Renee's Loan
By golffdude45@aol.com
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I stared at the envelope with a hollow sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach.
I knew what it was... the billing for next semester's tuition, and then there
was books... and I was broke, completely broke. The part time job I had served
only to pay the rent and buy a few gro- ceries, the plight of the average
college coed. My roommates were no better off than I. Each semester had been an
enjoyable, fun struggle just to get through. We shared a spe- cial comradely, my
support group, my friends, and my companions.
I had started school with a partial scholarship and a grant. It just covered
tuition. I sponged books from my parents. I stood tall, proud of my new
independence. I was on my own, and had done okay over the past two and a half
years. But this semester was different. The public cry over taxes and balanced
budgets had caused most of the grants to dry up. My application had been
denied. I applied with the bank at home for a student loan, or an installment
loan, or anything available... nothing. Student loans were reserved for those
currently under application. I had been using grants. I was near panic.
School meant everything. It was my banner of independence, my future, and my
life at the moment. And it was not only threatened but very much in jeopardy. I
had always planned for a college degree... I had worked so hard toward it... It
was just within reach... and life was snatching it away. My stomach knotted,
twisted, and descended further.
What was I going to do? My scholarship would only do about a third of the
tuition. My job did not pay enough to gain on tuition. I could use the library
for books, or borrow, or something... but I had to do the tuition thing first.
One of my roommates in my first semester had worked at a "titty" bar down town.
She danced topless three nights a week and weekends. The money was good... and
she al- ways made tuition. She talked me into going with her on "amateur night"
as a lark one night. After a few too many beers I had "competed". It was a rush
to be center stage, with the full attention of all those people when my bra
came off... But they had gone nude the following semester... She quit after a
few nights, and I wasn't sure I wanted to do that. I was in good physical
shape, good looking enough and all, but nude in front of fifty strange men??
But it still might be an option...
One of my classmates last semester worked as an "escort". She whispered about it
a lot... She had started as an escort in her freshman year. The money was
almost good enough but not quite. So she began servicing her "dates"
periodically... for a fee of course. She "dated" a lot around tuition time. But
that was really not an option for me... unless, of course, I couldn't get a job
as a stripper.
I sat at the table, a small round white dinette, with the morning paper and a
bowl of cereal. What was I going to do? I would dance, hell I would "escort" if
I had too. I was NOT going to drop out of my life, my future! My stomach
knotted at the thought of either choice. I gabbed at my cereal bowl. Work was
one thing... I needed $2500 NOW. And ultimately that really was the whole of
the problem. Where does a college coed get that kind of money in two weeks
without a loan? I gabbed again... I really had no appetite. It was a procedural
thing at the moment... Then my eye caught an ad. It was a local number.
Tuition got you down? Loans for college tuition... call - Brad, with...
"Hey, Lu. Have you ever heard of anyone getting a loan from these guys?" I
showed Lu the newspaper.
"Yeah. Actually I know of another girl who got a student loan there last
semester. She said the guy seemed a little sleazy... but the check cleared." Lu
went back to fussing over her nails.
"Think I ought to call him?" It was entirely rhetorically. I stood with the
phone to my ear and dialed the number. My heart fluttered with the first ring.
It rang... My hopes leaped upward, and rang... My spirits sagged, and rang...
My brow fell. It WAS Saturday I had to remind myself. Damn, the answering
service picked up.
"No answer... figures." I left a message and walked back to the living room. I
sat heavily into the recliner, officially depressed. It seemed hopeless. Jobs,
even good jobs, gave a weekly paycheck, and I needed much more than that right
now. I thought about the whole "dating/escort" thing... I was not a virgin, had
not been since my junior year in high school. I had enjoyed several favorable
young men here, but sex-for-hire, hooking to pay for tui- tion... It seemed so
far from my reality. No never, not me! I had standards, morals, and values... I
had to pay my tuition! I starred blankly at the want ads for escorts... I did
not like my options, drop out or do the deed. I tossed the paper to the floor.
I'd call them on Mon- day. I owed myself one more day of dignity.
The phone rang. Lu answered...
"For you, Renee. It's the loan guy." I stood so quickly I stumbled. I blushed at
my foolish- ness and answered the phone.
"Hello."
"Is this Renee? I am returning your call regarding a loan... yes; we have
student types of loans available... How about this afternoon... say around
4:30... good. See you then." I had hope, if only until 4:30 tonight. My heart
pounded hard in my chest. I felt giddy. I turned away from Lu. It was
embarrassing to be in this situation and feel so silly about a simple loan
application.
Four-thirty came on a slug's back, even for a Saturday. I hoped the time would
pass more quickly. It did not. Finally patience gave way. I had to do something
besides wait. I left nearly twenty minutes early. I just had to know if this
would solve the problem, if not, well, I had made an appointment with an escort
service... my final option. I just had to finish col- lege. And so many people
who stop for a semester, for whatever reason, never get back and finish. I
wasn't going that route.
The 'office' was locked and empty. It was a white slat board old home converted
into a shanty office. It was freshly painted, neat, and very empty! It was four
twenty. I peered inside, paced the walks, and returned to the car to wait it
out. It was four thirty-five... My stomach turned a knot as I thought about
'dating' for tuition money.
An old VW bug, rusty and belching smoke pulled into the drive. A middle-aged man
neatly dressed stepped out and walked to the door. He opened the office. I
paused, starred, and groaned, depressed to say the least. What a joke! My
rattletrap college car was better than this guy's. My hand reached the
doorknob. I drew a deep breath struggling with the despair in my chest. I
stepped into the relatively barren office, worn carpets, with one desk and two
chairs. Yeah, right! I turned to leave, but then, what the heck. Ask the
questions, I was already here and the options were sooo much better.
"Hello. Are you Renee?" He stuck out a pleasant hand. It was clean. I took it
returning the formal handshake.
"Yes."
"Be seated. Let's have a chat..." I sat down, uncomfortably before my last hope
for dignity. I felt so uneasy in the office, in the chair, in this whole
place... but then what awaited kept me fairly focused upon the moment at hand.
"So you are looking for a student loan? For what college? What are you
studying?"
"The State college... business management..." I answered formally.
"And how much do you need?"
"Tuition and books for spring semester..."
"And when do you wish to repay this note?"
"After graduation... the same as with any other student loan," I responded,
almost sur- prised at the question.
"And what do you offer as collateral against the note?"
Collateral? What did a student have to offer... no bank had ever even asked for
collateral with a student loan? I stammered, "I... I... I don't know. I don't
really have anything of value... except my car... and that's 12 years old now."
"I am looking at something of considerable value even now that you may use as
collat- eral." He paused looking directly at my body. I was dumb-founded. What
could he be looking at? Me? What does that mean?
"Me? How?" I queried.
"Good. You understand. Yes, you. I will give you a loan for $2000.00 made out to
the col- lege. That will take care of your tuition, and another for $400 which
should do books." I was still puzzled. "You will return a copy of your grades
at the end of the semester, C's and better you will not owe until you complete
your education. If you miss reporting your grades through any one semester, I
will assume you have either completed your educa- tion or dropped out. Payments
will begin the following month. Interest will be figured at 1/2% monthly higher
than the banks are charging competitively for student loans. Ques- tions?" He
paused briefly. I could hardly contain my excitement... and surprise.
"No. It sounds too good to be true. I had all but given up on raising the
money..." I didn't want to tell him about the 'dating/escort' I had planned as
a last resort. "But I have a $700 scholarship. So all I need is $1300 and
books."
"Agreed. It is very true... but I will hold your body as collateral. If you fail
to repay the note in a timely manner or the note goes into default... well..."
He smiled wryly. "I will own your body for the next three months, the same term
as your semester. I will use it as I see fit to recoup my monies. Do you
understand?"
I considered carefully the problem, tuition, dancing, escorting, and or whatever
other job I might find... There were so many enticing options available.
"Yes. I understand." He pushed the documents in front of her. I quietly,
intently, read each and every word.
I, Renee, agree... to own and use my body... for a term of three uninterrupted
months...
The papers seemed to say exactly what he had explained to me. I agreed to become
an indentured woman. My body to be used as collateral to repay the monies for a
term of three uninterrupted months... I signed the papers pushing them across
the table back to him. He examined the signature. Then he opened a drawer and
produced a camera.
