A Year of Slavery

Part 1 Caught And The Contract

A Year of Slavery # 1-1

"Caught And The Contract"

by: debs

Edited by: Johnny P

My day began as any normal Saturday, no work, up at 6 a.m. doing my chores. I
knew John would be arriving around noon, no time for me, football first. Usually
I look forward to our Saturdays at home. This one was to be quit different. I am
always trying to find ways to get out, this day I would be begging to stay at
home.

I knew I would be entertaining at least two men and four women this night. I
knew also that I must get some of the little unpleasant tasks out of the way.
With heavy heart and many anxieties, I began. It was only 9 a.m., three hours to
myself, I was already wishing I had stayed in bed longer since I had a good idea
how bad this night could turn out for me.

The first thing I knew I had to do was to go into the bathroom and start getting
myself cleaned out. I was told to start the night before with a light meal and a
mild laxative, but this time especially my nerves did the job for me. I had a
very nervous stomach and no appetite whatever. The best I was able to get down
was some broth. I awoke with the same feelings in my stomach as the previous
night but knew I needed some nourishment. With what I assumed lay ahead it was
not a good idea to eat very much but decided on some tea and toast. The less I
had in me the better. From previous experience I knew I would need as much
strength and endurance as possible, so I doubled my normal vitamin intake. I
went into the bathroom and from the vanity took out the small chest which
contained my enema equipment. At times I have had many pleasurable experiences
with this chest but now looked at it with much disdain. I knew what must be
done. I filled the bag with about a quart of the hottest water I could stand and
3 capfuls of Dr. Bonners soap. This was a little severe but would help later. I
hung it on the side of the shower let the air out of the tube and closed the
clamp. I looked at the nozzle which was not all that large and realized it would
be to my advantage to start stretching myself on my own and at my own pace. The
chest had an assortment of tips and nozzles from which I selected one of the
largest. At least I would be gentle on myself. I attached it to the dangling
hose and spread a generous amount of K-Y all over it. This was one of the
biggest I had but knew it was of medium size to them. As I spread the lubricant
I could only hope this procedure would be followed later.

I removed my robe and reached behind myself to spread the K-Y into my rectum. In
doing so I caught site of myself in the mirror. All I could do was stare and for
a brief moment hate the statuesque image that reflected back at me. This was one
time I wished I did not possess my 5ft. 8in., 120lb, 34-20-34 body with natural
blonde hair. Maybe if I was plain and ordinary they would not want me.

I slowly got myself down on the floor and turned onto my side getting as
comfortable as I could. I reached over, took the nozzle and started to slip it
very carefully inside myself. At first it was painful so I took a deep breath
and gave a gentle push. It hurt but I knew worse was to come. After a lot of
twisting, pushing and gasping the nozzle was in place. I thought how in the past
I had larger objects in my ass but this was very uncomfortable. It was probably
a subconscious fear of what I knew was to come. My nerves were getting the best
of me.

All I needed to do was slide my hand up and release the clamp. I did not want
to, but knew I must. As the hot water hit me I tried with all my will to relax.
I get enemas on a regular basis and have even learned to enjoy them. This one
was different. This was not for my pleasure or for Johns. This was to start to
clean me out for what would be done to me. As the water continued to flow I
began to think of what had caused me to be in this predicament.

I had embezzled a large sum of money from the company I worked for. The theft
was discovered and I was given a simple choice. Become a sex slave to Mr. and
Mrs. Winston or face five years in prison. As I lie on the floor I became
overwhelmed with my plight. The worst part was there was no good reason for me
to steal the money. I never needed all those clothes, shoes and jewelry.

I felt the pressure in my stomach along with a severe cramp so I looked up at
the bag and saw that it was empty. I removed the nozzle, turned on my back and
let the solution in me do its work. This was the first of at least three enemas
I would have to administer to myself before John arrived. Mrs. Winston was very
explicit as to her requirements and would know if I did not follow instructions.
The last thing I wanted was to give her reason to cause me any more pain, There
would be enough. After about ten minutes of retaining this mixture I could not
hold it any longer. As I sat on the bowl I thought of the problem with John. He
could not know. I would have to make him leave as early as possible by telling
him I was tired and did not feel up to par. Lately I was treating him very badly
but he did not know why, he could never know.

It is not easy to take one enema after another but I had no choice. This one was
to be a half gallon of hot water. I was told that the more I take now and the
hotter it is, the easier for me later. As I began to refill the bag I could not
help looking at myself in the mirror. My attention was brought to my breasts. I
had always been very proud of their voluptuous 34-D size, but now remembered the
pain they were forced to endure. As I stared at them I recalled the last session
with the Winstons and the Dr. The tremendous pain, and yet almost no visible
evidence.

This time the nozzle went into me a little easier. As I opened the clamp I tried
to forget what was to happen tonight and what happened two weeks ago. I told
myself to just relax and take this second hellish enema. The water was hotter
than I had imagined and was causing me to sweat over my entire body. The pain in
my lower abdomen was becoming almost unbearable but I knew it was opening me for
whatever they had in store.

Mrs. Winston was very pleased as she summoned me to her office on Thursday
afternoon. She handed me a note and a package which detailed my preparations for
Saturday night. After a lot of verbal abuse and mental torture she very
sarcastically told me how much they looked forward to my first visit. Her last
words were those of warning to follow her instructions of preparation to the
letter.

I had never had this much water in me before and was now in severe pain, but the
half gallon was now in. As I looked down at my stomach the horror became
apparent. It looked as if I were at least four or five months pregnant. Blue
veins were crisscrossing my lower abdomen. I had not even began to try and get
up when the instructions for my next preparation enema crashed into my head.
Three quarts very hot. As I sat on the bowl feeling as if my insides were being
ripped from my body I knew I had no choice but to obey. As I sat and found
instant relief I wondered as to some of the instructions I had been given. What
were the plans they had for me. Why all these enemas. I learned during my visit
to the Drs. about some of the games these people played. I remembered the anal
abuse I suffered. That's why all this preparation was instilling a feeling of
deep fear. I feared I was to learn things I did not want to know.

As I remained on the bowl my mind drifted to Mrs. Winstons note. The detailed
instructions for the enemas. The way she described how I was to douche myself.
The details for hair and make-up. Her order to wear the clothes provided in the
package. What was in the package? I hadn't even looked. I kept thinking of
different comments she had made during the past week. Many made no sense while
other things made all to much sense. She purposely made me know about the four
women. Her, Goldie, the Dr. but who else? Would it possibly be the Warden?

She knew from my first experience with them how much I hated being touched and
violated by a woman. The men would be terrible but I feared the women would be
more vicious and sadistic. Then there was the sex. I had never in my life been
with a woman and now I would be forced to perform the most degrading acts
imaginable.

I glanced at the clock, 10:30, I had about an hour and a half. As I filled the
bag for the third and final time I wondered to myself how I would take three
quarts, it seemed impossible but I knew I must try no matter how painful.

Just as I was about to insert the nozzle the phone rang. John, "hi honey, no
nothing is wrong, your not coming, your back again". As much as I wanted him,
maybe this was a blessing in disguise. After a brief conversation I agreed to
speak with him later. As much as I hated doing so I knew I would have to put him
off with some excuse. Maybe going to see my mother or sister or maybe use the
old shopping routine. He would be angry and accuse me of as he put it "jerking
him off". Tomorrow when he called I would pretend to be sick, bad stomach as
usual. I would probably not want to talk, just stay in bed and try and
recuperate from the nights ordeals. But these were things John could not know.
The third enema was a nightmare. I had never taken anything nearly this large
and after two quarts I considered stopping it. My stomach was so swollen I
feared it would burst. It filled me so completely that it caused a tremendous
pressure on all my internal organs. I was afraid to look down for fear of what I
might see. As I did so, to my amazement my breasts seemed to be much larger than
normal. It was then that I realized how difficult it was just to breathe. It
seemed my intestines were pushing up into my lungs. I immediately reached for
the clamp to stop the flow before I passed out. As I laid on the floor gasping
for breath I knew I could not take any more. As I removed the nozzle and
struggled to the bowl Mrs. Winstons note came to mind. How would doing this to
myself help me later?

After spending quite a long time in the bathroom I finally came back to myself.
The best thing I could do now was try and get some rest. I felt guilty about
what I was doing to John, but knew it was best. I made a cup of tea and went
into the bedroom. As was my habit I put on the T.V. mainly for some sound. This
is one of the small quirks that comes with living alone. Making myself as
comfortable as possible I realized how strange enemas were. Just a few minutes
ago I was in terrible pain and now it was almost gone. No marks, no bruises just
excruciating pain when it is being forced into you. I thought of one of Mrs.
Winstons comments to me. No permanent damage, no lasting bruises but the pain
would make you pray for death. Why did they want to hurt me? This was all
explained when I was caught and offered the deal. These people were very wealthy
and had all that money could buy. But they were bored and had become very jaded
in their games. From what I had known they had traveled extensively. Had a large
mansion in the suburbs of Long Island. Owned expensive cars, horses a yacht and
who knows what else. But they were bored.

Somehow after trying many different forms of sexual activity they found
excitement in S & M. As if some disease of the wealthy some of their friends
shared the same interest. When my crime had been discovered they seized the
opportunity. I was summoned into Mr. Winstons office and confronted with the
evidence. I was the company bookkeeper and tried to explain how he was mistaken.
It was then that Mrs. Winston showed me all the checks I had forged and ledgers
I had altered. My heart sank and I knew I was caught. I remember looking around
for the police. It was then that they explained my plight. All they had to do
was make one phone call and I would be arrested. With all the evidence they had
there was no question as to my being convicted of a class A felony. It was
explained in graphic detail how I would serve five years in a womans
penitentiary. It was also made very clear as to how they would use their
considerable influence to guarantee I would be sent to the worst. I was also
told how they could make sure I would receive the harshest treatment possible.
As it happened the Wardress was a personal friend of Mrs. Winston and would
oversee my stay. The picture they were painting was indeed a bleak one. As long
as I live I will never forget what happened next. Mrs. Winston as casually as if
ordering a cup of coffee said, "but you have a choice". Her voice dripped of
sarcasm and she had a devilish grin on her face. I was informed that if I agreed
to become their slave and follow all orders for a period of one year all would
be forgotten and I could even keep the money. I could not believe what I was
hearing, slave. I was speechless. The look on my face must have told of my
amazement at what she was saying. The only word I was able to get out was slave.
It was at this point she pulled up a chair and with a smile began to explain.
She told me how they and a close group of friends who enjoyed using females in
various ways. Many of the phrases she used were foreign to me. S & M, B & D,
Watersports, Beastiality, Fisting, Forced sex, Medical torture. I felt the blood
drain from my head and the room begin to spin. This amused the couple and they
both had a great laugh at my reaction. After my color returned and they were
done with their comments Mrs. Winston continued.

