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Part III
Mom allowed me to rest while Mike experienced his first day of training. I thought I would sleep forever but woke up after a few hours. I heard my brother yelping in the great room and peeked in. Mom was tying him over the whipping horse. She was using leather thongs and she tugged them very tight. He yelped each time she tugged.
“Stop whimpering,” Mom told him. “Be glad I’m not using wet leather.”
Mike craned his neck back to look at her.
“When wet leather dries it shrinks and gets very tight,” Mom said conversationally. “Its a technique used on unruly male slaves. Its very painful so take care that I don’t decide to use it on you.”
Mike glared at her.
Mom finished tying him down then wrapped a leather thong around his balls. His cock was limp but popped to attention as she snugged the thong. Mom laughed wickedly as she ran her nails lightly up and down it. She taunted him and told him that his cock was going to be hard for several days, and he would not be allowed to cum. Mikey groaned and writhed in his bonds.
Mike’s back and legs were striped with ship marks. Apparently Mom had been working him over all morning.
Mom is an expert at tantalizing men and she touched Mike in ways that would make a dead man tremble with excitement. She tickled his thighs and butt, rubbed her nipples against his skin and bent close so he could feel her breath against his balls. Mike whimpered in frustration, he begged her to touch him, to jack him off.
“Do you want to cum?” she asked softly.
“Yes, Mom. Please!” he yelled.
“First things first,” she said. “I’m not your mother anymore. I’m your mistress now, understand?”
“Jeez Mom!” he cried.
Her whip smacked across his butt hard. A fierce red line appeared. He screamed in surprise.
“Don’t call me anything but mistress,” Mom told him quietly. She whipped his butt two more strokes. He fought his bonds furiously and glared back at her. Mom chuckled. “This is going to be fun.”
I have to admit, I was turned on watching Mom with Mike.
Mom saw me at the door. She came to the door and walked me into the hall way.
“Awake already?”
“Uh huh. I’m not even tired,” I replied.
“Good. Want to start training your brother?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“Ok. First thing about being a dom is never appear before the slaves looking sloppy.”
I glanced down at myself. I was in a tee shirt and panties.
“Uh ok,” I said.
“Never let your slaves see you untidy, without makeup, or poorly dressed. By the end of a session your hair might be a mess and you might be covered with perspiration, but always start out looking like a goddess.”
I nodded.
“Go get cleaned up, do your makeup and put on a nice dress or skirt.” She was in a skirt and a sweater.
“Why aren’t you wearing a dominance outfit?” I asked.
“Something I learned in Spain,” she replied. “We start out fully dressed in normal clothes, but always feminine clothing, no slacks. Enforce your womanhood, never appear masculine and always be tantalizing. The slave will do anything to get a peek up your skirt, even when he’s in pain. As the slave becomes more submissive we wear less and less. We go into leathers late in his training and only let the slave get an occasional peek at our boobs and pussies. You’ll be amazed at what a male will do to get a good look.”
“Really?”
“Your grandmother taught me that,” Mom said. “I helped her train a man once and by the end of three weeks he would have crawled through fire to look at her pussy.”
“No kidding?”
“On his final day she strapped him into a whipping frame and had me whip him with a horsewhip. She sat on a throne and watched. I whipped him hard and had him screaming his throat out, but as soon as your grandmother uncrossed her legs he went silent.”
“What was she wearing?” I asked.
“Black leather bra and leather knee length skirt. Stockings but no panties.”
“What were you wearing?”
“Black boots, corset and leather panties.”
“Cool.”
“I kept whipping the slave,” Mom continued, “But he didn’t seem to feel it, his eyes were on your grandmother’s legs. She slid her skirt up an inch at a time. The slave’s cock was hard as a rock and I believe that I could burnt it with a blowtorch and he wouldn’t have noticed. Your grandmother slid her skirt up until her pussy was just barely peeking out. The slave was straining to see more. She slowly opened her legs, an inch at a time. He was completely entranced and oblivious to the whip. Finally she opened her legs wide apart.”
“Did the slave cum?”
“No, but I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his face.”
