Chapter One

“You will all stand at attention when the Supreme Sister enters the room,” the ceiling loudspeakers blared, just as the doors swung open and four women entered the room.  We all jumped to our feet and stood at a military type stance as the woman known as Supreme Sister entered, followed by three of her Committee colleagues and walked to the raised dais at the front of the room.

We were in a large room in the sub-basement of the Church of Salvation, a mega-congregation of over 20,000 members in the American Southwest, and I stood in a line with twenty or so other women, waiting for our first meeting with the Women’s Christian Discipline Committee.  Some of the women gathered there had been on the waiting list for several weeks or even months.  I felt fortunate that my friend Linda had used her influence to get me to the front of the list and I had only waited two weeks to receive my invitation to attend a Committee Conference, as it was called.

You may be wondering what we were all doing there, and why we were so eager to meet with the Committee.  As members of this huge Church, we all wanted to be regarded as full Sisters in the Congregation, but many of us, such as myself, had a drawback to receiving full Sisterhood.  We had no husbands. And the heart and soul of this congregation rests on Christian Discipline at home, a home run by a husband who has full authority of discipline over his wife and children.  Many of the women standing along with me this morning are divorced with children, yet anxious to receive favor with the Church and its Women’s Committee, since there are many advantages to being accepted as Full Sisters.  There is the Church of Salvation School, which is excellent, and full members don’t have to pay tuition.  There is a job exchange, where a talented Sister can get a great job, instead of the minimum wage thing I’ve been forced to take to support my kids since my useless ex-husband left us.  And there is the chance to be set up with very eligible men who might be a good match, certainly a better match than the last one I had.

So I felt lucky to be standing in line with the others on this Monday morning, waiting for my opportunity to apply to the Committee.

“Welcome applicant sisters,” the woman I took to be the Supreme Sister said to us. 

“Thank you Sister,” we reply in unison, having been instructed that this is the only response we are to give, or are even allowed to say, until we are called for our individual interviews.

“Not loud enough, or enthusiastic enough,” another woman calls out.  “Try it again, you supplicants.”

“THANK YOU SISTER!” we shout, hoping this will satisfy.

“No need to be quite so loud,” another of the four women noted, “but at least you are paying attention.”  She paused, looking at us.

“Thank you, Sister,” came responses from several of the women, and I hurried to join in the thanks.

The fourth woman stood up and spoke.  “I am Beatrice, otherwise known as Supreme Sister of this Congregation.  I am the true sister of our beloved Brother James, pastor of the Church of Salvation, and he has entrusted me with the operation and supervision of the Women’s Christian Discipline Committee.  While here, you are to refer to me as ‘Supreme Sister.’  My other colleagues up here with me today are referred to as ‘Reverend Sister,’ or ‘Respected Sister.’  Is that clear?

“Yes Supreme Sister, thank you, Sister” we all reply.

“Good.  Not bad as a response,” Supreme Sister says.  “Now shall we get to business?”

“Yes Supreme Sister, thank you, Sister” we all reply again.

“Sister Elaine will you please explain the protocol for today?” she asked as she took her seat in the tallest chair on the platform.  A heavy-set buxom woman at the end of the head table rose to address us.  Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her stubby hands held a leather paddle as she looked up and down the line of us, back and forth again, before she spoke.

“So, you wish to be recognized among our full Sisterhood, do you?” she asked, still slapping the paddle with her palm as she paced back and forth.

“YES, Sister, thank you,” we all replied.

“Well then, we will begin with the rules of joining into our Sisterhood.  Each of you must undergo a training period of three to six months.  The length of training will depend upon your obedience in the program, and in your willingness and availability for training sessions.  All training sessions are in addition to weekly discipline sessions, the first of which you will each receive today as part of our interview process.  Is that understood?”

“Yes Revered Sister, thank you, Sister” we all reply.

“Good.  We might be getting somewhere with the lot of you,” she replied, still pacing and slapping the paddle on her hand.  “First rule of discipline is absolute obedience to a command.”  She tuned to one of her colleagues seated at the table.  “Sister Martha, as training director, what is your first command?”

The tall woman stood up and simply replied, “Remove all of your clothing.”

We all looked at each other as if to say, ‘I can’t believe she said that!’ and then sister Elaine roared out, “she said to strip down, NOW!  I will give you fifteen seconds to be naked and in line, starting now!”

We all started pulling clothes off in frenzy, throwing blouses and skirts, peeling bra straps down, unsnapping them.   I looked around as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties, seeing if others were removing their panties, too.  They were, and I yanked mine down and tossed them off my feet.  I found myself standing there naked, and instinctively covered my breasts with one arm and my crotch with my other hand. 

“Strip completely, you have five seconds, four, three, two one, STOP!” Elaine screamed.  Everyone froze.  Two or three women were sobbing.  Two of them stood there with panties partway down their thighs.  The rest of us stood naked, covering ourselves.  Elaine stepped down from the platform and walked toward the ragged line we now stood in.  “Attention, all of you!”  She barked.

We jumped to stand straight, reluctantly letting our hands to our sides.  Some women tried to stand straight and still cover themselves.  “The proper attention stance for discipline is with the hands clasped behind the neck while standing rigid,” Elaine said as she approached us and we all complied.  She went to the woman next to me who still had her panties almost to her knees.

“Not naked,” Elaine lectured.  “Should I give you a demerit for this?”

“Sister, please, I – uh” the woman tried to say.

“Enough! Quiet!” Elaine snapped at her.  “I don’t need any excuses.  For that, you will now get two demerits.”  She moved down the line to the other woman who clutched at her panties, not knowing what to do at that point.

“Attention! Hands on head!” she roared in the woman’s face.  “Two demerits for you, too.”  Then she whirled around to the rest of us.  “Line up in a straight line, toes on the white stripe on the floor.”  There will be one initial demerit for each of you, making it three for these two delinquents,” she added, pointing to the two cringing women, their panties still dangling around their knees.

“Come over here, you two,” she demanded pointing to a small raised area at the side of the room.  “Leave your underwear at your knees, half-mast we call it, but don’t you dare let them fall.”  The two women waddled over, trying to keep the waistbands tight enough to hold them in place around their knees s they walked.  “Sister Barbara, would you please demonstrate the consequences of three demerits in such a short time?”

Sister Barbara was a short, slightly plump woman with small breasts and a large round ass.  She had small dark eyes that seemed to be too close together on her sour-looking face.  Her red hair was cut very short and looked plastered to her head.  She unclipped a riding crop from her belted skirt.  She stepped up onto the platform and motioned with her crop for the two women to step up, still trying to hold their panties in the proper position.

“Stand with your feet in the circles,” she said, pointing to the pairs of yellow circles on the platform.  “Bend over.  Pull your panties out and put your face in the crotch,” she continued, as the women struggled to bend that far and comply.

Both the unfortunate women jerked and pulled at their big white granny panties as each stuck her nose as close to the crotch as she could get.   Sister Barbara stepped to the side, raised her arm and delivered a vicious swinging stroke on first one right cheek, then the other’s left cheek.  The slapper on the end of the crop left a bright red triangle on each ass cheek as she altered her swing to the opposite cheek for each of the victims.    One woman yelped in pain, the other cried out.

“SILENCE!”  Sister Elaine roared.  “No one was given permission to speak!”  She stepped back from her position on the dais and straightened her starched blouse, pulling it over her broad bosom.  “You will endure your demerit discipline without plaguing us with your noise and wails, understood?”  She sat back down.  “Did I make myself understood?” she asked, even louder this time.

“Yes Reverend Sister, thank you, Sister” came a unison response from the two women, still bent over and trembling as their voices shook in their acknowledgement.

“Very well,” said Elaine form the dais.  “Sister Barbara, you may now continue with the discipline.”

“Thank you honored Sister,” Barbara replied, then turned to the two asses bent before her.  “The first two demerits mean you get six with the crop on each cheek, like this” she said as she brought the down again on each quivering ass.  “Of course, the strokes I’ve just given are for demonstration only, and the count doesn’t start until I say so,” she grinned to her fellow Committee Sisters as she paced behind the two women.  “And for the third demerit, you will each receive another six, up the middle, we call it.  But that will wait until you have received what you deserve from the first two.  Is that understood?”

“Yes Reverend Sister, thank you, Sister” the two replied, their voices still shaking.

Barbara stepped back and swung the crop, then immediately sidestepped and delivered another slashing stroke on the second ass without missing a beat.  She began a rhythmic, almost dance-like step between the two asses presented to her crop, slicing and slashing through the dozen swats for each.

We all stood at attention and watched.  When the woman to my right whimpered and looked away, one of the other Sisters walked up behind her, grabbed a handful of hair and jerked her head back forcing her to watch the punishment.

“Everyone watches this punishment, understood?” she snarled, yanking on the woman’s hair again.

“Yes Reverend Sister, thank you, Sister!”  we all responded as Sister Barbara finished up the cropping.

Sister Beatrice stood up from her chair at the dais, scanning across the line of applicant women.  Her gaze bored in on me for a moment, then moved along the line.  “Now, each of you will come to the front, bend and ask Sister Elaine for your first demerit swats, thanking her earnestly and enthusiastically,

then return to your place in line.  Understood?”

“Yes Supreme Sister, thank you, Sister” came our reply.

Sister Elaine pointed to the woman at the extreme left of the line, a short brunette with heavy breasts and a large butt.  The woman rushed to the platform, bent over grabbing the backs of her thighs, and hesitantly asked “Please Honored Sister may I have my first demerit strokes?”

Elaine kicked the back of the woman’s legs so that the knees buckled and she fell to the floor, catching herself with her hands, with head down and ass up.

“Strokes are heavier punishments, given with the cane, the whip or the flogger,” she barked out and holding the woman down with a heel on her neck.  “Swats are less heavy, usually given with the crop or various paddles or straps.  Spanks are lighter yet, given over the knee with the hairbrush or with the open hand,” Elaine turned back to the line of applicants and smiled.  “And since this one asked for strokes instead of swats, perhaps she should get them, don’t you think?”

“Yes Reverend Sister, thank you, Sister” we all replied, each of us trying not to quiver and shake with thoughts of the punishment to come. 

“Very well, Sister Elaine,” Beatrice said from the dais.  “Please continue with the Medium Cane.”   Elaine crossed to rack of implements on a side wall, selected a formidable cane with a leather wrapped handle and came back to the platform, swishing it in the air.  The whooshing sounds it made were not lost on any of us trembling in line.  I was just hoping she wouldn’t decide to use it on all of us.

“You will thank me for each, and ask for another stroke, is that clear?”  Elaine asked firmly, her face down near the woman’s ear. 

“Yes Reverend Sister, thank you, Sister,” the woman could barely speak through her fear.

Elaine stepped back, gave a couple of practice swings, then came down hard, the cane visibly compressing the ample butt cheeks as it struck.  The woman yelped slightly, caught her breath, and almost yelled out, “Thank you, Reverend Sister, may I please have another stroke?”

“No need to yell in here,” Elaine said as she bent over to speak in the woman’s ear and tug at her hair as she rubbed the cane up and down the woman’s butt crack.  “Ready for the next?”

“Yes Reverend Sister, thank you, Sister” came the reply.

The next five strokes were quick; each one leaving a nasty red welt expertly placed an inch above the previous stroke.  Then the Sister pointed to the extreme right end of the line and motioned for that woman to come to the platform.  I was near the center of the line, so I waited as women alternately went up to bend and beg for swats, not wanting to ask for strokes. 