"I need to take your picture to help insure the security of my collateral." He
clicked, the camera flashed. I blinked surprised at the brightness of the
flash. "Take good care of my collateral. If I need it, I will demand it in as
good a condition as possible."
"Three uninterrupted months?" I asked quietly. "Good condition?"
"Yes. If due to health, job, family or any other particular reason you must
leave the service of your indenture... the clock will be completely reset at
the date of your return. And if it becomes necessary to foreclose on the
collateral, and you have not maintained it... well, I will be forced to 'whip'
it into shape." He grinned wryly. It sent a shiver through my chest. He stood
leaving me in silence.
I could hear him fussing with something or another in the back room. Several
lengthy min- utes latter he returned with two very business like checks, the
first, made payable to the college, the other to the bookstore. It was done. I
stood holding the checks in my hand. He thrust his hand forward. I shook it
gladly. Problem solved... for now...
The checks cleared without a hitch. I finished the semester as any other. My
grades were good. They were always good. I truly gave no thought to tuition. I
had a source. I entered the shanty office quietly. My grades... and a request
for tuition at hand. The man sat wait- ing.
"Hello, Renee." He stood to accept the report of my grades. "Good. I see you
take your studies very seriously."
"Yes." I sat calmly in the vacant chair. "Are you available for another loan?
The next se- mester begins in a few days."
"Why of course, my Dear. The terms are exactly the same as with the last... How
long before you graduate?"
"Summer, fall, and spring of this next year." I spoke confidently. I will
graduate... on time.
"Will you be using our services in the future?" He looked over at me while he
typed on the documents.
"Probably... sure. Why not! You've been good to work with." I felt enthusiastic
about the future, and was glad enough to have this particular reoccurring
dilemma out of the way. The thought of someone owning my body really never
occurred to me past the signing of those first documents on that very first
Saturday. I fully intended to repay the man for every cent... so the indenture
was never a question to me. And by graduation day I owed nearly $9000 or
one-year full use of my body. Had I the notion of the future I would have
gladly 'dated' those weeks necessary to get through tuition. But I had not...
and nothing dampened enthusiasm or slowed my progress towards my degree.
Shortly after the beginning of my last semester I met Roger. He was all I could
have ever hoped in a man, short of those late night fantasies with Brad Pitt.
We dated for a month before Roger asked me to marry him. I was on a rocket
ride! I graduated in June, with honors, and married in July. Roger was doing
his post grad work when we met. He had a year, and then our lives were our own,
to mold, shape, and build what we wished as we wished. The future was all I had
dreamed as a little girl.
Two major companies courted me for the last month of my studies. Roger was
committed to a firm in Denver. They were picking up 50% of his tuition. I
accepted an offer from one of the lesser Hotel chains because they could train
me locally and place me in Denver with Roger next year. All was moving along so
well...
I missed reporting my grades to the shanty, even though I had graduated
Cum-Laude. I never heard from the shanty office, and did not search out a
payment schedule from them. Money was more than just tight without roommates to
share rents, food and such, as they had over the past several years. My
training salary barely covered the apartment. And Roger could buy food. If we
were very very careful we could keep the phone hooked up... but not every
month. That was when the first payment demand on my loans came in the mail.
I just didn't know what to do... so I ignored it. And frankly, I never figured
that anyone would dare to collect the body I used as collateral... and several
of the other students I knew had ignored their student loan payments with no
reprisal... I tried to get an install- ment loan to cover at least at part of
the principal. I wrote a letter explaining my situation and offering to begin
payments at the end of Roger's post grad studies. Nothing... He could wait.
He'd have to. I just didn't have any money. Months passed. I took no more
thought about the notes... and then another letter arrived via certified mail.
Renee: It has been some eight months since I have heard from you. You are in
default on the agreements and terms of your loans with this firm. Your note has
been sold for recov- ery of assets...
The air rushed out of my lungs with a loud groan. I utterly collapsed into the
kitchen chair. I remembered clearly the terms, the warnings, and the
consequences. And now my body had been sold to satisfy the debt. My pussy
tightened at the thought. My stomach knotted. My hands went clammy and cold.
What would Roger say? How would he react? And how would I explain my situation?
So many questions ran about in my mind... and no answers. I reread the letter.
Nothing... no indications as to who was going to recovery their asset or when.
I shuddered. My body was not going to belong to Roger or me for a year. What
could that mean... to my marriage and me?
I remembered where I had filed my copies of the notes. Maybe there might be some
clue in them. I hurried to dig them out of the closet file box. Roger came in
as I plowed about frantically.
"You okay?" he asked, sensing my near panic.
"No!" I all but shouted. "Here. Here they are!" I clutched them tightly in my
hand... then I starred at Roger, my husband, the man I loved... I had to tell
him, to show him my situa- tion, our situation.
I spread the notes upon the table in chronological order, top to bottom, with
the latest de- mand for recovery. Roger sat at the table in front of the papers
while I cried, panicked, rambled through the tuition story, and cried some
more.
"There. That's the problem." I shoved a finger at the last letter. "I never ever
thought someone would, well, buy my body."
"And why not?" Roger asked flatly. "You're a very pretty woman." He sat staring
at the papers. I stood too frightened to move or speak.
"And what of us?" I stammered terror in my voice at the possibilities. "Well, I
guess we'll just have to see where this goes. I love you and am not going to
give you up that easily. But this could be a real problem too." He looked at me
without much emotion, mostly just stunned I guess. I was breathless.
"And what if they come for me?" I choked tears out of my eyes.
"We'll just deal with it as it comes along." Roger stood. Walked to me and held
me close for a very long time. I cried until the fear and tears were gone for
the night.
It was nearly a month before the next certified letter appeared.
Ms. Renee I purchased your notes several months ago. I can see that you have
received the letter of default and collection. You will be given the next two
weeks to get your things in order. I will collect my assets on the 3rd of next
month.
You will be spending the following two weeks at my compound in a very strict
training. Your husband will be allowed to visit you to assure your safety and
witness your training.
The next two weeks you will remain in my possession. You will be allowed to
return to your current employment, but must return to the compound directly
upon completing your shifts. Your husband will be allowed to visit you or use
your services as any other client during this time.
At the end of the first thirty days you will be allowed to return to your
husband under cer- tain conditions and circumstances that you will learn during
your training. You will continue in my service for clients and business needs
until you complete a term of one year.
Any breach of these terms or conditions and I will ship my assets to another
venue in my business. If you fail to be at home, alone, and ready to make
delivery of my assets on the 3rd I will retrieve them by force.
The postmark was local, no signature, nothing to identify the sender. I held the
note dumb- founded for nearly a full minute. I placed it upon the table pushing
it away... My mind froze. I slumped into a chair in front of the letter. Roger
read it aloud...
"Well, Renee, I guess you'd better tell them at work that you'll be missing a
few weeks..." He paused. He took a deep breath. "A month. I'll really miss
you... but then I can come and visit." He left unsaid the words about clients,
business, and services. I was grateful for that! I was scared, petrified more
precisely.
Today was the 3rd of the month. I hurried Roger off to work. We had made love
all night, and had reaffirmed our commitment to each other. And Roger had saved
a few dollars along...for services. He held me so tightly. I did not want to
let him go... but he must. Not just for work, but I couldn't bear to have him
watch them collect their asset, my body... and me with it. I had made this deal
and I would have to pay it off. But fear is really what raced through my soul
as Roger walked out of the door. What would they do with me, to me, to my body?
A tear stole down my cheek.
I sat rigidly upon the kitchen chair not daring to move, not knowing what to
do... just to wait. The first ten minutes dragged painfully by. It was 8:30
am... then 10:10 am... then 11:00 am. The doorbell rang.
My heart exploded. I jumped so hard I nearly passed out. I could not breathe. It
rang again. I stood, staggered to the door, trembling as I peered out. There
was a moving van out front. I latched the safety chain and cracked the door.
"Yes. May I help you?" I paled at the answer.
"I have come to collect." It was simple flat and uninformative.
"Yes. I know." I closed the door, undid the safety chain and opened the door to
the man. He motioned to the van. Three others appeared quickly, a man and two
women. They walked in closing the door behind them. They stood. I sat.
"Sign this." He shoved a pen and paper at me.
"Why? What is it?" I grunted as the paper.
