussleman graduated from the Wharton School of Business as an honors student in their MBA program his parents bought him the large estate next to theirs in Western Los Angeles County, California as a bonus for joining their firm as a full partner.  All the aspiring, talented, and single-minded girls who knew Brad were aware that he would one day take over Mussleman Group, headquartered in Beverly Hills, from his parents.
The Musselman Group’s tag line was “…an Integrated Personal Services Agency”. They had a division specializing in management services for professionals such as doctors, lawyers, and sports figures. Another division was devoted to talent development and publicity; another in “escort” services and another in print and runway modeling productions. And, they had a small financial stake in a screen production company specializing in hi-quality adult video work.

The family business was a natural fit for Brad — not just because he was bright, but because he was one of the “beautiful” people of his generation with a chiseled face and body. He was well muscled and tall; handy attributes to have as a rower for the U. Penn scull team.. Brad was unaffectedly charming.and had all the social graces. He had spent many years traveling before going to graduate school and was a very youthful looking 28 years old.

Brad was never wanting for a vivacious female bed partner. He was careful with his choices and never settled on any one women during his college years. His preference was for almost any well informed, well groomed, well built, submissive lady. Women of this description made themselves available to him in abundance. Frequently, a young women would send him, or give him, a provocative picture of herself in the hope that she would attract his attention. He could usually tell from the pose that these women would be ready for anything; and he had a reputation for most things heterosexual.

If nothing else, Brad was meticulous and knew what he liked in people. He had an uncanny way of finding out the basic nature of those with whom he dealt. He kept a record of everyone of his acquaintances and was particularly descriptive in his notes of the women he dated. He kept in touch with the most interesting of these women; the women who treated him well and deferred to, and indulged, his sexual desires. Brad never abided jealousy among the women he dated and was quick to cut loose any women he felt was being possessive of him.

The architect Brad chose to remodel the main mansion on his new  estate was inventive and took on the remodeling of the property before Brad graduated. On the first level of the building, Brad wanted an office, since he planned to work at home. He wanted two libraries; one for business and one, concealed, for his massive collection of erotic literature and videos. The foyer, reception and dining areas were to be sufficient to entertain 50 guests.
On the second level Brad wanted a big master bedroom and bath and four guest bedrooms with baths. Two of the bedrooms would adjoin his own. Under ground, would be a massive game room and a concealed room for “The Dungeon.” The garage was to house at least 6 automobiles comfortably. The barn, spa, sauna, workout room, pools, and tennis courts were all to be first class. The staff would have space on the third level.
Cloe and Anne were his closest female friends while he was in graduate school; devoted and discreet. They were five years younger than Brad but were also graduate students at Penn; and they were remarkably attractive. He had invited them to accompany him separately on several occasions as non participant observers at one of the bdsm clubs in the suburbs of  Philadelphia. He asked them to dress in tight fitting leather skirts and tops, with a prominent leather neck collar and high heels. The girls did look fabulous and they played the submissive role to the hilt; in their cases it was not a stretch. It was on these occasions that they came to know Brad’s dark sexual side. With their consent he also took them to “The Vault” in New York City and there they found themselves in the functional role of a submissive sex slave; nude, whipped, bound, and fucked by him in front of strangers — they both loved it all.
On one occasion, Cloe confided to Anne that during one of her trips to “The Vault”, Brad had whipped her all over while she was bound naked, blindfolded, and spread in the middle of  a room full of Dom’s and their subs. She said she soon lost her sense of reality. She could feel Brad whipping her but, it didn’t seem to be painful even when he snapped at her nipples. Her endorphins were surging and the cheers from the crowd just seemed to propel her to another place. When Brad whispered in her ear that he was going to fuck her, she shook wildly as he pumped his cock into her. Soon after he exploded his hot cum into her she erupted in the most violent orgasism she had ever had. She said she could not get that scene or the sensation, both inside and outside of her, out of her mind for days.

In time, both women sensed that they were deeply committed to Brad and would do anything he asked of them just for the pleasure they received from pleasing him; and from seeing the big bulge in his pants. Anne, while having a very submissive nature, showed some inclination for assuming the top position with women. But Cloe shunned any active role preferring to be the resolute submissive always deferring to Brad’s wishes. Both women knew Brad enjoyed spanking them and testing their submission in public places. They often talked together about the various ways Brad had hurt or humiliated them. When they were alone, they even talked in hushed tones about the sexual tortures they fantasized him inflicting upon them and how they were prepared to beg him to whip them and fuck them.

At a private dinner they shared at an exclusive restaurant in center city shortly before they graduated, Brad invited both women to join him in California to be his personal assistants at the mansion.

He wanted Cloe to work as his business assistant and general manager of the estate. She would also manage all social occasions, the dungeon and the erotic library.

Anne was to be the operations manager responsible to hire and supervise five women: two whom would be responsible for the grounds, gardens, and inside flowers, a personal valet and driver for Brad, a chef, and a mansion maid who would also tend the pool; all who were to be attractive and well built women in their own right. They would subcontract for the services of technical help and tradesman  as needed.

Cloe and Anne were told that they would be paid handsomely for their services which would be expected 24/7. They would also be provided an unlimited credit  for their own personal use. They would be expected to purchase their own clothing and other personal articles from the credit account. All necessary expenses for the mansion would be billed to his own account.. Any sort of mismanagement on their part would be greeted with stern discipline. The ladies knew what that meant.

The two women knew they could drop out of sight from their other friends and families without raising suspicion and eagerly accepted the assignments Brad had offered them. The conversation turned to specific details of the work at the mansion.
He wanted Cloe to hire a few decorators and have the mansion furnished in a tastefully masculine style. She was to decorate both of the bedrooms on either side of his the same, down to the last detail. These rooms would be for her and Anne and he would decide who would get which room once they were available. She was also to furnish the dungeon with the tools and implements for the discipline and punishment of  women. His general suggestions included small cages, tens units, wooden ponies, crosses, and various suspension devices in addition to a various types of chains, leather bonds, whips, paddles, clamps, dildos, and bondage equipment.
Cloe was told to use her imagination and get the best and innovative material available for use in “The Dungeon” regardless of price. The thought of furnishing the dungeon made her juices flow. Brad could sense her heightened tension and moved his hand under the table and slid his middle finger into her smooth slit. She was virtually dripping with sexual excitement. He teased her engorged clit for a few minutes then made her suck her own juices from his middle finger. She didn’t notice, but if anyone was watching they could see that her eyes were glazed over.
Brad told Anne he felt she should engage the more prominent contacts in the professional sex  training market throughout Europe to find at least three young women who had shown they were prepared to serve. If these women were to be made available by their current trainer or master he would make a deal, almost at any price, to get the best. .He wanted the two outside gardeners to be compatible in looks and build and to have been previously trained as pony girls. He also wanted the mansion maid to be well built, efficient, and very submissive. She would be required to wear a newly starched  French maid outfits, including a mid-thigh high skirt and high heels. Additionally, the maid was to wear high cut cotton under pants and a push up  bra on the premises. His valet and driver was also to be dressed provocatively all the time.
Brad said it probably worth mentioning that he expected all women of the mansion to be freshly shaved from neck to toes and that their skin was to be clean, lightly oiled and smooth. He also wanted their labia, vagina, and anus to be lubricated at all times. He said they would know if he was ever displeased with their appearance and that they would have welts to prove it.
The two young women wanted to know if Brad had any specific rules or demands for them personally. He said he didn’t think he needed to make it a rule but he did expect them to treat him deferentially at all times and to look exceptionally seductive to him and others. To make sure he was understood, he observed that both girls should be proud that their legs and ass were tight and nicely sculpted and that their tits were high, full, and firm and filled well a  “C” or “D” cup.
He reminded them that he was willing to spare no expense to have them dress well in clothing and swim attire which accentuated their remarkable bodies. He wanted to see  them reveal their natural beauty as overtly as circumstances warranted. He specifically stated that “since they had it, they had to flaunt it big time.” They got the point that he wanted to be able to see them, touch them, and be turned on by them. In simple fact, that was the desire of the girls as well and they didn’t need further motivation to please him.
He wanted each girl to exercise each day with a personal trainer. He expected to see increased endurance, flexibility, and strength in their back, shoulders, legs and, abdominal muscles. He expected to receive an updated log of their measurements every month.
He would not allow any sexual contact between the woman or with the staff without his  permission. And, he would not allow them to reach orgasm unless he was there to observe it. Brad said he expected them to keep a daily journal of their private thoughts and behavior which he would review from time-to-time. They were expected to be open and direct in their answers to any of his questions to them even if those questions were likely to be very personal.
They would be expected to obey him without hesitation and to be available to satisfy his every sexual whim. They were to accept any punishment without whimper or resistance. If they made noise without his permission during a discipline session he said he would likely only add to the severity or the punishment he had intended to administer to them. Both girls flushed with excitement and Brad sensed it wasn’t from the expensive wine they had consumed.
Anne broke in and asked to be excused so she could use the ladies room. Cloe asked to be excused as well. When they got into the rest room they fell into each others crushing embrace. Cloe said she was so aroused she could organism just by pressing her legs together but had thought wiser of it. She said she wanted to tell Brad, this very moment, that she wanted to give her body to him and she now needed to tell him directly that she wanted to be his devoted sex slave. She wanted his permission to refer to him as “Master.” Anne said she felt exactly the same way but wanted to be the first one to express her feelings to Brad in this regard when they returned to the table.
When the girls had devised their plan down to the last expressive detail, they returned to the table and extended their proposal. Brad had expected they might come up with such a scheme and was waiting for them. He told them he was flattered that such beautiful women would consider having him as their master. But, he wanted to take some time to think it over because he said with a pixy like smirk, that beating such nice girls all the time did take time and energy.
He took them to his home and bed. When his juices had been spent he lay stroking them; one on each side. He had Cloe’s left nipple firmly in his grasp; he rolled it, pulled it and tugged it. Her nipples were large and hard and she moaned softly. He paid no attention to her since his right hand was busy stroking Anne’s aroused and protruding clit; one of the most robust clits he had ever touched.  She fidgeted under his ministrations as well. They both were thinking that they would never get any sleep if he kept playing with them like he was.
After he had given some thought to what he wanted to do, Brad announced he had an alternate plan to replace the one the girls had offered at dinner. He would wait until the mansion was fully functional; both staff and furnishings just the way he wanted it. He would then expect each girl to provide him with a notarized letter giving him complete control over them and detail just why they wanted him to be their master. When he was satisfied with the attitude and expressions of submission, he would conduct a coming-out sex slave party at which time he would conduct a special ceremony and accept them unconditionally as their master.