But the fifth woman to assume the position at the platform apparently wasn’t earnest enough in her asking because Sister Elaine yanked her down to her knees and snapped, “When you beg for swats, you have to MEAN IT!”  She turned to us in the line.  “That goes for all of you.  We expect and DEMAND utter sincerity in an applicant’s begging for discipline and in the gratitude shown after receiving discipline.  Do you understand?”

“Yes Reverend Sister, thank you, Sister,” we all replied, each trying to be as sincere as we could.  

Sister Elaine toed the woman with her shoe.  “Now, beg for It for real this time and ask for extras.”

“Please Reverend Sister, may I have extras for not being sincere?” She was trembling so hard that she could barely speak but she stammered the words out.  And she burbled and panted after each swat but managed to show proper gratitude for six and asking for three more.

“Since you asked so nicely, I think I’ll give you those three with this,” Elaine said, reaching for a split tawse with a heavy wooden handle and bringing it down extra hard right along her victim’s ass crack.

Th-  thank you, Reverend Sister, may I please have another?” she choked, trying to hold back tears.  After the next two swats and the proper thank you’s, Elaine grabbed her by the hair and kicked her toward the line.  “Crawl back to your place and remain on all fours with head down and ass up.”  Elaine walked along the line, eyeing each of us as the woman hustled back to her position in the line.

“Just to help keep the rest of you focused,” she said, “when I call your turn, you will drop to all fours and crawl to the platform before begging for your six.  And let’s start at the middle now,” she said tapping the shoulder of the woman to my right with her crop.

I knew this woman, named is Sheila.  Our daughters are in the same class at Sunday School.  She was desperate to get into the Sisterhood to try for a better job.  But she burst into tears as she crawled to the platform, crying so hard that you couldn’t understand a thing she said.

“Now, now” Elaine chided,  “I don’t care for those tears unless you’ve been given something to really cry about, so why don’t you calm down and ask for ten strokes from my black cat?”  Elaine stepped to a side table and brought out a black cat o nine tails made from black nylon line with various knots along each tail.  “This will give you something to cry about, now let me hear the rest of you count for her, while she still thanks me and asks for another.”

The strokes fell, instantly reddening the woman’s trembling ass cheeks as the rest of us counted out each stroke and the victim choked and burbled her thank you for each along with a garbled request for another stroke.   Sheila crawled back to the line, still whimpering.

Sister Martha stepped to the center and pointed to me.  “I will take the next bunch, Sister.  You, hands and knees, get up here.” 

I dropped to all fours and crawled forward to the platform as fast as I could.  Sister Martha stared down at me while tapping one hand with a large black fly swatter.

“Up here, assume the position, while keeping your brainless head below the level of your ugly butt.”

“Thank you, Reverend Sister, may I please have six swats?” I asked in a quavering voice as I struggled to my feet while keeping my head down and my trembling ass up.

“I prefer to be called ‘Respected Sister’,” Martha replied, tapping along my thighs and over my hips before landing the first swat squarely on my right butt cheek.

       

       

CHAPTER 2

“Thank you, Respected Sister, may I please have another swat?”  I said, gasping for breath and waiting for the sting of the next swat coming down on me.  The stinging, burning sensation was incredible.  I had never imagined a flyswatter delivering pain like that.  Sister Martha paused, sliding the swatter over my hips and across my thighs before smacking down hard with the second swat.

“Thank you, Respected Sister, may I please have another swat?”  I caught a quick breath before blurting it out, trying not to show the stress in my voice.

Sister Martha leaned over my ear, and I could smell the overwhelming scent of some perfume, I couldn’t quite place what it was.  You would think that after two years behind the fragrance counter at Macy’s I would be able to place it but I didn’t.  I just braced for the next shot.   “Relax your butt muscles, girl” she cooed.  “It will ease the shock.” 

You try relaxing your butt with that thing smacking down on it, I thought,

waiting for the next swat and feeling the handle of the flyswatter sliding up and down my butt crack.  Then it came, hard and fast.  I don’t know of I had relaxed or tensed my ass, and it didn’t really seem to matter.

       “Thank you, Respected Sister, may I please have another swat?”  I almost yelled it this time.

       Martha leaned toward me again.  “Don’t you dare yell at ME!  Unless you would like an extra three.”

       “Sorry Respected Sister,” I whimpered, trying to show contrition.  “May I please have extra swats for yelling?”

       “Since you asked so nicely, why not two?” Martha replied, giving me two quick hard ones.

       “Thank you, Respected Sister, may I please have another swat?”  I repeated twice, as fast as I could.  The next three swats seemed even harder as I completed my gratitude, even asking for one more after the last one.

       “Since you seem to be too stupid to count correctly, I will oblige you,” Sister Martha sneered as she reversed her grip and brought the wire handle of the flyswatter down across my flaming cheeks.

       “Thank you, Respected Sister, thank you,” I said, turning to crawl back to the line.  When I reached the line and started to stand up at attention, I quickly swept my hand across my butt where I could feel the ridge of a welt from that last swat.

       After all 21 of us had received our first sets of six or more swats and we all remained at attention, arms aching from holding them at the position, Sister Beatrice rose again.

       “You will all now take a seat on the bench behind you,” she said.

       “Yes Supreme Sister, thank you, Sister,” we said, turning to approach the bench.  I looked down before I sat, seeing that the bench was made of a rough plank with three strips of angle iron running along each edge and the center of the seat, to create maximum discomfort, I was sure.  We all sat, knowing that the pressure from the iron edges would be agony.

Sister Beatrice walked along our line without looking at us as she approached a pair of doors at the end of the room.  “Sister Barbara will now bring the basket, and you will each draw a ball from it.  That will be your number for our intake interview process.  After taking a ball, place it in your mouth with the number facing out, place your hands in a prayer position between your breasts and remain that way until your number is called.”  Sister Elaine opened the door for her as they went into the adjoining room, leaving us with Barbara and Sister Martha.

“Yes Supreme Sister, thank you, Sister” we called out as she left.  We each chose a ball from the basket as Sister Barbara passed along the bench.  My number was 16.  When all the numbers had been chosen, Sister Martha paced up and down the line and followed Sister Barbara to the door.

“Sister, be sure to place the welcome mat,” Martha said as she left the room.  Sister Barbara rolled out a rough sisal mat in front of the door, then took a bucket and dumped and scattered the contents across the mat.  It was a mixture of sand and rough gravel 

Sister Barbara grinned as she spread the last of the gravel with the toe of her shoe.  “We call this grovel gravel,” she smiled, lifting up a small hatch at the bottom of the door.  It looked like the kind of door you would use for a dog or cat to come and go in your house, To get through it, you have to be on your belly, I thought.

“This is where you will enter the interview room as your number is called.  Listen for your number and then enter with the proper attitude.”  She closed the door behind her and we heard a bolt locking it shut as the little door swung back and forth from its top hinges.  A lecture on obedience to the laws of Scripture came over the loudspeakers as we each waited our turn.

While we sat there waiting, I thought through the whole process.  Is this even remotely worth the indignities I’ve already suffered today, I thought?  This is probably just the beginning of what these cruel bitches have in mind for us, and why should I go through with it?  Then I remembered what Linda had told me, and how she had gotten a great job with the Church’s credit union through her membership in the Women’s Committee.  And her two kids went to the Church’s prep school tuition-free.  And I had heard that the discipline required for membership was tough, and continued right up to the top of the Committee’s structure.  Little did I know, right?

Perhaps I should say more about myself.  My name in Meredith, I am 37 years old with twin daughters, 14 going on twenty-two.  I have shoulder length brown hair and I color out the grey streaks that are starting to show.  I have brown eyes, my best feature as far I’m concerned, and I’m 5’6” tall and weigh a little more than I should, 143 pounds.  My figure is 34/26/35 with hips that flare a little too much and boobs that are just beginning to sag more than I would like.  My legs are pretty good, if I do say so myself.  I’ve noticed deeper “smile lines” around my eyes lately, but hey, I said I’m 37, didn’t I?

My arms were beginning to cramp holding them in prayer position as I waited my turn for the interview.  The first woman to be called had to crawl through the doorway on her belly, scraping over the gravel and I could see how the rough fibers of the sisal mat would scratch at my nipples and bush when I had my turn.  My pubic hair matches my natural brunette, and I trim it only enough to be able to wear a fairly modest bathing suit.  That was another unspoken edict of our Church – that grown women should be groomed like “real women.” That is, bikini waxing and Brazilians were frowned upon, especially in the Women’s Committee.

As the second number was called, a door to the left of the interview room opened and the first woman to be interviewed came out, sliding backward on her rump across a double line of what looked like large push broom bristles.  I could see her tear-stained face as she rubbed her butt when she stood up to return to the dreaded bench that was really digging into my own butt cheeks feeling like they were on a hot grill.  The second woman rushed to the door and got on her belly to crawl through.  She was what I would call a plus size and she struggled a bit to wiggle her hips through the door, breathing hard, digging with her toes to slither through the narrow opening.  I looked to the side and noticed a couple of other ‘big girls,’ thinking that they were going to have a real challenge fitting through.

My thoughts drifted back to my conversations with Linda about joining this group, and how tough it could be to gain acceptance, much like a sorority she had said.  Never having gone to more than a two-year degree community college, and not getting degree there, either, I had no real experience with sororities other than to hear the usual rumors and myths about hazing and initiation rituals.  When I had pressed her for more details, she had replied,

“Well it is about ‘discipline,’ and all that goes on with it.  Obedience, total obedience, and the commands of Scripture.  And it’s the obedience training that can get tough, not to mention the confessions.”

“Confessions?” I had asked.  “Like Catholic confessions?” 

“No, not quite,” Linda said, laughing.  Confessing your sins in general, plus any really big moral issues you are expected to voluntarily confess and then to ask for and accept the discipline that leads to forgiveness.”

“You mean, you confess stuff and get spanked for it?”  I said, remembering that the only thing my ex-husband really liked about the Church was its discipline ethic, about the male being the household leader and thus subjecting the wife and children, especially the wife, to regular corporal punishment and discipline.

“You can expect that on a regular basis, especially as a single mom,” Linda continued.   “But it’s the training routine and discipline that leads up to acceptance to the Committee that is really tough.  But I think you have what it takes to make it.”

“And what might that be?” I had asked. 

Linda smiled slyly, trying to find the right words.  “Look, you really, really want to get into this group, right?  And you have a solid Faith and belief system, right?  And you are willing to do just about anything to be part of it, right?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Then you will make it, but it there will be some rough times, especially getting the initial acceptance into training.  Some women don’t make that at first, and then have to go through ‘Acceptance Training, something I can’t tell you about right now.  The others, the prime candidates like you, are accepted into ‘Humility and Obedience Training,’ which will allow for faster admission into the group.”

“But, is there a limit to what I have to put up with?” I asked. 

“Hard to say,” Linda answered, “depends on what your own personal limits and desires are for gaining acceptance and the help it can bring to you and your girls.  And if I didn’t think you could do it, I wouldn’t have put your name up.  I’m taking a risk here, too, you know.”

“How so?” I asked.

“If you don’t make it, or you decide to quit, that puts my own standing at risk and I will have to answer for it,” she said, firmly.  “So don’t put me out along with yourself.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” I replied, hugging her.  “Thank you so much for your help and for your belief in me.”