"A release to collect the asset... we will collect it with or without, but don't
fight it. Just sign the paper." I didn't read it, probably should have, but in
my fear and despair I didn't bother. I just signed it and shoved it back at
him. "Get the cross." The man stood and left with a woman at his side. They
were gone for several minutes before returning... several long minutes without
a word spoken. I didn't have anything to say, and they didn't press con-
versation. I was nauseous. The man and woman returned toting a box about the
size of an armoire. He opened the doors. The woman extracted a wooden X shaped
object. It was not so heavy as it seemed awkward, extending from just above my
head to the floor. I watched blankly. I had no clue...
"Stand up and remove your clothes." I heard the voice and did not move. It
seemed to be a distant sound coming from a clouded dream. I sat still staring
at the cross. He grabbed my hair jerking me to my feet. I screamed with pain,
yanked violently back into the mo- ment. I stood staring angrily at the man
holding my hair.
"Strip, woman!" he commanded loudly. I fumbled with the first button of my
blouse. My fingers failed me. In a flash buttons were flying in every direction
as my blouse tore open. The suddenness of my exposure overwhelmed me. I
stumbled forward and slumped to the ground...
"Damn woman..." The man bent to check my general health. "Strip her."
I was barely conscious of their actions. Truthfully I didn't wish to be
conscious. I felt my arms slip from the sleeves of my torn blouse. The button
of my Levi's, the zipper, and my legs lifted from the hips sliding off of my
legs. No muscle moved. I was paralyzed by the reality of my collection. I could
not breathe. I sank deeper into unconsciousness.
They removed my bra and panties with a knife. The two men lifted my body from
the floor. My clothes lay strewn about the kitchen. One of the women began to
strap my ankles to the bottom of the cross. Then she strapped each thigh. My
mind struggled through a fog of unconsciousness. I became aware of the straps
about my wrists, then my biceps. I looked up.
"NO!" I yelled out loud. One of the women shoved an object into my mouth. I
choked as it hit the back of my mouth. She strapped it tightly about my head. I
could not speak. My eyes flashed wildly around the room. I struggled but could
not move. I was completely se- cured to the wooden cross.
"Wrap her up." The man in charge barked again. One of the women began rifling
the cup- boards. Saran wrap, clear plastic wrap... and what was that for? She
began to wrap it firmly about my left leg. At first I had to laugh at the
foolishness of it, such a light plastic would never serve any purpose. Wrap
after wrap, layer upon layer, I became more and more immobilized. They produced
another box of plastic wrap... first one leg and then the other was firmly
wrapped to the leg of the cross. They were very firmly fastened...
"Plug her." The other woman produced a small thermos. I shook my head violently.
She found a bottle of olive oil I use for cooking. Looking directly at me she
lubed the thermos. I could feel tears of desperation well up in my eyes. She
placed the object upon the tender folds of my labia. One by one she lifted,
separated, and spread my vulva opening my pussy. I felt the pressure against my
soft body. I closed my eyes. It was uncomfortable. It hurt... and it was inside
me. They began to wrap me again. The thermos was closed against escape, then my
tummy. Layer upon layer, tightly my body was wrapped and bound to the cross.
They paused as the wrap reached my breasts. Two small round rub- ber objects
similar to the ends of a football appeared. They held them up for me to see
clearly. I knew what they were for.
"These have been specially designed for the occasion." The dark haired woman
pointed to the inside. "The inside ends are covered with an abrasive similar to
medium fine sand pa- per. You see these?" Her fingernail ticked one of the
pointy things inside. "They're for your personal enjoyment." She placed the
first over my right breast. She tucked and fussed. I winced as the metal nubs
pricked upon my tender breasts. She tweaked my nipple rolling it back and
forth. I could feel the coarseness of the abrasive upon my sensitive flesh. She
smiled... I stared back wide-eyed and blank. She squeezed the rubber cup upon my
breast firmly. The nubs brought tears to my eyes. She smiled stepping to my left
breast. In another minute both breasts were fitted snugly with their nubbed
cups. The wrapping be- gan anew. The rubber cups were wrapped tightly to my
chest pressing hard upon my breasts. Tears trickled down my cheeks.
Sure the nubs hurt. My pussy hurt from the thermos hidden within. But more, I
hurt. I was embarrassed to be here in this situation. Embarrassed to be naked
in front of these peo- ple. Embarrassed to be bound upon this wooden cross.
Angry with the circumstances and myself... I hurt inside myself. Another tear
trickled down my cheek. The wrapping stopped at my torso. The women each stood
upon a chair and began to wrap my arms binding them more firmly to the upper
pylons of the cross.
A leather hood was pulled gently over my head. It was immediately dark, very
dark. But I could breathe just fine. I could feel the laces being threaded and
adjusted at the back of my head. Gently but firmly my hood was snugged about my
head. I was completely pos- sessed.
"Get the blower and let's be out of here." The man commanded again. I heard what
sounded much like my hair blower. Then I could feel the warmth upon my legs. The
plastic wrap was shrinking in the warm air, sucking itself to my flesh, and
fitting more and more like a second skin. It was tight upon my chest. The cups
dug deeper. It hurt. My arms molded within the new skin. I was near panic when
the hair dryer shut off. I could still breathe. I was okay, physically, but
emotionally, well that was another situation.
I felt myself being moved, wavering in motion as I was lifted from where I had
been bound. I struggled to listen, to hear, and to imagine what I did not see.
The armoire! Of course! I was being placed into the armoire that had housed the
cross. I heard the door click shut... and latch, lock closed. A faint whir... I
sucked hard at the air. It must be a circulating fan. I felt... well... bound,
humiliated, and near panic.
The armoire tilted upon the dolly. I was being escorted to the moving van.
Bump... the threshold at the front door. Bump, bump, bump, bump, bump... one,
two, three, four, five... How many times had I counted those stairs from the
apartment while I carried an arm full of groceries? Then the dolly rolled up
the walk... bump... and into the van. The overhead door rolled down and
latched. I was 'Collected'. I passed out again...
* * *
I awoke slowly sometime after I was 'collected'. I'm not sure if it was a drug
or recovery from the panic of the abduction. I couldn't move. I tested my right
arm. It was tied at the wrist and elbow to something and raised above my head.
My left arm felt the same. My skin tingled. I struggled to move my arms,
nothing. I wiggled my legs, first one then the other. They remained bound. I
could not move. I turned my head, nothing. My mouth ached at the edges. It was
dark, stiflingly darkness.
Voices. I hear voices. In reflex I tried to turn towards the sounds, nothing. I
lay still.
"She's quite the looker. And you bought her off of Leonard?"
"Yeah. She's mine for the next year. Got a husband though. Could be trouble, but
I think he'll play along... at least for a while."
"She's ready." The voice sounded ominous. I held my breath, cringing at the
horrors rac- ing through my mind. My flesh crawled, tingled, tensed and
quivered. It was cool across my tummy. I was naked...at my center regions, and
'down there'. My stomach twisted turning over. In front of who... and where...
and I still could not move or utter a cry for help. But then who would hear me?
I groaned or grunted.
"Good she's awake... begin." I felt something warm at my mid-section, and then
my loins warmed. I felt a wave of near panic welling up from inside of me. Then
I felt something, no someone, touching, not fondling, but touching... lifting
the folds of flesh around my pussy. Tears began to trickle down my cheeks. What
were they doing to me? I struggled to move, nothing!! It was warm, almost but
not quite hot. My skin tingled. It took about ten minutes to finish whatever
they were doing. The fear never subsiding...
Then they were done. I could feel the plastic wrap being cut away from my skin.
I was re- leased. It was utterly numbing. My limbs failed me. I sat dazed and
scared. The woman removed the nubbed cups from my breasts. Pain shot through
them in every direction at the exact same instant. Tears welled up in my eyes.
My arms hung limp at my sides. The feeling was slowly returning to my legs. I
felt something-heavy clamp down tightly around each ankle. I knew almost
instantly that they were some sort of shackle. The thought of running arose
instantly and melted away with reality. My heart sank to near despair. A strap
was buckled around my neck. I heard locks click shut at every touch.
"Lift your arms my Dear." It was a woman. I raised my arms above my head. They
felt like lead. I could not see what was happening. The hood remained. The
darkness fostered fear and panic. The woman fitted something about my torso. It
felt heavy, metallic, and cool upon my skin. She pinched the nipple of my left
breast tugging it through something. It startled me. I tried to yelp... but all
that escaped was a grunt.