“What happened?’
“Your grandmother let him look for a long, long time, then she took the whip from me and slid the handle inside her pussy. She masturbated in front of the slave, then allowed him to suck the whip handle. For her finale she sucked his cock until he was close to cumming.”
“Grandmother sucked a slave’s cock?” I gasped.
“A dom can do anything she wants,” Mom told me. “And your grandmother likes cocks. She plays with them for hours. She keeps her personal slaves in a constant state of erection.”
“What about grandpa?” I asked.
“Him too,” Mom said. “He’s one of her slave as well.”
“Is grandpa as submissive as Daddy?” I asked.
“They’re about the same,” she said. “I learned how to control your father by watching my mother dominate my father.”
“Did you ever whip grandpa?”
“Lots of times,” she laughed. “I still do.”
“Would I be allowed to whip Daddy?”
“Certainly, if you make the grade as a dominatrix.”
“Ok, but I just can’t imagine grandmother with a cock in her mouth ” I said doubtfully. I found the idea troubling.
“Its not an act of submission if a woman does it for her own pleasure,” Mom told me. “Remember, a dominatrix lives by her own rules.”
“I guess so,” I shrugged. “Did grandmother let the slave cum in her mouth?”
“No, she brought him close, then masturbated him until he shot cum across the room.”
“Did you make Daddy clean it up?” I giggled.
“No, I was only eighteen,” Mom said. “I hadn’t met him yet. He didn’t become my slave until several years later.”
Mom met Dad in college. He took one look at her and fell in love. She took one look at him and decided that he was going to be her slave for life. She tied him up on their first date and whipped him by the third. By the third week she had him come by her room every morning before class and she would tie his balls with a cord. Poor Daddy had to wear it to class all day and couldn’t take it off until Mom gave him permission. On weekends she made him stay in her room naked save for a collar. He studied naked and when he wasn’t studying he kept house for her.
Even in college she was already a successful dom. She brought clients to her room and tied Daddy in a closet and forced him to listen while she tortured them.
One evening she decided to test his submissiveness. She took Daddy from the closet and made him crawl to her client. She had the client, an older man, strapped to an X frame. She ordered Daddy to suck the client’s cock. Daddy refused and tried to stand up, but Mom whipped him back to his knees. He resisted for a long time but she whipped him until his back and legs were bleeding. The client watched in pure delight and his cock got harder with each stroke. Finally Daddy broke down and agreed to do it. He knelt and took the man’s cock in his mouth. Mom told me it was one of the most thrilling moments of her life.
The client came instantly and Daddy instinctively drew back but she grabbed his collar and held him while the client spurted cum all over his face. Daddy was so humiliated that he cried, but she kept him right where he was. The client was so excited that his cock got hard again and she made Daddy suck it again. Mom rewarded Daddy each time by playing with his cock and making him cum. Eventually she noticed his own cock rising up when her clients arrived. By then he was entirely her slave.
After college Mom opened her own dungeon and made Daddy live in it while he went to law school. She still used him to please her clients and sometimes loaned him out to other cruel ladies. When she told her mother that she was going to marry him, grandmother had her bring him to her house. Mom went home and grandmother kept Daddy in her dungeon for a week. She ran him through the mill, torturing and humiliating him in every possible way. He held up to the torture and submitted perfectly, so she gave Mom permission to keep him.
After Daddy graduated from law school he went to work for a law firm. He did well and worked his way up the ladder. After a few years he decided to open his own practice. He rented office space in a prestigious Boston location but he didn’t like being away from Mom even for a day at work so she allowed him to set up an office at home. She even pretended to be his receptionist.
Daddy would rather be a slave than a lawyer so he practices just enough law to keep up appearances, but when he has no law clients he reverts to being a house slave. (Interestingly, a lot of Mom’s clients, and those of other doms are lawyers. She says lawyers have a lot of guilt and crave punishment.)