Number 3 was called by the loudspeaker as number two came scrabbling out the left hand door, crab-walking but having to slide her ass down as she came through the doorway.  She was sobbing as she scooted over the brushes and then struggled to her feet, her head hanging down, and rubbing at her broad butt with red knuckled hands.

Oh boy, it’s gonna be a long afternoon, I thought.

“Take your place, sit down, and stop that annoying sobbing!”  the loudspeaker blared. 

“Yes, Sister, thank you Sister,” the woman stammered, trying to ease herself onto the bench.  I had seen the redness on her ass and knew that she had been in for some heavy-duty discipline.

Sister Martha’s voice came over the loudspeaker.  “Number Two, stand up and face the bench hands out front.” 

The woman obeyed, walking gingerly and turning to face us with arms extended.

“Show your palms,” Sister Martha ordered.  “Now, show your knuckles.”

The woman showed both sides of her hands and the palms were bright red, along with the knuckles I had already noticed.

“This is the result of attempting to rub your bottom without permission during or after discipline,” Sister Martha said.  “Now go to the bench and resume your position.”

I tried to focus on this entire ordeal thus far, drawing up the courage to endure it all, no matter what.  Already we had all been stripped and beaten, verbally abused and I stared at the ‘dog door’, as I called it, seeing my own humiliation crawling through on my belly like some kind of worm.  Then inside the interview room, it would only get more intense, I was sure.

Time seemed to drag even slower and I could see other women struggling to hold their arms in prayer position.  And we were only up to Number 12.  Four more to go, I thought.  Then who knows what?

“Number 16,” came the call from the loudspeaker.  I jumped up and headed for the door, talking a quick swipe across my ass with the back of my hand.  The welt from the flyswatter handle had been positioned to be in direct contact with the center angle iron on the bench and I was on fire.  I dropped to the floor, stuck my arms out ahead of me, and started wriggling through the door.  As my head pushed the door up, a strong hand gripped my hair, shoving me back. 

“Arms at your sides, girl, and crawl like a worm,” Sister Elaine barked, shoving me again.  “Now back out, lie on your belly with arms down and crawl in here.”

The dirt and gravel on the coarse mat rubbed and scrubbed into me twice as I scrambled back, then using my hips and shoulders and grinding my way across it again, pushing up the door and entering the interview room.  My nipples felt raw and I glanced down at my belly as I was pulled up to hands and knees by Sister Elaine’s strong grip.  She shoved me toward the center of the room where the four Supreme Council members sat in comfortable armchairs arranged in a quarter circle.  There were three trays on the floor in front of them.  The walls were draped in heavy velvet and by the spooky quiet feel of the room there must have been some serious soundproofing behind them.

Elaine brought me to the center of the room, guiding me by the hair and then pulling me up to stand before them.  She tapped my elbow as she spoke.  “Attention position, girl.”

I stood as straight as I could, hands locked behind my head, eyes down, not daring to look at them directly.

“Meredith Chamberlain,” Supreme Sister Beatrice said, looking over my file.  “Welcome to the interview room.  Do you know why you are here?”

“Yes Supreme Sister, thank you, Sister,” I said, keeping my head bowed.

“And do you have in faith in Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?”

“Yes Supreme Sister, thank you, Sister.”

“Yes, Ma’am will be sufficient replies for this interview,” Sister Martha chimed in.  It will save time, understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, feeling as meek as my trembling voice.

“Very well,”  Sister Elaine joined the group and took her seat.

Sister Martha leaned forward, pointing at the trays.  “Let’s get right to the deeper questions.  On your knees, in the center,” she said. 

I knelt down, glancing at what looked like large seeds.  I was right.

       “We call these the trays of truth.” Martha continued.  “It’s quicker to get to the real truth when kneeling on helpful reminders.   Those happen to be dried cherry pits and olive stones in the center.  And if we have to we will move you to the left, where the cracked corn and various birdseeds are featured, you will have yet another cause to be quick about the truth to our questions.”

       I didn’t even want to know about the third tray to the right, but I couldn’t resist a look at it.  It looked like broken glass, but then I saw it was crushed stone and quartz.  Might as well be broken glass, I thought.  The pressure on my knees from the dried seeds and pits was awful.

       “Meredith, are you prepared to accept our discipline?”  Martha asked.

       “Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, trying to control my breathing.

       “And our training regimens, no matter how challenging?” Beatrice followed.

       “Ye -- Yes, Ma’am,” I stammered, ready to scream at the pain shooting up from my knees.

       “Tell us, Meredith,” Beatrice continued. “How sinful are you?”

       “I don’t know, Ma’am.  I try not to sin.  I try to teach my daughters the righ—“

       Sister Beatrice cut me off. “Of course you think you are without sin, but we are ALL sinful creatures, aren’t we?”

       “Yes, Supreme Sister, we are all sinners,” I answered, not sure where this was going.

       Sister Martha took a different approach.  “How many bed partners have you had?”

       I was totally taken aback.  My mind was racing.  My knees were screaming in agony.  “Uh, not that many, I said.   I think about six.”

       “YOU THINK?” demanded Sister Barbara.  “We want to KNOW!”

       “S – Si, --Six,” yes,” I stammered.  “One in high school, two at a spring break at the Gulf, a guy I had gone to school with, then the guy I married, and then …” I stopped.

       “And who else?” demanded Sister Martha.  “This is after you married?”

       “After I found out he was cheating on me and I told him to leave,” I replied, trying to hold back tears.

       “And?” came the demand from Sister Beatrice.

       “And, I went out with two friends, got picked up by a guy and had a one-night stand” I admitted, knowing I would probably look like a slut to these strict moral women.

       “And do you feel like a tramp?”  Sister Barbara grilled me.

       “ I prayed for forgiveness, Ma’am.  I was just so angry and frustrated.”

       “We shall see about forgiveness,” Sister Beatrice said, leaning back in her chair and running her eyes up and down my trembling body.  “You may stand up, behind the tray.  For now, anyway,” she added.

       “Thank you Supreme Sister, thank you,” I gushed, standing up as quickly as I could and keeping my hands behind my head.  What’s next? I asked myself.

       “Have you ever had any intimate activity with another female?” sister Elaine chimed in.  “Be specific,” she added.

       I hesitated, wondering what to say.  “I, uh, I sort kissed and fondled with two other girls after high school,” I blushed as I spoke.  “It was a sleepover party during the summer and we all got a little crazy” I admitted.

       “Kissing and fondling? Is that all?”  Martha asked.

       Kissing and fondling, where?” Elaine demanded.

       “Uhh, on the lips, of course, Ma’am,” I answered, hoping to get to another subject.

       “On the lower lips, no doubt,” Sister Elaine rose from her chair.  She was easily three inches shorter than me, but right then she seemed a foot taller.  “That’s correct, isn’t it, you harlot?”  She grabbed me by the hair, jerking me to the side and pushing me down onto the tray with the cracked corn.  My knees instantly felt like they were on fire again.

       “Yes, we all kissed each other on the mouth, and down … down, uh below,” I said, staring at the floor.

       “And that was the only occasion for this behavior?” Sister Martha asked, pulling my head up to face their icy stares.

       “Yes, Ma’am, the only time,” I said, “and it—“ I cut myself off.

       “And it what? Tell us, you filthy slut,” Barbara demanded.

       “It made me feel, guilty, and… sinful and slutty!” I said, breaking into sobs.

       “Of course you felt that way,” Martha chimed in, “because you seem to have slutty tendencies.  But we can take care of that, and I think you’re not beyond salvaging form your sins, do you Sisters?”

       Sister Beatrice shifted in her chair.  “I think she’s a good candidate for our salvation work,” she said, adjusting her skirt and reaching down beside her.  She pointed to her lap.

       “Up here, girl, now.”

       As I rose, I saw she had a large flat-backed hairbrush in her hand.  She tapped it lightly on her thigh as I struggle to my feet and stepped over to her chair.   My head was reeling and my knees were on fire.  Sister Beatrice’s arm lunged out at my left shoulder, pulling me across her lap and landing the first swat from the hairbrush before I was down.

       “Don’t you dare move,” Martha instructed, as Beatrice began a rhythmic pounding with the hairbrush.  She alternated cheeks, thighs, and intensity, some hard, some even harder.  After about twenty swats in what seemed like ten or fifteen seconds, she shoved me off her lap.  As I slid I felt hands in my hair and Sister Martha was pulling me over her lap.

       Martha was wearing dark slacks and she parted her legs to put me over her left thigh shoving my head down and then locking me in place with her right leg behind my legs.

       “Sister Martha will take it from here,” I heard Beatrice say, handing the hairbrush over.  “Now you will count each, thank Sister Martha, and politely ask for another, understood?”

       “Ye … yes, Supreme sister, thank you,” I burbled, panting and wheezing to catch me breath.  The first one came down not on my ass but on the thigh flesh just below the crease of my butt.  It felt like needles of fire.

       “One.  Thank you Ma’am, may I please have another?” I heard, almost as if the words were coming from someone else.

CHAPTER 3

       The hairbrush smacked down again, this time across my right cheek.

       “Two.  Thank you Ma’am, may I please have another?” I replied, still feeling like I was in some sort of vacuum or tunnel, as the next swat came hard on my left cheek, followed by another on the same spot before I could even speak.

       “Three! Four! .  Thank you Ma’am, may I please have another and another?”  I rushed out with it so as to keep with her count, and I got the feeling she wasn’t going to make this easy.  The next one was high on my thigh and really, really stung.

       “Five. Thank you Ma’am, may I please have another?”  I felt her shift underneath me and then Sister Martha grabbed my thigh to spread my legs further.  When I tried to close them up, she smacked my inside thigh with the paddle.

       “Open wide, you sinful slut,” she said, pushing at my leg again, followed by a vicious swing on my left inner thigh.

       “Six, than you Ma’am and Seven Ma’am, may I please have another?” I whimpered with the sting of that last one, and resigned myself to getting more of the same.  And I got more of the same. Another thirteen of them high and inside on the thighs.

       Finally, the twentieth stroke came down and I practically screamed out

“TWENTY!  THANK YOU MA’AM, PLASE MAY I HAVE ANOTHER?”

       Sister Elaine grabbed my hair and pulled my face up towards hers.  “Whoever gave you permission to yell in here?” she snarled, following up with a hard slap across my face.

       “I am so sorry, Honored Sisters, forgive me please!”  I heard myself begging.   “Please punish me!” I couldn’t believe I had just said that, but I was suddenly terrified of these women.

       Sister Martha let me slide off her lap onto the floor.  “Why don’t you show her some manners, Elaine?” she said, pushing me with her foot.  “Up and over Sister Elaine’s knee, right now!”

       As I stepped over to sister Elaine’s chair she reached behind her and came out holding a long-handled wooden bath brush with what looked like a very heavy back and handle.  She motioned for me to bend as she spread her ample legs.

       “Down here, girl and learn some proper behavior in the presence of your betters,” she smirked as she grabbed my hair once again and pulled me over her lap.  “Spread ‘em wide,” she demanded, pushing my knees apart.  “I think four up each leg and four up the middle should do you fine, what do you think, Martha?”

       “That should do fine, I think, Sister,” Martha replied.  “And be sure that she thanks you for each one.”

       The succession of blows came hard and fast up each thigh as I repeated the ‘thank you’s’ as fast as I could.  Then after one shot straight to my crotch with the flat of the big brush, she turned it around, gave me the last three with the handle of it, each one smacking hard into my pussy.