"Better get used to some pain in these Honey." She was not at all gentle as she
tugged hard at my right nipple. I grunted. It hurt. Arrows of pain shot through
my chest. "Done. Now step down and follow me, my Dear." She clipped something
to the collar about my neck and tugged gently forwards. I had no choice but to
follow her or be dragged upon my face. I stumbled forward. I reached my hands
out to find walls, to protect myself. She cackled loudly. I was lost in the
darkness. I stumbled forward.
"Now stand still." Her voice pierced through me. I stood motionless in the dark.
"I purchased the defaulted note. You are in my service for the next year. I will
explain what that means to you." I was a male voice. He sounded masculine,
strong, and certain as he spoke. I listened in the darkness.
"During the next two weeks you will be trained in the arts of bondage,
sadomasochism, and zoophilia. You will speak to your trainers and handlers with
respect, Yes Sir and Yes Ma'am. A lack of respect will get you whipped
vigorously. You will do as instructed by your trainers and handlers. I know
that you will not wish to do most of the things required of you. I simply do
not care. Failure to comply will get you whipped vigorously. Because of your
default on your loan and so that you may know of the importance of obedience,
your day will begin with a twenty-lash whipping.
"You will spend all of your first two weeks here. Then you will be allowed to
return to work. But you will reside here for the balance of your first thirty
days. If you learn your lessons well, you will be allowed to return to your
husband. He will become your Master, as I, for the remaining eleven months.
"Your body is mine for a year... and I will make use of it. There will be
parties, some here and some elsewhere. Your presence will be required. Men,
women, and their animals will fuck you and inflict their fetishes and desires
upon you. You will oblige them all of their desires. Nude pictures of you and
you adventures will be posted to my site on the Internet monthly.
"Failure to fulfill your obligation to me will result in your sale to an outside
firm. That means I will sell you and ship your ass to South America, Asia, or
Europe. Questions?"
I was petrified at his explanation, sickened at my center. The thought of being
sold abroad... fucking strangers, or strange things... and the S&M thing...
well, tears would not help, neither would fainting (I'd tried that!). I was
still gagged, so the whole 'questions' thing was just a sick joke... and I was
sick. I stood motionless, naked, and completely hor- rified in the moment.
"Good. Then we understand each other." It was silent for several long moments. I
did not move. I didn't know where I was, or what peril I could fall upon if I
moved about.
The woman removed the hood. I squinted at first to protect my eyes and then to
focus them. The light was blinding. The woman was gone. The door was gone. I
was in a room alone with my ankles shackled to a post at the center of the
room... my leash hanging from my collar to just below my pussy. I blinked and
looked down. My pussy was slightly reddened... and bald as the day I was born.
I had not been this smooth since pre-puberty. I fumbled to look upon myself.
About my torso was a bustier of small chains. Part of the bustier formed about
me like a too tight bra pressing into my torso. My nipples protruded through
small metal rings nearly the same size as my areolas. The object in my mouth
was locked. I was muted. A small round bench surrounded a six-foot tall post. I
squinted, focusing my vision. I looked about the room.
My husband! I looked at him. At first I wanted to run to him. I lifted a foot to
move in his direction, and felt the chain. I tried to speak and grunted. I felt
desperation, shame for my condition. I wanted to hide myself from him.
"You see she is alright." The man was tall, slender, distinguished, about 40ish.
He could have been a CEO and for all I knew he was.
"She seems well enough." I was embarrassed to be naked in front of my own
husband. I wanted to hide from him... and yet there was a very real sense of
relief and security at having him care enough about me to be here in spite of
my current state.
"You shaved her," his voice that of one reading a statement of fact.
"No. Actually she has been treated with a laser, very high tech stuff. It will
take one or two more treatments and then she will be smooth for the rest of her
life." My heart sunk. My bush was gone. It would never return. I hung my head.
"Great!!" The sudden enthusiasm of my husband startled me. I did not know he had
any interest in such things... "What is to become of her now?" He reviewed my
schedule just as he had for me. His account did not change... and it did not
sound better the second time. "I see..." Roger said pensively.
"I extend to you our compliments to the club at any time that your wife is in
our service. Tonight is special. I wish to invite you to her choosing. Happy
hour begins at seven. Your presence is requested about nine tonight."
"I'll be here." Roger was courteous extending his hand to the Man. "You'll make
it my love." He took a look wistful look at me, turned and left.
I felt very much alone. I sat upon the round bench about the post to which I was
chained... I cried long sobbing woeful tears.
The woman returned sometime later. The gag, an egg shape thing about an inch and
a half by two, fastened by a one inch stem to a flat rubber strip, two inches
wide and four inches long, was removed from my mouth. I reached up massaging
the muscles of my mouth and jaws. It felt good to be freed of the gag... I
breathed deeply through my mouth and nose.
"Bend over." The woman spoke flatly.
"What?" I choked out.
"Bend over. This goes in the other end for now." The woman changed out the
attaching straps and fastened it to a three-inch leather belt with several
steel loops.
"Not a chance," I said flatly. She just smiled.
"Please. Make it harder. I really want to be the first to whip you." She strode
to the door- way.
"All right." I grabbed my ankles exposing my bottom to this bitch. She cackled.
"Good. Now stand still until I tell you to straighten up." She placed the plug
at the sphincter of my bottom. Slowly she pressed and rotated the plug. I felt
pressure against my bottom. Then the anus parted slowly. She pressed more
firmly. I felt the pressure building upon something inside.
"Stand and put your leg upon the bench." I did as I was told. The plug rotated.
The flesh of my bottom stretched almost painfully. It slipped inside. I could
feel her finger pressing the plug deeper as my bottom closed about the neck of
the plug. "Stand still missy." She fussed about my bottom for several seconds
longer. "Put your leg down." I stood flat- footed next to the bench. My rectum
was stuffed. I felt bloated, like I had to relieve myself.
She buckled the straps about my loins fastening tightly to a belt about my
waist. There were four small locks. One by one they clicked closed. I felt
something brush my leg. I looked over my left shoulder. A TAIL! I had a tail
protruding from my butt. A bushy doggie tail stuffed up my ass, strapped and
locked into place.
"What the..." I nearly yelled in utter disbelief.
"I'll be back in an hour to finish your preparations for tonight." The woman
left.
I stood still taking note of the picture I presented. My torso was exposed yet
adorned in a chain bustier, my nipples protruding through tightly pressing
rings, my pussy was smooth as the day I was born, a three-inch leather strap
defined my waist and a collar and leash about my neck, and I had a bushy doggie
tail protruding from my ass. I looked blankly in complete disbelief at what I
had become in less than four hours...
I paced nervously about the bench to which I was tethered. It was difficult to
walk. The chain on the shackles caught upon my foot even though I was careful.
The shackles themselves were cumbersome to the stride... and my bowels felt
like I had... a tail up my ass.
I called out. There was no echo, no sound, not a voice, just silence. I wanted
to cry but to what end would that serve. I was here. I had not agreed to this!
But certainly it was the result of my agreement. I was scared. I did not know
what was to become of me, of my body. I did not like the outset of things at
the moment. I wrung my fingers. I stared at the bench. I would have sat down,
save the tail in my butt. I had no record of time, no clock, no passing of the
sun...nothing. Nothing passed, nothing changed, and the moments piled one upon
the other with no record or notice.
The woman returned carrying a small bag. I was even more anxious at the sight of
her if that were possible.
"Missy. Sit." She pointed to the bench.
"Sure, with this thing in my bottom," I quipped sarcastically.
"You will learn respect in the morning. I will be the first to help you
remember." She smiled. It struck me with fear as I remembered what the Man had
told me. She lifted the tail above my waist. "Now sit."
"But, this thing is buried in my ass," I returned defensively.
"And so it is. Now sit on it!" She stabbed a pointy finger at the bench.
I stooped to sit. It felt as though the plug would pop out of my bottom. I
pushed slightly hoping for that result. The strap held it firmly in place. My
bare bottom touched upon the rough wooden surface of the bench. Gingerly I set
my bottom down. I felt very much like something was pushing itself through my
center... but it did not hurt. And in a moment it rather passed... until I
shifted about.