She explained how I would have to present myself at their home once a month on a
Saturday for one year. I was also told about being fitted for some special
articles of clothing. And last but far from least the extensive medical
examinations. She went on to further explain how they would have to be sure I
was strong enough to take what they would be doing to me. But she stressed, for
their own protection, it would have to be determined that I was disease free. I
would have to continue working for them. I could go on with my life as usual
except for a few minor changes.

After listening to what she was saying I jumped from the chair and ran for the
door. It was locked. I demanded the door be opened and told them they were both
very sick people. Their response was just to laugh at me. They calmly explained
that there was no place I could run to. I was told that if I desired the police
would be summoned immediately. It was then that Mr. Winston suggested that I sit
back down and hear the rest of what they had to say.

I was handed a large envelope and told to go home and study its contents. I was
also informed that I would be under surveillance at all times and my phone calls
would be monitored. If I tried to run away I would be arrested and all their
threats carried out.

I could not find any comfort or peace here in my bed. My mind was riding a
roller coaster. The fear of what would happen tonight. The memories of what had
been done already. As I stared at the ceiling my mind wandered back to that day
when I was confronted by the Winstons. I remembered leaving them sitting in his
office looking at me as if I were a side of beef. As I picked up the envelope I
was told to study, I glanced first at Mr. Winston and then at her. The
expressions on both their faces turned my knees to jelly. Their eyes, cold as
ice pierced into my very soul.

I recalled how I had struggled home making sure to double lock the door behind
me, as if that would help. The memories of all I had heard. The stupidity of
what I had done. How did I think I could get away with it? I thought of the home
shopping channel and cursed the day it was invented. If it wasn't for my need to
buy what I really didn't need I wouldn't be in this situation now. Also the fact
that John had warned me many times made me feel even worse.

The memories of the envelope came to mind. They were smart and knew exactly what
they were doing. The contents were copies of all the forged checks, altered
ledgers and a video cassette. A note on the cassette simply read this shows what
may happen to you in prison. I remembered how my hand was shaking so violently,
I couldn't get it into the VCR. After watching for only a few moments I was in a
state of complete shock. It depicted woman of all shapes and sizes. All ages
from young to old, and of all races. The one thing they all shared was a blank
stare. As the tape continued I saw the cells and the horrible living conditions.
The next scene showed about two dozen women in a shower. They had no privacy and
were herded in like so many cattle. It was in looking at some of the close ups
that I realized that a lot of the faces looked much older than the bodies to
which they belonged. The faces all indicated a tremendous amount of suffering.
My eyes were riveted to the screen. It was then that something caught my eye. As
if they had read my mind the camera came to focus on a big well built red head.
She seemed to be about my own age but it was impossible to tell. As she washed,
I was shown her body from every angle. What I saw made me gasp out loud. She was
covered with welts and bruises. Her back, ass, legs, thighs, stomach and breasts
were covered with whip marks.

Next I saw a young blonde girl who appeared to be a little more than a teenager.
Her body was covered with the same type of marks. I was literally mesmerized by
the images on the TV screen. As I was trying to digest the images before me the
scene changed.

It showed 2 big black female guards dragging an attractive middle aged Spanish
woman down a dark corridor. The sound was of poor quality but it was easy to
hear that she was screaming and begging. I was able to make out some of her
words. "No please not again, I will do whatever you want". As a door came into
view she screamed "please don't torture me again I can't take any more, just
tell me what to do". Then a door opened revealing a dimly lit room filled with
many different objects. As the lights from the camera illuminated the room I was
able to make out what some of these objects were. I saw an assortment of strange
tables and benches. Ropes and chains hung from the ceiling. A large wooden chair
came into focus. From it dangled several broad leather straps. Hanging near the
chair were what looked like electrical wires with large alligator clips on the
end. Next the camera moved to a wall from which hung a huge array of whips,
paddles, canes, rope, chain, handcuffs of different sizes and dozens of things I
could not identify.

As the camera showed the room I could hear screams in the background. The scene
returned to the Spanish woman. She was hanging from a chain attached to her
handcuffs. Her dress had been removed leaving her in bra and panties. At that
moment one of the black guards took a small knife and cut the bra from her body.
At that point I had to look away. Her breasts were a mass of angry looking
bruises. A strange voice brought my attention back to the screen. It belonged to
a beautiful but for some reason very evil looking woman. She appeared to be very
tall and large, not fat just large. I had no idea who she was or what she was
doing in this room. I guessed her age to be about fifty. Her black hair was done
in the latest style and her suit was Chanel. Even on the TV screen looking at
her sent a shudder through me. I know now how right I was.

The expression on the face of the Spanish woman was one of terror. As she said
her next words a lot of things became clearer to me. "Please Wardress, don't let
them torture me again". I immediately remembered the comment Mrs. Winston made
about the Wardress being a personal friend. Could this be her. My mind was not
able to digest all I had just seen and heard. I shut off the VCR. Now as I laid
twisting and turning I remembered the night I sat viewing the tape. I remembered
thinking that this was impossible. This is 1996. Things like this don't happen.
They don't treat people like this in prison. Do they? I remember how after
sitting in the dark for a few minutes, something inside me made me turn the VCR
back on.

The Spanish woman kept begging the Wardress to be released. She promised to do
whatever anyone wanted of her. To my disbelief I heard her say, "let me eat all
the guards. They can all fuck me if they want to. Tell them they can fuck me in
the ass with the big dildos. I'll never say no again". I stared at the screen as
if in a trance. The bound woman continued to beg the Wardress to give her
another chance. The camera captured the panic on the face of the bound woman as
well as the icy stare of the Wardress.

I had a very hard time grasping everything the Spanish woman was saying. I was
not unaware of certain sexual practices but what I heard next was hard to
believe. She had a nervous look on her face as she turned her face toward the
woman and said "they can all watch me fuck the dogs, they won't have to force me
this time. then I'll eat them all". I was completely taken aback by what she had
just said. How could she volunteer to do such a thing? What had they done to her
to bring her to this point? Was this a prison or an insane asylum?

I continued to watch as the Wardress talked to her guards. After a time she
turned back to the hanging woman and told her "you will be given the opportunity
to do everything you said, but first you must be punished for disobeying the
guards orders". The woman started to scream and rip at her shackled wrists. This
brought a round of laughter from the Wardress and two guards. The hanging woman
was becoming more frantic. She kept yelling "no more torture, please. I'm still
hurting from the last time". The Wardress was unaffected by her pleas. She just
turned to the guards and said "put her on the table on her back, I want to work
on those tits again". The guards were on the bound woman in an instant. Her
handcuffs were released and she was being dragged across the room. Her cries and
screams could not be understood. I watched as she was thrown onto a wooden table
and quickly strapped into place. Her arms and legs were pulled to the ends and
thick straps were attached. Another strap was brought across her chest just
under her breasts. Satisfied the guards stepped back.

The camera came into focus on the Wardress. As I kept watching I felt my heart
pounding in my chest. Is this what could happen to me I kept asking myself? Is
this for real? Maybe its some kind of act for my benefit? My attention went back
to the screen. The Wardress had removed her own jacket and was now removing her
blouse. There she stood in a long black bra and skirt. She was indeed more
beautiful than I had first thought. She was a large woman in more ways than one.
Her massive breasts swelled over the top of her bra. This image made me totally
shudder. The idea of this woman having total control of me for five years. What
would she make me do and what could she do to me?

The camera again focused on the poor bound woman. She struggled as much as the
straps allowed. There were tears now visible on her face. As I watched a tray
was wheeled over to the table by one of the guards. The Spanish woman again
began to speak, "Please don't do my tits again, do something else. Beat me
instead, put the water in me. Use the needles on me, look what they did to my
tits already". The Wardress just smiled at her and said "they did nothing
compared to what I'll do bitch. You will learn to obey me and my guards". She
then picked up what looked like a piece of rubber garden hose and showed it to
the helpless woman. The response was one of complete panic. I watched as she
thrashed around and tried to tear free of the straps which held her. The
Wardress brought the hose up over her head and in a swift motion swung it
downwards crashing into the victims breasts. This was repeated a number of times
bringing almost inhuman cries of agony. No part of her breasts were spared, the
tops, bottoms, sides and even the nipples received the whipping. Finally the
wardress put the hose down. The camera showed a very clear picture of this
torture. Both breasts seemed to swell before my eyes and turn an angry dark blue
color. I heard the woman gasping for breath as I watched her whole chest heaving
in the tight bonds. After a time the bound woman stopped screaming and said
through her tears "you dyke cunt, someday I'll kill you". This only brought more
laughter. Finally the Wardress looked down at her and said "I see you haven't
learned your lesson yet". She turned to one of the guards and said "bring me the
long needles, I'll teach her to threaten me". I could not watch anymore. The
tape had served its purpose. Anything would be better than spending five years
in this hellhole, or so I thought at that time. It was clear the Winstons had me
just where they wanted me. They knew after seeing the contents of the envelope I
would submit to their demands.

I remained in bed and remembered how I went to work the following day. After
trying in vain to get on with my job the intercom on my desk rang, it was Mr.
Winston. I recalled how in a perfectly normal tone of voice he summoned me to
his office. I was asked if I had studied the contents of the envelope. With my
eyes to the floor I replied that I had. He then asked if I had come to a
decision. I recalled how I could not look up at him and the way I stood
shuffling my feet. It took a long time for the words to reach my lips. All I
could say was "you win". He sarcastically told me he thought I would see it
their way and would now call his wife. He then instructed me to get back to work
and not leave at 5 o'clock, but to come to his office to go over the
arrangements of our deal as he put it.