       “Thank you, Honored Sister Elaine,” I sobbed, the tears flowing like crazy at that point as she pushed me back down on my knees, in the tray with the cracked corn and seeds.  I heard Sister Barbara from off to my left.  Somehow I dreaded her attentions the most.  I pulled my head back and locked my arms at attention just as she shifted her chair to face me better and lifted both my breasts in her hands, weighing them and giving them a slight squeeze.

       “Hmmm, should we give these a taste of our discipline, too?” she almost cooed, leaning in to me.

       “What … whatever you wish, Honored Sister,” I whispered.

       “Louder!” she hissed, pulling back and viciously pinching my nipples.

       “Whatever you wish, Honored Sister,” I replied.  By now my knees were screaming in pain.  She took the crop from her belt clip.

       “Lift them up for us, by the pink,” she said.  I took each nipple between thumb and forefinger and raised them up.

       “Higher,” she demanded pushing at my hands with her crop.  “Now, wider.”

She put her crop on her lap and grabbed my hands, pulling them up and out even more.  “There. That’s more like it.  Now hold.  Right there.”

       She took the crop and began to flick the tip back and forth across the undersides of my breasts, and increasing the intensity with each stroke.  I gritted my teeth and held on.

       Finally, after two really hard smacks she stopped and tapped my hands with the handle of the crop.  “You may release them slut.”

       “Thank you Honored Sister,” I answered, shaking with fear and my legs about to spasm in cramps.

       “Now, hands underneath those bags, lift them up and present them to me.”

       I kept my palms flat as I lifted my boobs, nipples quivering, and presented them to her.  She smiled slightly and raised the crop, snapping it smartly on my right nipple.  I gasped in pain but tried to stay silent, waiting for the one on the left.

       She surprised me by giving the next two again on my right before moving to my left for another three or four, I lost count, just trying to keep my breath.  My nipples felt numb with the crop snapping down on them so fast.

       Sister Barbara gave me few more quick ones, maybe six or eight to each nipple, then quickly shifted her arm and brought the crop down across my belly with five or six crisscrossing slashes, followed by three rally hard shots straight up the center of my crotch.  She sat back, breathing heavily.

       “Thank you, Honored Sister,” I said, once again through tears of pain, but still remembering to come back to attention with hands behind my head.  Sister Beatrice looked down at me over her half-glasses.

       “You might have possibilities here, Meredith, dear,” she said, using my name for only the second time.  “We will watch your progress in training with great interest, won’t we ladies?”  The others nodded in agreement.  Sister Barbara leered at me and winked.  I tried to ignore her.

       “You will report back here in two to three weeks, you will be sent an appointment time.  That will be after your first two lessons in Humility and Obedience Training.  Before you leave, you will be given the name and address of your mentoring team and the time for your first lesson.  Any questions?”

       “No, Ma’am, I mean Honored Supreme Sister,” I correct myself.  “Only, may I please ask about why we must all be naked.  What about Christian modesty?”

       Martha glared down at me.  “Modesty and privacy are privileges you must earn through humility training and obedience displayed in our disciplining sessions, is that clear, you sinful slut?”

       “Yes, Honored Sister Martha,” I answered. “I am sorry to presume.”

       “Never mind, Beatrice replied, “it’s a common question, with a simple answer, which you have been given.  Now, on your feet.”

       I got up and glanced down at my knees.  I expected them to be bleeding, but they were bruised with deep impressions fro the seeds. 

As I began move to the door, and knock came at a door behind the Sisters and a woman entered with a large gift-wrapped package.  She curtsied to the Sisters and presented the box. 

       “Forgive the interruption, Supreme Sister, but Sister Amy Blaine’s tribute gift just arrived for you.”

       “Very well, Monica, open it for me,” Sister Beatrice swiveled in her chair to watch the gift being unwrapped.  It was a set of three glass jars, each with crystals in vibrant colors of blue, violet and green.

       “Hmm, Sister Amy wants to add to our crystal tray of truth with some new color,” Beatrice said with appreciative smile.  I thought for minute that they would spread those crystals and make me kneel on them, sure to make me bleed.

       She reached for the jars and opened the violet crystals. Holding them out in her hand, then dumping them onto the tray.  As she pulled the top from the second jar, the glass lid split in half and pricked her finger on a sharp edge.  Sister Beatrice sucked at the blood on her forefinger as Barbara rose and ran for a towel. 

       “How awful,” Sister Elaine said, “to send a tribute gift that harms anyone, especially the Supreme Sister.”

       Beatrice took the towel that Barbara brought to her and cradled her hand in it.  “Now, now, I will be fine.  Tell Mimi the secretary to send a thank you note to Sister Amy Blaine.”  The three Sisters looked at the Supreme Sister with a strange look as she continued.  “And Martha, send her a letter of punishment for her careless packaging or shipping or whatever caused this unfortunate incident.

Let’s set a time for two weeks from today for her appearance, two hour minimum, beginning at one p.m.”   Sister Beatrice turned and saw I was still in the room.

       “You,  uh,  Meredith, you will appear here at noon on that day for your first review of your training and discipline.  You will then remain here as one of the service staff for sister Amy’s punishment session.  Now you may go.”  She motioned me off with a wave of her hand.

Before I could move toward the door, Sister Martha took me by the elbow and ushered me to the small exit door and yanked me down to slide out on my bruised and welted ass. 

As she shoved me down, she said, “You should know what an honor it will be to serve us on your first day of training review.  We will expect a grand review and exemplary gratitude and behavior.”

“Yes, Honored Sister Martha, “I will, thank you Sister.”

       The brush bristles tore at me as I slid out, then stood up as gracefully as I could.  There were two other women in the center of the room, sorting through the clothes that were still scattered around from when we had been ordered to strip.  They gathered everything up and strung it our along the bench where we all still sat as the last interviews were taking place.  I was beginning to wonder how would get out clothing back since it was all messed up at this point.  Then I though, that’s probably just another part of their whole control thing that’s going on here.

       We all waited there on the bench, trying not to fidget, since that would only cause more pain on the steel strips on the bench seat. My ass was in real agony  after the several sets of strokes I had taken, and it seemed an eternity until the last woman came out, wailing in agony as she was shoved out the doggy door exit onto the brushes.  Her ample big butt was bleeding, and the two women who were gathering clothing rushed to her and dragged her across the bristles and off to the end of the room to what seemed to be a kid’s wading pool.  They swabbed her butt with a wet rag, which made her squeal even louder, then tossed her down into the pool, still sobbing and squealing.

       The large door opened and the four Sisters of the Supreme Council emerged and took their places at the dais once more.  Sister Beatrice cleared her throat.

       “All right all of you have undergone your placement interviews, and here are our judgments.   Number 21, and number 3, you are rejected at this time for both excessive noise and weight.  Number 3, join number 21 in the pond at the end of the room.”

       The fat woman who had already been given extra lashes at the beginning of the session started sobbing a one of the women led her down the length of the room and shoved her down into the pool.

       Sister Martha read from a clipboard.  “You may re-apply in one month, after having lost as least fifteen pounds, and come to us begging for at least twenty-five strokes of the cane, just to re-start your process.”  Then she turned to those of us on the bench. 

       “Numbers 5, 7, 8, 9 11, 14, 15, 19, 20, stand and line up on the blue line facing us,” Sister Martha announced.  The women took their places on the line and Beatrice stood up.

       “You are accepted provisionally, which means you will appear here next week at this same time for another interview.  The reason is that you all have passed our standard of behavior, but each of you has excess weight and your first order of training is to lose a minimum of five pounds this week.  Your weights today will be recorded and written on each belly.  Every day you will weigh yourself and write that weight on your belly after marking out the previous day’s weight.  You will also send the Sister Martha an email message telling her your weight for the day.”

       The two women assistants were going along the line with a scale, weighing each and noting the weight with a black marker on each heaving belly.

       Beatrice remained standing as she looked at the rest of us still on the bench.  “You will rise and stand on the yellow line,” she said, pointing to the line right in front of the bench.  I jumped up at the chance to relieve my throbbing butt cheeks.

       “Congratulations, you nine,” Beatrice continued, “you have been accepted into our program of Humility and Obedience Training, or HOT as we like to call it.

When you directed, you may collect your clothing and leave by the end door, where you may dress in the lobby and you may collect your shoes and purses from where you checked them on the way in.”

       “This is where you show your gratitude you stupid twats,” Sister Elaine interjected.”

       “Thank you, Supreme Sister, thank you Honored Sisters,” we all chimed in.

       “Now, there is just one minor task yet to perform,” Sister Martha joined her two Sisters in standing.  “Under the bench, you will each find a yellow bucket.  Go get it and return to the line.”

        We all complied as the two assistants came along the women in the blue line and passed out a red Solo cup to each one.  Sister Martha continued.

       In the bucket you will find a pair of blinder goggles.  Set the bucket on the line, put the goggles over your eyes and squat over the bucket.”

       The goggles were swimmer’s goggles that had been completely black out with some sort of paint.  When I put them on, it was total darkness.

       “You fatties on the blue line, you put yours on, too, but you will remain standing”  Martha ordered.

       “Yes, Honored Sister, thank you, Sister,” I heard them reply. 

       “Now, the simple task for each of you is to urinate into the bucket,”  Sister Martha stated, as shock waves went through each of us, at least through me, and I couldn’t imagine that it didn’t have the same effect on all of us.

       “Come now, you know you have to obey, so get over yourselves and just do it!”  Sister Barbara exclaimed.   “And you fatties here, you hold that cup under you as you fill it up to the mark on it.”

       I willed myself to pee, knowing that only the four women up front could see me, but I still couldn’t do it, though I reminded myself that I hadn’t peed in hours.

       “As a reward for prompt obedience to those of you on the yellow line, once you have completed the task, you may rise and remove the goggles, so that you can observe the others performing their obedience,”  Sister Martha added.

       “But you fatties, keep your goggles on and stay in your squat until you are released,” Barbara added.

       I heard streams of urine into the buckets at my left and struggled like crazy.  Finally, I felt the tinest trickle coming out of me, then something in my brain caved in and the pee started gushing out of me.  It was relief, even though it was splasing up all over my crotch, and I knew we weren’t going to be getting any toilet paper anytime soon.

       As soon as the last drops squeezed out of me, I stood up a slipped the goggles off my eyes.  Sister Elaine was grinning per predatory grin at my shame.  I looked around and saw that two of the other women had completed their tasks and stood proudly, looking around at the others still squatting and squirming.   Sheila squatted beside me, struggling mightily to turn loose wiht a urine flow, but she just couldn’t seem to do it.

       After about five minutes, there were still two women on our line who couldn’t seem to pee in the bucket, Sheila and an older woman at the end.

Martha was obviously losing patience.  “Take these two to the pond,” she ordered as the two assistants took each by the elbow and marched them to the pool where the two fat women sat with their arms clutched around their raised knees.  They were each seated on the arms of the fat women as though on a toilet.

“You have exactly one minute to release your bladder onto the fat toilet seat you are on, or you will become one yourself!”  Martha said.

Sheila suddenly squirmed and let go, her stream splashing all over the tits of the fat woman hovering and shuddering under her.  But the older woman ws having a hard time of it.  Sheila jumped up and removed her goggles, grinning at me.

Martha stormed the length of the room, and grabbed the woman still trying to overcome her inhibitions.  “That’s it!” Martha spewed.  “I’m done with your disobedience! Down into the pond.”  Martha grabbed the woman by the shoulders and pushed her down so the little pool was now crowded with three women.  She turned to us looking on.