 - continue…  

I’m 28 years old and pretty open about sex and relationships. I believe a man should worship his lady in every way. Can’t say that I had ever literally worshiped a woman physically until i met Mz. Chloe. I still am not sure what attracted me to Her but it was strong. She has complete control over me and i’m her slave completely. I would do anything Mz.Chloe asked of me.

Mz.Chloe introduced me to a friend of hers Mr.Sean, He has a girl slave named precious. Precious is a beautiful shy little girl and Mr.Sean is a large handsome man. I’ve come to care for both of them a great deal. Mr.Sean has taught me that pleasure comes in many forms. Male, female, big and small.
Mz.Chloe has already introduced me to anal play and I enjoy it, but had never really thought about being intimate with another man. She also knows how open I am to trying something new and would do anything she asked.
Shortly after I met Mr.Sean and precious we went to their house for a visit. When not in public Mz.Chloe and Mr Sean require both precious and I to wear nothing save our collars and adornments so we might be accessible at a whim. After our greetings I undress and my clothes are put in a closet. We all headed to the sitting room and precious and I fixed drinks for the four of us, we were rewarded with praise and kisses. Then precious and I took our place at our respective owner’s feet.
“Well Mz.Chloe and I have decided its time for Our beautiful slaves to branch out and try something new.” Mz Chloe was smiling down at me and stroking my hair. “Yes Sir.” We both chimed in at the same time. By now Mz.Chloe was rubbing my growing erection with her foot and Mr. Sean’s hand had wandered to precious’s breast. Of course it excited me to see Mr. Sean playing with her breast. “We both agreed that we wanted our slaves to experience as many experiences as possible at least once. Of course if you enjoy it we’ll be glad to repeat the experience.” “My darling cord you know I love and adore you. I would never ask anything of you I didn’t think you could handle or would not enjoy.” “Yes Ma’am I do and I love You also.” “Tonight your experiences will be with Mr. .Sean.” “Yes Ma’am.” I said. “My beautiful precious I will expect you to please Mz.Chloe tonight.” “Yes Sir” she whispered. Mr. Sean then gave her nipple a pinch causing her to gasp then swatted her ass and said “Now scoot on over to Mz.Chloe and make me proud My slave.” “Yes sir” she said and crawled over to us, I kissed My Mistress’s feet then crawled over and kissed Mr. .Sean’s feet and whispered “I am here for your pleasure Mr. .Sean.”

He smiled and stroked my hair and said “I think your going to enjoy your experience tonight cord.” “Yes Sir.” I said nervously. I know Mz Chloe is enjoying precious and watching so I want to do my very best to please Mr. Sean and make Her proud of me. “Give me your hand please cord.” Obediently I raised my hand to Mr. Sean. He placed it on the enormous bulge in His pants. “Can you feel how much I am looking forward to this cord?” “Yes Sir, it feels like your quite anxious.” I started rubbing the bulge feeling it twitch, knowing very soon I would be seeing my first male cock up close and personal. I hear him moan softly. “Unzip My pants please cord.” I reached up and unzip his pants releasing the monster cock inside. My eyes widen when his cock springs free of his pants. It was at least 9 inches long and a good 6 inches around. He took hold of his hard cock and started rubbing it on my face. I’ve never felt anything quite like that before. My own cock was hardening at the thought of me pleasing Mr. Sean and ultimately Mz. Chloe.

Mr. Sean was rubbing the head of his cock on My lips, I could taste the salty sweetness of his pre-cum. I started lapping at the head of his cock catching the pre-cum with my tongue. “Mmmmm,good boy cord. Use your mouth on me as you think would please yourself.” I had to have more; slowly I closed my lips around his cock and slid it into my mouth. It tasted incredible; I never dreamt I would be sucking cock. He put his hand on the back of my head and thrust his cock into my mouth making me gag. I started breathing through my nose so I wouldn’t gag and could enjoy His cock. “Is he a good little cock sucker My Love?” Mz. Chloe asked. Breathing heavy Mr. Sean managed to say “Oh Yes Darling, I believe he will come along quite well.” His cock was big and hard and filled My mouth. I was hoping soon his cock would be filling my ass. He was grunting loudly and thrusting his cock hard in and out of my mouth. I reached up and started massaging his full balls, He moaned loudly and said. “I’m about to fill your mouth with My seed cord, can you take it without wasting a drop?” I nodded and sucked harder still playing with his balls. He grunted and shoved His cock as far down my throat as it would go. I felt his hot seed spilling down my throat and swallowed fast.

I could hear Mz. Chloe having another orgasm, it was obvious She was enjoying precious. “Well I’m guessing you enjoyed that cord, you did well.” He was by now using his toes to stroke my aching cock, His own cock was still quite hard. “Try his beautiful ass out My Love.” Mz. Chloe said. “I think I will do just that Darling.” He said “How is My beautiful precious doing over there Love?” “She has become quite proficient at pleasing My hungry cunt Darling. I’d say she’s about due for a little reward. Would you mind if cord administered her reward while you have your way with his ass?” “Oh that’s a good idea. Would you like that My beautiful slave?” precious nodded and said “Yes Sir if that would please You.”  “It would now be a good little girl and offer your dripping little cunny to cord. You’ve earned a treat.”

Precious laid on the floor in front of me and opened her legs wide. I could see her juices dribbling from her bare little pussy down onto her tiny pink puckered asshole. I got on my knees between her legs with my ass in the air and began lapping at her juices. She was so wet and tasted so good. I lapped from her tight little cunt to her asshole poking my tongue into her ass gently. I heard her gasp as I did. Mr. Sean reached under me and stroked my aching hard cock for a minute making his hand nice and wet with my pre-cum. He then wiped it on my ass and started fingering my asshole. I moaned into precious’s cunt as he did. I had the best of both worlds at the moment, a tight little wet cunt at my mouth and a swollen cock poking its head into my waiting asshole. With out a warning Mr. Sean shoved his entire cock into my ass with one swift thrust. “Oh gawd he’s so tight.” He moaned. He started slapping my ass and ramming it hard pushing me foreword deeper into precious’s cunt. Precious was moaning and wreathing at my mouth, waiting for permission to cum. “are you enjoying this My slave?” He asked. “Oh yes Sir I am. My I please have permission for release?” knowing she was close to cumming  I started flicking my tongue over her hard pulsing clit. I slid two fingers into her sopping wet cunt and started finger fucking her. “I think you’ve earned your release this evening My beautiful slave, you may feed cord your cum when your ready.” She lifted her hips high and squealed, as she did this Mr. Sean thrust his cock as deep into my ass as he could get it. I could feel him shooting his seed deep into my bowels. Both my ass and my asshole were on fire. Mr. Sean left his cock in my ass until it became flaccid and slipped out. I lapped precious through the ending of her orgasm.

