Black, Bergman & Buchanan, Masters At Law

Black, Bergman & Buchanan, Masters at Law

Chapter # 8

by Lewis Chappelle

Ann was at the same time as hot as an erotic firecracker and fearful of her pending treatment at the cabin. She know from Sam that she was going to get an over-the-knee spanking from Joan that would be more than just a pain in the ass, and she was going to serve Sam with her mouth. She couldn’t even imagine how the rest of the weekend would play out but she knew for sure that she would serve and suffer.

Just as Sam turned down the small lane to the cabin, he ordered Ann to strip to all but her heels. She was to go into the cabin naked. As soon as she walked into the cabin, which she knew well from two previous visits, Joan met her, quickly put a blind fold over her eyes, slapped handcuffs on her wrists behind her back, strapped a penis gag in her mouth and buckled a thick leather slave collar around her neck.

“You are our sex slave for the weekend slave girl. Nod if you understand that fact, slut,” Joan barked sharply. Ann’s nod was almost enthusiastic. To give Ann a more submissive appearance, Sam tied her arms behind her at the elbows and pulled them tightly together. The effect was stunning since Ann’s tits were suddenly even more pronounced that they were before.

“Spread ’em wide slave girl. I want to see just how well you’ve shaved your cunt and I want to see just how wet you are,” Joan said, quite sharply. “Now get those tits out so I can squeeze and pull your nipples. You’d like me to do that, wouldn’t you slave girl?”

A muffled answer in the affirmative was heard from Ann’s gagged mouth. And moments later Ann was purring behind the gag as her nipples were mauled by Joan’s rough fingers.

“I think Ann is ready now for her spanking Joan, Take off her gag and arm bindings and let’s see if she remembers just how her spanking routine is supposed to go.”

Ann was on her knees with her tits and nose pressed to the floor in front of Joan, in a heart beat.

“Ya know Joan, I think this girl bowing before you is really a different person when she is being dominated that when she is back at the office. She seems to quite like the idea of getting her spanking just as much as you do in anticipation of giving it to her. And, not to put to sharp of a point on it, but this girl really does have stunning tits and great pins, don’t ya think?”

“Sam, I can’t wait to get my hands on her and whip on her this weekend. It’s a shame that you are banged up or I’m sure you’d enjoy beating her too.”

“Well, I think it’s time for the slave girl to beg for her spanking, Joan. Let’s here it slave girl.”

And Ann did beg and was over Joan’s lap in eager anticipation. After the first 30 smacks, Ann dutifully suggested that her Master would want her spanked more forcefully and Joan acceded to that wish. After another 40 hard smacks Ann again suggested that Her Master would want to see her spanked even more forcefully and Joan managed, despite her aching hands to pound Ann’s crimson ass even more sternly. Ann was sobbing real tears by the time Joan was finished with her.

“Now crawl over here bitch, and suck me dry,” Sam said. He leaned against a wall and grabbed Ann by the roots of her well quaffed hair. Eager to please, despite her wounded ass, Ann cradled Sam’s engorged cock in her soft mouth and between both of her hands. It wasn’t long before the two of them were in perfect rhythm.

“Feel your slimy clit, slave girl and twist it until you cum. I want you to have your orgasm at the same time that I fill your mouth.”

Sam could not hold back any longer and shot his cum forcefully into her. For her part, Ann was so much on the edge that she had her cum too. Some of his copious jism slithered down her mouth and onto her tits. Sam made her rub it into her tits forcefully saying that it would be good for her complexion. He made her hold his cock in her mouth for several minutes to let his cock come down gently.

Sam saw Joan naked at the top of the balcony where the master bedroom looked over the sitting room. She looked like she needed relief badly.

“Slave girl, I don’t know if you have had any girl-on-girl experience but I’m going to take you upstairs to the large bedroom and I want you to crawl up between Miss Joan’s legs so you can bring her the pleasure she so desperately needs with you tongue. He snapped a leash on her slave collar and pulled her crawling, up each hard wooden step, until she was in position to service Joan.

Still blindfolded, Ann could almost smell Joan’s sex from the edge of the bed because Joan had pulled her legs apart and was playing forcefully with her own clit. Ann’s soft tongue brought Joan to a shattering and very excited and noisy climax.