“You have two minutes to gather your clothing in one hand while holding your piss buckets and march out this door,” she said pointing to the door besdie her where we had all entered.  “And on your way out, you will empty your bucket into the pond, or more accurately, over the heads of these three rejects,” she added.  “And that is an ORDER!” she shouted, returning to her place at the dais.

We began grabbing clothes and heading for the door as we heard Martha redirec ther attention to the otgher women stil squatting at the front of the room. 

“And you nine chubs, all seem to have complied so you may remove your goggles and stand, but you must hold onto your cups.”  Martha went on as I glanced at the women struggling to their feet while I got my clothes together and headed for the door.  Three others were already waiting there, the exit blocked by one of the assistants.

Sister Barbara had joined the woman blocking the exit, and she gestured to each of us to empty our pee buckets over the heads of the three in the pond before we could leave.

As I poured mine over the head of the woman who just couldn’t get herself to pee, I heard Sister Martha issuing another command to the nine chubbies who were gathering their clothes. 

“You will each put on your panties and bra.” Martha commanded, “then you will pour the contents of your cup over your face, onto your chest and reserve some to dump into your panties, so that you will where it home.  And I suggest you drive carefully, it wouldn’t be good to get stopped while stinking of drying piss, now, would it?”

       

       

CHAPTER 4

       As we walked into the lobby clutching our clothes, one of the assistants directed us to a side doorway marked “Robing Room.”  There were five of us by then, and I’m sure the other four felt as fortunate as I did that we had first, been accepted, and also we had not been forced to pour own pee all over ourselves before leaving, like the others had done.  The Robing Room was crowded on two walls with racks of what looked like blue chambray work shirts with all sorts of colorful embroidery on them.  The third wall had a rack of dark maroon and black robes, which wasn’t too surprising for a “Robing Room,” I thought.  The fourth wall was mirrored and there was a series of squares painted on the tile floor with a low pedestal beside each one.

       “Step to a square, attention posture, clothing on the pedestal,” one of the women ordered.  I noticed her shirt for the first time.  It was one of the blue chambray work shirts with several colored patches down the sleeves and the words “Christian Discipline” over the left breast pocket and in large script letters on the back.  She also wore gym shorts and sneakers and a wide belt with a hairbrush clipped to it.

       “Bend over, hands behind your knees,” she ordered.  I thought we were going to get another set with the hairbrush, but instead, I felt a cool something on my ass cheeks and realized she was rubbing some sort of cream on it.  And it was no surprise to me when her fingers dug into my ass crack and along my pussy, rubbing it with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm, but it did relieve some of the pain.  Some of the pain, not a lot, I told myself.

       She walked behind us, pacing back and forth.  “You may now put on your panties and stand at attention,” she said.  As we complied her companion assistant had walked along the line of us and removed our bras from each of our piles of clothing.   And what about that, I thought, standing there, feeling my nipples getting hard in the chilly air of the robing room. 

       “You may now put on your skirts or pants,” she continued, “ then stand at attention once again.”  I got the feeling that the mirror wall was two-way mirror and that there were at least observers there, if not cameras, too.  “Now, present those tits to me,” the woman said.  We all cradled our boobs under our palms, pushing them up and out as she inspected each of us.  “Good, now pluck them by the nipples, heads back, eyes closed.”  I guess we all complied because I didn’t hear any corrections coming as we stood there gripping nipples.

       “Come on, get them higher!” she coaxed, “and spread them wider, too!”

I felt like I was going to tear my nipples off if I raised them any more, and my “girls” were still throbbing from the beating I had taken in the interview room.

       “Feel the pinch,” the woman assistant sneered, clamping and pinching her hands around each of ours as she moved down the line, showing us how it was done.  “Pinch ‘em up good, and HOLD IT!” 

I didn’t think I could take much more of pinching my own nipples when the other woman came up behind us and said,  “You may release your tits and gather up your bras and put them on.”  We were grateful for that until I looked at my bra when the woman tossed it down beside me.  The front of each cup had been cut out so that my entire nipple and areola would be sticking out of the bra when I put it on.

“These will be known as your ‘training bras,’ the woman giggled, “and you will wear them whenever you come here or to your training sessions, is that clear? You may answer with a simple ‘yes, Ma’am’.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” we all replied in unison, scooping our boobs into the bras, reaching back to hook them.  I shuffled my boobs around to get them seated in the cups.  The nipples stuck out forever, it seemed.

“You may complete your dressing and collect you shoes and handbags at the desk.  And when you return here next, after checking in at the desk you will come in here to disrobe as instructed, understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” we all replied, again in unison as we headed for the outer lobby’s check-in desk.  I signed for purse and shoes, along with a manila envelope that had my name on it, with instructions on the label not to open it until I returned home and I had access to a computer.  Of course, my curiosity was killing me as I got to my car and headed home.  Sitting in the car seat wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be, but it was still terrifically uncomfortable.  My butt, back and boobs all felt like they were hot enough to melt.  Traffic was heavier than usual on the way home, but I made it at last. 

As I got out of my car, I realized that my nipples were poking hard against my blouse with my bra cut away, and I thought I caught a whiff of urine from my crotch that had been soaking wet with my own pee and not allowed to wipe dry.

It was close to fifty yards to the door of my apartment building and I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t run into any of my neighbors as I rushed for my door, trying with some subtlety to hold the envelope in front of my flopping boobs and pointy nipples.

       I fumbled with my keys, grateful that my daughters were still at soccer practice, and got the door unlocked.  I ran to my bedroom, pulled off my clothes, dashed to the bathroom and turned on the shower.  I climbed in to feel the hot water running over me when I realized what a mistake that was.  The water pounding on my battered and scratched body was excruciating, but I rubbed my pussy clean, jumped out and started toweling off.  Every time the towel touched my skin it felt like another stroke of the paddle or crop but I just wanted to feel clean and at home.

       I looked myself in the mirror, turning the three panels of the vanity mirror over the sink so that I could see my back and sides.  At least there was no broken or bleeding skin, but there were some purple welts and I knew I would be bruised for days.  My breasts were bruised the worst, I thought, with ugly stripes across the nipples and the tender undersides.  I don’t normally bruise too easily, but these were going to be Technicolor, I thought.

       I put on a silky robe and sat on the bed to tear open the large manila envelope.  It had a note with an address and phone number to contact as my Training Mentor, telling me to call tonight between the hours of 7 and 8 p.m. to set up my first lesson.  Along with the note was a Bible Study Guide with a schedule of lessons to follow, sample quiz questions, and also a pamphlet entitled “Women’s Christian Discipline Committee Rules, Regulations, Responsibilities and Expectations.”  I thumbed through the pamphlet, decided to wait on the Bible Study, and looked again at the contact info.  There was no name, just a phone number and address.  The address was Number 3 Oak Hills Lane, which I knew to be a very exclusive part of the area and home to quite wealthy people.  But how was I to address or even ask for the person who is supposed to be my Training Mentor?

       Then it hit me that this was yet another one of the Committee’s domination and control.  I would have to fumble around with whomever might answer the phone, probably sounding like an idiot, asking for who there might be the one to train me in Christian Discipline.  Would I ask for the Lady of the house?  What if there is more than one generation living there?  A grandmother, who could easily be the one, or even a granddaughter.   It was just another humbling quandary, and it wouldn’t be solved for at least three more hours when the clock hit 7.

       I lay down on the bed and must have fallen asleep immediately.  The next thing I heard were my two daughters rushing in, dropping their school bags just anywhere, kicking off their shoes and giggling the way that only teenage girls can.  I shook myself awake, feeling the stiff soreness in every joint as I roused my beaten body and slowly got off the bed.  I pulled the robe tight around me so they might not see any marks and walked out to meet them as Jennifer ran into the bedroom followed by Janice right behind. They had followed that pattern from birth, with Jennifer still taking the lead, though sometimes even I had to look closely at their freckle patterns as the only way to tell them apart.   They loved to switch places, confusing teachers, coaches, even friends, but I could always figure which was which, although sometimes I felt that they were really challenged to try to deceive even their mom at some point.

       I started picking up clothes from the floor where I had dropped them when I rushed in, hoping they wouldn’t notice anything.  Why should they notice anything, I thought, their clothes are always all over the floor.

       “Mom, are you OK?” Janice asked.  “Are you sick, or something?”

       “I’m fine, just a little too much exertion at the gym today, there was a new trainer,”  I replied, gathering up my bra and trying to conceal the cutaway cups.  It seemed as though I had succeeded.  “Hey, let’s go get Chinese for dinner, OK?”  I said, hoping to distract them as I dropped my clothes in the hamper and moved toward my closet.

       “Whatever,” they both said; walking out and looking at each other in that secret language that only twins have with each other.  I slipped into a fresh pair of panties and just the touch of the elastic waistband sliding over my butt cheeks was enough to make me wince.  I chose a loose pair of slacks and an oversize man’s type shirt.  As I was trying to ease my throbbing breasts into a clean and uncut bra I saw one of the girls coming back into the room. She couldn’t help but see how red my chest was even almost up to my throat.

       “Mom, what’s wrong with you?” Jennifer asked, with some alarm.

       “Oh, nothing, I just got overheated in the new exercise routine at the gym today, and I guess I’m still a bit flushed.  I turned away to clip my bra and grabbed for the shirt.  “Tell you what, I will call out for Chinese, and

you guys can work on your homework.  I’m sure you have some, don’t you?”

       “Yes, a bunch of it,” she answered, not seeming quite satisfied with my answers,

       I called out for Chinese delivery and saw that it was five after seven.  I found my mobile phone, went into the bathroom and locked the door.  My hands shook as I dialed the number.  Three rings, four, then five.  A female voice answered

       “Alden residence.  How may I help you?” the voice asked.

       “Alden?  I guess I would like to speak with Mrs. Alden, then,” I stammered.

“I am calling for the Church.”

       “And this is reference to ...?” the voice queried.

       “Uh, about the Church Committee, I was asked to call this evening.”  I was calming down a bit.

       “Committee? Which Committee?  Madame works with several committees, and her time is precious to her and to her family.”

       “I am to be calling from the Christian Discipline Committee,” I answered, hoping I was making progress.

       “Are you a member of the Committee, Ma’am?”

       “No, at least not yet.  I am calling about training for membership and I was given this number.”

       “Ah, you are the new one.  And you are calling to set up your training time with Madame, are you?”

       “Yes, I am, uh yes, I am.”  I felt like a complete fool.

       “I will get Madame for you,” she replied, “but you should have better manners on the phone.  And you call me ‘Ma’am’.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, forgive me, Ma’am,” I blurted out.  I seemed an eternity before the phone was picked up.

       “Is this Meredith?”  the voice asked, and before I could answer she continued.  “I am Joanna Alden, assigned to be your training Mistress and that’s how I expect you to refer to me, as ‘Mistress Joanna.’   Is that clear?”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, quite clear.  Thank you, Mistress.”

       “Not bad for a start.  Now let’s get to it, shall we?  This being Monday, I expect you here at 10 am on Thursday this week for a first session lasting five to seven hours.  Understood?”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, but I am so sorry, my work schedule has me on for Thursday.  May I try to--?”  She cut me off in mid-phrase.

       “It WILL BE THURSDAY!” she said firmly.  “I have already arranged it with your manager.  You will make up the work on Saturday.”