“Come to me My beautiful slave.” Mr. Sean requested “Yes Sir.” precious said and crawled to him. As they cuddled in the chair Mz. Chloe turned me over and mounted my aching hard cock. Her cunt was sopping wet from watching the scene before her. It felt so good wrapped around my cock; I knew I wouldn’t last long. Like a woman possessed she was riding my cock like there was no tomorrow. She reached down and squeezed my full balls hard and demanded me to cum now. Like a good little boy I did, shooting my load deep into her cunt. Her pussy was convulsing around my cock milking it of all my cum. I laid under her trying to catch my breath and looking forward to the rest of the visit.

- The End –

Read more BDSM Stories

“It’s over”, I told you, “So leave me alone. I don’t want to see you or talk on the phone!” Then you were a pest ’til I had no resort But to file a petition against you in court.

The judgment’s been issued to keep you away, But you’re playing dumb on the very first day. You drop by my house and you’re asking me whether I’ll do what you’re wanting and get back together!

“Look!”, I say firmly, “Get out of my house, ‘Cause you’ve seen the last of the treats in this blouse.” I add, even though you look rather defeated, “The judge gave the order, so you can just beat it!”

“What part of ‘No’ do you not understand?”, I ask while repeating the judge’s demand… “The order enforces restraint, so obey it!” You say I deserve it, so you won’t delay it!

You produce rope and I run toward the door. You capture me there, and I fall to the floor. I’m moved to the chair where you’re tying me tightly… My feet to the side and my legs parted slightly.

The judge, you are noting, demanded restraint, And you’re telling me that you have no complaint! The judge was appalled at my lack of decorum And asked you to handle this punishment for him.

You say you’re aware of my lack of perfection, And so, you are pleased to provide my correction! You tell me His Honor quite clearly instructed That I must be punished as well as abducted.

You have the OK from the magistrate’s court That my body, this evening, will serve as your sport! There aren’t any limits you have to observe, And the judge says to give me just what I deserve!

So you have approval to come in my house, And with that, you’re busy undoing my blouse. The mood of the moment’s becoming more haunting Since you have an OK to do what you’re wanting!

Now that my bust line is fully exposed, This evening’s agenda will now be disclosed. Checking a pocket, you’re set to proceed… You swear those two clothespins are all that you need!

And although we’ve played with these clothespins before, I fear that tonight, there’s a new twist in store. Several more seconds confirms I’m correct As you’re placing these clothespins right where I expect.

Since I’m a woman, I don’t need to mention How you have commanded my total attention! I get the gist of your total disdain, And, Babe, I assure you I’m feeling your pain!

- The End –

Read more BDSM Stories

The leather mask he wore seemed to be seamless. The only breaks in the smooth black leather were slits for his eyes and holes to breathe through, no mouth. She could hear the whisper of his accelerated breathing as he bent over her prostrate, naked body.

Abigail noticed the definition of his musculature as his skin tight suit rippled with his movement. His biceps accentuated by the refraction of light as it bounced of the shiny material. Somewhat abstractly, in a corner of her mind, she thought he had to be extremely hot, trapped in the encompassing embrace of his costume.

His two accomplices were similarly dressed, but had carnival type eye masks. As with his suit, their breasts and form were there to be seen, not at all hidden by the material, but rather enhanced. The two female acolytes hovered closely, acting as aides to him, checking on her ritualistic bonds, that although were not terribly strong, served to restrain her in a classic spread eagle position over the cross shaped wooden altar. They were only in her peripheral vision, never staying in one place long enough for her to really study them. Not that she was very much interested in the two women; her attention was fully focused on him as he stepped between her parted and bound legs. Her neck was beginning to strain at trying to hold it up without support.

He had not touched her up to now; it wasn’t necessary, just the anticipation and implied threat were enough to have her quivering. The uncertainty of what was to happen, increased the nervous quickening of her heartbeat and each lungful of air was chased by another as if the first was unsatisfactory in volume.

Abigail was determined though; not to weaken and utter the agreed words that would stop the ceremony instantly. What was the word anyway? Amber, Amethyst? Something like that she thought, a semi-precious stone she was sure. Then she remembered; it was of course, her birthstone, sapphire. She committed the word to memory and then as quickly dismissed it because she had no intention of using it.

“Abigail, you can stop this at this moment or you can see it through. What is your choice?” The leather muffled his voice. She watched the mask move with the working of his jaw, but the question was clear enough for her to understand exactly what he was asking. She only nodded in answer and caught the movement out of the corner of her eye of the blonde acolyte as she wheeled a stainless steel instrument trolley to his left. “You desire the mark of your master?” Again she nodded her assent, mouth unable to form the words in the mixture of fear and excitement. Her heart beat a little harder and faster, knowing the moment was approaching quickly. “You remember the word?” Her mind wandered and distractedly, she watched the play of the strong spotlight on the shiny leather as it moved with his speech. It was as if she had switched off somewhat, a preservation of sanity perhaps, a detachment, so that she didn’t have to realize the enormity of what the change in her life would be. “Do you remember the word Abigail?” His disembodied voice sterner this time, as if not used to repeating himself. “Sapphire” She pulled the name of the stone up and repeated it to him as quickly as she could. “The next time you say that word, this will stop. You do understand that don’t you?” His voice had softened a little, but still held a timbre of authority that brooked no nonsense. “And you are prepared to wear the brand and mark of your master?” His questions seemed annoying more than anything, but she supposed he had to be sure, because once done, it was irreversible. “I understand and comply. Please mark me the sole property of my master.” It was the pre-planned and practiced response required in the ritual. She had learned the words and now repeated them verbatim. He nodded once and then turned to the instrument trolley that was within easy reach of his left hand. Idly and still in a detached corner of her mind, she wondered if he was naturally left handed. Abigail couldn’t keep her head up any longer and lay back to watch him in the mirror on the ceiling.

Her mind wandered again, remembering the time that she and Paul had met. Although it had been only eighteen months now, the time had flown in one sense and felt like a lifetime ago in another. He had entered the smoking room at the office, nervous and unsure of his new surroundings and the people he found himself in company with. First days had that effect on most; she liked his vulnerability and struck up a conversation. They had gone out for a meal or something; he was new to the area and had yet to find his bearings. She couldn’t be certain, but it was either the third or forth date that they fumbled around in bed, hardly a momentous occasion and somewhat less than memorable. It almost finished the relationship there and then, but they got to know each other and sex gradually got better. This was the story she had concocted and overlaid on the truth. It was a happier event and effectively blocked out the realities of her formative life.

It was accidental really, that they discovered her penchant for the stronger form of sex. She could picture clearly how it happened, an innocent clasping of her wrists together, above her head in one of his large hands as he pushed into her that evinced her first really devastating climax. That was all it took to set them on a voyage of discovery and truth towards the end result that was today’s ritual. They searched for and found some Sadomasochistic and bondage videos that were watched intently before copying the action, as far as possible, given the limited resources of his flat. Eventually and to take their sex to another level, they joined a private members club of like minded individuals, where almost anything went. The access to costume and equipment helped in the development of her sexual awakening and his earned mastery of her body and mind. The bond they wove was based on mutual respect for each other and a shared desire for her to blossom into fulfilment.

The club was fine, but had one drawback, as an unmarked slave; she was there to be used by anyone who wanted her and was too near her unhappy childhood. Being fucked, whipped or beaten by others had a certain thrill for both of them, but also started to drive a jealous wedge between them. They decided to explore her sexuality alone once more.

Her mind snapped back to the present, she realized she had missed nothing while she had been on her flight of memory. He picked up a cloth that was covering something on the tray of the stainless steel trolley. From her changed perspective, it was as if she were watching the preparations of a surreal operation, where the surgeon had swapped his green scrubs for leather. He laid the cloth aside, but only partially uncovered the tools of his trade below.

An attendant leather clad nurse picked up a large pair of scissor like clamps and gripped white gauze in their pointed jaws, locking the handles together on the ratcheted device. She passed them to him in his left hand that appeared to be his right in the mirror image. Disturbed, the aroma of surgical spirit pervaded the small room.

She gasped sharply at the coldness of the cloth as he wiped it over her mons, soaking her downy hair, making the dark blonde hair appear black, then it was manipulated into her vulva, cleaning and de-contaminating her sex. She watched his latex covered hands and thought, how slender they were, almost feminine with long thin fingers. The spirit stung a little at first as alcohol very often does in her most sensitive area, something she and Paul had discovered accidentally one day when he had gone down on her with alcohol in his mouth.

Her masked surgeon placed the used clamp and cloth on another trolley to his right, her left as she watched. The arrival of the trolley had escaped her, but Abigail didn’t miss the anticipatory lick of lips his attendant on that side unconsciously did. She wondered what was going through the woman’s mind and tried to imagine what the view she would have looked like.