Dad’s family has no idea what Mom’s side is like. They are old Boston money and are related to some of the snobbiest families in New England. They are very stuffy and would be horrified if they knew of his secret life. Even though they didn’t come over on the Mayflower, Mom’s side of the family has enough money and social contacts to make them acceptable to Old Bostonians. Grandmother carries herself with the elegance of a queen and when he’s properly dressed my grandfather looks distinguished and dignified.
When the two families get together Mom, grandmother and everyone else act like normal people. Dad gets to wear clothes and act like the man of the house, (except he’s wearing an electronic chastity belt with a huge butt plug under his clothing).
“Do you think that after all these years no one knows that Daddy is your slave?” I asked.
“Oh no,” she said firmly. “His family would disown him in a heartbeat.”
Mom chuckles to tell stories about going to social functions and seeing the looks on the faces of some of the gentlemen when they recognize her.
She told me about their wedding. It was a huge social event and had over a thousand guests At the reception a distinguished gentleman kissed grandmother’s hand then leaned close to whisper how much he had enjoyed his last dominance session. Moments later he introduced his wife, who pretended not to know grandmother, yet later managed to quietly thank grandmother for HER recent torture session and beg for another. To this day neither the husband nor his wife know that they are both grandmother’s clients.
Grandmother is a patron of the Pops and many other cultural institutions but she can rarely attend a banquet or gala without bumping into someone that she has tortured.
Thinking about Daddy’s family reminded me of my twin cousins, Edward and Edwin. They are a year older than me. They are tall, blonde, extremely good looking and insufferably arrogant. I thought how nice it would be to tame them, make them suffer, then humiliate them beyond belief. Mom noticed the far away look in my eyes.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“How nice it would be to enslave my cousins,” I replied.
“Um hmm,” she murmured. “That would be very satisfying indeed. What would you do?”
“I’d whip them until they were completely broken, then I’d whip them for an extra week or two just for fun,” I said. “Then I’d make them suck each other’s cock in front of people.”
“Excellent.”
“I’d have them so afraid of me that they would kiss each other and fuck each other at a snap of my fingers!” Then I paused, “Except. . .”
“Except what?” mom asked.
“I wonder, can frightened men get erections?”
“Certainly, if they’ve been properly trained. You must use eroticism as a reward just as you use pain and humiliation as a control. When males are conditioned to expect sexual pleasure after pain they will get as hard as rocks, even if they are frightened.”
“Great.”
Mom was suppressing laughter. “And after you get them trained, then what?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “What would you suggest?”
“Two young handsome identical twins would fetch a nice price in the slave market,” she said. “I think they would make splendid pony boys.”
My pussy throbbed at that. The image of Edward and Edwin prancing naked pulling a sulky was delicious. My nipples popped up.
Mom noticed. “Maybe you have more dominance in you than you think,” she said, tapping my breast with her whip.
“Maybe,” I agreed. “I sure would love to train the twins.”
“Your grandmother and I agree,” Mom said. “She doesn’t like them either. We’ve talked about having them kidnapped.”
“You have?” I was aghast.
“Just in conversation,” Mom said. “But your grandmother would love to get her hands on them too. She loves breaking arrogant males.”
“Would you bring them here?”
“No, probably to her place in the country.”
Grandmother’s country estate in the Adirondacks is beautiful. It sits on several hundred acres of lush rolling hills. Her house is large and elegant and equipped with a dungeon in the attic. There are several unoccupied old farmhouses on her property and she converted one to a stable for pony boys and girls. My sister and I love to watch her train pony boys.
“Tell you what,” Mom said. “I’m not making any promises, but if you do well training your brother perhaps we’ll kidnap your cousins and let you train them.”
My pussy was tingling. “That would be fun,” I said. “But I’m not sure about selling them, after all, they’re still family.”
“Oh, we wouldn’t sell them permanently,” Mom said. “We would break them to slavery then loan them out to a few discreet friends who appreciate a good matched pair. After a few months we’d let them go.”
“What if they told people, or went to the police?”
“Believe me, humiliated men don’t want anyone to know about it. And besides, we have ways to insure their silence.”
“Like what?”
“Photos, video tapes, that sort of thing. Or we could keep them blindfolded or you could wear a mask. They wouldn’t know who kidnapped them.”