       Saturday was an important day to spend with my girls, and I was about to say something to that effect when Mistress Joanna went right on.

“I know you probably have plans with your two girls for Saturday, but you will work out your real priorities in this, I know.” 

       She knows my job, my manager, she knows about my daughters, what else, I wondered, as Mistress Joanna continued.

       “You will wear only jeans, a simple blouse, light sandals or flip flops, and the required underwear of your training bra and thong panties.  You will leave your purse and any other belongings locked in your car and bring only the key with you.  Is this understood?”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, I understand, thank you Mistress,” I answered, stuttering as I spoke.

       “Good, then we will see you at 10 on Thursday morning,” she hung up and that was that.

       Sleep that night was non-existent, between my pain-wracked body and my mind racing about what I had gotten myself into.  I finally got to sleep sometime around 4 a.m. and almost slept through my alarm at 6 to get the girls up and moving.  I got them off to school and wandered around my bedroom, wondering what to do.  I could just give this up, I told myself, but then the opportunities for us would be gone, and I didn’t see many other golden opportunities popping up ahead of me.  I stopped in from of my mirror, dropped my robe, and turned to look over my shoulder at the damage.

       It wasn’t too bad, I thought, though there would be some bruising.  The worst seemed to me at the tops of my thighs right below the crease of my ass.  I stepped back and looked down at my crotch area and gasped.  The insides of my thighs and up around my pubic hair were all a discolored bluish-purple and there were two long red welts across my lower torso.  No wonder the elastic of my panties hurt so much when I put them on, I told myself.  I hadn’t really looked that closely the night before.

       The next two days were a bit more calm, work was work, the girls were pretty much themselves, and I even got a decent amount of sleep on Wednesday night despite sitting up late each night reviewing the Rules and Regulations pamphlet and even looking through the Bible Study Guides.  I won’t repeat many rules here, since they will come out through this account of my humiliation and training with the Women’s Christian Discipline Committee, but they all had to do with obedience and even more to the attitudes expressed through that kind of obedience.  You see, it’s not enough just to obey, but one is expected to obey with gratitude, admiration and willingness, even joy!  Imagine that, I thought, being joyful at getting your ass kicked.

       Thursday finally arrived.  I had already explained to the girls that I had had to trade shifts with someone in exchange for a later favor, and that I would make it up to them, losing Saturday and even missing one of their soccer games.  I still felt guilty about it, but resigned myself that this would be better for all of us in the long run.  I did contemplate turning back more than once, but I didn’t and I found myself at the gates of 3 Oak Hills Lane.  I drove up and looked for a buzzer to call to be let in when I saw a camera sweeping back and forth from one of the stone pillars holding the gates, and they began to swing open.  A curving gravel drive led uphill to a large house with a graceful porch across the front with a balcony above.  Looks like a plantation house, I thought.  Only things missing are slaves working in the fields.  Well, I hadn’t seen much of the place at that point.

       I stopped my car off to the side where the drive curved out and parked behind a Mercedes Roadster.  I locked the car, steeled myself, and went to the front door, trembling about even ringing the doorbell.  As I reached the step, the massive red door opened to reveal a stout but tall woman in a dark maroon uniform with a cream colored apron.  She looked Hispanic with black hair pulled back and dark flashing eyes.

       “Madame is expecting you Meredith,” she said, pointing for me to come in and almost slamming the door behind me.  “Follow me, please.” 

       She led me through the front hallway and past a huge living room and a dining room that looked like it could seat thirty, on into a high-ceilinged library with a huge desk at one side and two wing chairs tucked against a bay window.

The door closed behind us as the woman came up beside me and pointed again. This time it was to a red throw rug in front of the two chairs.

       “Take off your shoes, then stand there on the red rug,” she said.  I slipped out of my sandals and the woman took them, and then stood on the small rug.  “Now off with the blouse and the pants,” she said.  “And hurry.  Madame likes things to move at a pace.”  I rushed out of my jeans and almost tore the buttons off my shirt getting it undone.    My nipples jutted from the cut cups of my bra.

       “Training bra,” she grinned, giving my left nipple a tweak.  “Turn and face the chairs, legs spread, arms out straight.”  I complied and felt her release the clasp on my bra and drape it out onto my shoulders a bit.  Then she grabbed my panties and pulled them down to my knees, leaving them there.  “You wait here, just like that.  Madame will be here soon.”

       I stood there with my panties pulled down and my bra hanging half-off my body but with my nipples still poking through what now seemed like obscene holes in my bra cups.  Somehow I felt more on display than I would in being fully naked.  I don’t know how long I stood there, probably less than five minutes, but my arms were ready to cramp when I heard the door open behind me.

       “So this is our Meredith,” I heard Mistress Joanna say.  “Welcome to your training home.”

       “Thank you Mistress Joanna,” I heard myself say.

       Mistress Joanna came around my left side, carrying a short riding crop, which she used to push my bra away from my left breast.  “Well, I think you will make for an adequate subject, don’t you?”

       “I ... uh, I hope so, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress.”

       “Well, that all depends on you, and on your faith in our Lord Jesus, doesn’t it?”  She poked at the right cup of my bra with the crop and took a seat in one of the overstuffed wing chairs.  “You may drop your arms and let your bra fall to the floor.”

       She tapped the crop on a booted calf and she looked me up and down, then pointed to my knees.  “Put your legs together and slide your panties to your feet.  Put your hands behind your head and stand at attention so that I may inspect you.”  I did as she ordered and looked at Mistress Joanna ash se rose and started to circle me.

       She was an inch or two taller than me, but her boots made her almost a head taller.  Her honey blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore no bra but what seemed a thin camisole under a white silk blouse that covered her shape yet allowed her prominent nipples to show.  She wore a linen skirt that fell just below her knees and shiny maroon boots in soft leather and a matching wide leather belt.  She was not what I would call gorgeous, but her high cheekbones and soft broad lips made her appear ‘striking.’ Just as I was thinking that her green eyes reminded me of a cat, her tongue traced a line along her upper lip, just like a cat eyeing its prey, I thought.

       She stepped in close to me, running the crop along my torso, over and across my breasts, then down between them and along my upper thighs.  “I see Martha left some marks, or was it that little bitch Elaine?” she asked.  I took a breath before answering and she continued as though I wasn’t there.  “Never mind, they don’t look so bad as they could, now do they?”

       “No, Mistress Joanna, they looked much worse a couple of days ago,” was the best that I could answer.

       She smiled at me with the look of a feral cat.  “We will just have to freshen them up, wont’ we?”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress.”

       I heard the door open behind me and the woman who had first admitted me came in.

       “Oh, Josie, just in time.  Take these clothes to the service area and we will meet you there shortly,” Joanna said as she indicated my underwear on the floor and my other clothes on a side chair.

       “Yes Madame,” the one called Josie said as she gathered them up and left, leaving the door open to anyone who might walk by and see me standing there naked and at attention.

       Joanna stepped aside and slid a low ottoman over in front of me.  “All right, onto the ottoman, on your knees, then hands back at attention.”

       I settled myself onto the ottoman, got my balance and placed my hands as required.        

       “Eyes closed, and feel the beginning of your training,” she said as she sat back down but still stroked along my body with the crop.  “We like this, do we?”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress.”  I felt the crop tap, tap, tapping on my nipples, one then the other, then stroking up and down my belly.

       “Open your eyes, lean down, hands on the floor,” she said as she pulled my shoulders down and I caught myself on my hands.  “Good, now down onto your elbows and forehead touching the floor.  Oh, nice.  Perfect for a warm up,”

       I was kneeling upside down on the ottoman with my ass in the air when I felt her push my ankles apart. 

       “Oh, this is perfect, isn’t it?”  she said  “ISN’T IT?”  she demanded.

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress.” I muttered, my words catching in my throat.

       “Good.  Now, I like to start with a hand warm up, flesh on flesh, but I like to think a warm up is best with a strong Latin, bongo drum beat.”  She pushed up against my back and began swatting and pounding my between my ass cheeks like they were a pair of bongo drums.

       “Butt bongo is a great warm up, don’t you think, Meredith girl?” she asked, not missing a beat.

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I replied, wondering what just what I had done.

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

CHAPTER 5

       Mistress Joanna kept the bongo beat going for I don’t know how long, but it must have been two or three hundred smacks on my bare butt.  When she stopped I was heaving for breath and trying not to sob.  She rubbed her hands across my ass cheeks and I felt her nails running up and down the crease of my labia.  The first thing across my mind was that the color of her nail polish matched the maroon of her boots and belt.  God, I thought, she’s digging her nails into my pussy crack and I’m thinking of the color.  She pushed against my shoulders to slide my knees off the ottoman, leaving me bent over it on my belly with my feet sticking out behind me.

       “Now, Meredith girl” she said, reaching down and pulling my head up but the hair, “up with you, and sit back on your knees, hands behind the head.”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered, shuffling back from the ottoman and assuming the position.  She pulled the ottoman back toward her chair and sat down on it, cradling my chin in her hand.  I looked up into her eyes and tried to see what was in them.  They looked severe, but somehow not cold, but I couldn’t see any kindness in them either.

       “Now that we’ve had a nice warm up, let’s have our first discipline, shall we?”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, blankly.        The open palm slapping against my face rocked my head back, followed by another on my left cheek.  Then she yanked a handful of my hair to hold me steady as she delivered three more with her right hand across my left cheek.

       “You will ALWAYS THANK ME WITH REAL GRATITUDE, not mere rote  replies, do you understand me?” she tossed my head back and stood up.

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress, please forgive me.” 

       “That’s your first black mark.  All black marks will be tabulated and suitable treatment will be administered for them at the end of our sessions.  More on that as we go along.  Now, where was I?”        

       I wasn’t sure if I should reply when she continued in that way she had, of talking to me as though she didn’t need an answer, she would supply her own.

       “Yes, we were approaching some true Christian Discipline, weren’t we?” she smiled at me.

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said trying my best to sound grateful.

       “Hmm, that’s better, I suppose.  You will work on that, I know.”  She sat back down on the ottoman and gestured to her left thigh, pulling her skirt back. “All right, over my knee, hands on the floor. “

I moved over her leg as she pulled a metal backed hairbrush out of her skirt pocket.

“We will do this one with twenty, I think,” she said as she settled me over her and clamped my knees with her right leg.  “You will count each one, thank me and ask for another most politely and genuinely, understood?”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered as the first blow hit.  “One, thank you Mistress Joanna, May I please have another?”        

They came in quick succession, as though the Mistress wanted this over as much as I did, though I thought that her hurry had more to do with what else she wanted to do next.  I think I was right.

Twenty with that hairbrush were tough, but I got through it while only welling up with tears, not breaking down completely though I was close.  She shoved me off her lap, grabbed two fistfuls of my hair and turned me to face her,  still on my knees.

“Hands locked together, behind your back, bitch,” she almost snarled.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered, sounding as grateful as I could.  Mistress Joanna replied by tilting my head back and spitting in my face, followed by thumping my lips and chin with a sharp command to “OPEN!”          

I complied as she spat directly into my mouth, followed by another one squarely in my eyes.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I mumbled.

“For what?” she demanded.

“Thank you for the gift of your spit in my unworthy and untrained face, Mistress Joanna,” I answered.  She smiled that predatory smile once again, gazing down at me.

