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THREE SLAVES FOR THREE
SADISTS
PART 2
Mistress Nadine looked
marvellous this morning, wearing one of her really “naughty” little outfits
that puts erections like policemen’s truncheons on our
slaves.
She had her straightened
black hair pulled back into a severe ponytail, which gave her a wonderful,
haughty look, and apart from her wedge-style black high heels her only other
garments were a little black PVC brassiere and
matching panties.
The bra has slits cut down
the center of the cups, allowing her lovely big,
erect nipples to poke out. The panties also have a slit down the central
portion of the thong-style garment, so you can see her shockingly bright pink
sex lips. What a teasing minx!
I found Mistress Nadine in
the lounge, and standing beside her, naked, of course, was a very crestfallen
looking young nephew of mine. Blondie was staring down at his feet, his pretty
face a picture of misery.
“Hi, Nadine,” I called out
cheerfully. “Some trouble with this young slut, eh?”
Nadine nodded her head,
enthusiastically, an act which made her PVC-clad breasts bounce in the tight
cups.
“Sure thing, Mistress Pat,”
she informed me. “I’m having a helluva job with the
little pussy licker. I think it’s a case for the tribunal.”
I nodded and glared at
Blondie. “It looks like you’re for the high jump,” I informed my 18-year-old
nephew.
“But Mistress Pat, it was,
it was ...” he blubbered, but I cut him short.
“Save your breath for the
Torture Tribunal, slut,” I snapped. “I’ll get it convened immediately I can
track down Mistress Jeanette and the other slaves to act as guards for you.
“In the meantime, Nadine,
get him into a spreader bar and a yolk for his arms and shoulders.”
This is the accepted “gear”
for a slave who is scheduled to appear before the Torture Tribunal. A
three-foot long spreader bar pushes the prisoner’s feet nicely apart, and makes
them look oh-so-vulnerable. The yolk across the back of their neck and their
shoulders straps their arms and wrists down. Just perfect!
By the way, the term Torture
Tribunal was the one we felt best summed up the tribunal’s work. Whenever a
slave appears before the tribunal there’s only one verdict he can expect –
torture! The only thing that varies is the length of the sentence.
Sometimes it can be an hour,
or two, for petty offences. For more serious breaches from between six and 12,
and for really heinous “crimes” well, 24 to 48-hours have been handed down.
The name Pain Panel didn’t
seem to pay enough respect to the legal weight of the court, and we did
consider calling it the
The proceedings are pretty
simple. I’m usually the head of the tribunal and I sit with whichever mistress
is not bringing the charge against the slave. Sometimes, when it’s two
mistresses making the complaint, then I will sit alone. Doesn’t really matter,
it’s always the same verdict – GUILTY!
As Mistress Nadine took
Blondie to a torture chamber to get him equipped in the spreader bar and yolk,
I tracked down Mistress Jeanette, who was in the second torture chamber – the
non-whipping one - playing with slave Blackie.
Which meant that slave
Brownie was probably off playing with himself, or surfing for porn on the net –
we allow them that privilege, as long as they e-mail us copies of interesting
stuff they come across.
“Torture Tribunal,” I told
Jeanette, as she waved an electrical wand over Blackie’s stiff prick. “Mistress
Nadine has a charge to bring against Blondie. Where’s Brownie, we’ll need him
and Blackie to act as guards?”
“Try his bedroom,” said
Jeanette, who was already starting to free Blackie from his bonds on the
torture bench.
Upstairs in his spick and
span bedroom – they get daily inspections and woe betide them if we find
anything out of place! – I found Brownie surfing through his usual collection
of bookmarked femdom sites. He was seated in front of
the screen, his cock standing to stiff, eight-inch attention.
I stepped behind him and
rubbed my big breasts – covered in a shiny, black satin dress – against his
back.
Kissing him on his smooth
cheek with its after-shave perfume of Envy for Men, by Gucci, I told him: “Shut
down now, Brownie, we’ve got a Torture Tribunal coming up, Mistress Nadine
versus Blondie.”
Brownie closed his machine
down quickly. If there’s one thing a slave likes, it’s to know that he’s going
to act as a guard to a slave prisoner during a tribunal hearing, because it
means he’s not going to get tortured.
“What did he do, Mistress
Pat,” asked the thick-cocked slave, as he followed me from his bedroom.
“Dunno, I’m leaving that for
Mistress Nadine to tell us in the hearing,” I told him. “Now, into my bedroom
and help me choose a really sexy chairwoman outfit!”
I always like to dress
erotically for a court hearing, it adds to the wacky atmosphere, a naked
prisoner, two naked male guards, and two members of the tribunal in outrageous
outfits.
For this mornng’s
hearing, I chose a black leather quarter-cup bra, which pushes my 40 DD breasts
into wonderful uplift, without covering the essential parts. A matching black
leather garter belt, with shiny black, seamed stockings, and black high-heeled
shoes completed the garb. I left my pussy, with its shaved back wisps of pubic
hair, uncovered.
Downstairs in the lounge,
the traditional venue for a Torture Tribunal hearing, I found Mistress
Jeanette, wearing a red, PVC playsuit which left her breasts, buttocks and
pussy naked. She was seated on the couch, and I sat beside her.
Brownie stood awaiting the
arrival of the prisoner. And then I called out “This hearing of the Torture
Tribunal is in session” and Mistress Nadine marched in, prodding the naked,
spreader-barred and yolked 18-year-old. Around his
throat was a leather choker, attached to a leash being held by a very erect Blackie.
