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THREE SLAVES FOR THREE SADISTS
PART
7
One of the big fun times
with my three slaves – or, perhaps, I should say “our” since Mistress Nadine
can be somewhat protective of the ebony hunk, Blackie – is the daily work-out
routine.
There’s a daily roster, so
Mistress Nadine, Mistress Jeanette and I can take it in turns to supervise
their daily muscle-straining work in the gymnasium – and fuck, what a princely
sum that cost me! Still, I can afford it, thanks to
that lovely old judge!
But sometimes, we double ‘em
up, or even are all in there together, so it’s one
mistress for one sweating, heaving, grunting slut!
Today was my turn on “duty”
as it were, but it’s not a chore because supervising their muscle-toning
routines is a helluva lot of fun.
I love watching as the sweat
trickles down their finely-toned bodies, and sometimes, when I’m feeling
mischievous, I’ll stroke ‘em so they produce a nice stiffy to display while
they’re pumping iron, or working on the treadmill, or whatever.
They are, of course, three
very competitive young men – well, Blondie, being 18, and Blackie, at 26, are
comparatively “young”, I guess, although I don’t suppose Brownie, the
32-year-old millionaire pain slut actually qualifies for the term. However,
he’s definitely not “over the hill”!
The daily work-outs start
with all three in tiny little posing pouches, sort of g-strings, only there’s a
narrow strip of “Y”-shaped material just above their delicious buns where the
rubber thread comes up from between their buttocks.
The pouches are made of
tight, all-embracing rubber, which cups their big ball bags and throbbing cocks
in magnificent outline. The posing garments they wear attest to their
nicknames, of course, so the teenager is in a white pouch, the ex-Seal in black
and the “old man” in brown rubber.
Sometimes, when I’m feeling
randy, I’ll stroke their cock and balls in the pouches, and this has the effect
of making their cocks thicken, but the pouches are cut so deliciously that
although they can engorge, they can’t escape the confines of the restrictive
rubber. Fuck, they look good when they’ve got hard-ons trying to burst above
the rubber!
The “domme
in charge” can, of course, wear whatever the fuck she likes to supervise a gym
work-out session, after all, that’s a domme’s prerogative, correct?
But usually, I like to wear
something tight-fitting, like a black PVC latex outfit, which will cover my big
breasts and butt and prominent pudenda, but then again, sometimes I favor a pair of black, PVC hotpants and go topless. That
way my titties can receive some nice oral attention from the lads!
But I always wear black,
high-heeled boots, the style that come to half-way up my thighs. Fuck, they
look so dominating! And whenever one of the slaves is in a good position during
his particular routine, I can get him to worship the gleaming black leather as
he works out. Sort of gives him something extra to think about.
And, it goes without saying,
there’s always something else they have to think about during a one-hour work
out session: my whip!
My favorite
“persuader” for their lovely, nearly-nude bodies during their exertions is a
short, three-foot long, single-tailed lash, made of gleaming red, plaited
leather. It leaves delightfully erotic marks on their naked flesh, but doesn’t
break the skin – as you know, that’s a “no-no” in my book.
For their work-out routine
today, I chose to go topless, but wore a pair of tight-fitting black latex
hotpants, which gleam so nicely when they’re pulled over my butt and pussy. I
wore my boots, naturally, and carried my single-lashed whip as I entered the
gym.
The slaves were lined up, as
per the routine before an exercise session, standing to attention in a line
abreast, about a yard apart, their hands by their sides.
I walked behind them,
marvelling as I always do at the incredible sight of three pairs of tanned and
toned butts. Well, in the case of Blackie, of course, it’s naturally “tanned”
as he’s got a built-in suntan, but you know what I mean.
On my command, the slaves
then have to start toe-touching. That means they bend over completely, showing
me the slivers of rubber up their cracks as I walk along behind them.
The stroke of the flogger
across their tautened buttocks is the signal for them to come back up to
attention. When I’ve gone down the row – from left to right as I look at it,
it’s Blackie, Blondie, then Brownie (alphabetical order, see?) – I turn around
the whip their butts again, which is the signal for them to go down and touch
their toes again.
I do this back and forth
routine behind their buns about 10 to a dozen times, and they’re nicely
limbered up by the time I call on them to spread out and start work. They’ve
got nice stripe marks across their backsides, too, although with Blackie, of
course, it’s hard to tell!
The first routine is pumping
iron with hand weights for Blondie, push-ups for Blackie and the treadmill for
Brownie.
I went to Blondie first,
alternately lifting heavy weights, his biceps straining and bulging beautifully
as he exercises, the veins rippling, fuck they’re such lickable
biceps!
As he worked out, I cupped
his balls in their rubber cage and stroked him there, and soon his seven-incher was straining to get out of the pouch.
After a few minutes, cupping
his crown jewels, I slashed the flogger across his superbly-muscled back and
moved on to Blackie.
His body was a rippling
display of pulchritude, the muscles gleaming, his
black skin giving off a healthy glow as he grunted while he worked away at his
exercises.
“Don’t fuckin’
slack, you cunt,” I snapped, whipping the lash across his upper back on his up
stroke, then across his strokeable butt on the
downstroke.
Now, of course, Blackie
wasn’t slacking – far from it, he was pumping away in an excellent display of
how sexy a nearly-naked male can be working properly at push-ups. But, hey, a
gal’s got to keep ‘em in line, eh?
And speaking of keeping ‘em
in line, when he’s doing push-ups, it’s a perfect exercise for Blackie to
worship the tips of my gleaming black boots.
This morning, I walked in
front of him and placed my feet, heels together, just where his head was on the
down plunge. “Left toe, then right, then back up, cunt!”
I ordered, and on his next down stroke the lovely slut kissed first my left
toe, then my right, before grunting back up.