“Good answer, girlie,” she chuckled a bit.  “Very good answer.  Now up on your feet.”  She pulled me up, her hands still locked in my hair, and as soon as I was standing, hands still locked behind my back, she bent me over, bringing my head down between my knees, and then started walking as she dragged my along.

“This is how my bitches in training will walk in my house,” she talked as we moved around the room, marching me and yanking at my hair to keep up.  After two or three turns around the room she stopped me in front of her massive desk.

       “Stop there, tits on the edge of the desk, arms across it, legs straight, knees locked.”

       There I was, my nipples on the carved edge of the desk with my reddened ass sticking out and my arms stretched across the expanse. 

       “Time for an implement introduction and inventory,” she announced, walking around the desk and opening a wood cabinet behind it.  Inside were several rows of whips, paddles, crops and straps.  She opened the matching door on the other side to reveal floggers in various materials and colors along with an assortment of canes and switches.

       Oh boy, I thought, are we going to go through every one of those today?

No, I couldn’t possibly survive that.

       “So here we have my collection of implements,” she said, waving her arms across the open doors.  “Impressive, isn’t it?”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, it is most impressive, thank you Mistress,”

       “We obviously won’t get to all of them today, but all in good time, of course.  Now, I’m going to bring out a good example of each type implement I will use in your obedience training.  Some of these are used for discipline, some for punishment, some for my amusement and entertainment.  So where shall I start?”   She looked over the array in the cabinet and pulled out a slim wooden paddle, about two inches wide and about as long as her forearm.  “This one is so small and innocent looking, don’t you think?” she queried, laying it on the desk in front of my face and turning again to the cabinet.  This time she held out a soft leather flogger, draping it across my face so I could smell the leather.

       “It’s quite nice, this one,” she said with admiration.  “Buckskin from a trophy deer shot by darling husband, and quite beautiful, too, don’t you think?”  She slid the carved handle over my face, followed again by the buckskin lashes.

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, it is very beautiful, thank you Mistress.”

       Next came a strop, doubled over and mounted in a turned spool handle with big brass nail heads.  The leather was a gleaming olive green.  “Italian glove leather, so it makes a great noise and wonderfully pink impressions, but no unsightly welts.”

       “This is my favorite among the crops, mainly for the maroon color.”  She snapped the crop down on the desk beside my head and I saw the braiding of maroon and black leather in a lovely pattern all down the shaft and the handle.

       “Now I generally use the birches only for strict punishment or to reinforce a discipline behavior I find lacking,” but every sister in training should feel the sweet  kiss of a birch bundle early on, I’m sure you will agree, hmmm?”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered with real meaning behind it.  She placed a small bundle of twig-like branches tied with a maroon ribbon beside the riding crop, placing the implements in an arc across the desk.

       “Let’s see, that’s five, how about a couple more?”  she thumbed along the various paddles and selected a black leather one, slapping it against her palm.  The sound alone was impressive as I imagined what it would feel like across my butt.

       “And we can’t forget a cane, can we?” she asked as she pulled two or three from the rack, then settled on a short rod of bamboo with the end wrapped in some fiber.  “The handle is wrapped with jute twine, just the thing for an extra massage after a good caning” she cooed, reaching over me to rub the rough fiber of the handle along the crack of my ass and pushing down into my labia.

       She came around the side of the desk and sat on the edge beside my head.         

       “So, we have here seven of my favorite implements, just as the Lord called down his vengeance sevenfold in Leviticus,” she said, still flicking the cane.   “Now I needn’t be cruel unless your stupidity gives me a good reason, so I won’t give you seven strokes with each, at least not right now, but I will give you one or more with each just to complete our brief little inventory, hmmm?”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered, with genuine gratitude.

       “Good.  Maybe you’re not as stupid as I thought.  Ignorant, of that I am sure, but not stupid.  Now, I will give you a stroke or two or maybe a bit more with each of my favorites and when I have finished with that one I will give you a light tap right up the middle.  At that point you will thank me and beg to feel the next one, is that clear?”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I replied.

       “Good, now keep those knees locked, step back from the desk so that the tits hang straight down.  Good.  And just to add to the appreciation of implement introduction, we have an extra taste.”  I felt her hand on my left breast and nipple, then a searing pinch, and she immediately reached under me to my right nipple and grasped it, followed by more pain.  I glanced down to see she had clipped a wooden clothespin to each nipple; I gritted my teeth and sucked in a sharp breath.

       “You should get familiar with clothespins, my dear, since I enjoy using them so much.  I find them to be not only useful training tools, but they are wonderful as entertainment, too.

First is the slim paddle, and you really should feel a succession of these, so I will begin with five on each cheek, then add intensity with six, then seven on each cheek.”        What happened to two or three strokes with each implement I asked myself, trying to be ready.

       “Don’t clench your muscles or it will hurt worse,” she added, laying into the first five on each cheek, then hardly pausing for the six on each.  She stepped back after those strokes, rubbing along my ass and curving up into my labia with her manicured nails.  And without a word she laid on the next seven for each side, much harder than the firs two sets, quickly followed by a tap of the paddle on my butt crack.

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna, may I please feel the next implement?”

       “I believe we’ll do the flogger next,” she announced, laying the paddle aside.  I felt the strands of the flogger as she trailed then across my back then came down hard, crisscrossing my back about four times.  Another three struck across my back with the ends of the flogger’s tails wrapping around me to land on my breasts.  And I felt another three, one for each cheek then she reversed her swing coming up to catch me full on the lips of my pussy.  Then she tapped my butt with the handle and moved to collect her next weapon, leaving the flogger draped on my face, the sweet, soft fragrance of the buckskin filling my nostrils.

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna, may I please feel the next implement?” I asked, choking back tears.

“Oh, that gorgeous Italian leather strap,” she cooed, and it smacks so nicely.  And it did, too.  Each stroke was square across my ass with a resounding ‘smack’ and the sting to go with it. She stopped after four and I opened my mouth to thank her when she started in with four more.

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna, may I please feel the next implement?”

“Oh, yes, but first let’s have few more from this one, shall we?”

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna, may I please have more, Mistress?”  And four more it was.  But the next one, the crop, was really the worst.  I was anticipating that the cane would be the worst, but I was wrong.  She bent me down at the small of my back and kicked my feet further apart and brought it up under me to land squarely on my vulva, three, then four times.  Then she stepped back.

“Reach back with your hands and spread your ass cheeks,” she demanded.  I obeyed immediately.  And she gave me four more sharp hits right on the rosebud of my asshole.

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna, may I please feel the next implement?”  And that time I said it with relief.

“How about the leather paddle, and we’ll save for the birches for last?”

This time, two strokes seemed enough for her, though each one sent a shudder of shock up and down my spine as she connected two-handed with that stiff black paddle.  She put in front of my face, ordering me to kiss the leather.

“Spring steel core in between two layers of top grade harness leather in this baby,” she said proudly.  “Lovely, isn’t it, you stupid girl?”  She spit on my face again as she turned back to her collection.

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna, may I please feel the next implement?”

“Ah, the cane.  Two is all I will deliver, one across the fat part of your ass, the other on the thigh crease.  Which do you beg for first?”

“Mistress Joanna, will you please hit my fat ass first, please Mistress?”

“As you wish,” she grinned as she slashed down mightily, sending a wave of fire through my hips and up and down my legs.  She followed with a couple of swishes through the air before connecting right on the crease where the backs of my thighs meet my ass, which I had never thought of as being very fat.  But before I could react or even start to answer with my thanks, I felt the wrapped handle of the cane between my labia as she sawed back and forth with, pushing harder and farther with each stroke.  Next thing I knew, she had jammed the handle up into my pussy until I felt the end of it hit my cervix, then she pushed a few more times, gave it a vicious twist and stepped back.

“And we will leave it right there until further notice.  And make sure it doesn’t fall out,” she said, pacing behind me.

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna, may I please feel the last implement?”

“Hmmm, I think six good shots with the birch bundle should do it, and you will count each one, thank me, and ask for the remaining number.  Screw it up, and I will start over with a fresh six.”

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna, may I please have the first stroke?”  And down it came.  “One, thank you Mistress Joanna, may I please have five more?”

The next three strokes came quickly, with enough time for me to utter the proper answer and ask for the right number, but my ass was on fire.  The fifth stroke came from below, catching me full in the pussy and I screamed in agony.  I caught my breath, stuttered and stammered and practically yelled out, “Five, thank you Mistress Joanna, may I please have one more?”

“Don’t ever be so slow in proper response again, or I will start over,”  she growled into my ear just before she reared back and delivered a slashing cut with the birches.  I thought I would bleed from it.  I held my position while she slid the implements across the desk, then turned and yanked the clothespins off my nipples.  The rush of blood back into them was more painful than the pinch of the pins, I discovered.  It’s something I’ve never gotten used to.

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna, for showing me such thorough training with you lovely implements,” I heard myself say, my tits were throbbing and the rush of blood into my nipples felt like a thundering torrent.

“Stand up, arms behind you at attention,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you, Mistress.”

She had walked around the desk and sat, leaning back in her chair with the her feet up on the desk.   “So I trust that you have been reading and studying the Rules and Regulations for our Sisterhood,?”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t be tested on rules.

“Very well, then tell me the six levels of our membership.”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, trying to remember all of them.  That was one section I had read very thoroughly.  “At the bottom are probationary members who must be accepted after humility and obedience training and recommended by their training mentors, and accepted by the Supreme Council.” 

“And what about their responsibilities to discipline?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, each must serve one year as probationary with monthly discipline for the first six months, and alternate months for the next six months.”

“Provided the first six months don’t require any extra discipline, that is,” she corrected me, taking her feet from the desk and standing up.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress. I will try to be more thorough.”

“Continue,” she said circling behind me.

“The next level is Provisional where members must appear before the Supreme Council for discipline every three months, and at least one of those sessions must be a public demonstration of humility and obedience for invited members of the Sisterhood.”

“Yes, that is correct.  And the next?”

“There is a Provisional Plus level, with only three discipline appearances before the Supreme Council, including one as a public demonstration of humility and obedience for invited members of the Sisterhood. The Provisional levels may be attained after undergoing a test which is administered by invitation.”

“Yes, very good,” Mistress Joanna said.  “I have trained more than ten applicants, and each was invited to take the Provisional Test within two months of completion of their Probationary period.  I will expect you to follow in that quality.”  She turned abruptly and smacked me across the ass with her riding crop.  “Now, what’s next?”

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna,” I said.  “The next level is Associate Member, with two required discipline appearances each year.  If any unsatisfactory behavior is reported to the Supreme Council between those sessions, then the next scheduled discipline will be a public shaming for an invited audience.”

“You have done your homework, haven’t you?”  Joanna asked.  “And what does a full membership mean?”

“A full membership in the Committee’s Sisterhood means an annual discipline session before the Supreme Council, and eligibility for Supreme Council or the Training Council.”

“Well done, girl,” she said. “And you should know that I Chair the Training Council, and assign mentors to new prospects.  And I chose you for myself.”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, my arms aching from holding them at attention.  She grabbed a handful of my hair from behind and bent me over, turned and began walking out of the room leading me by the hair and bent double. 

“Remember, I like to walk you with your ass higher than your head.  That’s because an untrained ass is more valuable than an untrained brain, and until we put some obedient training in your tiny brain, your ass will be your best part.”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,”

She spoke as she walked me past the front hall, through the dining room and into the kitchen where a woman was slicing vegetables.