“Remember slave, I want you to wake me up with your mouth in the morning, don’t let me down. You will be naked all day and will be our personal slave until Monday. First thing tomorrow, get yourself ready for a good hard day, look good for us, and make breakfast; have it ready by nine. Understand, slave girl?”

“Yes master, I’m your slave girl alright,” she cooed.

Sam elected to let the fire in the downstairs fireplace go to embers while the three of them slept together spoon fashion. Ann was snuggled against Joan and Sam pressed against Ann. A perfect three sum if there ever was one. Sam kept his hand on Ann’s warm ass. Ann found comfort with her hands on Joan’s tits and she loved her sexy smell. They all fell asleep exhausted and it wasn’t even midnight.

Ann always looked good. She was a slim five feet eight, 120 pounds, with thick, natural wavy brunette hair which she wore to a length about 3 inches past her shoulders. And, she had a natural hour glass, 36 C, 24, 35, figure to die for and she knew how to use it. Her shape was even more observable when she wore the standard 21 inch waist cincher which was part of the standard dress for all the partners secretaries at B, B, & B.

Joan woke up with some more tricks in her bondage bag for Ann, which she knew Sam would enjoy. Before noon, she surprised Ann again and slipped the blindfold over her eyes, had her stand with her ass rearward, her shoulders back and her tits thrust forward.

Ann knew she was in for some hang time when Joan buckled padded cuffs tightly around each wrist. Without Ann knowing it, Joan had hung two stout ropes through pulleys from the upper landing overlooking the large common area below. With out much effort, Ann was stretched taut as Joan pulled her arms over her head. Ann was in heels and her toes were touching the ground but the considerable strain on her calves and thigh muscles, even as well toned as they were, was obvious.

Sam’s cock was in it’s full glory already at the sight in front of him, but Joan was not finished with Ann just yet. She had with her a cincher that would draw in Ann’s well trained waist down another inches to 20 inches. A few tugs on the buckles and Ann was just a vision from any high fashion magazine from England from the 1800’s. And, Ann was breathing quite shallowly to be sure.

“Look at what that cincher does to enhance the appearance of her tits, will ya. She is dynamite. I’ll let you keep her that way for another ten minutes Joan, but I don’t want her to collapse from the lack of air. You can redo her again every fifteen minutes until we need her to get lunch for us. I think that’s fair, don’t you Joan.”

“Sam if it was me, I’d let her suffer. She looks good that way and I think I detect a real pain slut in your little Ann, over there, don’t you Sam?”

“Yes, I do. Even the spanking you gave her, the results of which still show, hasn’t broken her sexy spirit. I think it may be time to use a crop on her delicious legs. Remove the cinch and I’ll see what she can take even if it is only with my left arm.”

“Would you like me to crop your thighs, slave girl?” he asked the still hanging girl.

“I’m yours to whip and fuck Master. Have your way with me. Hurt me and test me, Sir, let’s see if I can please you during my punishments.”

Sam tapped the crop against the back of her legs but did not swat at her ass. He lightly stroked the front of her legs and she didn’t move a muscle.

“Now, slave girl, I want you to raise your feet off the floor and pull them to each side so I can whip you inner thighs; you know the soft, sensitive flesh that boarders you cunt, slave. Okay, lets see those thighs, Slave girl.”

With a surge of energy, Ann did lift herself off the ground and spread her legs wide for Sam to whip. His strokes were not taps or light strokes; they were real strong slaps intended to raise welts. Ann screamed at the top of her lungs at the first stroke and she pulled her legs together up toward her tits.

“That won’t do slave girl, Open your legs again and keep them that way until I tell you to return to the floor.”

Ann knew she was in for some additional punishment and began to sweat again. Sam struck Ann nine more times for a total of ten deep red welts on the most sensitive flesh on her legs and she was howling in distress when he told her to come to rest.

After a few moments during which Ann finally composed herself, he said, “Now, I think I’ll tease and test her tits and nipples while she is so vulnerable.”

“Would you like me to suck on your nipples slave girl?” he taunted.

“Yes, Master, my nipples are your nipples this weekend, Sir.” she whispered weakly. She literally purred when his lips sucked her nipples to full hardness and sensitivity.

“Would you like me to squeeze and pinch your nipples with my fingers, Slave girl?”