The woman took a brush from the bag. She seated herself behind me and began
brushing my hair. Many many strokes later she finished. My hair shown with a
polish I had not had time to give in many years. It was nice to be attended.
"Turn around." I wriggled my bottom about the bench. The plug wasn't so bad as
it had been at first. She began to look for colors of make-up. Carefully we did
my make up. I nearly forgot about the rest of the evening. I was being prepped
for the night's activities.
"Stand up." I stood, feeling like the plug would drop out. The tail brushed my
calf. I was very sexy, very pretty, and very much not the Renee I was
yesterday. "You will wait tables during the happy hour. Our guests will get to
know you, see you, and decide what to do with you."
"Will I," I pointed to the tail, "be fucked by a dog?"
"Yes, but probably not tonight," she cackled wryly. "But soon, very soon you
will be."
I was not relieved. I was to be mated with a dog... I felt fear. I had heard of
one of the girls at school having sex with a dog but, frankly, had passed it
off as unreal. It scared me, and sickened me at my center. My mind went numb.
The woman stood.
"Follow me." I stood and walked beside her in silence. I simply did not want to
hear the answer to any other question I might ask. We entered a dark smokey
room. The din of conversation was overwhelming. I reeled seeking someplace to
hide my nudity. Several other women wandered about taking orders and flirting
with the clients. They were dressed, no adorned exactly the same as I... with
not the smallest sprig of a bush to be found upon any of them... and all
sporting doggie tails. Some breasts were large and some were small, but all
were adorned in chain bustiers with their nipples, protruding boldly.
Now, I would love to say that the evening was uneventful... just waiting tables
as a 'cock- tail-ed' waitress, no pun intended. But really, consider just
walking through a room full of people, much less intoxicated patrons, stark
naked. And I was naked! I was pawed, groped, and fingered, caressed, sucked,
licked, explored, taunted, embarrassed, and tired. And for someone who had
considered herself traditional, though not conservative or prudish, it was
quite the traumatic evening. And that was before the night's entertainment, the
choosing, started.
The first of the waitress was presented upon the bar. Her husband was there. He
stood to choose. The offer was for $50... then $55. In the end she was bid out
at $200. First her husband was asked to match the offer, which he did. The man
with the $200 dollar offer sat down heavily. Her husband lifted her off the
bar. She was spared the night...
The next woman hoisted upon the bar was a petite bleach blond with darkened
roots, small breasts and smooth pink pussy. She stood barely 4'10". The barmaid
was her advo- cate to choose. I watched. The bidding reached $300 almost
immediately and faltered at $330. The barmaid now had to choose. But choose
what, why? I was puzzled. She reached into a fish bowl at the side of the bar
withdrawing a small paper. She showed the paper to several patrons about the
bar. The crowd began to bark... woof... woof... woof. A leash was attached to
her collar. She was placed upon the floor. The leash handed over to the man
peeling of the bills. The crowd cheered loudly as she struggled to get away. She
was nearly dragged by the leash in his hand as he made his way from the room.
I was next. My heart pounded in my chest. Someone swept me off of my feet. I
felt the bar top beneath me. I stood frozen in space upon the bar facing the
crowd, absolutely horrified at my situation. Fifty... one hundred... The frenzy
built with each woman. At $250 the bid- ding stopped. I searched the room. Roger
appeared... late... almost too late to choose. I knew that he didn't have $250
now, tomorrow, or at any time in the nearly future. My stomach twisted. My
thighs trembled weakly. My hands felt cold. I rubbed them together. My skin
felt clammy. I desperately wanted Roger to save me somehow. He did not have the
money...
"You must choose," the buyer called out.
"Choose what?" he said dryly tugging at his fingers.
"What do you prefer for tonight?" He handed Roger an 81/2 X 11-laminated menu.
"I can not choose these things for my wife to do," Roger said defiantly.
"Then punish her, but don't use her tonight." Roger imagined he had achieved a
reason- able solution for the evening. NOT!
I was placed upon the floor. A leash attached to my collar. The man paying the
$250 dragged me off. Roger was pulled along with the group, or by curiosities.
Several others followed along. I was shoved into an 8 X 10-glass cubicle. I
looked around me to explore the room. There were five or six spectators
gathered at the sides of the cubicle, a DVD camera and tripod across the way...
and a wooden chair in the center of the room. Roger sat in front of me astride
a stationary bicycle. The man with the leash seated me into the chair. At the
thighs just above the knees he strapped my legs to the chair with leather
lashings. My ankles he bound tightly to the chair legs. My wrists to the forearm
he lashed to the armrests. A leather lashing drew my waist tightly to the back
of the chair. I sat still. I could not move much. I was scared stiff. My
fingers gripped the arms of the chair so tightly that my fingers were white to
the knuckles. I stared wild-eyed at Roger.
A matron entered the room. She inserted a smallish ball with air holes into my
mouth and tied it behind my head. She held a torpedo shaped object in her hand.
It was about two inches around and four inches long. The end was copper colored
metal. It had an electri- cal cord attached to the other end with a small clip
like object coming off of the cord. She lubed it up and slid it into my pussy.
I could feel her rolling my clit between her fingers until it enlarged
slightly. I could not deter my body's response to her actions. My pussy flush
warm as my clit grew. She attached the clip to my budding clit. It didn't pinch
really, nor did it hurt... but it did put a considerable fear into my soul.
Next she attached to clips onto my nipples. These she pulled away from my
chest. The harder she pulled the more tightly the clips gripped my nipples. She
pulled until I began to cry. My nipples stretched outward pulling my breast
through the steel loops of the bustier. My chest burned. She slipped one of the
links of the chain attached to the nipple clamps over a peg a few feet from my
body.
"Be ready to pedal." She told Roger. He placed his feet onto the pedals of the
stationary bike. I could feel a very slight tingle in my clit. She adjusted the
load control on Roger's bike. The tingle increased to an almost uncomfortable
pulsing buzz. The muscles of my pussy contracted involuntarily against the
current running through my loins. Then the woman adjusted the controls. Next my
nipples began to pulse through the clamps. It felt fuzzy, not painful. But I
knew that any more current would quickly pass the fuzzy point. My pussy flushed
hot and wet as the fuzzy's stimulated my clit. I was getting very concerned
about what was happening. The man from the bar sat at another stationary bicycle
a few feet from Roger. I looked around me. The peering leering eyes were all
too anxious for something. The camera showed a small red dot. I was scared. I
looked back at Roger pleading with my eyes for some kind of help. He could do
nothing... and I knew that, but who else was there.
"Now, here's the situation." She spoke to Roger... and the man. "You are her
husband. Your pedals control the current to the terminals. As you pedal the
contact terminals will be separated. This man paid money to use your wife...
and you chose punishment. His ped- als oppose yours. If you pedal faster than he
does the electrodes remain apart. If he ped- als faster they will get closer and
closer until they meet." She turned to me.
"Do you feel this current?"
I nodded yes.
"Does it hurt?"
I shook my head.
"It is set at two. When the race begins the terminals will separate. I will
increase the load to five, and increase it by five each time you allow the
terminals to touch. It is not going to be enough to damage her... but," she
smiled, "she will not like the higher settings."
"Begin to pedal." Roger's legs moved over the pedals. The tingling stopped
immediately. Her hand moved across the control box. I stared panicked stricken
at Roger.
"Now, you may begin." She pointed to the man.
The man began to pump his legs frantically. It obviously caught Roger by
surprise. The man's power surged ahead of Roger. The terminals clicked closed.
I felt my pussy and thighs contract firmly. My clit pulsed. My wet sex shot
jolts through my clit. My mind whirred out of control. My nipples felt like a
shot through them. I arched my back thumping the back of my head against a
pillowed cushion. I screamed through the ball gag. I thought I would rip the
arms off of the chair. The crowd cheered wildly as the current bit my tender
places. I was not prepared for the suddenness or intensity of my bodily re-
sponse.
Roger's legs pumped furiously. The electricity stopped. I held my place tensely
contracted against another jolt until I felt reassured enough to relax. The
woman passed her hand over the control box. I winced at the thought. I stared
angrily at Roger. He kept pumping... and watching sideways at the man. Roger
was in good shape but just how good I wasn't sure... I was just very hopeful
now.