Coldness made her gasp again and snapped her attention back to the main attraction. He was applying water from a kidney dish with another pair of clamps and a soft material that looked like cotton wool. Just as a surgeon, he held his gloved hand out and had an old fashioned soaping brush slapped into his waiting palm. He dipped it into the water and then into a soap dish, swirling it around until the bristles were laden with lather.

Carefully with a finger, he moved her labia to one side as he brushed the rich suds over her sex, taking extra care to make sure he caught the whole of her surface. Then he swapped hands and repeated the procedure, equally as careful to rub in the lather. Finally, he brushed her pubic vee and turned her dark haired pussy into white.

He held out his open palm again after placing the used brush on what was now obviously the discard side. A closed cutthroat razor was slapped into his palm. Each stage completed in practiced ease and total silence. Deftly, he flicked open the blade and turned back to Abigail’s sex. She had an irrational momentary panic that he would cut her, but it passed in a fraction of a second. Her muscles had tensed at the same time and relaxed as the panic receded.

The first pass of the cold steel removed a sliver of foam and the hair that had been worked into it leaving what looked like a scar to one side of her mons. He worked in silence, slicing of foam in sure passes, manipulating her lips to one side or the other as he removed the hair between her labia and inner thigh where leg joins torso.

Satisfied, he stood back to view his handiwork, peering through the slits of his mask to make sure all hair had been removed. Obviously from his placing the cutthroat on the discard tray, he was satisfied with the result. Abigail was not one of those who like to shave her pubic hair, preferring the natural look and the musk her sweat soaked hair produced on her fingers when she frigged herself. It was odd, looking at her recently shaved pussy in the mirror, in a way it made the experience slightly more disembodied, as if it were someone else on the cross shaped table instead of her.

Her nasal receptors registered the smell of surgical spirit as he again wiped her with a soaked swab between the jaws of yet another pair of clamps. It stung rather more this time as the spirit permeated into open pores recently exposed by the razor. She involuntarily tensed and flinched as the spirit burned. He looked up and into her eyes, watching for her reaction and pausing in his operation to see if she would yell Sapphire. Abigail raised her head and stared into his blue eyes, almost defiantly and clenched her teeth as the burning sensation slowly passed. She let her head fall back and continued to observe as a student might in a training hospital.

Content that she was not going to cry out the stop word, he turned to the tray and removed the cloth completely, placing it on a shelf under the top tray. Her eyes followed every movement, concentrating on the long thin, latex covered fingers. She realized that her mind was wandering a little, but his next movement had her attention in sharp contrast. He picked up a small wooden rounded tool that resembled a mushroom. It was transferred into his other hand when he picked up a wickedly curving sliver of steel, similar to a suture needle, but with no thread attached.

The attendant on his right approached and held the wooden tool while he pulled her labia forward, pinching out her clit to expose the hidden treasure. She placed the rounded end against the side of her teased out clit and waited.

Abigail knew she was leaking her feminine juice, any foreign touch to her female vestigial cock almost instantly had her creaming and his fingers pinching her most sensitive nub had her fluids flowing over her puckered anus.

He paused again and once more, looked at Abigail. This was her last chance to back out, but all it did was prolong the inevitable. No words passed her lips, but she signalled her consent with a slight nod of her head.

He knelt, his nose level with her open and soaked sex. With infinite care, he placed the tip of the needle on the opposite side of her clit to the block, still held in place by his aid. Abigail tensed in anticipation of the pain that she was expecting, but her determination did not waver in the slightest. This was her ultimate sacrifice to her master, the irrevocable wearing of his mark.

Trying to be dispassionate, she observed in the mirrored ceiling and waited for what seemed to be an interminable length of time for him to make the fatal stab. In the blink of an eye, he had pushed the deadly sharp needle through and against the block. Abigail waited for the pain, but it didn’t come. The second swab must have carried a localized anaesthetic or something. She watched as a bead of blood welled around the needle and was quickly wiped away by the other attendant.

Her hooded surgeon picked up a silver ring that was opened. Equally as carefully and considered as all of his movements had been, he pushed the end of the wire loop into a socket on the end of the needle and pushed both of them through her clit. He discarded the needle and locked the silver loop with a small snap as the two ends closed and connected with no obvious join.

Once again, he lent back to survey his handiwork while his aids put the instruments away and silently wheeled the trolleys out of sight. He nodded his satisfaction and stood up. Abigail was able to clearly see how she looked, manacled with her master’s ring in her most secret place. She liked the sight of her naked pussy and the way the silver ring shone in the reflected light. She was now and forever, his property, too late to back out now, even if she wanted to. The surgeon had made sure that the ring was far back on her clit, effectively pushing the nub forward and keeping her hood open. It looked fantastic and the culmination of hers and Paul’s desire.

But, it wasn’t to be the end of the ritual. Abigail had also chosen to be branded. Such was her dedication to her master Paul that she had decided to show him her devotion and service with the ultimate mark, his initials burned into her skin. Really, there was no choice though. Since she had met Paul and had been introduced to servitude and mutual love through their shared sexual practices, she knew that she would eventually show her master just how much he meant to her in this fashion.

They had discussed this ritual many times. The biggest problem they had experienced in the club had been her lack of ownership. Unbranded or marked, she was public property once passed the doors. Although they had enjoyed her debasement at the hands of some skilful masters and mistresses, they preferred to remain loyal and monogamous. Occasionally only, dabbling in group, or voyeuristic practises on their increasingly infrequent visits to the private club. They had seen the ritual in one of their collection of videos and fantasised her marking to the extent of buying a clit clamp and indelible markers to paint his initials on her breast.

The last time they had visited the club, Paul had mentioned their fantasy to someone who made the introductions to the Surgeon Master and after a few consultations they were now at this point.

She felt the heat of the brazier as it was pushed silently to her side. She had been pleasantly surprised by the lack of pain in her piercing, but knew this ordeal was going to be extremely hard to endure. Her resolve wavered a little and sapphire almost escaped her lips, but was stifled as she bit her lower lip. The surgeon noticed her trepidation and peered into her eyes, waiting to see if she would cry out the terminal word. He waited and was then satisfied that she had overcome the brief anxiety attack.

Wordlessly, he moved to her side and picked up the branding iron. She and Paul had had it made for them out of wire shaped into his initials PS that stood for Paul South. He inspected the lettering and then placed the iron in the hottest part of the white-hot coals to heat it up. In morbid fascination, Abigail watched the wire smoke a little as the protective oil was burned off. She watched as it went from black to cherry red into bright red as the heat of the brazier raised its temperature.

His fingers wrapped around the insulted handle of the iron and brought the glowing end up to his eyes, satisfied that it was hot enough; he turned back to Abigail and place one gloved hand on her breast and slowly brought the red hot end towards her white skin. She couldn’t look and turned her eyes away. Paul looked back at her through a glazed partition. Their eyes met and locked just as the intense pain of the burn registered in her brain.

She cried out, screaming his name through clenched teeth and saw his tears roll over his cheeks and the light of pride in his eyes. Her own eyes squeezed tightly shut and her muscles went into spasm, causing her to shiver violently. She desperately wanted the smell of her cooking flesh to pass, the shock and stink was making her feel sick.

She hardly noticed the removal of the brand or the slap of a cooling lotion and gauze over the burn. Gradually, the pain became bearable, but she was unable to see the result where it had been covered. Shamefully, she realised that her bladder had vented, the piss being mopped up by one of the leather clad acolytes.

“You have done well daughter.” His voice was still muffled by the mask, but clear enough for her to hear. Abigail could only nod in acknowledgement.

Paul rushed to her side whispering words of endearment. He wanted to throw his arms around her and take her away. He had watched the whole operation from beginning to end never taking his eyes from her throughout. “I love you.” He breathed into her tear soaked ear. Her bonds were removed and Paul was advised that the gauze should stay on for a day or two, but then should be removed so that a scab could form. Once that had fallen off, his initials would be forever emblazoned on her left breast, just above her heart and his silver ring would stay through her clit, forcing the sensitive nub forward to rub constantly on her clothing and make her perpetually ready for him. “I love you too Master. May I get down from this altar now?” He was thrilled that she had asked in the correct manner, but knew he wouldn’t have punished her, not now that she had given herself, body and soul to his desires.