In the days following that first meeting there were several others. I was made
to sign a complete confession and even had to sign a contract stating I was
willing to become their slave for a period of one year. Mrs. Winston was present
at all the meetings. Many times I would catch her looking at me in very strange
ways. This always sent a shiver down my spine. She would look at me as if to
undress me with her eyes. Several times she would look directly at me and
comment how she could not wait to get her hands on me. How she would make me
beg. How she would make me scream.

The phone startled me back to the present. It was John. No one else ever called
on this line. I would have to think fast. "Hi hon, how do you feel, that's good,
your downstairs watching the game, no nothings wrong". He was becoming
suspicious. I would have to come up with something fast. Offense is always the
best defense. I calculated my next comment carefully. "Oh you can talk now,
isn't your wife home". I knew from past experience this would begin an argument.
"I know I said we could talk later, but I decided to go out for awhile". At this
point I knew he was getting pissed off. After a few more words back and forth he
hung up on me as usual. He must think I'm a real bitch, if he only knew the real
reason.

Time was standing still. I wished I was able to tell John the trouble I was in,
but knew I could not. I prayed he never find out. It was becoming increasingly
difficult to come up with valid excuses. My time was growing scarce. The
Winstons were finding more tasks for me, and I needed time to recuperate from my
ordeals. So far the physical healing was a little easier than the mental
healing. I was able to blame a lot on job pressures. I complained of being tired
and not feeling well. I used every excuse I could think of. Bad stomach,
headaches, bad periods, fatigue, boredom, alone too much, executive burn out, I
used them all. I was not proud of myself for what I was doing but it was better
than the truth.

I got a fresh cup of tea and went back into the bedroom. Again I tried to close
my eyes and get some rest but the thoughts kept coming back. My thoughts drifted
to the day Mrs. Winston came into the office accompanied by her maid Goldie.
This was not at all unusual and at first I did not give it a second thought. I
tried to keep the arrival as normal as possible for the sake of all the others
in the office. As I greeted them both I immediately noticed the difference in
Goldie. I had seen and spoke to her many times during the years I worked for Mr.
Winston. She had always been very warm and friendly and I even thought of her as
somewhat of a friend. But now she was different. She always reminded me a little
of Oprah, big and jolly, warm friendly smile. Now she just gave me a cold,
knowing stare. As I glanced up at her I caught that familiar look, she seemed to
be undressing me with her eyes. Could she be part of this too, I would soon find
out.


I called Mr. Winston on the intercom and announced his wives arrival. He told me
to let her in and also come in myself. Goldie followed. Once in his office and
away from the rest of the staff their attitude changed. Again I was only their
slave. Mrs. Winston was brief and to the point. I was told that after work I was
to go with her and Goldie for my first physical. Mrs. Winston told me she had
made an appointment with her gynecologist for my first exam. I went into a state
of shock. Was the time for the so called parties here. I did not know what to
say or do. The first thing that came to mind was to tell Mrs. Winston that I had
my own Dr. and would be more comfortable with him. I said I would go to him and
give her a full report on anything she wanted. I was reminded of some obscure
paragraph in the contract I had signed. Submit to physical testing at a Dr. of
the Winstons choice. They had me more than I realized. I had no choice but to
obey. After thinking a second the only reply I had was "yes mam". My reply
brought an instant smile to both Mr. and Mrs. Winston. She looked at me with
that look I was becoming more familiar with and said "good bitch, your learning,
now go with Goldie and she will help you get ready. "Oh, and one more thing, do
whatever she tells you to, you are her slave as well as ours". Her words ripped
through me like a hot knife. I was mortified. Goldies slave too. I protested
loudly. "I did not agree to any such thing". As if ready for me Mr. Winston took
a copy of my contract from a locked file. He quickly read a clause that stated,
I could be given to anyone at their direction to be used as a slave in any way
they saw fit. After he read it he handed it to me and pointed to the clause and
my signature. They had me again. Here I was not only the plaything of the
Winstons and whom ever else, but also Goldie, a black maid.

A Year of Slavery # 1-2

"Caught And The Contract"

As I followed Goldie through the large office complex to the ladies room my
plight became more bizarre. As we entered I was about to remind Goldie of our
long friendship and inquire how she was involved. Before I could speak a
syllable she turned and said "strip bitch". The usually soft gentle voice had
turned hard and commanding. I became instantly fearful of this large black
woman. She reminded me of the two black guards in the prison film I had been
given. From the look on her face I knew there was nothing I could do but obey.
She had the same look as the guards who had been torturing the poor Spanish
girl.


As I fumbled with the buttons of my dress I noticed for the first time that
Goldie was carrying a large attache case. This was put on a sink and I was told
to speed it up. As I removed the dress and stood in bra, pantyhose and heels a
very strange feeling came over me. A feeling of total embarrassment. I had been
nude in front of women before in dressing rooms and such but this was different.
I had never been ordered. I had never been owned.


Goldie studied me for a minute and loudly said "everything bitch, take it all
off". Was this to be my new name. They seemed to use it very freely. I would
later learn it was better than most of the names I was called.

Afraid to do anything else, I unhooked my bra, put it on the sink with my dress
and took off the heels and pantyhose. Totally embarrassed I tried covering my
nudity with my arms. I was quickly ordered to put my arms at my sides, stand
straight and face forward. I felt the flush of humiliation cover me from head to
toe. I was now on display like never before. Goldie devoured my nudity with her
eyes. Her gaze covered every detail of my body. To make sure nothing was
overlooked she walked around me several times.

Time stood still. Here I was, completely naked in a public bathroom with the
Winstons maid surveying me. I burst into tears and tried to grab my dress. This
brought an instant reaction from the black maid. Before I was able to get my
hand on the dress she was behind me with her arm around my neck. I now realized
how strong and agile she was for a big woman. The more I struggled the tighter
her grip on me became. Again I knew I was beaten. I stopped struggling and she
relaxed her hold on me. She came in front of me, put her face only inches from
mine and said "you stupid white cunt, you ever do that again I'll beat you till
you bleed". I stood there looking down at the floor knowing I was doomed. She
must have sensed the fact my spirit was broken and began to take full advantage.
She continued her appraisal of me. I was told to turn, lift my arms over my
head, bend over, even spread my legs. I did as I was told. This gave her greater
confidence. She reached out and grabbed one of my breasts roughly feeling its
size and weight. Her fingers moved to the nipple and I felt a stabbing pain as
she squeezed me in her strong fingers. Without releasing her grip the other hand
moved between my legs. As she continued to pinch and probe I began to sob. My
reaction made her angry. I was told to stop crying or I would be given something
to cry about. Afraid to get her even more angry I tried to stifle the sobbing.

Even now as I sipped on the tea the events of that day raced through my brain.
Goldie had given me my first taste of torture, mental torture. I remember how
she asked me if just what she was doing made me cry, what would I do when the
real pain begins. I stared back in silence but she could see the panic in my
eyes. She decided to make the most of it. I recall some of her words even now.
"It don't take much to make you cry. What you gonna do when they whip those tits
and that blonde cunt. What you gonna do when they stick needles in that sweet
white ass. How you gonna act when they fill you up with a big hot enema. You
gonna cry when I make you eat my big black pussy". She went on and on. Even now
after so many things have been done to me that first day of my captivity stays
fresh in my mind.

My thoughts strayed back to the ladies room. After the fondling and verbal
abuse, Goldie decided it was time to get ready for the Drs. visit. She opened
the case she had been carrying and took out a bottle of Massengill Douche and
three Fleet Enemas. She handed them to me and told me to go into a stall and
clean myself out. By now I knew better than to refuse so I just took the
packages from her and proceeded into a stall. By reflex I turned to latch the
door but found her standing in the way. This was the first of many indignities I
was to suffer. She was going to watch as I did what is mostly done in private.
As I squatted over the bowl with the douche I realized what else she had given
me. Why did I need an enema to see a gynocologist. I asked the question but did
not get a reply. She did although take great pleasure in telling me how this
examination was going to be much different than any I had in the past.

Was that ever an understatement. Totally embarrassed I finished the task I was
given. Next I was handed some make up, a brush and hair spray and told to make
myself presentable. When I was done fixing myself, I automatically reached for
my clothes. As before, my hand was slapped away. Goldie again reached into the
case and took out a neatly folded stack of underwear. She gave it to me and told
me to put it on. The first piece was a black padded push up bra. I asked why
this was necessary and told that "Mrs. Winston wants you to wear it". The next
article was a black waist cincher. As I picked it up I could feel how heavy it
was. It was the old type with metal rods in it. Next were a pair of off black
stockings and a pair of black pumps with 5 inch heels. I was puzzled, why these
clothes to see a Dr. Again I asked and was given the same answer,"because Mrs.
Winston wants it that way".

I remember trying to put the cincher on only to find it to small. I have a small
waist but was unable to get the hooks even close. Goldie was only too happy to
help and by the time it was in place my ribs felt like they were being crushed.
I was forced to stand perfectly straight and take very short, small breaths.
Glancing in the mirror I saw how this garment made my waist much smaller and my
hips and bust seem even larger. I needed help with the bra also, again it was
too small. My breasts are a 34-D but looked twice as large in this bra. They
bulged over the cups and stood high on my chest. Breathing was getting more
difficult. Next came the stockings and shoes. The cincher made it impossible to
bend to get the garters attached so again it required Goldies assistance. She
took her turn with me again. While she had helped with the bra she managed to
pinch and squeeze my breasts. Now her fingers were pushing their way into me but
I was afraid to say or do anything.

Again I looked in the mirror and the image was bizarre at best. I was not
dressed for a trip to the Dr. but more for a night of wild sex.

Why had they made me dress in this manner? I could not help but think about what
kind of Dr. this was. I found out soon enough. I was allowed to put my dress
back on and we left the ladies room.