“Ooh.”
“Have you ever sold anyone into permanent slavery?” I asked.
“Grandmother has,” she replied.
“What happened?”
“It was similar to the situation in Spain that I told you about. A woman’s fiancee jilted her and ran off with another woman. The woman came to your grandmother and asked how best to humiliate him. She had a lot of money, and connections with the kind of people who could arrange a kidnapping.”
“Wow,” I said.
Mom nodded. “She had the man kidnapped and brought to your grandmother’s dungeon. He was kept hooded for weeks. Your grandmother tortured him into submission, then trained him for weeks. It was one of the few times she was able to train an unwilling slave. She derived so much pleasure from it that she refused to accept payment from the woman.
The lady didn’t participate or even watch his training. She waited until it was complete then watched as grandmother put him through a demonstration which included some serious torture and pain and then she wasn’t happy.”
“Why not?”
“The slave’s cock was hard to entire time, and she did not want him to enjoy it.”
“What did she expect?”
“I believe that the woman was so angry at the man that she forgot that grandmother’s techniques involve sexual methods. Your grandmother had to remind her that she’s a dominatrix, not a prison guard.”
“Did she whip him or anything?”
“No. When she was satisfied that the man had been broken she wanted him sold into permanent slavery. Your grandmother called a select few people around the country and invited them to an auction. He was sold to a woman from Florida and flown down in a private airplane. She kept him in bondage for years.”
“My God!” I whispered.
“Real bondage,” Mom emphasized. “Not game playing bondage.”
“No sex?”
“Oh yes, there was sex, otherwise he’d probably have gone insane. She used him for sexual pleasures, but only permitted him to cum once in a while. The rest of the time he was used and abused by her and her friends. She could make him so horny that he would submit to any humiliation or pain.”
“What happened?”
“After about ten years he became listless and broken in spirit, so his owner dressed him in a nice suit, gave him a large sum of money and told him he was free, then had him taken to the airport.”
“What did he do?”
“He sat down and stared at the floor.”
“The poor man.”
“His owner had people watching him. After several hours they approached him and he begged to be taken back to his dungeon.”
“Did she take him back?”
“Briefly. But she’d lost interest in him, so she sold him to another woman who took him to Chicago. He’s been her slave since then.”
“Was he still listless?”
“His new owner is a little kinder than his first. She was gentle with him at first and sort of rehabilitated him. She is more generous with his orgasms and he perked back up.”
“What a kind lady,” I laughed. “He’s still there? What is his life like?’
“He’s kept naked and in chains, sleeps in a cell, like your father he works around the house, and is tortured when the mood strikes her.”
“No bondage parties?”
“No, his owner lives quietly at home. Whatever she does to him she does in private. When she has guests he is locked away out of sight. The only other people who even know he exists are her household staff.”
“Isn’t she worried they might talk, or are they slaves too?”
“I don’t know if they are slaves, but they are discreet. They are certain to be into the scene. No straight servants could be employed in such a household.”
“That’s true,” I said, thinking of grandmother’s servants.
“Apparently he is the lowest in that household and the other servants are allowed to use him sexually, especially when his mistress is away. She travels a lot.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“Your grandmother was intrigued by his situation so she stayed in touch with his first owner. After he was sold, she contacted the second lady and introduced herself. They correspond from time to time.”
“How long has he been a slave?”
“Over forty years,” Mom said. “He’s almost seventy years old now. His mistress has grown fond of him and has offered him his freedom several times. He always refuses and begs her to keep him.”
I imagined a gray haired old man hanging by his wrists being whipped by a sweet little old white haired lady.
I was unconsciously rubbing my breasts. Mom tapped my nipple lightly.
“Which would you rather do?” she asked. “Be a slave the rest of your life, or own slaves for the rest of your life?”
“Can I have Mikey for the rest of his life?” I asked.
“No, you’ll have to find your own slaves.”
“Could I have the twins?”
“We’ll see.” Mom gave me a hug. “Now go get cleaned up and lets get you started on your brother.”
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