The woman moved about the cubicle. I watched her. I was not sure who to keep an
eye on. I did not trust her... and yet the pedaling of Roger seemed to be my
eminent concern. The man's legs were easing the pace. Roger seemed to be
keeping pace. I shifted my focus to the woman.
She held a six-inch needle in her hand. My mind froze. My heart stopped. She
stepped next to me. The crowd applauded as she placed the sharpened tip to the
center of my out stretched breast. The prick was noticeable but not painful. It
was more mentally terrifying than anything. She coaxed the crowd into a frenzy.
Roger caught the needle at the second round of applause. He paused too much with
the pedals. The terminals clicked closed. The current was immediate. My pussy
contracted hard. My clit felt the rage. My pussy gushed wet increasing the
contractions. I felt a dribble along my ass. My nipples screamed from the pain
shooting through them. I screamed through the gag. Roger caught the problem and
resumed the pedals. The woman's hand passed across the control box... and
returned to my breast.
The needle pricked the skin. I felt the added clamping from the pressure upon my
nipples. The skin pulled and then the needle slipped into my breast... I was
amazed at how little I felt of the needle passing through my breast until I
felt the tugging at the opposing side. The woman returned with another... and
another... and another.
The man stopped pedaling. So did Roger... the terminals clicked together. It is
amazing how tightly the muscles contract... and how much pain can be shot
through my body all of a sudden. I screamed as best I could through the gag.
Roger began to pedal again. The man rested. The woman's hand moved across the
control. My eyes widened pleading for this thing to stop. I had five needles
penetrating each of my breasts. My pussy was drip- ping and throbbing. My loins
ached from the muscles cramping so hard upon themselves. My brow was running
with sweat. My nipples screamed from the clamps and the electric- ity. I was
overwhelmed at the events befalling me. My mind could not keep up... much less
comprehend it all.
The man gloated. I sat awaiting the next jolt. Roger's legs were getting tired.
The poor man had been pedaling for thirty minutes without a break... I got
zapped if he tried to take a break. I didn't want to get zapped but I could see
it coming. The man placed his feet upon the pedals... I knew Roger could not
stop him this time. I braced myself. The man's legs pumped quickly. Roger
collapsed unable to move his legs anymore. The terminals clicked closed. The
setting was high. I really was not prepared even though I could see the
inevitable in slow motion before me. And Roger, though he tried, could not get
his legs to pump enough to separate the terminals... The pain was extreme. I
arched my back and struggled to contain my sanity. The crowd applauded and
waited. It took almost a full min- ute before my first orgasm exploded through
my body. I convulsed wildly... the crowd cheered and applauded. Two minutes
after Roger quit the current stopped. I collapsed utterly exhausted. The woman
checked my pulse. I was alive... but could not, nor did I wish to, move.
Most of the patrons that had cheered me on dropped money into the box as they
left the cubicle. The man stood. I watched though I did not move. He removed
the money placing it into his pocket. His out of pocket for my entertainment
turned out to be very little.
Roger stared blankly at me. I tried to tell him it was okay, that I understood
his efforts... and concern. He stood, turned and staggered away. I dropped my
head. Tears stained my cheeks.
The woman removed the needles, swabbed my breasts... and unclamped my nipples. I
only thought the electric jolts hurt! The blood rushing back into my nipples
enraged the sensitive nerve endings. I screamed in agony. She turned away
toward the table. When she turned back I noticed another needle... but no one
was here to watch... what was the entertainment value in that! Then I realized
that she was piercing my tender, flattened nip- ple. The needle passed through
with a good deal of difficulty. The steel loops followed. First one then the
other and I was adorned with two new loops pierced through each nip- ple. The
loops would not pass through the loops of the chain bustier about my areolas. I
hung my head and cried. She smiled and unbuckled my limbs. I sat without energy
or the desire to move.
The woman returned, fastened a leash to my collar and dragged me to a bedding
room. It was a bed, bureau, bathroom and a full-length mirror. She removed the
plug from my bottom.
"This is only for entertaining. I will be here in the morning... so rest
tonight. Remember I get to whip you in the morning. Just thought that would
help you rest some..." She chided as she chained my ankle shackles to the foot
of the bed. I was too tired and depressed to care. She left the room. I sobbed
until well after I was asleep. Two full weeks...
* * *
The morning came without much notice. Yesterday had been so traumatic. It seemed
as though it would never ever end. I missed the touch of Roger as I lay in the
morning light. My nipples hurt from the freshness of the piercing. My rectum
was tender too. My hand touched my pussy. It was still bare. I stroked my
bottom... no tail. I breathed easier with that much. It was silent. I tried to
sleep.
"Hello, missy." It was the woman from last night. I rolled over. I did not say
anything. I just lay there looking at her.
"Today your training begins... and tonight the Master will begin teaching your
husband how to become your Master as well as your mate." I grunted a simple
'fuck you' under my breath. She must have heard...
"No, missy, it is we who will fuck you and very often at that. Now rise and
shine." I ignored her. Not me, I was not going to be order about by this puke.
"Get your ass out of bed!" she screamed. It startled me. I jumped but did not
move. Whoosh... crack... the leather strap crashed hard across my bottom. I
bolted upright. I jumped clear of the bed and charged her in frustration and
anger. The chain about my an- kles pulled taut just short of her. Too late, I
crashed hard upon the floor. Whoosh... crack... whoosh, crack... She hit my
bottom and back three times before I scurried away and to my feet.
"You Bitch!" I screamed dancing about rubbing my ass. Whoosh; crack... the strap
crashed upon my breasts. All ready sore from the piercing I wailed in pain.
"It is Mistress Bitch to you. Now are you ready to begin, or do you wish to
continue here?" She stood her ground just out of reach.
"Yes, Mistress." I stood still holding one breast gently and rubbing my bottom
with the other hand. Red welts were beginning to form across my body. I awaited
her instructions.
"Follow me, missy."
"Yes."
"Yes... what?" She screeched turning the whip toward me.
"Yes, Mistress," I corrected myself. Geez! What a hateful bitch! I fell in step
behind her.
"Good. You will never walk with any Master or with me. Your place is behind your
Master's shoulder." I grunted. She spun about. Slap! In an instant her hand
smacked my cheek.
"Mistress!" She commanded. "You will address me as your Mistress." My hand shot
to my tender cheek. This broad was serious about this whole thing... and I was
getting real tired of getting hit!
"Yes. Mistress," I spoke quietly.
"Good. You'll learn yet." We entered a room with a large wooden cross. I coward
backing away, remembering vividly my 'collection'.
"Stand up to the cross."
"No. Please... Mistress."
"Get over there now," she commanded sternly. I shuffled across the floor. She
bound me to the cross securely just as they had yesterday morning. She touched
a button. The cross lifted and rotated until I was head over heels and just
above the floor.
"You will receive twenty lashes upon your pussy everyday as retribution for
non-payment of your debts. Repeat after me..." Whoosh, crack... The first blow
was not so hard... but it did hurt as it fell directly upon my vulva.
"I will repay my debts." I repeated the words. Another blow fell this one
slightly harder but in exactly the same area. I gasped. This one hurt.
"I will obey my Masters always." The next blow was harder. I caught my breath
again. We repeated these same two phrases as blow after blow fell upon my
pussy, each harder than the last. I began to cry out in pain about the sixth or
seventh blow. By the time she reached twenty I was sobbing. It was difficult to
continue with the words. When she said twenty... I caught my breath and tried
to relax. The cross rotated.
"Now, missy, you will be punished just as this every time you misbehave... and
as pen- ance, every morning before your training. Do you understand?"
"Yes. Mistress." I was not about to get another whipping for such silliness. My
pussy was so red, and so sore. I stood whimpering.
"Now it is time for breakfast."
I had no appetite... and no desire to not do as I was told.
I ate in a small dining area with the other women. No one spoke. Breakfast was
cold ce- real. I poked about and tried to eat some. The Man entered the room
after we had all fin- ished eating.
"Your training begins today. You are sex slaves, submissive to your Master. Your
bodies and your desires regarding your bodies are second to the desires of your
Master. You will learn to obey. You will address everyone as Mistress or
Master. You will do strictly as you are instructed.