Mrs. Winston was waiting at the elevator and asked Goldie if everything was all
right. The maid assured her all was as it should be. I remember the ride in the
limo. No one said a word. I was having trouble sitting due to the strange
lingerie I was forced to wear. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. In
a short time we arrived at an upper east side brownstone. The shingle read Dr.
V. Kim M.D. I was extremely nervous and the thought of having a little oriental
man do the most intimate examination of my body did little to help me relax. The
events that followed make me shudder even now.

Mrs. Winston told the driver to wait and that we would be approximately 3 hours.
Why so long I remember thinking. The three of us walked up to the door and
Goldie rang the buzzer. I recall looking around as if hoping for rescue.

A small oriental woman answered the door and my first thought was she must be
the nurse. Her and Mrs. Winston exchanged greetings and we entered. The office
was much the same as any other successful Manhatten Dr. The oriental woman asked
Mrs. Winston if she could get her any refreshment. The reply shocked and sent
waves of fear through me. Mrs. Winston said "no Dr. Kim I would prefer to get
started, we have a lot to do".

This could not be the Dr. I had never been to a female Dr. of any kind in my
life. The very thought of being touched and examined by another female made me
turn toward the door and try to get out. As I had learned earlier Goldie was
very fast and grabbed me before I took more than three steps. as I struggled and
begged Mrs. Winston to please let me leave, I heard the Dr. tell Goldie to bring
me to the special room in the basement. She added all was ready and we would not
be disturbed. My arm was twisted behind my back and I was forced down a
staircase into the basement. My protests became louder and finally I was yelling
for help.

As if I was not even there I heard the Dr. tell Mrs. Winston that I could scream
as much as I wanted, everything was of course sound proof.

The vivid memories did little to calm my nerves. I sipped more tea and lit
another cigarette. I tried to focus on the TV. Anything not to think more of
that day. But as usual the memories came crashing back. I recalled how Goldie
pushed me toward a metal door. The Dr. had the key ready and pushed it open.
Inside was what appeared to be a normal examination room, the sight of which
calmed me momentarily. The four of us entered and I remember the door being
locked behind us. Now I was totally at their mercy. Goldie released me and I
began to look around. Everything seemed to be in order until I looked at the
examining table. There were restraining straps all over it. Even the stirrups
had straps attached to them. Again I began to scream and beg. The three other
women just watched in amusement. After a time I realized my feeble attempts were
in vain and I started to quiet down. It was then that Mrs. Winston began to
speak.

I was told that no more outbursts would be tolerated and if I protested in any
way I would be immediately punished. Mrs. Winston opened her bag and took out
what looked like a flashlight. She asked me if I knew what it was and I said no.
She told me it was called a cattle prod and it was used to help handle cattle,
horses, and other large animals. She explained how it sent a high voltage
electrical shock into whatever it touched, and if I did not follow her
instructions to the letter, it would touch me. As she said the last word of the
sentence she placed it against my thigh.

The room exploded. I lost all my senses. I could not hear nor see. My breathe
was pulled from my lungs. Every nerve in my body screamed in pain. I fell to the
floor like a house of cards convulsing in agony. It took several minutes for me
to return to normal. Goldie helped me to my feet. Mrs. Winston looked at me with
her icy stare and told me that was a small sample of what I would get if I
disobeyed in any way. She had me at her complete mercy. I never wanted to feel
that cattle prod again. She asked me if I understood and was ready to cooperate.
I remember putting my head down and saying yes mam.

I was next made to stand in the middle of the room as Mrs. Winston made herself
comfortable in a large chair and told the Dr. to begin. I was reminded to follow
the Drs. orders or face more punishment. I was then told by the Dr. to remove my
dress. I knew better than try and argue. Quickly I undid the dress and let it
fall to the floor. There I stood on display again, a spectacle for the three
woman to behold. This was the first time Mrs. Winston had seen me without all of
my clothes on. She leaned forward in her chair as if to get a better look. At
the same time the Dr. was visibly licking her lips. Mrs. Winston was the first
to speak. "I can't believe our good fortune, she is perfect".

For the second time today I was made to turn, raise my arms, bend forward,
spread my legs. All of a sudden I realized I was not wearing panties. Now I
understood the ingenious design of the cincher. Although the garters went down
the sides of my legs the front and back of the garment were cut high to fully
expose my pussy and ass. Not only could they have a perfect view but the Dr.
would have access without removing the cincher. The black underwear was a
contrast to my milky white skin and blonde hair. The sight of me in the
provocative lingerie seemed to inflame the women. I was told to walk around the
room while they did a thorough appraisal of my body. This seemed very strange
coming from other women. The next orders I received brought even more shame. I
was told to bend over and spread my ass cheeks. When I hesitated I was quickly
shown the dreaded cattle prod. I instantly put my hands behind me and bent over.
The three woman discussed that part of my anatomy. The Dr. was reminded to make
sure to check well as I would be used anally very often. Before I could grasp
what they were saying I was told to stand straight, face forward and spread my
pussy. I could not believe my shame but obeyed the order. Mrs. Winston made me
spread my legs so wide it felt as if the tendons in my thighs would tear. Next I
was ordered to grasp my lower lips and spread them as wide as possible. I was
then told to insert a finger inside myself. Again I obeyed. The demands
increased. I was now told to force four fingers into myself. When they were
satisfied with the attempt I was told to stop and stand straight. My humiliation
was reaching new heights. Mrs. Winston was disappointed at the fact I was unable
to insert four fingers but the Dr. quickly reassured her she would remedy the
problem.

The memories were getting me more upset but I could not stop them. I had to go
to the bathroom and wanted more tea anyway. I checked the time, 3 o'clock, the
limo would be here at 6. I had a couple of hours to try and rest. I went back to
the bedroom and laid down again. My mind went right back to the Drs. office. I
was then told to remove the bra. After fumbling with the hook I told them I
could not get it off because it was too tight. Goldie came up behind me and also
struggled to get it off. As it opened my breasts sprang free and I was able to
take a deep breath. Now they began to comment about my breasts. Mrs. Winston was
pleased with their size and shape and all the possibilities they presented for
tit torture. "What's that", I asked in a shaky voice. I was told I would find
out very soon. I did not know then how soon.

The Dr. came up to me and took one of my nipples in her fingers, studying it
closely. She seemed disappointed and explained to Mrs. Winston how the small
size of the nipple might limit certain activities. Mrs. Winston got up from her
chair and came for a closer look. I felt like some laboratory specimen. The two
women were inspecting my nipples. The Dr. suggested waiting a few minutes until
I was on the table. I was feeling the panic well in my stomach.

Next the Dr. picked up a chart and started to write. She then began a series of
questions. I was asked my medical history, the history of my family, my present
health, any pregnancies, any abortions. Her questions got worse. I was asked
about birth control, previous sexual activities, drug use, my menstrual cycle
and even the last time I had sex or masturbated. Before she put down the chart I
was asked if I knew my exact measurements and as I replied she put down the
information.

Next in a rough voice she ordered me onto the table. I remember how I hesitated
hoping for something to happen. I knew once I was secured to the table I would
be totally at their mercy. The Dr. was getting impatient and again in a voice
that scared me ordered me on the table. I was petrified. What would she do once
I was secured. Some of the comments I had heard were running through me. Was
this to be my first torture session. Why was this room here. Why was it sound
proof. Was the Dr. a healer or a sadist. Apparently she had done this before.
How many women came before me, and what became of them.

No matter how hard I tried to put all these thoughts out of my head I just could
not. I considered taking a valium but was afraid of the reaction later on. They
might be upset if I was not completely alert. I decided not to drink any more
tea for fear I might have to use the bathroom during the party as it was called.
I thought parties were supposed to be fun, I knew there would be none for me
this night.

I continued to sit in the dim room and lit another cigarette. No matter how hard
I tried my thoughts went right back to that first meeting with the Dr. I
recalled how after telling me to get on the table, and me being too afraid to do
so, the Dr. just reached for the cattle prod. It made me move quickly.

I got up on the table as fast as I could. I had still not fully recovered from
the first jolt. Now the Dr. seemed to take on a different attitude. Her face
turned cruel and she had a strange fire in her eyes as she adjusted my body. My
legs were positioned into the stirrups and secured. Goldie helped by securing my
arms to straps on the side of the table near the floor. This position proved
painful on my shoulders but served to make my breasts very prominent. Next
straps were brought over my hips and across my rib cage and tightened. I tried
to move but could not. I remember feeling totally helpless, but they were not
done. The Dr. came up to the top of the table and fastened another strap across
my forehead. I was now completely deprived of any movement and totally open and
vulnerable. The only freedom I had was that of speech.

Through the sobs I begged them to stop this and not hurt me. My reply was
laughter from the three women. Mrs. Winston came up next to me and told me one
of the reasons for me being there was to feel pain. She explained how aside from
it being necessary to check my physical condition, they would take this
opportunity to introduce me to their world. The world of sadism directed at a
helpless female. She continued by saying how the three of them and many others
found the greatest pleasure in hearing the screams and watching the reactions of
their victims. It was now my turn to give them what they desired.

The memory of what happened next will stay with me for the rest of my life. They
all stood around me and began to undress. Although my field of vision was
limited I watched as they stripped down to their underwear. The spectacle was
indeed bizarre. Even what they wore was unusual. Mrs. Winston was wearing almost
the same things I was. Black push up bra, black waist cincher with long garters
and black stockings. I remember thinking that for an older woman she still had a
very good body.

The Dr. was dressed in a black half cup corset that left most of her small
breasts exposed and ended just below her waist. Attached at the bottom were long
garters which framed her exposed pussy which was free of any hair as was Mrs.
Winstons.

My eyes went to Goldie. This was the most shocking of all. She was wearing a
flesh tone girdle which was in total contrast to her ebony skin. The girdle
started just below her massive breasts and stopped at the top of a huge pubic
mound. In a fast glance I was able to see how heavy and well constructed this
garment was. I had never seen a black woman nude before and was shocked by her
breasts. They had to be at least a 48-D and hung well over the top of the
girdle. The nipples were jet black and the size of saucers. Her pussy was
covered by a thick mass of long, curly black hair.

I remembered how at that point I gave up all hope. I was surrounded by three
demons. I had entered hell itself. Now they were ready, my time to suffer was at
hand.