“Yes, Master, squeeze and pinch and pull them Sir. Play with them and hurt them any way you wish, Sir,” she said in an increasingly distressing tone.

She hissed through clenched teeth as he brutalized her firm, conical, tits and rock hard nipples for the next several minutes. Perspiration, from her torment, was flowing from ever pore. Yet, her cunt was oozing her copious juices and her clit was hard as a marble when he finally beckoned Joan to remove the cincher -- it was time to let her down and have her prepare lunch.

It was clear to Sam that Joan had come prepared to humiliate and punish Ann over the weekend. She had all the tools of a good dominatrix. After the lunch mess was cleared up, Joan announced that it was time for Joan to experience, what she called, the hot and cold enema treatment. Ann froze in fear.

“Do want to watch this Sam? I’m sure you will find it erotically amusing,” Joan said as she assembled two enema bags each filled with a quart and a quarter of fluid; one with ice cold water and ice cubes and the other with warm soapy water.

“Sure, I’ll watch! Let’s get her heels off and get her to the big marble bathroom upstairs with the tub and shower. I want her to drink two glasses of water before we start. That should add a level of discomfort to this ordeal too.” And thus it was said and thus it was done.

“Hang the bags from the flower pot hooks above the tub, slave girl, and get in,” Joan ordered.

“What are you thinking, slave girl?” Sam asked.

“Master, I’m fearful. I’ve never had an enema in my life and truly I’m repulsed by the thought. On the other hand, Sir, I can feel the wetness and arousal in this slave girls cunt, Master.”

“Slave girl, kneel down in the tub, take the nozzle tip from the warm bag and insert it in your ass hole. When I say to start, you will release the clamp on the hose of the bag and enjoy the rush of warm water into you lovely ass. You will immediately experience incredible sensations in your entire body; the adrenalin rush will be wonderful and you will feel very full, very fast. If you feel like you are cramping up, just lay down in the tub. You will keep the water in you for at least 15 minutes before you will be given the chance to relieve yourself.

“After a few more minutes I’ll tell you to start again this time back into the tub with the cold bag. The cold will be more shocking than the warm and you will more than likely get cramps this time even if you didn’t with the warm bag. And the 15 minutes will seem like an eternity. And, I may have you hold it even longer just to prove that you are the slave, and I am the Mistress.”

When Joan said the word ‘Mistress‘ Ann just about fainted. Her emotions about Joan seemed to have recently come to the surface in detail and clarity. She wanted to prove to Joan that she would do anything for her and taking her enema’s would be the first challenge of her developing emotions for Joan.

After Ann had showered and cleaned up after the cold bag, Sam said, “Well Ann, kneel in the center of the family room and tell us your feeling about the enemas you’ve just had. Be introspective and honest.”

“I’m most impressed by my reaction to Mistress Joan, Sir. I have wanted to call her ‘Mistress’ all weekend but I couldn’t because that’s not the relationship we had until just a few moments ago when she identified herself as my Mistress. I want to be your slave girl, Mistress. I hope you will accept me as your slave girl. I beg you to accept me as your slave girl, right here and now.

“As for the enemas, the actual process was altogether smelly, very humiliating , very humbling, and a bit crampy. But, I’d do it again obediently and submissively for my Mistress any time and any place. I‘ve come to learn a lot about my submissive nature these past weekends and I’m fully at peace now with my love for a woman. Last night brought that home to me in spades.”

Sam saw the emotional flame light and knew he was no longer needed in the cabin. And he knew that the weekend to follow where all the partners would take Ann together was no longer an option. He would remedy that on Monday.

“Would you like to be transferred to Joan’s organization, Ann, because if you do, I can arrange that with John if that would make you happier?”

“And if you decide to join my organization at the firm, I’ll make sure your life is a living hell, believe me. And, I’ll take you home each night an make you pleasure me till you tongue falls out of your face. Is that what you want, Ann?”

“Yes Mistress, that is what I want, but I’m concerned that Jack will be left without a secretary, and I’d feel terrible about that.”

“Slave girl, that is not going to be a problem. I’ve just interviewed a beautiful girl who has all the sexual and administrative requisites to fill you slot here,” said Joan. “Her name is Randi.”

The End of Chapter # 8

And the End of This Story

Lewis Chappelle