To Be Continued…

Read more BDSM Stories

As the last guests leave, we both sigh a little. It’s fun having people over, but it’s nice having the place to ourselves. Almost to ourselves. One guest is staying overnight. Will, a friend of a friend, in town for a couple of days was going to stay at a hotel, but we both insisted he stay with us. Devious intentions? Maybe. I watched you flirting with him earlier, the attraction obvious. He easily joined in when the conversation turned dirty, making his own lewd remarks, making you blush a little. I have to admit, the thought of sharing my slave with another master was a little exciting.. The three of us sat down and poured another drink, enjoying the music and the peace and quiet. I think Will had figured out our kink. He began by making references to our earlier conversation, soon zeroing in on the master and slave topics. You got up to get another drink, and half-jokingly asked if you could get your masters another one.

“Yes, slave.” I answered. “But your serving wench outfit must be worn.”

We all laughed as you left, but when you returned the laughter stopped. You had the drinks, but they were soon forgotten as Will and I drank in your outfit. A sheer gown revealed a black corset, black hose, and your special black bra with the rings surrounding your hardening nipples. We were speechless, but only for a minute.

“Your slave seems very obedient.” Will said. “What does she enjoy doing for you?”

Getting into the flow of things, I answered, “She enjoys sucking cock very much. And is extremely good atit.”

Will seemed to ponder this and then asked, ” Has she ever sucked two cocks at the same time?”

“Not yet, but I think we can rectify that.”

“Does she enjoy being tied up and spanked?”

“Oh, yes. She’ll squirt over and over.”

“Anal?”

“Absolutely.”

As your two masters discussed what they planned to do to you, your pussy was almost dripping, thinking about the torture to come. And the two cocks.

“Slave! Turn around. Now bend over and show our guest what he can look forward to.”

Shaking a little from excitement, you turn and slowly spread your legs, bending over. We both stand up and come over to stand closer to you, at first rubbing your ass through the sheer material, but soon taking turns spanking your ass, watching your cheeks turn red.

Two Masters spanking your ass at the same time. Both cheeks getting equal attention, getting redder and redder. But we had other plans too.

“Time to go into the bedroom, slave. Kneel on the bed with your legs spread and we’ll be right in.”

Obediently you went to the bedroom, kneeling down with your nipples rubbing against the bedspread. You wanted to rub your pussy so bad, but knew your Masters would make you pay if they caught you touching yourself without their permission. Oh well, I guess that’s the price I’ll have to pay, you thought. Your fingers reached down and spread your lips open, feeling the wetness coating your lips, wanting to rub your clit, but holding off as long as possible. You slid two fingers into your pussy, and slowly drew them out until they found your hard clit. Just then you heard the voice from the doorway and realized your two Masters were watching.

“Don’t stop now, slave. Show us what a slut you are. Rub your clit until you squirt for us.”

Oh, God. You weren’t sure which was making you hotter, rubbing your clit and pussy or having two men watch and make lewd comments. ‘I’ll give you a show you won’t soon forget,’ you thought. Making a ‘V’ with two fingers you spread your lips wide, exposing your hardening clit. As you felt your juices starting to flow, you brought the fingers of your other hand up to tease and pull on your clit.

“Man, I can’t believe how wet she is already. She won’t have any trouble taking two cocks in that pussy at the same time.”

“First things first. She’s got two cocks to suck. And I mean deep.”

Listening to this, your fingers sped up, rubbing your clit harder, knowing you were going to squirt any minute. Your two Masters realized this as well, and wanted to make it happen as much as you did.

“After she’s come a couple of times, I wouldn’t mind seeing her in bondage.”

“What about this. We turn her over and strap her arms and legs tight to the corners of the bed. She won’t be able to move an inch. We can do whatever we want at that point. Clip her nipples while we both rub our cocks on her face.”

The wetness was now seeping from your pussy, threatening to turn into a gusher. You started to press your clit between your fingers, while your other hand slid into your hot cunt. Your Master’s words spurred you on.

“How about this? I’ll kneel over her face, forcing my cock into her mouth, while I hold her legs open. You can fuck her as deep and hard as you can. Then we’ll switch. She’ll taste her own pussy juice all over your cock while I ram her as hard as I can.”

You could feel it starting. Your pussy contracting uncontrollably, getting ready to squirt harder than you ever have.

“Is her ass trained yet? Could she take both of us at the same time?”

Almost there.

“I’ve started her training, but she hasn’t taken my fist yet. Her pussy can almost take it all, but I haven’t taken her ass that way yet.”

“Shall we try tonight? If we go slow, I’m sure we could slide both of our cocks into her ass at the same time. And then come at the same time.”

That did it. Your pussy opened wide as you squirted hard. Both Masters could only watch in wonder as you ejaculated again and again, soaking the bed, making their cocks harden totally. And they haven’t even touched you yet.

- To Be Continued -

Read more BDSM Stories

At fourteen years of age, Abigail had left the straight road, dropping out in a spiral of self-loathing, mixed with more than a small amount of defiance and rebellion. A heady concoction that took her to places only the truly down and out would ever visit.

At fifteen, she had turned her back on the education system. The rules and regimentation of an orderly day did not fit within her chaos of life. Resolutely, she refused to go to school, sparking off furious rows with her mother, who in exasperation, washed her hands of her daughter and threw her out of the family home and into the clutches of the welfare state.

The fights were not all about school. Two women in a small space with convergent ideologies is a match made in the suburbs of hell. Increasingly, the close bond that had been mother and daughter eroded until the inevitable crash. It was predestined that they would clash in spectacular style, their characters being so close that it could be thought Abigail was cloned from her mother; it was predestined as an outcome, but vastly hastened by the sudden departure of her father.

Neither mother nor daughter had any inkling of his intention to up stakes and run from their lives and not leave a forwarding address. What he left were debts that amounted to twice their annual income, the hangover of his gambling, a house part owned by the bank, an ancient car with more curiosity value than ability to run or realise any money and an envelope on the table with two words scrawled in haste on the outside; I m sorry.

He had left with all of his clothing, what money was in the house and Abigail’s piggy bank that might have had twenty pounds in loose change in it. Her mother’s paste jewellery had been tipped out of her box over the bed so that he could take his birth certificate and some commemorative coins that had been collected and stored with her rings. They never heard from him or had any idea where he might have fled. For the two women left behind, there was no closure, it was as if he had suddenly died, they were emotionally and financially destitute and, because he hadn’t died, had no income as such from a pension or insurance.

It wasn’t just their meagre valuables he took, just as effectively, he took from them the bond they had shared, leaving them bereft of even the ability to turn to the other in solace and comfort. They blamed each other and themselves simultaneously, drawing lines and barriers that neither had the tools or inclination to ever remove.

At sixteen, Abigail was on a fast track to oblivion. For some short time, a guy she met on the road someplace, had fed her, then introduced her to drugs and then put her to work. She had been popular at first, a nice fresh face, an unblemished teenager; blonde haired and firm breasted, she had been all the rage. It lasted for a short time at least, but then, as drugs always do, her body started to show the rigours of abuse and deprivation of food.

In a matter of months, Abigail was totally on her own, relying on handouts and whatever she could scrape from the back streets. Tricking where she could to raise enough cash for her next hit, then crashing wherever she stopped until the craving for heroine woke her and the process started all over again the next day.

That was how Paul found her. Alone in the street, soaked through by incessant rain that had steadily drizzled all day and hardly able to stand from enforced DT’s. He was pretty much the worse for wear himself; the party he had left a little earlier was taking its toll, or at least the amount of alcohol he had consumed. He weaved an erratic path through Bermondsey, blindly staggering his way to his converted warehouse beside the river.

It was not how Abigail liked to remember it in later times; instead, she concocted a story of how he had entered the smoking room at the office, nervous and unsure of his new surroundings and the people he found himself in company with. First days had that effect on most; she liked his vulnerability and struck up a conversation. They had gone out for a meal or something; he was new to the area and had yet to find his bearings. She couldn’t be certain, but it was either the third or forth date that they fumbled around in bed, hardly a momentous occasion and somewhat less than memorable. It almost finished the relationship there and then, but they got to know each other and sex gradually got better. A more acceptable story than the truth; She even got to believe in it and covered up the past effectively, but that is some way ahead.

She was curled up almost into a ball; perched on the kerb with her arms tucked around her knees. Abigail rocked slowly back and forth, waiting for the cramps to subside before trying to find some shelter and if she could, hook up with one of her street outlets for her daily trip to a less painful place.