Even now safe in my room the hours that followed still bring on a cold sweat.
The Dr. began at my mouth. She forced my jaws apart and inserted a devise that
held it open. She had a dentists pick and checked all my teeth. She was not
gentle and made the examination uncomfortable but bearable. Then she opened the
clamp a little wider and began to examine my throat with a tongue depressor. It
was inserted deep and I gagged.

Next she inserted a vibrator into my mouth which was in the shape of a penis. It
measured about 1 1/2 inches in diameter and at least 8 inches in length. It was
forced deep into my throat. I immediately began to choke and gag. The Dr. kept
maneuvering it until I was sure I would pass out. With my head secured as it was
I could do nothing to fight the thrusts of the object. It was withdrawn just as
my vision turned black. From somewhere under the table the Dr. produced an
oxygen mask and I was quickly revived. The clamp was removed and she made an
entry on the chart. She informed Mrs. Winston that I had very large tonsils and
could only accept small tubing, but would have no problem with oral sex. I
remembered trying to figure out what she meant by tubing, but my thoughts were
interrupted.

Next my blood pressure was taken and putting on a stethoscope she checked my
heart rate, more entries. She then moved to my breasts. Her fingers kneaded the
sensitive flesh checking for any lumps. This she did in such a manner as to
bring tears to my eyes and a moan to my lips. Mrs. Winston came to the opposite
side of the table to get a better view. As they had done earlier they began to
discuss the breasts as if they were not part of a living person. The Dr. assured
Mrs. Winston that although the nipples were small they could take a lot of
abuse. The Dr. directed Mrs. Winston to feel the consistency of the breasts. She
did, squeezing even harder than the Dr. had, causing me to moan louder. They
paid no attention to my protests.

The Dr. went on to explain how the needles could be used frequently with no
problems, even into the nipples themselves. Mrs. Winston them asked if the
syringes could also be used. After more painful manipulation of my breasts the
Dr. gave her the answer. She said I would be able to take about a pint in each
tit, and they would even be able to use the oxygen on me. All I could do was lay
there and wonder what the hell they were talking about. The Dr. also pointed out
the effectiveness of the rubber hoses.

Because I had large breasts they could be used often with good results. Could
they be referring to the treatment I had seen done to the Spanish woman on the
tape. I was now crying uncontrollably. She went on to tell the others how the
compression rings and the press should bring excellent results, but cautioned as
to the use of the canes or suspension.

What did these things mean. I could only imagine they were some way to torture
the breasts I had been so proud of. Mrs. Winston next asked the Dr. if she would
be able to have a few punishment bras made, and was assured it would be taken
care of.

Having had enough of my breasts for now the small group moved to the foot of the
table. The stirrups were opened to their maximum width. By doing so it opened me
fully, and gave them a perfect view of my most private parts. I was able to see
the Dr. put on a rubber glove and apply lubricant. She disappeared from my
limited field of vision but I immediately felt the insertion of her finger. Her
probing was thorough and a little painful. Then I felt her trying to put several
fingers into me.

It was beginning to hurt very much and I was complaining loudly. A few seconds
later I felt her hand forcing its way inside me. The pain was extreme and I was
sure she would rip the opening of my pussy. With one hard push she got her whole
hand into me. I let out a scream and then began to cry openly. She was hurting
me badly. I never had anyones hand in me before. I began to feel her fingers
probing and feeling around inside me. My body automatically started to stretch
and the pain began to subside.

She continued the internal exam. All of a sudden I felt a searing pain deep
inside the brought out a series of loud screams. As the pain was increasing she
was casually telling the others that she had forced a finger into my uterus. My
screaming went on as I tried to tear free of my bonds. This time I did pass out.
I was revived and the hand was no longer inside me. Goldie stood above me with
the smelling salts still in her hand. The Dr. and Mrs. Winston were next to me
engaged in a conversation. The Dr. was explaining the fact that although I had a
small frame, they would have no problem fisting me or forcing large objects into
me. She went on explaining how she needed smears for testing and would need to
dilate my uterus in order to insert a probe. She sarcastically added "wait till
I give her that injection, then you'll hear her scream". She then walked over to
a cabinet but I could not see what see was doing.

I remember how I begged Mrs. Winston to please make her stop. Do not let her
hurt me anymore. I have been hurt enough already. I also remember her reply, we
haven't even started, she said.

The Dr. returned to the table. She explained to the other woman how under normal
conditions she would spray the area to be injected with nitrous oxide. That she
said would freeze the area and the needle would not be felt. She looked directly
into my eyes as she completed the statement by saying, but I love to do it this
way, the pain it causes is excruciating. She then moved back to the end of the
table and started working between my legs.

I then felt the cold steel of the spreader clamp inserted into me. Other Drs.
have used these on me before with little or no discomfort. Now the sadistic
nature of this woman really became evident. She used no lubricant and just
pushed until it was in place. Then she opened it as wide as possible as quickly
as she could. I thought the delicate area had been torn for sure. My tears
flowed freely as much from fear as from the pain. She was becoming more cruel by
the minute. She came up near my face and held up the syringe she had prepared. I
started screaming through the tears. It was the largest needle I had ever seen.
The shaft was at least 6 inches long, but the thickness was what made me panic.
It was as thick as a knitting needle. I remember how between the screams I
begged her not to use that on me. She just glared down at me and said that I
would get to know it well, because this was the one that would be used on me
most of the time. She went back to the end of the table were Mrs. Winston was
waiting. Looking down at me she told Goldie to check the straps because this
would cause a violent reaction. As Goldie checked all the restraints I just
screamed and begged but to no avail. It was by far the most excruciating pain I
had felt to that point in my life. She plunged the syringe deep into my womb.
The pain was so terrible I could not even scream. I thrashed about in my bonds
as much as I could. It felt as if there was a red hot poker burning deep in my
stomach. Every nerve in my body was on fire. The pain was so intense my eyes
must have rolled in their sockets because everything turned black. Again I was
revived by Goldie. As I awoke I began screaming. I remember how it felt as if I
screamed for hours until I could scream no more. I just laid there and sobbed
uncontrollably. The pain in my stomach was still intense but not as bad as when
the needle was being twisted around in my womb. My vision returned to normal and
I was greeted by the three women studying me with their looks of amusement.
Finally the Dr. announced that I had come through this first torture better than
expected. She informed Mrs. Winston that she was pleasantly surprised and felt I
was strong enough to endure many more sessions. After they had a few minutes of
consultation the Dr. said I was ready for the next procedure.

Not even knowing what was to be done next I began to sob and beg for release. I
was informed that the next procedure would be almost pain free. See stressed the
word almost. I was told she had to take some smears in order to check for
disease. As soon as she assumed her position between my legs I started to beg
her not to hurt me again. She held up a cotton swab and told me to relax. This
part of the exam was done without causing me any undo discomfort. Next she went
to the cabinets and was busy there for a few seconds. She again came up next to
me and said she was ready to take the next smear. She looked over at the other
two women and with a smirk on her face told me that unfortunately this one might
hurt as she broke into full laughter.

A Year of Slavery # 1-3

"Caught And The Contract"

She held an instrument up for me to see that looked much like an arrow. When I
asked nervously what it was I was told it would be put into my uterus to get a
tissue sample. She went on to further torment me by saying it would probably
hurt, but not nearly as much as it would have if she had not given me the
injection to dilate me. Again she took the familiar position between my legs.
And again I started to plead with then not to hurt me this way. I tried to tell
Mrs. Winston that this was more than I had expected and was not in our deal. She
sarcastically asked me what I had expected.

Between my sobs and gasps I said I thought I would be tied up and whipped, used
for sex and things like that. She answered by telling me I was very stupid and
should have paid more attention to what she and her husband had explained to me.
Just as I was about to answer my words were cut off by the stabbing pain of the
probe being forced into me. I experienced all the same sensations I had when the
needle was inserted. The pain was severe, again the screaming was
uncontrollable. My throat was getting sore and my eyes were beginning to swell
from the constant screaming and crying. The Dr. saw by my reactions that the
pain was diminishing but she decided I did not as yet have enough. She began to
move the probe which was deep inside me. This brought another round of screams
to my parched lips. Between the flashes of pain I was surprised to hear Mrs.
Winston tell the Dr. to stop.

She did so immediately and the pain stopped. With the probe still buried deep in
me the Dr. got up from her position as torturess. I was glad to hear Mrs.
Winston say that she thought I had enough of this form of pussy torture as she
called it. But I was horrified when she went on to say she wanted to try some
other things and did not want to burn me out. The Dr. agreed and said she was
not sure how far to go on my first session. Mrs. Winston said she wanted to try
some other areas. The Dr. said she would remove the probe but reminded Mrs.
Winston she had not done the anal exam as yet. Her words sent a shock wave
through me. They intended to cause me more pain. The Dr. began to remove the
probe, the pain was not as bad as when it was inserted but still hurt very
badly.

The hours were dragging as I stayed in my bed. My mind was getting the best of
me. I had these same thoughts hundreds of times since becoming a slave. I
sometimes wondered if the memories of what had been done and the knowledge of
what was to come were not just as bad as the actual experience. The mind is a
funny thing, it can cause as much pain as the torture itself. I thought of John,
it was terrible the way I was treating him. Even though he was married to
another, he treated me very well and I loved him very much. As many times as I
thought of telling him I knew I could not. My main fear was what he might do to
the Winstons. Although I had an intense hatred for them, I did not wish them
dead. What if he was caught, then I would have no one. I had created this
problem and would have to deal with it. But at what price. I still had time
before I had to get ready, and again found my thoughts wandering to that first
time at the Drs. office.

I remember how I just remained tied to the table as the three women sipped
champagne and discussed what was to be done next. The stress of what they did to
me was taking its toll. I was tired, still in pain and had to use the bathroom.
I was afraid to speak, but the need to relieve myself was becoming intense.
Finally I called to the threesome and asked if I could be allowed to go to the
bathroom. Goldie came up next to me and asked me for what. I told her and she
went back to the other women. After some spirited conversation they came next to
me.