After a while, I tired of
this sport and switched my attentions to Brownie, who was gleaming with sweat
as he pounded away on the treadmill. It was set to a steady tempo, and the work
made his strong thighs and calves glisten as they worked against the machine’s
relentless pressure.
But I, of course, had to
instil some of my discipline into the situation.
“Fuck, Brownie, you’re so fuckin’ slow,” I laughed, flashing
the flagellator against his rippling upper back. “I swear there’s a whole posse
of tortoises ahead of you on the road and you’re not gaining!”
And to emphasize my point, I
gave him two more cuts of the whip, across his buttocks and against the upper
back of his thighs, as he pounded along.
Then I announced a change of
positions, although Blackie I ordered to do chin-ups on the frame on the
work-out bench. This is a lovely exercise, because when he’s got his chin above
the bar, his rubber-sheathed cock and balls are at a perfect height for a lick
or a kiss from me.
This helps get him real
hard, I can tell you, and it always amazes me the way he can keep his 10-inches
of black meat contained within his posing pouch!
After a little bit of this,
I moved back and lashed the flogger across the fronts of his thighs and his
superbly-straining pectorals, before going over to where Brownie was pumping
iron.
I cupped his balls, licked
his glistening left bicep, popping up like Popeye’s when he hefted the weight
in his left, before moving behind him and giving him a mild work-out with the
lash – a girl’s gotta keep fit, too, right?
Then I lashed into Blondie,
who was puffing and panting on the treadmill. He’s not as fit for this piece of
exercise equipment as Brownie, but he’s better than Blackie, who never seems to
get the hang of the machine.
As he trotted along, with
beads of sweat falling from his lovely young bronzed body, I reached out and
cupped his balls in their white rubber cage. This is awkward for him, he
reckons it destroys his concentration, but fuck him –
I like to do it, and that’s what counts, right?
After a minute or two with
my fist closed around his scrotal sac, I moved behind his body, looking with
great amusement as his naked buttocks bounced and jounced as he ran, then drew
the flogger back and gave him some dozen or so encouraging cuts across his ass,
before calling on the slaves to switch around again.
This time, Blackie made
awkward “progress” – if you can make progress on a treadmill – and Brownie did
push-ups, while Blondie had to perform the gut-wrenching, back-breaking
chin-ups.
I let them all perform these
exercises for about 10 minutes, then clapped my hands
together. “Righto, sluts,” I shouted, “time for the announcement.”
The three sweating slaves
stopped the exercises they were doing and once more lined up in the
three-abreast position.
The “announcement” is always
the conclusion to the morning’s physical exertions. It is a decision by the domina-in-charge as to who was the poorest of the three
lads during the work-out.
The decision is arbitrary –
the domme doesn’t take notes, doesn’t really compare
how they’ve worked. She just picks one out for the humiliation of being the
worst worker.
“Right, Blackie and Blondie,
you were excellent this morning,” I said, thus giving away my decision, of
course, that Brownie was crap.
“You know the drill,
Brownie,” I snapped, “get naked!”
And the 32-year-old stripped
down his posing pouch to reveal his thick shaft rising to its full eight
inches. You see, the fact of the matter is, they all “enjoy” being the person
punished after the hour’s exercises.
As Brownie was stripping
nude, the other boys were also peeling off their pouches, and also revealing
their hard-ons – Blackie’s monstrous 10 inches gleaming from the sweat that had
built up in the rubber garment, while Blondie’s seven inches of thick erection
was also shining from its sweat.
Then Brownie bent over,
until his hands were grasping his ankles, his feet almost a yard apart.
“Take your positions,” I
called, “Blackie in front, Blondie behind!”
The black man’s cock was
swaying just in front of Brownie’s mouth, a rope of pre-cum starting to dangle
down from his piss slit, his cock slightly circumsized
by the fact that his foreskin lips were pulled back from the knob head a little.
Behind the 32-year-old, the
blonde boy placed his cock tip against the millionaire slave’s anus.
“Away you go, Blondie,” I
instructed my young nephew, and with a sigh he slightly parted Brownie’s
buttock cheeks before pushing his cock head against Brownie’s anal whorl and
starting to heave his hips to gain access to the slut’s rectum.
“Now you, Blackie,” I said,
and as the ebony idol pushed his helmet against the eager slut’s mouth, Brownie
unclasped his ankles and placed his hands up against the firmness of Blackie’s
buttocks and cupped them as the 26-year-old started to drive into his mouth.
I let them pump their cocks
into Brownie’s throat and anus for a while – the latter driving by Blondie an
action which caused the pressure on the 32-year-old’s prostate to provide him
with a throbbing hard-on – then ordered them to swap places.
Both Blondie’s and Blackie’s
pricks were now artificially “circumcized”, thanks to
the tightness of his anus and his mouth over the two fuckers’ shafts.
Then the black man mounted
the slave-in-the-middle’s ass, driving his 10-inch load deep into the white
man’s rectum, while Blondie was sighing and gasping with pleasure as his
smeared cock was pumping into Brownie’s mouth.
When both cock-humping sluts
started to sound as if they were in danger of spunking
into Brownie’s ass and mouth, I called a halt and ordered them all into the
shower, in an en suite adjoining the gym.
I checked in on them, after
the shower had been working on their naked, thick-cocked bodies for a minute or
two.
The blonde and the black man
were standing on either side of Brownie, kissing his mouth, stroking his cock,
while he held each of their hard-ons in his soapy fingers.
It was such a pretty scene.
Now you may be wondering about their sexual tendencies.
Some of the dommes we invite around for mass-punishment orgies often
ask the same thing: are they gay?
I smile and say what I
always say.
Course not,
it’s just that they like fucking each other!
To be continued.
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