Blondie was brought to a
halt some six feet in front of myself and Jeanette,
and Blackie unhooked his leash and stood beside the naked youth.
“Right, Mistress Nadine,
what is the charge?” I inquired, in my best judicial tone.
“Well, I don’t really know,
Mistress Chair,” said Nadine, who hasn’t got a legal thought in her body.
“Perhaps, if I tell you what happened, you can tell me what the charge should
be.”
I nodded. “Remember, you’re
under oath,” I reminded her, a much simpler process than making people to swear
to tell the truth each time there’s a fresh Torture Tribunal hearing.
Mistress Nadine cleared her
throat then told of her “problems” with Blondie that morning.
“I’d given him some mild
cock and ball torture, and a mild whipping on his cute ass,” she explained,
“and then I said that was I bit bored and suggested an hour in the urine room.
“That’s when he got all
uppity on me. He said things like, ‘Oh, mistress you know I hate the urine
room, but slave Brownie loves it, he’s a real piss pervert, please, please take
him there, not me, I had an hour there last night with Mistress Pat’ and he
just wouldn’t stop!”
Mistress Jeanette leaned to
my ear and whispered: “It’s a clear breach of refusing to obey a domina’s directive, a misdemeanour, but a clear breach.”
I nodded. I’ve not got the
faintest idea what a “misdemeanour” is, but it sounds good. It’s not like
murder or manslaughter, but it has a certain ring to it, you know?
So I told Mistress Nadine:
“This, prima facie, appears to be a breach of refusing to obey a domme’s directive.” I was very pleased with the “prima
facie” term, it’s just what a real judge would say!
“OK,” I continued, “give your evidence and let’s see what the slut has to say
about it.”
And Nadine repeated her
testimony, how she’d given the slut an hour or an hour and half of mild
torture, then suggested an hour in the urine room and how Blondie had tried to
wheedle his way out of it.
“OK, Nadine, thank-you for
your evidence,” I told her. “Now, Blondie, do you have any questions of
Mistress Nadine? If so, out with them, slut!”
Blondie gulped, then turned to face his accuser.
“Mistress Nadine,” he said,
his voice quavering, “all the time you were whipping me and giving c and b
torture, was I good slave? Did I behave?”
Nadine nodded. “Sure, slut,
you were great, only when we got to my idea for the urine room did you fuck me
around!”
Blondie then ran out of
ideas, but still clung to a futile hope that he could wriggle out of the
charge.
“But it was only a
suggestion that we spend an hour together in the urine room, wasn’t it? It
wasn’t a directive, was it Mistress Nadine?” he whined, pathetically.
It was, of course, a puerile
argument. Any “suggestion” from a domina can only be
dealt with one way by a slave under my roof! He has to obey! After all, that’s
what being a slave’s all about, isn’t it?
Mistress Nadine eyed him for
a lump of stupid shit. “Well, Blondie, if you’ve not learned since you’ve been
here that a domina’s suggestion is really a command,
then you’ve learned diddly-squat!”
My fellow tribunal member
and I roared with laughter at this unanswerable argument, and I told Blondie,
the lovely little slut: “Well boy, we’ve agreed that there’s a case for you to
answer. What do you want to do? Call evidence, or make a statement?”
The naked, semi-erect slave,
could see the way this was going, of course. He could hardly call any
evidence, he’d already made his pathetic attempt to discredit the charge and
been laughed down.
So he went the way of
“falling on the mercy of the court”.
“May it please the tribunal
mistresses,” he began, in what I thought was a good opening for a slave who
knew he was going to be found guilty!
“I thought Mistress Nadine
was making a suggestion, honest, I did! And you all know how much I hate the
urine room! So I suggested that my place be taken by slave Brownie, he loves it
in there!”
Then there was an awkward
silence. I looked at my fellow tribunal member, and Mistress Jeanette nodded
her head. “Guilty as sin, Pat!”
I agreed.
“Kneel to hear sentence
passed!” I snapped to the naked teenager, and aided by a sharp jerk on his
leash from Blackie, the blonde boy sank to his knees in front of us.
“You have been found guilty
by the Torture Tribunal of not obeying a domina’s
directive,” I said, speaking slowly and clearly.
“Not only did you refuse to
obey Mistress Nadine’s lawfully-issued order, you also tried to pass her idea
for punishment on to another slave. Such behaviour is reprehensible.”
Then I paused, dragging out
the slut’s awful waiting.
“Mistress Nadine, what do
you suggest as a penalty?”
Nadie smiled slyly. “I thought perhaps eight to 10 hours’
torture, madam chairwoman,” she told me.
I had a conversation with my
fellow tribunal member, then shook my head.
“No, the tribunal is going
to be lenient in this case,” I informed Mistress Nadine, and slave Blondie.
“Blondie, for your crime you
will be sentenced to six hour’s torture. The first hour will be in the whipping
room, and hours two and three in the second torture chamber.
“Blackie and Brownie, take
him to the whipping chamber and strap him into the flogging frame, we will be
along in a while.”
Blackie and Brownie, their
cocks rampantly erect, stepped forward and started to drag the teenager from
the tribunal.
Just as they got him to the
door, the naked young blonde boy turned and looked back at us in terror.
“Mistress Pat,” he whimpered,
as his guards paused in their move to the whipping chamber, “what about my last
three hours’ torture? Where will they be?”
Mistress Jeanette and I
laughed aloud at his pathetic question.
“Why, you silly little
slut,” I informed my nephew, “in the urine room, of course. Where
else?”
To be continued.
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