Oblivious of the rain that had soaked through his jacket, shirt and everything else he wore, Paul sat beside the girl, even matching her rocking motion with his own. “Twenty pounds for French,” She informed him without looking up. “Or twenty five for sex; thirty for Greek.” “What?” “I said, twenty for French, twenty five for sex or thirty for Greek.” She still hugged her knees to her chest, but glanced at him, waiting for his choice and the exchange of money. She needed the cash. “I ain’t got a clue what you’re talking about.” “Listen mister, do ya want to fuck me, get sucked or what? It’s gonna cost ya whatever.” She impatiently asked him, pausing her rocking and reinforcing each syllable with a nod of her head. “Don’t want to fuck you.” He was somewhat confused and more than a little affronted at the same time, he was trying to make some sense of how the conversation had started so badly. “I don’t want to fuck you.” “Well if you ain’t here for business, are ya carrying?” He shrugged, both shoulders almost touching his ears in an exaggerated expression. It seemed a safe way to answer her question that he didn’t understand at all. “If you ain’t carrying and you ain’t here for business, you can fuck off. Okay?” She turned and looked at him full in the face, her lips curled back in a snarl as she mouthed the words.

Paul was almost sobered by the vehemence of her voice. But, more than the viciousness of the sound was her dead eyes. She looked at him, but the expression of her words didn’t reach her eyes. It was as if he was looking into two pools of dead, grey water. They stared back at him, utterly lifeless, but at the same time, unfathomable in depth. He realised that she might have been pretty once, but was now emaciated, her skin sagging like curtains around the sockets of her eyes and cheeks where the fatty tissues under had been used up by her body. Her hair hung in lank strands, dirty and uncut or cared for and he became aware of her smell for the first time. Involuntarily, he shifted away from her a few inches, shuffling his bottom along the quartz of the kerbstone.

If he were to be asked later, it would be quite likely that Paul would not be able to provide a good reason for his actions, but without any thought, he grabbed her arm, painfully aware at how his hands easily encircled her, then yanked her to her feet and began to drag her like a rag doll along behind him. She started screaming and feebly trying to tug her arm away from his grip. “I ain’t got no money, so it ain’t worth robbing me.” She screamed at him, spittle flying from her lips and adding to the rain already seeping through his clothes to his skin. Paul didn’t answer her, but just continued to drag her unceremoniously by the arm towards his home. If ya gonna rape me you bastard, you might as well do it right here and now and let me get on with things. But, Paul ignored this as well.

Eventually, they made it to his recently moved into apartment in the converted warehouse. She had continued to scream and rage at him loud enough to wake half of London. At three in the morning, anyone on the street was far more interested in their own private business and disinclined to intervene with what was probably a domestic spat, so their progress was completely unimpeded and not noteworthy.

He adjusted his grip on her arm to unlock the security deadlocks and punch in the numbers for the alarm. Then adjusting his grip again, he shoved her from under the armpits up the staircase and into his new residence. At the top of the stairs, Paul paused and took a second to think, now that he had her here, where to put her. Throughout the trek to his apartment, he hadn t given too much thought to why or what he was going to do with this skeletal girl, just a singular purpose of rescuing Abigail from the street.

Ho opted for the spare bedroom. It was unfurnished as yet and he could lock her in. There was an old loft access where the floor sacks were hauled up, but it was two storeys up and concrete below so escape was not feasible through there.

Unceremoniously, he dragged her to the room and pushed her inside, pulling the door shut even as she span to claw at the closing portal. The key turned and her yelling was muffled to a tolerable level.

So began her slow and painful break from the monkey. Days when Abigail couldn’t control her body, shaking and going into spasm. Unable to keep food down at times, even when she could be forced to ingest anything solid, what ever she swallowed was ejected from her, forcefully.

Abigail could not control her temperature, alternately shivering and sweating. She had no control of auto-functions and really, became child like or incontinent as an aged person might after their reasoning leaves. He threw away most of her clothing, replacing it from items bought in a charity shop then, throwing them away as well when she soiled them beyond redemption. He found that tracksuits were easiest to clean and lasted longer then pretty much anything else. He would remove her dirty clothing in the early days, dispassionately looking at her emaciation and the needle tracks in her arms, feet and groin. He was as far from sexual interest as it was possible to be, the sight of her body made him cringe and renewed his resolve to heal her.

After four or five weeks that seemed like years, she began to settle down, managing to take sustenance and process it in the normal way. Her violent moods subsided and, gradually, like the regeneration of scar tissue, she became a person again, even holding conversations with Paul, but always as a long-term hostage might talk to their keeper. She held back and would not open, even on mundane topics, giving only enough information to be an active party in the dialogue.

Paul still kept her locked in the room, knowing that at the first opportunity, she would bolt and be lost for ever with an inevitable outcome, one needle too many perhaps or a violent death in an alley. He still didn’t know why he was doing this for her, someone he didn’t know at all, a complete stranger. But, he recognised in her, something of the wounded animal that triggers an emotive response occasionally; he put it down to that.

Paul decided after eight weeks of captivity that she could be trusted to have the run of the warehouse apartment. He left the door to her room unlocked and open. Abigail didn’t emerge from the safety of her cot for two days, but then stepped timidly over the threshold at his encouragement. She still had something of the trapped animal about her; each step could be considered furtive or exploratory, keeping her escape route firmly fixed and ready for flight, straight back to the familiarity of her room with its cot and bucket.

The cold turkey was over to a degree, at least the physical part was, but deep mental scars take far longer to heal, if ever fully. Abigail was scared at a fundamental level, leaving her unable to rationalise or function properly.

They began to eat together. Simple food that he thought she would be able to digest; soups and pasta being their staple diet. There were beneficial side effects; Abigail began to put on weight, filling out bit by bit while Paul lost some of his excess and felt the fitter for it. But, often as with television or music, her attention wandered until she sat there, almost catatonic in a far away place, her food left to cool into a congealed mass. Over a period of weeks, the vacant spaces became less and less, while her cognitive state became longer. She chose to be in her room for longer times, but with the door open and not as any kind of barrier. Paul bought her a television and a radio so she could be on her own if she wanted. He bought books for her to read and allowed her to do as she pleased, but insisted that they eat together, cook and wash up.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that Abigail was a good cook, inventive and adventurous with everyday ingredients. She continued to regain the flesh over her bones.

She had been with him for nearly six months now.

Although they were sharing time and talking, Paul still didn’t fully trust her, believing that her full recovery was still a long way off in all probability that the emotional scars were only scabbed over and could be reopened at any time. He had to go to work. Each day he took great care in deadlocking the entrance door so that she couldn’t open it from the inside. It became something of a ritual, turning the key once, hearing the tongue engage then a second turn that locked the door and disabled the latch on the other side. So it was a shock for him to find his door wide open and swinging one day after work. Fearing that the bird had flown the nest, Paul ran into the building, yelling her name, with a sinking feeling, knowing she wouldn’t be there. Abstractly, his mind took in the fact that the lock or door hadn’t been damaged in anyway. His calls went unanswered; the apartment was alone.

For an hour or so, Paul wandered around feeling lost and a failure. She had been making such good progress. Her body had pretty much recovered from the rigors of drug abuse and the regular intake of food had regained much of her natural body mass and skin tone. He put the television on then turned it off again. Inserted a CD in the player, but didn’t press play. He couldn’t settle into any one place, his mind in turmoil; should he go out and look for her or stay and hope she came back?

Abigail had the advantage of him where the street was concerned. She would know the hidey-holes better than most of the city dwellers and certainly better than he would.

He was still dithering when the entrance door banged shut. Abigail’s tousled head appeared over the banister with a smile plastered across her lips. Wordlessly, Paul rushed over to her as she reached the top tread and threw his arms around her in a bear like embrace. Relief and other emotions coursed through his veins, mixed with a large helping of adrenalin.

I thought I’d lost you he managed to breathe into her hair. Then, without waiting for her to respond, he kissed her mouth, crushing her lips against his teeth and taking her breath completely. Paul picked her up from the floor, her weight easily distributed in his arms. He continued to kiss her, breaking only to gasp and then cover her with his mouth again as they traversed the floor to his bedroom.

Her head hit the doorjamb, but neither was really aware of it, the moment too consuming for external stimuli to have much effect. Her clothes were almost ripped off of her slender body as his hit the floor in a blur of motion and desperation to become naked. They collapsed on the bed in a mingle of arms, legs and hands that grasped and gripped. She wriggled and managed to lie on her back while manoeuvring him between her parted thighs.

There was no nicety about their coupling. Abigail thrust her hips forward in unison as Paul thrust into her body in a union that had one common goal. He fucked into her as she fucked him back in a riot of rhythm. It was sex in its rawest state that culminated in their respective explosion of orgasm, she first, then Paul, feeling her wetness splash against his inner thigh, shot his seed with a final pelvic thrust that had her head hitting the wall.