"Some of you have husband, boyfriends, or a girlfriend," he nodded at the woman
with the auburn hair. "Your significant others will be schooled in how to be
Masters to you. You are of little value to me as ordinary women. If they allow
you to forget your training I will have to retrain you. I will do this only
once... then you will be sold off for expenses.
"Now you will all be given chores to do by the Mistress." He turned and left. My
Mistress showed up with a toothbrush and a tin of cleaner.
"Follow me."
"Yes, Mistress." I stood and followed in silence. I was to clean the
bathrooms... with my toothbrush. I stared in disbelief as she left the room.
What else was there to do? I got down on my naked hands and knees and began to
scrub. I scrubbed the whole bathroom before my Mistress returned.
"Are you done?"
"Yes, Mistress. I think so." I stated without much emotion.
"Good." She showed my to the other bathroom. One by one I scrubbed the
bathrooms, the stalls, the toilets, the floors, and the cabinets. I finished
about noon. The woman returned as I finished the last little bit of the job.
"Hungry?"
"I am starving." I confessed with some excitement about the upcoming meal.
Scrubbing had taken its toll.
She ushered me into another room. The blonde from last night... the one given to
the dogs, was lying naked and tethered upon a leather couch.
"There's lunch. Eat her." My jaw dropped to the floor.
"No. I've never..." Her hand caught my face flush.
"Do you refuse?" she chided. "Please do..." I stared at the woman then at the
blonde.
"But, why do I have to..." Her hand slapped me again. She took hold of my collar
and dragged me to the room with the cross. I cried and pleaded. But it was no
use. Two men assisted her as I was bound and whipped for my disobedience. I
bawled like a child before they were finished.
"Are you ready for lunch?" The woman asked again. I stammered. The whipping
contin- ued. Now I might object to things, but at some point all I wanted was to
have the whipping stop!
"Yes." The whippings continued for another few lashes.
"What did you say? You will address me as your Mistress."
"Yes, Mistress." They released me. I returned to the room, and dining in the
loins of the blonde before me. I had never tasted a woman before, nor been with
one in any manner. At first I hated the reality before me... I came to enjoy
giving and receiving the noon meal. By the end of the training all six of us
women would have a cunnilingus feast at noon daily. I returned to the bathrooms
with my toothbrush...
* * *
The Man lectured Roger in front of me, taught him what he was to do... and what
I was to do. My husband was trained to understand the need for disciplining me.
As you discipline a child who has done wrong I was disciplined daily for not
paying my debt. By the third day he was instructed to whip my pussy. I thought
I might get a reprieve; things would ease up some, but not so... It was hard
for him to administer those first blows. He learned all too quickly. The
whippings were soon turned over completely to him... and I am sorry to admit,
he became more dutiful than my Mistress.
I learned to call him Master. My daily chore assignments came from Roger. And he
chose the nature of my nightly entertainment. It was the fifth day that was
most difficult for him to cope with.
"Do you love Renee?" The question was simple enough.
"Yes, of course I do," Roger said as he looked over at me.
"Do you remember the first time you made love to her?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Do you remember the passion, the desire you shared?"
"Yes."
"Is it the same now, exactly the same or is it lessened somewhat?" Roger paused
to think. I knew exactly the answer. It was not. Our sex life was good, but not
always great, nor could it be always great.
"No. It is good enough."
"Then in the past few years together you have become accustomed to her and she
to you. You have begun to lose the appreciation for each other." The Man paused
for effect. "As Master you must rule over her as well as oversee her welfare.
You must learn to give her to others. Sharing will cause you to appreciate what
you do not have, and her to respect what she does have. You must give her sex
to another so that she might respect sharing it with you... and so that you may
more completely remember your role in providing security and love for her.
"You must expose her publicly in her attire so that she may find security in
you. Her nudity removes a false sense of security. In turn you must protect her
and provide security and safety for her.
"Her obedience must be followed by a greater appreciation to her. You must
command that she obey... so that you receive her dedication. Sharing her will
require you to not have her for the moment... and then you will understand the
fulfillment of her being with you." He stopped talking.
Someone was going to fuck me... at Roger's request. That much was obvious. Roger
thought for several long moments.
"I will choose tonight." Roger said with a sigh.
"And you will attend to her this night." The Man stood a left. Roger sat
motionless, his shoulder hunched over.
"Roger?" I asked quietly. "It's okay."
"No. It's not. I knew what this was about but I did not want it to get this
personal."
"And just exactly what do you think it has become for me?" I said huffily. He
smiled at me dryly.
"Save for you neither of us would be here. And it is Master from now on." Roger
stood and left. It was a crushing blow to me. My feelings hurt. My spirits
crushed.
"Yes, Master. I know that," I whispered to no one.
* * *
I dressed for the Happy Hour as I did every night. I was getting used to the
tail... and being naked was just the way it was. I expected the groping and the
finger fucking. It was all part of the night. Roger was among the patrons
tonight. He was fairly well 'oiled' before the turn of the clock. I stood at
his table expecting his order.
"This is my wife." He announced to the other three men at the table. He slid his
hand be- tween my legs. "And tonight she is going to fuck some other guy... for
me. Get a load of that. Before we were married I wanted to get into her pants
for me... and now it's for me that someone else will fuck her tonight." His
fingers diddled my clit. I brushed at his hand embarrassed at his behavior.
"Stand still," he commanded.
"Yes, Master." I stood before him. He stuffed a finger up my pussy. He continued
to finger fuck me in front of the others. I caught my breath.
"Here," He pointed at the man across the table from him. "Diddle this. Go over
there, Renee. I want to you to cum for him."
"Yes, Master." I was hurt, but obedient. The man's fingers found my sopping
slit. I closed my eyes as he rolled my clit about. It took five full minutes
before I came. I shook inside my pussy. My thighs clamped about his hand. I
braced myself with a hand upon the table. I came again. Roger reached over and
pulled at my nipple ring. It hurt as I tumbled for- ward catching myself before
I fell upon the table. He laughed out loud.
The choosing began... Roger picked me up placing me upon the table in front of
them.
"And what do I have to fuck this young woman?" he called out. The bids ran to
$300 al- most immediately. Roger sobered as the bidding rose high and higher. At
$320 the bid- ding faltered. A man appeared to have me. He attached a leash to
my collar. I followed in silence. Roger followed behind... he had been
instructed to attend tonight's entertainment.
I knew the routine. I had grown accustomed to the people cheering and leering at
me. Though I had accepted my own nudity I do not think I ever got accustomed to
being in that state. I followed the man to the glass cubicle. Roger disappeared
for the moment.
Roger reappeared several minutes after we reached the cubicle. The surrounding
light dimmed and faded to black. Only the lighting of the cubicle remained. The
crowd disap- peared behind the glass walls. Roger was naked except for a cloth
gag. The matron strapped him into a chair next to bed.
"You are to observe. You may not interfere in any manner." She turned her
attentions to me. "You are to perform for your husband. You failures will be
punished severely." She turned to the man. "She is yours for the night." And
with that we three were alone.
The man approached me. I shied away. I looked at Roger. I was unsure. The
matron's words rang in my ears... and yet how could I 'perform' with Roger
here. He was definitely sober and watching me... intently. I stepped away. The
man grabbed a nipple ring. I yelped as he tugged me closer. I feared the whip.
I feared Roger. I feared the man before me. My stomach turned over, my pussy
tightened. I remembered the words of the Master this afternoon... and the
threats of the matron.
"I'm sorry Roger... but I must do this," I whispered hopefully only just loud
enough for Roger to hear my plea.
I embraced the man. We kissed. He was a very good kisser. I would be lying if I
did not recognize that my body and mind were enjoying the attention. His hands
felt good upon my skin. It was stimulating to feel his fingers trace the
outline of my navel, the contours of my hips and tummy, and the shape of my
breasts. My pussy was so sensitive. Never had I had so much sexual attention as
during this past week... and my pussy seemed to be- come more eager with the
increased attention. It had taken ten minutes for me to relax, to get 'in the
mood'. But I was definitely warming up to the occasion. My pussy was smooth as
his hands traced along the folds of skin. I was wet. I wanted to be fucked. I
lay on my back as the man readied himself to take me. In an impulse I bolted
upright absorbing his manhood in my mouth. He was salty, firm, and large enough
to make it enjoyable.