The Dr. seemed very pleased and instructed Goldie to get her a # 2 catheter. I
had no idea what she had requested but by the looks on her and Mrs. Winstons
faces I knew I would not like it. Goldie handed the Dr. a package which was
quickly opened. A roll of plastic tubing was held up to my face and I was asked
if I knew what it was. I remember fearfully replying that I did not. The Dr.
smiled at me and told me it could be used to let me relieve myself without
getting off the table.

The looks of the women told me there was more to this. I did not understand how
this could work and just asked if I could be released. Mrs. Winston, with a
broad smile on her face said if they did that it would ruin their fun. I
realized I would again be made to suffer. I was right. The Dr. again took up her
position as torturess and I immediately felt her hands working inside me. All of
a sudden I felt something being pushed into me. It started as more of a burning
sensation than pain. I demanded to know what she was doing to me. She replied by
saying that a tube was being inserted up into me and would ultimately drain my
bladder. The burning was getting worse and I was beginning to moan as much from
fear as from the pain that was starting. As the Dr. kept pushing, the pain was
increasing. It was not as bad as what she had done already, that was a sharp
blinding pain, this was different. The pain was slowly increasing until again I
was crying and screaming.

Mrs. Winston just kept watching me with a joyous look on her face. As I felt a
stabbing pain and let out a long loud scream the Dr. stood up and announced it
was home. The need to urinate was now stronger than ever. The added pressure
made my bladder feel as if it would burst. Goldie was told to get a canister.
The Dr. was holding the end of the tube in the air as she told me as soon as she
released the clamp I would feel relief. I begged her to do so and asked her why
she was doing this to me. She just said because she enjoyed inflicting pain and
loved the screams it brought. I then asked as a woman, how can you do this to
another woman. She smiled down at me and replied that although she had no use
for men, she hated young beautiful women.

She went on to explain how as a Dr. who specialized in women she knew how to
cause the most pain. I then knew there was nothing I could say that would help
me. She lowered the tube into the canister and released the clamp. As promised
relief was instant. I had no control over the flow but in a minute felt I was
empty. From the corner of my eye I saw the Dr. at the cabinet again. I was
getting scared. Every time she went to the cabinet I would feel pain. She
returned and showed me a large plastic syringe. She explained how the tube could
be used to let fluid out, or put it back in. I realized immediately what she
meant. As before, I started to beg. To make the procedure worse she put the end
of the tube on my stomach and began attaching the syringe so I would be able to
watch. She then started to push the plunger. I felt what I first thought was hot
turn to an icy chill, they were putting ice water into me. The pressure was
increasing in an unnatural way. She had put in more than she let out and the
plunger was only half way down. As before the moans turned into gut retching
screams. Finally the syringe was empty and the clamp was reapplied.

The women again gathered around me. Mrs. Winston spoke first. With a grin on her
face she told me I was doing better than she expected. She added that if I
remained quiet for 5 minutes the clamp would be released. I didn't know it then
but trying to remain quiet when in so much pain only made the pain more intense.
I learned that the ability to cry and scream takes your mind off the pain. As I
laid on the table trying not to make a sound my mind had nothing but the pain on
which to focus. I closed my eyes, was biting my lip and even digging my nails
into the palms of my hands. I felt the scream welling up in my throat but fought
with all my being not to let it out. Just as my mouth opened to let the scream
escape, the clamp was released. After several minutes I regained my composure
and was congratulated by Mrs. Winston.

She told me I had done well and showed great endurance, somehow I knew this
would work against me in the future. They were removing the tube as I heard Mrs.
Winston say that they would have to remember this procedure and use it more
often. My thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of the spreader clamp being
closed and removed from my pussy. I silently prayed they were done with me. The
three women again came up near my face and the Dr. spoke. She told me they were
almost done with the exam.

She went on to explain that my anal opening had to be checked, and a smear
taken. The past hour taught me to fear her words, but I had no choice other than
lay there and submit. The Dr. adjusted the stirrups, they were raised and
brought towards my head. This caused my ass to roll up and provide easier
access. The spreaders were used again. I tried to tighten the muscles but as
before she just pushed until they were in place. This hurt and I moaned in
protest. She began to open them but was more gentle than she had been on my
pussy. It was extremely uncomfortable but tolerable.

I felt her finger being inserted and feeling around, but again it did not cause
any real pain. She asked Goldie for a swab and I felt it reach deep into me. The
swab and the clamp were removed. Was it over I thought. The Dr. made more
entries in the chart and told Mrs. Winston everything seemed in order. She went
on to say in her opinion I would have no trouble with anal penetration, and
could take long, large objects. As much as I did not want to hear what they were
saying, I was relieved, thinking the exam was over. I did not know then that
their fun was about to start.

They retired to a corner of the room and sipped more champagne. Their voices
were muted, but I could tell they were in heated conversation. Finally they
returned to me. I asked if I could be released since the examination was over.
Again that familiar smirk came to the three faces. Mrs. Winston answered by
saying that indeed the exam was almost finished but now was the time for them to
indulge in a few of their perversions.

Once again I was gripped by fear. The Dr. came up to my head and started to undo
the strap saying it was no longer necessary and would give me the opportunity to
better see what they were doing. The strap was removed and I turned my head in
time to see a truly bizarre sight. Goldie was on her knees in front of Mrs.
Winston inserting a large double ended dildo into her gaping pussy. She then
fastened straps around Mrs. Winstons waist that held it in place. Mrs Winston
turned to face me and at first glance it appeared as if she had grown a giant
penis. It had to be 12 inches in length. The look on her face coupled with what
the Dr. said about long, large objects gave me a feeling of impending doom. I
remember thinking that she was about to rape me. As she walked up to me I asked
in a trembling voice what she was going to do. I recall how in a lusty tone she
replied that she was going to fuck me in the ass. I began to protest that it was
too big and would cause damage. She answered I had better get used to it and
would not be injured, just made to scream. The Dr. came up and mercifully spread
lubricant on the dildo and with a huge grin said to hurry because she wanted to
play too.

Mrs. Winston took a position between my widely spread legs and I felt the dildo
brush against my most intimate opening. I remember the waves of disgust that
came over me. Here I was bound to a table totally exposed about to be sodomized
by a woman while two others looked on. I just completed the thought as Mrs.
Winston grabbed my thighs and lunged forward. The searing pain and the sudden
thrust into my intestine took my breath away. She pulled out and lunged into me
again, this drove the dildo all the way into me and caused me to start screaming
again. I begged her to stop saying she was tearing me apart. She just fucked me
harder. She kept fucking, I kept screaming. The other two kept laughing and
making lewd comments. This continued for what seemed an eternity until to my
disgust and disbelief, she reached orgasm. After several more thrusts she
slumped between my widespread thighs and pulled the dildo out of me. I felt the
need to vomit but was afraid of the punishment it would bring.

Mrs. Winston finally stood up and said the next time will be better. She would
have me bent over properly and would use a bigger dildo. I felt this had to be
the ultimate degradation. I had been raped by a woman with a rubber cock. I
turned my head away, totally mortified. I did not know then that this would be
the first of a long line of sexual assaults on my defenseless body. I would even
learn to welcome the sexual abuse, it was better than some diabolical torture. I
recall how no sooner was Mrs. Winston through with me, the Dr. came forward. I
was disgusted by the prospect of being used as an object for her perverted lust.
I was not to be that fortunate. She received her sexual gratification by
administering pain. She studied me a long time. Her eyes roamed my entire body
as if looking for a spot to violate. She seemed to make up her mind and went
into action.

The table was readjusted to bring my legs down and my thighs closer together.
The head was brought up slightly as if I were reclining. My arms were also
retied over my head and behind me. Although I had straps across my chest, my
breasts were thrust forward. She took a step back and focused directly at my
chest. I shuddered at what I knew she was thinking. It was obvious she was
planning something for my breasts.

She walked over to the cabinet and took out two large vials. One was marked
saline the other glucose. I had no idea what she was preparing to do. She then
began opening packages of disposable syringes. A wave of panic swept over me.
The wrapping on the syringes read 2 inches + 20 cc and she was filling them from
the 2 vials. What could all these needles have to do with my breasts. Something
that was said earlier came to mind.

I remembered that during the examination of my breasts Mrs. Winston asked the
Dr. if the syringes could be used. I immediately began screaming and begging the
Dr. not to use those on me. I could not even begin to imagine these needles put
into my bound and vulnerable breasts. This woman was a Dr. She had to know the
injuries she could cause. My mind was in a frenzy. Could what she planned to do
be fatal. What had been done so far, as bad as it had been, did not have the
ramifications of what I feared was to come.

As I looked back at the Dr. she was busy placing the loaded syringes into a
glass canister. She then placed the canister on a Bunson Burner. Why was she
sterilizing already sterile needles? My emotions were running wild, absolute
terror, fear of the unknown, self pity and also anger for putting myself in this
position.

Even now safe in my apartment, those same emotions were consuming me. As was the
case back then in the Drs. office I was in a reclining position fearing my
coming ordeal. After some of the things that were done to me that day, fear of
the unknown had lessened. I now had some idea of what these people were capable
of but was also sure there were many surprises in store for me. The terror was
still a big factor. I had no idea how far they would take their need to inflict
pain. A day did not pass without my feeling sorry for myself. I knew what I had
already endured and always feared to what extremes I would be subjected. And
last but far from least was the reflection on my own stupidity.

I checked the time and found it was only a few minutes later than it had been.
Time was on their side. The more time I had the more pain my mind inflicted on
me. I lit another cigarette, inhaled deeply and tried to rid my mind of the
memories. Even this comfort would be denied me.

As if my mind had a will of its own, the horrible memories of Dr. Kim's office
consumed me. While they were waiting for the needles to be sterilized the three
women once again surrounded me. I looked at Mrs. Winston and asked her what they
were going to do to me. She explained how in payment for the Drs. services she
would be allowed to as, she put it, indulge herself. She said that although the
Dr. had a very successful practice and had many patients, she seldom had the
chance to use her real talents.

I was told how many years ago in North Viet Nam Dr. Kim had a very different
profession. She had been in charge of interrogating female prisoners. She went
on to tell me how several years ago she and Mr. Winston had been fortunate
enough to meet the good Dr. and bring her into their little group. I remembered
her referring to her friends as she called them when I had signed the contract
turning me into their slave. I had now met two of these friends. The Dr. and on
tape, the Wardress. I silently wondered what other deviates she referred to as
friends.

My thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Winstons voice. She went on telling me how
the Drs. special talents had been helpful to the group in the past years. She
had helped the Wardress by teaching her various methods of torture and
punishment. The Dr. was also responsible for training the slaves that belonged
to members of the group. She had also provided countless hours of entertainment
in the form of acting as torturess at certain functions. And last but most
important she was responsible for the physical condition of the victims and they
used. She had to make sure they were in good health and free of any contagious
diseases and also treat any injuries that might occur.

As she spoke the knot in my stomach was growing tighter. Mrs. Winston calmly and
somewhat sarcastically went on to tell me how the Dr. was going to inject the
contents of the syringes into my breasts. She was confirming my fears. I
remember how as I started to shake, my eyes wandered down to the bosom they
planned to assault. As I had done before I began to beg. Appealing to them as
human beings I apologized for what I had done, I even found myself pleading for
a different form of punishment. I just could not bear the thought of them
hurting my breasts. The terror grew worse as I watched the Dr. approach with the
canister of syringes. As she set it down on a small tray next to my table I saw
the steam rising from it. One look at the dozen or so needles caused me to start
screaming and trying to pull free of the straps. As if a command was given by
the Dr., Mrs. Winston and Goldie moved to my side. The Dr. was ready. I stopped
screaming in time to hear her tell the two spectators that she would try to put
five or six injections in each tit. The terror I felt was so consuming I could
not even scream, all I could do was focus on the Drs. movements.

She began by wiping my entire chest with alcohol. I recall how through my sobs I
asked her why she was doing this to me. Her answer was painfully simple, she
wanted to hear me scream, and see me writhe in agony. As she was pulling on a
pair of heavy rubber gloves she told me the fluid in the syringes obviously was
very hot. She continued to explain that the syringes contained saline and
glucose which would dissipate into my system after about 24 hours. Although the
temperature and volume of the fluid to be injected would cause internal pain and
swelling I would have no permanent injury. She did not complete the sentence as
she retrieved the first syringe.

I had never been afraid of needles but this was different. As this instrument
which was usually used for healing approached my left breast I felt the blood
drain from my head. The room began to spin and I sought the welcome relief of
unconsciousness. Even this luxury was to be denied me. The Dr. instructed Goldie
to give me a few breaths of Amyl Nitrate so I would be totally alert. Goldie
jumped to the task and I was again painfully aware of what was going to happen.
The Dr. slowly began to insert the needle into the bottom of the breast.
Although painful it was not as terrible as I had imagined. Through the sobbing
and begging I watched as she repeated the process in the other breast. The Dr.
continued by inserting four syringes at 90 degree angles in each. Now each one
of my breasts was impaled by four needles. As I looked down at them I felt as if
I was in a trance. As I watched the Dr. I could not believe I was taking this
invasion so calmly. My brain was in a frenzy. Even though I was in pain it was
not nearly as bad as I had imagined. Then the realization hit me and again I
began to scream. She did not as yet inject the fluid.

As if reading my thoughts, the Dr. grasped the first syringe and pushed the
plunger. The pain was much like the cattle prod I had experienced earlier. The
agony I felt was so intense I could not get the scream past my lips. I remember
how I tried to rip free of my bonds. For the second time in a few hours I seemed
to be blinded by the pain. Every nerve in my body was ablaze. As she continued
to inject the fluids from all eight syringes the searing agony was so bad I
began to smash my head against the table in an attempt to knock myself out. No
matter what I did the agony continued. To make the whole scene even worse I
remember the three faces of my tormentors staring down at me. Finally all the
fluid was in my breasts and the needles were being removed. As the Dr. pulled
them from me the screaming continued. My throat was raw, and the sounds were
more animal than human.

I recall how between the screams I ground my teeth until I was sure they would
break in my mouth. I managed to look down as the last instrument of torture was
removed. The sight before my eyes caused me to start screaming again. My breasts
appeared twice their normal size. Seeing the swelling and the beet red color, I
refused to believe these were my once alluring breasts. I also felt as if I had
been consumed by a high fever. My whole body was covered in sweat. The Dr. was
taking my pulse and checking to see if I was all right. I remember her telling
me to calm down, the worst was over.

I continued to sob uncontrollably as the pain in my breasts was still very
intense. Again the Dr. reached under the table, put the oxygen mask on my face
and told me to breath deeply. The oxygen had the desired affect, I immediately
began to calm down. The mask was removed and the three women gathered around me
and began surveying the damage they had done. The Dr. told the others that in
her opinion I had enough torture for my first time and wanted the treatment to
take its full effect. By the looks on the three faces the women were extremely
pleased by what they had done. To make it all more unbearable they all began to
feel and squeeze my burning breasts.

All I could do was cry and demand to know what had been done and would I return
to normal. The Dr., who seemed very proud of herself told me that I took about 8
ounces in each tit and would be fine by tomorrow night. She went on to tell me
how she wanted to give me two more injections in each, but would save the full
treatment for a later date. Her tone became very sarcastic as she told me how
lucky I had been this time. Next time she would inject the nipples also. I was
speechless. These people were absolute maniacs.

Even now in my own bedroom the events of that day brought a cold sweat over my
entire body. I caressed my breasts wondering if they would receive more of the
dreaded treatment tonight. As I had done on numerous occasions I considered
running away from this insanity but as usual thought of my family and John.
Maybe the visit to the Dr. had been the worst. I would know more tomorrow. I
tried to be optimistic and tell myself that there was nothing more they could
do. Even as I tried to talk myself into this false sense of reality, the fear
tore at my very soul. Again I checked the time, I would have to start dressing
in about 45 minutes. I lit another cigarette and closed my eyes. In seconds my
mind went involuntarily back to Dr. Kims office.

There I was bound to the table with the three women still examining my tortured
and grotesque breasts. Some of the comments they made were as bad as the needles
being plunged into me. The Dr. was saying how the next time she would be able to
use more syringes and inject more fluid. Mrs. Winston, apparently not satisfied
with what they had already done, was asking what else could be done now. She was
telling the other two how in her opinion I was getting off too easily. As
terrible as it was hearing what they were saying, I felt a small sense of
relief, thinking they were through for now. But as I had been on more than one
occasion since this nightmare started, I was wrong.

The Dr. again with a smile on her face reminded the others that she still had
not taken a blood sample. I remember now how I felt an instant knot deep in my
stomach. I had seen that smile before and knew it meant I would be made to
endure more anguish. Mrs. Winstons attitude changed immediately. She began to
question the Dr. as to where she would take it from. The look on my face must
have told the Dr. I was again suffering from the mental torture, so she seized
the opportunity.

She began to tell the others some of her favorite spots. After she made two or
three suggestions, I was screaming and begging. After a short debate it was
decided that my breasts would be used since they were very prominent. As
ridiculous as it sounds I was relieved. The other areas she discussed were my
clitoris or the lips of my pussy. I recall how I begged her not to hurt me
anymore as she took out another syringe.

She paid no attention to my pleas and just inserted the needle directly into my
nipple. I watched and cried as some blood was drawn and the syringe was removed.
Although painful it was in no way as bad as what she already did. Then the
syringe was roughly pushed into the other nipple. This one was much worse than
the first. Before she took blood she pushed the needle as deep as it would go.
Then as the Dr. looked into my eyes she began to twist and probe. Suddenly
everything went black.

Again I awoke with the oxygen mask on my face. Mercifully that was over. I
remember how totally exhausted and beaten I just laid there sobbing in my bonds.
After a few minutes of discussion by my tormentors Mrs. Winston told Goldie to
release me. Waves of emotion swept over me. I had survived, they were through
hurting me, I could go home.

I was wrong again. After all the straps were removed I was made to stand and the
women took the opportunity to examine me. I remember how I was made to walk
around the room as they made remarks about what they had done and would do in
the future. I was still in a lot of pain and stumbled several times causing them
to laugh as they grabbed the abused portions of my body. Finally Goldie was told
to help me to the bathroom and clean me up.

The large woman grabbed me and headed in the direction of a hidden door. She
must have felt that this was her opportunity to cause me additional pain as she
placed her hand on my swollen and sensitive breast. I was openly crying as much
from the pain as from the humiliation of the session. Once in the small but well
appointed bathroom, any dignity I had gone, I just sat on the bowl and emptied
my bladder in the normal way. I felt an acute burning sensation and told Goldie.
Her response was that I better get used to the feeling since they would use the
catheter often.

I just sat with my face buried in my hands quietly sobbing. The black maid spent
the time by taunting me saying that I was crying needlessly. She told me I had
better resign myself to the fact that this was only a mild introduction, and it
would get much worse. Her words only made the whole situation worse. She then
shocked me back to reality by grabbing a handful of hair and jerking me to my
feet. I was ordered to wash my face, fix my make up and straighten my hair. I
was quick to obey, not wanting to make this woman angry.

I was ushered back into the examination room. Mrs. Winston and the Dr. were both
dressed and told me to put my bra back on, and follow them upstairs. The thought
of how tight it had been before brought an immediate protest from me. I said
that it would be impossible because of the swelling and the pain it would cause.
Mrs. Winston became very angry and told Goldie to put it on me, saying I had
better learn how to take orders. The maid came up behind me and roughly put the
bra around my chest and tried to fasten it. The pressure on my breasts was more
than I could stand and I broke free and again tried to run for the door. I
remember how I pulled at it before I realized it was locked. The three women
surrounded me and dragged me screaming to the center of the room. With the
cattle prod in her hand Mrs Winston told me to stand still while the bra was
fastened around me. Under the threat of the cattle prod I stood motionless as
Goldie and the Dr. forced my swollen breasts into the constricting bra. It felt
as if a steel band was being tightened around me. The pain in my breasts was
reaching the same heights as when the fluid was being injected. I felt waves of
nausea sweep over me but I was to terrified to move. The bra was finally in
place.

The trio stood in front of me admiring the effects. As I looked down all I could
see was two bulging mounds of angry red flesh crisscrossed by bright blue veins
and hideous black and blue marks. I remember how my mind refused to accept the
fact that they were mine.