The act was completed in little more than a few minutes, but the intensity of emotion and urgency had made it an experience that left them bereft of the ability to talk for a while. Instead, they lay together, her head in the crook of his arm while he stroked her neck, shoulders and breast as they calmed down from the initial frenzy of lust and then they laughed. They laughed until laughter became a little crazy, resulting in hiccups that had them giggling all over again. What is Greek anyway? Paul asked after the expression she had used when he first met her popped into his mind. Abigail lifted her chin and looked into his eyes as she told him that Greek was in the ass and that it was something she had endured on too many occasions. It was time for her to bear her soul and tell him just what it was like on the street. Abigail let him know of the times she had been fucked by many men at once until cum was dripping out of every orifice. How she was used and abused then discarded like a Christmas puppy. How some guys liked to beat up on her or how they shit and pissed over her nakedness while her pimp looked on and applauded. Abigail told him that after a while, she didn’t care what they did to her, that pain hardly registered and her holes were only entries into her body that fed her need for more drugs. She told him of a pregnancy that was beaten out of her by the pimp. She told him all of it; the worst times and that all she had to look forward to was death from an overdose. Killing herself would have been easy, but the craving for heroine kept her alive for the next hit.

During her sad tale, Paul had stroked and caressed Abigail, soothing and supporting her as it unfolded. He paused as she concluded, his hands ceasing movement. She took it as rejection, thinking that he was too disgusted by the deprivations she had sunk to. She cried, tears coursing over her cheeks. She sobbed in despair, unable to articulate her utter desolation. But, then he resumed his caress and turned her head to face him. Gently and with great care as if she were a fragile doll, Paul kissed her mouth and drew her body to him. Relief flooded her; she clasped him and kissed him back, forcing her tongue between his teeth to explore his mouth. “One day,” She murmured, “we will do Greek and it will be the right time, but for now, I think French is the language of the day.”

With those words, she bit his lower lip and then shoved her self down, kissing his chest, stomach and then his cock. Paul relaxed back, tucking a pillow under his head so he could watch and pulling her blonde hair away from her face, studied her lips as they slowly parted and swallowed his shaft.

Abigail expertly sucked him into her mouth, drawing her cheeks in to create a vacuum as she lifted, then blowing them out as she descended again. Gradually, she increased the depth of his penetration, allowing a little more of him to pass her lips in a slow, tantalising rhythm, feeling him stiffen and leak small globules of pre-cum. She adjusted her position and sat on his legs so that he would not thrust, she wanted to make all the movement so that the exquisite sensation would be magnified.

Paul hardened at her insistence. The warmth and sucking of her mouth drew blood into his organ, building the pressure, but oh so slowly. It was almost a delicious pain between feelings of relief as she sank back down his shaft. He could never remember having a woman give him so much intense pleasure from fellatio before. It wasn’t a first for him, but certainly was a first in the delicious thrill it was affording his neural network.

By now, she had him in the back of her throat, still keeping the slow but insistent tempo, just longer strokes. She could feel his imminent release and ignored his feeble attempt to lift her off of his pulsing cock. Abigail was intent on taking him to the edge and beyond; she had every intention of swallowing his cum. The trick was to know exactly when he would explode and make sure it was on a down stroke that had him right at the back of her mouth. Paul made it easier for her to judge the precise moment, he groaned and mini thrust. Abigail lifted her head and then began a long descent down his shaft, feeling him dry heave first and then shoot the first of three or four spurts. She didn’t stop sliding him into her until his cock was fully down her gullet and her lips grounded against his pubic bone. She was rewarded by his final spurts that she swallowed comfortably. She lay still, keeping him in her mouth until his tremors subsided and he was totally spent.

So began their life together in a loving relationship. Their sexual partnership developed in a fruition of learning and awareness that progressed from the one-two-one sexual exploration to them joining a club.

The journey for them was not so long perhaps, but had many twists and turns until they had exhausted every conceivable position and scenario between two people. Abigail gave herself to Paul in love and implicit trust. Paul accepted her love and returned it as fully. Together, they set off on a voyage of sexual discovery.

- click here to continue… 

Read more BDSM Stories

“Witch!”

“Adulterer!”

“Kill the witch!”

The trial had gone on for months. Citizen after citizen had come forward, accusing the young woman of bewitching them into committing lewd, lascivious acts. There were acts involving women with men, women with women, men with men, and one odd accusation involving three men, a goat, and a broomstick. That one even startled the numb, scared young woman who was chained to the heavy defendant’s chair.

At first the accusations, while indecent and malicious, were known to go on in the shadows anyway. Most of those involved inciting lustful looks and light petting between adolescents or otherwise married adults. When the blacksmith was caught ogling the preacher’s wife, he called witchcraft. He did the same, as did she, when he was caught with his head under her skirts.

As the trial progressed, the accusations became more numerous and more lecherous. Of course, “for absolute clarity and judgment”, the judge would have the “victims” recall everything in explicit detail, often having the women show the jury where on their persons something had taken place. Sometimes he would even have them show the jury any lingering marks from the encounter. The courtroom having been cleared of all women, being considered too delicate to be subjected to recollections of such vile behavior, crowds of “respectable” men would stare in astonishment at bruises, bitemarks, and broken blood vessels.

A half dozen women had stood before the crowd, bared to the waist, displaying their ill-handled breasts.

Two busty, bubbling blondes, known to be friends since birth, had shown how they had been witched into removing the hair from their nether regions before taking the clean flesh in each others mouths. To the amazement of the room, when the exhibition showed the girls’ obvious arousal, they both began crying ‘witchcraft’ as they began furiously masturbating. On the premise that disturbing either the witch or her current victims would convince her to cause permanent damage, the men gazed on as the girls pulled the rest of their clothing away and proceeded to orally pleasure each other to the point of exhaustion.

The judge then called a recess to calm the spirits of the audience, and a few men volunteered to carry the naked girls to a side room so they could have some privacy as they dressed and recuperated from the “attack”. Another round of “witchery” then followed as all that had entered the room had immediately stripped and fallen into a shameful orgy. The judge having been present, as well as sufficient witnesses, that only a brief mention was put on record, none of which was brought up in open court. The fact that one girl had knelt with one man taking her from behind as another fornicated with her mouth, while the other had impaled her anus on the judge as his assistant had fisted her, was left out. Also left out was the fact that all the men had ejaculated on the girls’ breasts and watched as they licked it from each others’ body.

The next morning it was reported that over twenty acts of witchcraft had occurred over the night.

Incidents such as this continued until only the most depraved were openly presented to the court, the minor ones simply included as numbers.

Helen had begun to seriously wonder why they bothered to keep up the pretense of witchcraft. She had been blindfolded, bound, gagged, and sedated from the moment the constable broke into her home to arrest her. Even if she had been a witch, her craft would have been severely hindered by her being unconscious. The original accusation was baseless, and those subsequent were just excuses for the village to descend into debauchery. The only reason she had become the scapegoat was because she had accidentally walked in on the preacher’s wife and two of the alter boys, who were in the midst of something Helen had not even known was physically possible. Having no family left after a sickness took her household, there was nobody to raise a defense for her.

She pondered this as she was led up the stairs to the gallows. The actual hanging was supposed to be the main even, but the torture beforehand was expected to be a spectacle that brought every able man to the town square. It appeared that a large group had even made the long trek from a neighboring town. Once again, the women were declared too delicate to bare witness, especially since this case had never been considered by the courts who wrote the town charter. This meant that the current ruling bodies could design their own punishment, and they were known to be creative. And perverted. The end result ended in two hundred men leering at her, shouting encouragement and ideas as Helen was secured in place, stretched, partially suspended in a vertical spread-eagle position.

“Witch Helen. You have been justly tried and convicted of heinous acts of witchcraft against this village. Do you have any last words before your sentence is carried out?”

The magistrate sneered his question as a collective snicker rose from the crowd. Helen turned her head towards his direction and snorted though the gag that still covered her mouth. In all this time, none had questioned how she could defend herself, or plead guilty to get it over with, while she was forcibly silenced. Her own civil defense had not even bothered.

“The witch does neither deny nor repent! You have been sentenced to a public spiritual cleansing according to your crimes, to be followed by one lash per innocent victim whose life you tainted. Only then will you be hung from the neck until you are dead.”

With that, the magistrate stepped to one side and gestured for the executioner to begin. A low cheer came from the crowd as the masked man stepped close behind her, pressing himself tightly to her back. His clear erection held against her small derriere, his rough hands moved up her front. Making no effort to conceal his open groping, he gave her breasts a hard squeeze before taking the fabric of her bodice and ripping it open.

Continuing down, the large man rent the dress from her shaking body, using a blood-spattered knife to cut the remains from her hands and feet. As more of her was exposed, the volume of the cheers increased, almost to a deafening level when the executioner paused to fondle her thighs, buttocks, vulva, and breasts. When he took several laps at her inner folds, and when he jiggled her breasts by her nipples, even his own ears hurt.