"Fuck me, I said. Fuck my pussy now." I lay back. He spread my legs. I received
him ea- gerly. It felt good to have his rod filling my pussy. It brushed against
the plug holding my tail. Curious how stimulating it was. I moaned. "Oh,
yes...yes..." I wanted him. It felt good, so good. He plunged deep inside...
his muscles tense. I wrapped my legs around his back driving his cock deeper
into my pussy. It felt good to feel his semen boiling up through his balls and
into my pussy. I began to climax... my pussy sucking his hot cum deeper inside.
I pulled him deeper into me with my legs, arching my back forcing my pussy
farther over his cock. A loud guttural groan heaved from my chest.
"Oh, yes, cum in my pussy!" I screamed as another wave of pleasure swept through
me. The applause startled me. I caught a look of Roger, his eyes were wide as
dinner plates, his knuckles white, and his cock rock hard and stiff as I had
ever seen it... seeping precum over his cock and balls. I blushed and forced
the man off of me. The applause heightened. My pussy seeped sexual ooze over my
inner thighs and down the crack of my ass. It chilled me through the center. I
had been fucking... and fucking in front of Roger... and others, wantonly
fucking a complete stranger. I had enjoyed it. I felt embarrassment. I stared
at Roger not knowing the minutest part of what to say. I did not even have the
wherewithal to clean the cum out of my ass. The man rolled off of me.
"Suck me clean," he commanded. I knew what I must do. Desperately I tried to
shut reality out of my mind. His cock was sticky from his cum and my pussy. I
did not want to have this in my mouth under any terms... but I had not to
grasp! I went down on him with all that was left to me... my animal sexual
passions. In another few minutes his flaccid manhood was beginning to respond
to my attentions. He was firming up quickly... and I was ready.
I placed my hands upon the arms of the chair holding Roger, my head at his ear,
my knees upon the side of the bed. My lovers cock at my ass. He slid it the
length of my crack and back, over my pussy. I was soaked, hot and wanton.
"Sorry, Roger," I whispered. "But I am so horny. God I want his cock in my
pussy." I whis- pered next to his ear. "Yes, there... he's at the entrance. He's
so hard. He's pressing me." His weight pressed as my lips passed Roger's ear...
and back. "Yes. He's inside... Oh, Roger he's fucking my pussy again... and
again." I held my breath. "Oh, yes... yes...yes... Oh, Roger, Roger, Roger...
I'm cumming. I'm cumming." I climaxed forcefully into Roger's ear. "He's...
he's cumming... he's cumming in my pussy, Roger. Oh, yes... cum in my pussy!"
My voice was no longer a whisper.
He finished by holding my ass firmly against his loins. I kissed Roger softly
upon the lips. He had cum during my performance. His lap was a mess.
"I see you enjoyed my performance almost as much as I." I kissed him again. The
man stood withdrawing from my pussy with a slurping drippy sound. The crowd
applauded again. Roger barely breathed. I hoped that I had not ruined my
marriage... but then I was here and there was little either Roger or I could do
about that. And the fact of the matter was that I was going to be fucked often
by many men in the next year... and Roger knew that too. I hoped for the best
as I returned to the bed.
I fell asleep. When I awoke the man was firm and aggressive... and Roger was
gone. I fucked his brains out that night... angry at my marital situation,
scared at a love I may have lost, and desperate to know if Roger could deal
with things.
Roger was late arriving, almost an hour late to my morning whipping. Strange as
it may be I wanted Roger to be whipping my pussy. At least he would be with me,
forgiving me or punishing me for last night. It did not matter which. He was
here. The blows both hurt and brought joy. For the first time I endured the
pussy whippings with pleasure and gratitude... but I was equally delighted when
he reached twenty. I knew that from this morning on I would view my daily pussy
whipping with a new meaning, one of gratitude that Roger, my Master and husband
was here, with me. I would gladly give it up to his lashings.
The Master entered before I was released from the cross. My pussy was fuzzy and
red. I was scheduled for another laser job before lunch. I had given up my
bush, or the idea or ever having one again. This was becoming little by little
my new reality... and Roger's too.
"Did you resent the man fucking your wife?" he asked Roger.
"Yes, Sir. I wanted to stop him somehow."
"In the moments before penetration did you want her all the more for yourself?"
"Of course! She's my wife... I love her and miss her very much."
"Now you vividly remember what it feels like. You wanted her more in that moment
than you have in the past year. You wanted her for yourself, to protect her, to
hold her, and to love her... to make her yours. And that is why you must give
her to another periodically. You must always remember how much you want her and
appreciate her loyalty to you. You need to be able to never take her for
granted. Keep it fresh upon your senses.
"And you," he turned to me, "did you miss Roger this morning? Did you yearn for
his pres- ence, his reassurance, and his love? Did you feel relief at his blows
upon your loins this morning? Did the whipping of your pussy take on a new
sense?" He knew exactly how I felt this morning.
"Yes, Master." I was quite taken back by his insights.
"Good. I had Roger come later this morning so that you might know these things.
You must always know and remember your place. Through obedience and service to
your Master you demonstrate your devotion, love and respect... and make fresh
in your own mind your need and dependence upon your Master.
"Now you must love her all the more. And you must trust and obey your Master. He
must discipline you regularly so that you may remember your place is to serve.
And you must come to understand his need. Your sex is his to use, to share, and
to discipline.
"Roger you must understand that a woman's need for sex is related to the use of
her sex. The more a woman uses her sex, the more she needs, wants, and enjoys
her sex. Her sexuality is greater than any one man. You have the responsibility
to provide for her needs or they will stagnate and wither. Her sex must be
disciplined and more importantly used, provided for, and developed daily. It is
your responsibility.
"Now, Roger I want you to take your wife to bed. Give her your love, and a good
fucking." He stood and left us alone. I was stunned. Roger stood to my side. I
held him about his waist and wept sobbing wet tears of relief and joy. Roger
lifted me to his bosom and held me tightly. We made soft tender love, the best
of many many months. It lifted me to the sky. He was my Master... and I would
gladly serve him.
My pussy was developing a soft fuzzy stubble. The Mistress took note of it and
scheduled another laser treatment. It wasn't so bad when I could see and
understand what was hap- pening to me. The attendant, though male, was
professional, and did not grope. It was done. The fuzz never grew back. I was
smooth and bare as the day I was born.
Though my training was not yet complete the remaining week went by much more
easily. Roger learned. I learned... He was becoming a good and loving Master. I
grew to appreci- ate being in his service. I did not grow to enjoy but rather to
accept my role as waitress and entertainer. The nightly shows were posted to
the Master's web site as I was told. Roger told me of what others were seeing
of me. It was humiliating, embarrassing, and angering to think of me, my face
and my body, exposed to all comers worldwide.
At the end of the two weeks of training Roger was allowed to bring to me my
working clothes. For all the office knew I had a relaxing, wonderful two-week
vacation...NOT! I had a complete make over. It was difficult for me to
comprehend the totality of the changes to my life in only two weeks. Roger was
still adjusting... and so was I. And now with work... well my co-workers
treated me exactly as always. To them I was still Renee, their boss and
manager. After several days the awkwardness seemed to ease. I fell into a very
nor- mal routine during the days... and entertained at night.
Roger completed his 'training' and the semester while I was in residence with
the Master. His grades had dipped slightly, but considering the strain upon him
I was very proud of my Man. He started the new semester two days before I was
released from my residency.
We both found the Master's credos to be quite accurate, the more my pussy was
used and attended, the more I wanted the attention. It was like an addiction. I
need to cum daily... a right good fucking... and more. I wanted it attended,
fussed over, whipped, caressed, and licked... center stage in my life. It was
almost overwhelming how I yearned for the atten- tion. Roger did yet not
understand the whole of my growing sexuality. I'm not sure I do either. I will
have to help him understand... and soon.
Going home was too strange... But the residence was over and I was home. I went
directly to my room, flung myself upon my bed and sobbed for an hour. The
tensions and traumas of the past month gushed out of my very soul. I wrapped
myself in my sheets and slept... Roger opened the mail and left the letter upon
the kitchen table...
Ms. Renee, You are required at 1380 Treemont, at 8:30 PM. It will be an all
night gala. Your Master.
A woman's work is never done!!
It is a pleasure to write for you... Your comments are welcome @
golffdude45@aol.com Special thanks to Renee for her ideas and the use of her
person.