The sound of Mrs. Winston screaming at me jarred me back to attention. I was
ordered to follow her and the others. We left the room and walked back upstairs
to an ornate office. The pain of the tortures I had endured and the tight
underwear made the short walk seem like miles. Each breath brought a stabbing
pain to my chest and each step reminded me of the violation of my two lower
openings. As the three women made themselves comfortable I was ordered to stand
at attention.

I recall how Mrs. Winston began to give me more details of my enslavement. The
first thing she said was assuming all the tests came back satisfactorily we
would proceed with the arrangement. If not she would call the police and have me
arrested and sent to prison. Next I was to address her and her group as Masters
and Mistresses. They would be made known to me shortly. I was to follow any
command given me and would be severely punished for any disobedience. I was also
informed that the first party as she called it would be in two weeks on a
Saturday night. It would begin at 7pm and last for at least 12 hours. I would be
picked up and brought back home by limo. If I required any medical attention
that would be handled by Dr. Kim. I would also receive further instructions
prior to each party. They might involve being fitted for special clothing, going
to get certain articles, receiving required treatments or submitting to periodic
medical examinations at the hands of the Dr. I recall as I stood there trying to
absorb what she was saying, that I felt as if life as I knew it had come to an
end. I was the unwilling captive to a group of sadistic lunatics. As bad as the
things I had just heard were, her next words put me over the edge and had me on
my knees begging.

I was told that in order to complete my first lesson I would have to be punished
for trying to escape the examination room. It would also serve to show my
willingness to obey. As if she was telling me to perform some simple office
task, she went on. I was told to bend over the edge of the desk and hold the
opposite side. She explained how I was to spread my legs and not move as Goldie
whipped my ass and the backs of my thighs. If I resisted or did not keep the
position I would be tied down and receive double the amount of strokes.

I remember how I knelt at her feet crying and begging them not to do anymore.
She just looked down at me with a look of total contempt and said to get over
the desk. I stayed on the floor looking into their faces, searching for a sign
of compassion, but found none. Instead my eyes fell upon the dreaded cattle prod
in Mrs. Winstons hand. I had no choice but obey, anything would be better than
the paralyzing pain of that murderous instrument. Again beaten and resigned to
my fate I got up and slowly approached the desk. I looked back one last time and
knew there would be no reprieve. Mrs. Winston and the Dr. were moving their
chairs in order to get a better view of my punishment and submission. Logically
I knew there was no other alternative. I would have to learn to accept my new
role as a slave. As I bent over the desk Goldie told me to grasp the opposite
edge. That was just another lesson in how diabolical these people really were.
As soon as my breasts came in contact with the surface I screeched and stood
straight up. I remember looking at the women and saying how I was in too much
pain to lay on the desk.

Before my sentence was complete ropes were being applied to my wrists and
ankles. Mrs. Winston was pleased to inform me that my reaction was anticipated
and now I would be bound and receive double. Goldie tied the ropes to the legs
of the desk causing most of my weight to fall on my tortured breasts. Next my
ankles were tied to the opposite legs spreading me out totally. all I could do
was lay there and whimper as much from embarrassment as from the pain.

As I looked up I saw Goldie holding a wide leather strap about 18 inches long
with a short wooden handle. I had never seen any kind of whip before and had no
way of knowing the severity of this instrument but I would learn all to quickly.
Mrs. Winston made the announcement that I was to get six, but do to my lack of
discipline I would now receive twelve. I remember thinking how this was the
worst part of a truly terrible evening.

Here I was a 38 year old intelligent, independent female bound to a desk in
provocative lingerie about to be whipped like a child. To make matters worse I
would be beaten by a woman for the pleasure of two other women. Nothing could
have prepared me for the first stroke of the strap. It crashed down on me with
the force of a baseball bat. The pain was incredible. I was instantly screaming
and tearing at the ropes. This pain was new and different. The needles and the
rape were an acute pain, this was just savage brutality. The second stroke took
my breath away as it slammed into me. My attempts to break free only added to
the intense pain in my chest. As the beating continued I was sure the flesh was
being ripped from my ass. At one point I looked over my shoulder to see this
massive near naked black woman swinging the strap and again felt the agony of
the blow. I lost track of everything around me. I was being consumed by the
brutality of the beating. As terrible as the blows to my ass were they paled in
comparison to the last few on my spread thighs. In a dazed state I recall the
ropes being removed and thinking it was over.

I awoke on the floor with the Dr. holding smelling salts under my nose. I was
too exhausted to even move. My entire body was a mass of pain and it was hard to
focus my thoughts. My first instinct was to look around to my ass cheeks, I was
sure they were a bloody mess. Instead of blood I saw a mass of black and blue
swollen flesh from the bottom of the cincher to the tops of the stockings. I
touched the area and felt a series of ridges running parallel to each other.
Where the strap came in contact with the stockings, the nylon was torn to
shreds. The skin felt as if it was on fire and throbbed in an unmerciful way. I
remained sprawled on the floor sobbing and trying to collect my thoughts. I
could not believe the pain of the whipping. In its own way it was the worst
thing so far. I recall Mrs. Winston looking down at me with that now familiar
grin telling me to get up and stop carrying on. As I struggled to my feet she
threw my dress at me and told me to get dressed, it was time to leave. She added
as the ultimate insult that she did not want to be late for a dinner engagement.
Goldie helped me put my dress on and the two woman said goodbye to the Dr. and
walked me to the limo. I was barely able to walk and they almost carried me. The
pain was so severe I did not even care about the looks I was getting from the
chauffeur.

Once in the car I knew I could not sit and just slumped onto my side on the
floor. It seemed as though I had lost all dignity and self respect. The short
ride to my apartment lasted for ever. Mrs. Winston and Goldie talked about
future plans for me as if I were not present. At that point I was beyond caring.
When we arrived Goldie was told to assist me and Mrs. Winston coldly reminded me
to be on time for work on Monday. I recall how I struggled upstairs to the
safety of my bedroom.

And now two weeks later, here I was, back in my bedroom, looking at the clock
knowing it was time to get dressed. I was very upset with the prospects of what
was waiting for me. I was equally upset with the day I had just spent. Not
seeing John always had a bad effect on me. Now the fact that he was mad at me
made everything worse. How would I be able to handle his call tomorrow. What
condition would I be in. Would I even be able to talk at all. After the incident
at the Drs. office I had to tell him I was very sick and could not see him or
even talk very much. When I did finally see him on the following Wednesday I
lied about still feeling ill and asked him to leave early. All night I was in
terrible fear of the bruises on my body and was afraid of any intimate contact.
That was one time I was glad John is not an affectionate person. I would have to
figure out a way to deal with our sex life, as I was not sure what damage would
be done to me. The only encouraging thing was the fact that I was completely
healed from the beating and the injections in about a week. I resigned myself to
take it one day at a time. No use worrying about next week or even tomorrow, I
had to get through tonight first.

I went into the bathroom for a quick shower as per Mrs. Winstons instructions.
All the other hygienic preparations had been completed earlier. The note was
also very explicit as to hair and make up so I took a little extra time at the
mirror. Applying the make up as suggested in the note I almost cried with the
irony of the situation. Here I was getting made up to be tortured and used as a
sex object by a group of perverts. I could not help feeling sorry for myself.
What a disaster I had made of my life. And not even for any good reason. I never
even wore most of the things I bought with the money I had stolen. All these
thoughts would do me no good now I had to be strong in order to survive the
impending ordeal.

As much as I tried not to think about it, I could not keep my mind from
wandering. What forms of punishment would be used on me? What kind of sex acts
would I be forced to perform? The horror of being with another woman. As the
time for the first party was almost here, all the thoughts and fears were at a
fever pitch.

All other preparations complete, I went to the bottom of my closet and took out
the package of clothing I was given. The note said that I must wear only what
was in the package with a coat over it. I had not given it any advance thought,
but as I opened the bag the same feelings as I had in the office ladies room
with Goldie returned. I was staring at several pieces of strange lingerie. First
was a white heavily constructed 1/2 cup push up bra. Without even putting it on
I knew I would be very lewdly exposed and displayed in this garment. Being bare
breasted would be less embarrassing. Next was an article that was unfamiliar to
me. It was a old fashioned garter belt. It was very wide and heavily constructed
with 6 garters. It appeared to be specially made and was reinforced with steel
rods. and strong hooks. Of most concern to me were the four steel rings in the
front, back and sides. I was afraid to even contemplate their purpose. This also
was white. To finish the ensemble was a pair of black nylons and a pair of red
come fuck me shoes, as I call them.

Just looking at the underwear had me flushed with embarrassment. The thought of
being exhibited in front of at least 6 people dressed like this. I fought to
hold back the tears as I began to dress. The bra was very tight and hard to get
on and as expected exposed more than it concealed. My 34-D breasts appeared as
they had after the injections. They were almost twice their normal size and
stood high on my chest. The design of the cups left the nipples exposed but
otherwise held firmly. Looking in the mirror I had one thought only, total
vulnerability. The garter belt was a nightmare. It was so tight it took several
attempts to even get one hook caught. Having long finger nails I often have a
tough time with buttons and hooks. By the time this was fastened I was in a
sweat. It was so tight around my normally small waist I had the felling that my
internal organs were being rearranged. Once it was adjusted in its proper
position normal movement became difficult. Even breathing was a chore. Looking
down I could not help but wonder what purpose the rings would serve.

As I was about to try and figure out their purpose I realized it was only a few
minutes before 6. My instructions were very precise about being in front of my
house ready to be picked up at exactly 6 pm. I slipped on the shoes and almost
stumbled at the first step due to the height of the heels, they were highest I
had ever worn. As I went to the closet for my coat I could not help stopping in
front of the mirror and taking a good look at myself. The image reflecting back
could not be me. The woman I saw was indeed beautiful, but also very exposed and
vulnerable. The most obvious part of the picture were the eyes, they had a look
of fear, sadness, despair, and no hope whatever. They had the look of a slave.

The End of Part # 1 Continued in,

A Year of Slavery # 2-1

"The First Party"