Once she was completely nude, feeling unimaginably violated and strangely excited, he drew a beam to the back of her thighs. Reaching to one side of the recently modified structure, he slowly turned a crank that spread her legs even further, and another that shifted her upper portions down and back. By the time he was finished, she was arched backward with her vaginal area on display.

The crowd had gone quiet in anticipation of Helen’s gratuitous humiliation, but buzzed as the barber strutted up the steps to his commissioned task. Straddling her flat stomach, he took a hot, wet sponge and moistened her, teasingly moving from her mound to her anus in long strokes. Taking the proffered implements from his apprentice, he covered the area in a thick lather, often spreading her wide to get in the cracks. Using a straight razor, his professionally steady hands stripped away the hair, lightly scraping over the sensitive points along the inside of the labia and around her anus. To the delight of the audience, upon declaring her fully shorn, he picked up the remaining bucket of lukewarm water and poured it over her to rinse away the remaining lather, leaving her dripping wet and shivering in the breeze.

Her condition was not aided when he picked up two spare buckets of ice water and doused her entire body, causing her skin to contract and her nipples to visibly harden.

“The witch will now be cleansed for her crimes of fornication!”

Looking almost giddy, the blacksmith carried a table and a small box onto the gallows. Setting the box on the table, he popped it open and picked up a large metal object, a long, thick phallus with a slightly rounded end. There were howls as he crouched next to the girl, running the head up and down her exposed slit, the irregular surface chafing the soft tissue. With a vicious grin, he plunged the phallus into her, forcing it in until it bottomed out.

Even though the gag, her screams reverberated through the plaza as her virginal blood was spilt, her dry channel torn raw.

The blacksmith waited patiently for the girl to cease her shrieking, randomly tapping the metal that protruded from her, making sure her tight muscles would hold it in place. Picking up another, slightly smaller piece, he returned to his place beside her. With another evil grin, he grabbed her cheeks and lifted her, moving his head underneath and coarsely forcing his tongue into her rectum. A heavy twitch passing through her body, she arched even more, unintentionally allowing a better view to the crowd as the man removed his tongue and replaced it with the second phallus.

Almost mercifully, when he thrust past her sphincter, he used slow, periodic motions, pushing it in an inch at a time. As he did this, he explained to the men that it would do no good to tear a hole in her organs, as she could easily die from blood loss long before the “cleansing” was completed.

Not that Helen would not prefer a quick death. Before being led out of the jail, she had been given a thorough enema and force-fed a strange compilation of herbs, which she soon realized had made her skin hypersensitive while keeping her incredibly alert. As such, she was now experiencing more pain than she had ever imagined, and was very aware of every little detail of the physical nature of her punishment. She was incapable of giving in to unconsciousness.

There was a look of awe on the faces of the men who were close enough to see the details of what was being shown them. A complicated looking bit, some of the handier recognized it as a miniature clamp, which was now being attached to the girl’s distended clitoris, having been pulled harshly by the executioner so that the blacksmith could fasten it with ease. Tightened as far as could be managed, the tip of the clit had already begun to turn purple from the constricted blood flow.

Once completed with that, there was mild applause as Helen was set back to a vertical position, her lower area crudely warped by the metal, ruined for any man who might have had plans for her before her death had become eminent. Even with her face mostly concealed, the look of excruciating pain on her face was plainly obvious as she tried to gasp through the gag.

The look of pain was quickly combined with terror as the blacksmith stepped behind her and bounced her breasts in his hands, tugging and twisting the nipples to a further peak. Two more clamps were then attached as her hoarse screeches resumed. Before collecting his supplies, he bounced them a few more times for the crowd, the clamps causing pain to jolt through her with every motion.

The look on the magistrate’s face resembled that of a cat that had been presented with a bowl of cream. His favorite part was up.

“The witch will now receive one lash for every innocent life she tainted. Having accounted for every person who was presented as a victim before the court, not adding in those who suffered multiple times under your twisted mind, you will now receive fifty- six lashes. May God have mercy upon your blackened soul.”

Smirking at the open salivation of the magistrate as well as some of the others in the crowd, the executioner held up his weapon of choice: a three-tailed whip. Cheers sounded as he moved into place. Raising his arm high, he waited for his call.

“ONE!”

CRACK

All three tails made contact with brutal accuracy, and the incurred force caused the metals embedded and attached to jump. The fresh pain ripped through her from each piece. Screaming had become a thing of the past.

“TWO!”

CRACK

Again, there came the twitch. The whip had been chosen for this, to cause as much pain with as little real damage. The tails were thick and soft, the material set to not cut through the skin. With so many lashes to be presented, it was preferred that it not be received on bare muscle and bone after less than half. The real damage was meant to be inflicted by the movement of the other implements.

“THREE!”

CRACK

After the motion was completed, the magistrate reached up and removed the blindfold. Blinking against the light, Helen was momentarily blinded. Ten or so lashes came down before she could finally see everything. Once she did, a deep flush rushed over her. With every crack of the whip, with every gut-wrenching ache, the men in the crowd, the men who had watched her grow up, who had been friends of her father’s, now looked at her with absolute lust in their eyes. Some of them looked downright hungry as each twitch caused her breasts to jiggle, her thighs to try to clench.

One or two who stood close openly stared at the blood that dripped from where her most delicate tissue had been destroyed. Where her entrances were stretched obscenely around the metal, some of the skin had begun to crack. When the magistrate tugged on the clamps on her breasts or shook the one on her clit, many of the men would cheer. When he forced the phalluses deeper into her body, to the point where the one in her rectum was completely consumed, a few even boldly offered to retrieve it for him. He just chuckled and clipped on a small chain that had been built into the design.

Once the executioner had completed the forty-sixth lash, the magistrate stopped him. Her back had begun to bleed freely. Helen’s relief was brief as it was declared that the remaining ten would fall on her front. The absolute terror on her face incited a loud roar from the audience.

When the whip first came down on her breasts and stomach, every man counted aloud with the magistrate. As opposed to concentrating on one area, everything except her face received at least one blow. She could almost sing praises as the executioner prepared for the final lash. However, with a bit of a flourish, he angled the whip from low to high, all three tails landing on the shredded flesh of her labia and anus.

Having lost all muscle control long ago, she barely noticed that she was being drawn back into a reclined position, or that her gag was being removed. The mild confusion as to why was replaced with encouraging whoops as the town counsel surrounded her. The six men, whose ages ranged from somewhat young to borderline ancient, had removed their penises from their pants and were jerking them with varying speeds.

As each climaxed, they aimed it directly at her upturned, lax form. Twitching slightly as the sensation of the warm, sticky semen landing on her skin, her hair, face, neck, and breasts were soon coated. As soon they were all finished and had moved back, the blacksmith called out that he would like his devices back now, they were one of a kind.

Nodding, the magistrate gestured for him to come and get them. Once again crouching next to Helen’s prone form, he grasped the chain that was attached to the phallus buried in her rear passage and jerked. Stuck tight, it required four sharp tugs to fully release it. When it finally came, he stuck a few fingers in and wiggled them around to show how the hole remained wide open.

He next took hold of the piece protruding from her formerly virgin tunnel and gave it one long, slow pull, blood and skin sticking to the rough surface. This time, instead of a few fingers, he pushed his entire fist into the gaping hole that remained.

In response to a few shouts, he stood and removed some of the pressure from the clamp on her clitoris. With a mischievous look towards the crowd, he took the mechanism in one hand and yanked.

The combined feeling of having her clitoris wrenched and the return of circulation to the destroyed area brought Helen back to the situation. Her throat having been ripped raw from the earlier screams, a series of hoarse blats emerged from her mouth. A raised eyebrow to the executioner, and she was shifted back to being vertical. The strange sounds continued as he removed the clamps from her nipples in the same manner.

Having finished, the blacksmith took a deep bow and gave her one final loud smack across the buttocks.

At the final physical humiliation of the “witch”, the audience gazed in lust and amusement. They wanted it to be their hand falling on the girl’s tight behind, their semen covering her face and breasts as if she had just sucked them off, their penises leaving her gaping open like a well-used whore.

There was a disappointed groan as the noose was secured around her neck, the bindings being removed to prevent them from interfering.

“The witch has been cleansed. She will now be hung from the neck until she is dead.”

For the crowd, it was over far too quick. With a passive gesture, the magistrate gave the signal. The executioner pulled the lever that released the trapdoor beneath her feet.

A single jerk from the impact, and Helen’s neck snapped, killing her instantly.

***********************************************************

“How did it go, husband?”

The blacksmith suppressed a smile as he slid into bed next to his wife.

“Nothing particularly interesting, just a standard witch killing. Now come here, you little vixen. There’s something I’ve been meaning to try ”

His grin was hidden in the dark of the night as he pressed a large metal object against her bottom.

The End