“Dinner is at eight tonight, Rosie,” she said to the woman as she marched me past and through a utility room where she opened a door and pulled me into a garage.  There was a Land Rover and some big foreign looking car parked on the far side.  She pushed me down onto a mat near the door.

“This is where you will enter for training from now on,” she said, pointing to a side door.  At that moment, Josie came through the door carrying my clothes in a basket.  She fished my car keys out of my jeans pocket and put them into her own.  “Josie will move your car down to where you will park in future sessions and leave the key in it.  It’s perfectly safe.”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress.”

“When you arrive you will remove your shoes, leaving them in your car, come up the path and enter here.  You will strip and leave your clothing in the basket.  You will then crawl to this door,” indicating the one we had come through, “and knock on the door five times with your forehead.  You will then crawl back to  kneel at attention on the mat until Josie or on some occasions, even I, greet you and give you your first order of the day.  Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress.”

“You will also learn some other rules, such as what are these things?” she asked, flicking her crop across my nipples and up under the breasts.

“My bb- breasts, Mistress Joanna.”

“Wrong!” she snapped the crop on each nipple, causing me to flinch.  “These are tits, not breasts or boobs or jugs, or anything else, just tits!  And that disgusting slit between your legs is not a vagina, a hoo-haw, a pussy or a twat or anything but a –“ she paused. “What?”

“A,  uh a cu—cunt, Mistress Joanna?”

“Yes, you stupid bitch, a CUNT! Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,”

“Good.  Now stand up and go to the sawhorse by the window.”

       I stood and moved toward the sawhorse when Josie put a fist in my stomach that doubled me up and knocked the wind from me as she kicked the backs of my knees and I fell on the concrete floor of the garage.

       “How dare you not acknowledge and thank the Mistress when she gives you an order?” she yelled at me, kicking the backs of my legs again.  I struggled for breath as Josie flipped me onto my back then stood on my wrists and grabbed my ankles, spreading my legs apart.  She held them wide, almost in a split as Mistress Joanna stood over my crotch, tapping my belly with her crop.

       “She won’t forget that again, Josie,” she purred, “not after five on the cunt with this.  And don’t lose count or miss even one part of one really really genuine THANK YOU!” 

I had a full-on view of the crop coming down squarely on my cunt, as I almost screamed before blurting out my first ‘Thank you.’

       

       

CHAPTER 6

“One, Thank you, Mistress Joanna, May I please have four more?” I wailed as the crop coming down squarely for the second shot.  The stinging shot through my entire abdomen as I begged for the next one.  And then the next one.

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna, may I please have one more?”  I asked, the tears flowing like a fountain as I anticipated the last one.  But she whiffed the crop through the air and I felt the wind of it passing close to my cunt lips.  I didn’t know if I should beg for the stroke again, and I had opened my mouth to speak when she brought the crop down harder than ever, the tip striking my clit and driving the shaft of the crop right between the labia.  I started to roll and curl up but Miss Josie had me held too tight.  I groaned for a second and managed to get my wits together.

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna, for chastising me in my ignorance,” I said with genuine gratification through my very genuine tears.

“I hope we can keep you on track,” she said, rubbing her crop across my cheek and catching my tears with the tip of it.  “Because we have these matters of lust and sin to deal with as well, don’t we?”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, we are all sinners, aren’t we, Mistress?”

“Yes, but your base lust and desire must be dealt with as part of your obedience training.  Some think it must be beaten out.  But I don’t agree, and my success in training so many of our sisters bears that out.  Yes, I wield a firm hand, but my approach is that your sin and lust and desire will be drawn out of you like the poisons they are, as we draw you into total obedience through careful humility training, peeling away the layers of false pride, willfulness, lust, worry and fear, and yes, sin.”  She turned and walked to a row of pegs on the wall and came back with a leather dog collar and chain leash.  “Up, bitch,” she motioned and Miss Josie released my ankles and stepped back.

I struggled up to a kneeling position, knowing that I should accept the collar, so I bent my head down and pulled my hair over it to bare my neck for the collar.

“Good little bitch isn’t she?”  Miss Josie said.

“We will have to see about that, won’t we?”  Mistress Joanna answered.

“Take her clothes and shoes and park her car behind the stables.  I will show her the location on the tour.”

       “Yes, Madame,” Josie said as she picked up my clothes and left the garage by the side door.  Mistress Joanna pulled at  my leash and I rose to my feet.

       “Follow me, slut, and I will show you around so that you can get familiar with our training facility here.”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said as she jerked on the leash and we stepped out the side door.  The property was set on the crest of a sloping hill.  Just in front of us was a huge stone terrace with a swimming pool fed by a waterfall from a stone outcrop, with a large pool house to the side.  Beyond that I could see a double tennis court.  To the right and curving down the slope was a gravel path and I could see the rooftop of what looked like a barn at the bottom of the hill.

       Mistress Joanna led me out to the pool terrace and around the side of the pool house.  She punched a code into a keypad and a small garage door opened to reveal a sleek golf cart modified to mimic a ’57 T-Bird.  She slipped my leash onto a hook by the door as she entered.

       “Stay, slut,” she said and she went to the golf cart, started it and backed out, grabbing my leash as she passed me standing at attention by the door.  She turned the cart around and snapped the leash onto a ring beside her seat.

       “Stay with me, and I will give you the tour,” she said, pulling away, as I ran to keep up, running alongside with the cart.

       We passed the tennis courts and turned left along a wide expanse of trees that arched over a lane so that the treetops almost touched each other in a closed archway.   I puffed and panted as Mistress Joanna sped up and I could feel sweat all over me as I ran beside her.  We came up to a flat grassy area enclosed by chain link fence, above a low building that I took to be a kennel when I heard dogs barking and howling as they heard the quiet purr of Mistress Joanna’s cart approaching.

       “Oh, my darlings know I am coming to see them,” Joanna cooed as we came near the fenced area.  “In just a few, sweet babies!” she called as she turned the cart sharply to the left and we approached a wide gate.  Mistress Joanna touched a button on the cart and the gate moved open on a sliding track.  That was when I saw the “auntie,” as I was about to discover.

       Halfway back in the fenced dog run, a naked woman was crouching with her head near the grass.  Mistress Joanna blew a whistle in two sharp bursts and the woman slowly rose up and began to trot toward us.  She seemed to be in her early to mid 60’s with wide hips and large pendulous breasts.  She had a wide collar around her neck and a small red bucket hung from it, dangling between her tits.  In one hand she carried a small shovel, like kids use at the beach to make sand castles.  The woman had a small paunchy belly that jiggled as she ran, her tits flopping and her thighs jiggling as well.  But she seemed in pretty good shape for her age.  As she approached, I could see reddish welts crisscrossing her thighs and belly.  Mistress Joanna blew the whistle again and the woman stopped about ten feet from us.

       “Collecting Position, NOW!”  Mistress Joanna snapped.  The woman dropped to her knees with her ass up in the air and the bucket set beside her with her nose resting on the edge of the bucket.  The heavy odor of dog poop was obvious.

       “Show us some of your handiwork,” Mistress Joana sneered, laughing.

“This thing here is Auntie Irene,” Joanna said, “and she is spending two days here in my kennels and dog run, currently doing puppy poop patrol, aren’t you, Auntie?  Now show us some.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, Honored Sister,” the woman said as she scooped some dog crap out of her bucket, holding it at the edge of the bucket while she quietly rubbed her nose in it, then held the shovel out for Joanna to inspect.

       “And how many buckets have you gathered today?” Joanna asked.

       “This is the fourth bucket today, Honored Sister, and I am grateful for the chance to serve you in this way.”

       “Not bad, not too bad,” Joanna sat back in her seat.  “Tell my trainee slut Meredith her why you are doing this, Auntie.”

       “I am a fifteenth year full member of the Sisterhood of our Church, but I was carelessly tardy in appearing for my annual discipline before the Supreme Council last month,” she said, staring at the bucket where her nose still rested.

“My alarm malfunctioned and I was thirty-six minutes late for my appointment, so I am serving 36 hours of punishment as my Honored Sister and niece Joanna may see fit.

       “Yes, Irene really is my auntie,” Joanna grinned, but we call all the older women ‘auntie,’ when they need to be chastised or otherwise disciplined or punished.  “So now what shall we do with your four buckets of dog shit, auntie?”

”I was hoping to be allowed to dig a hole and bury the contents before cleaning the buckets for my repeat tasks tomorrow, Honored Sister,” Irene answered.  Her hand was beginning to shake from extending the shovel loaded with dog turds.

“No need for you to dig, dear Auntie,” Joanna said, “I have told a stable girl to take care of that.  Two feet square by two feet deep, and I will have them dump the buckets into the hole.”

“Thank you for your consideration, Honored Sister,” the woman said, her voice cracking a bit.  “May I please have permission to replace the shovel?”

“Hmmm, oh I don’t know,” Mistress Joanna mused.  “Why don’t you empty it into your hair instead?” she laughed.

“As you wish, Honored Sister,” Irene said as she started to raise the shovel to her head.

“No, wait!” Joanna commanded.  “No, not just yet.  For the moment you may place the shovel back in the bucket.  Where is your piss bucket?”

“Over there at the bucket station where it belongs, Honored Sister,” Irene answered.

Mistress Joanna snapped her fingers at me, unclipping my leash from the cart.  “Go get the yellow bucket, slut and don’t spill a drop of it.”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said looking to where the Mistress was pointing.  I ran over to a low platform where three more red buckets sat beside a yellow bucket half full of urine.  As I returned with the bucket Joanna pulled a yellow plastic squeeze bottle from a cup holder in the golf cart.

“Here, on your knees.  Take this bottle, uncap it and hold it between your tits as you fill it with Auntie’s piss.  And don't’ you dare spill a drop of it.”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, my hands trembling as I unscrewed the cap of the bottle.  It looked like the ones that hold mustard at a hot dog stand.  I poured carefully, filling the bottle and replacing the cap.  There was about an inch of piss left in the bucket.

“Auntie, over here by Meredith,” Joanna snapped.  “Drink from your bucket but hold it in your mouth.”

“As you wish, Honored Sister,”  Irene replied, tipping the bucket to her lips.  Her cheeks bulged with trying to hold as much as she could in one mouthful.

“Good, now Meredith, open wide, while Auntie kisses and spits it into your mouth for you to swallow.”

My gut clenched at the thought, but I heard myself muttering “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” as I scooted next to the older woman who grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head back as I opened my mouth.  I tried to keep up with swallowing but I gagged a bit and some urine splattered back out and over both of us.

“You will lick that off her tits and belly after she finishes with you,” Joanna chided me.  Irene chugged the last of her own piss into her mouth and leaned over to me again, with the red bucket dangling between our pairs of tits.  There we were, me getting huge mouthfuls of piss while the stench of dog shit wafted over us.

I managed to swallow the rest without gagging and spewing it out, but my throat and nose were burning with the acrid taste of the old woman’s piss.

“Clean up her tits and belly!” Joanna snapped at me.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered quietly as I began to lick the woman’s piss from her tits.  Irene had me by the hair and guided my face and tongue across her tits and belly fat as I licked and sucked the piss droplets from her skin.

“Good, little slut,” Mistress Joanna chuckled as Auntie Irene jerked at my hair.  “Now Irene, kneel beside the slut.”  Irene complied as Mistress Joanna grinned and squeezed the yellow bottle, sending a stream of urine across both our faces.  She sat back and smiled, tossing the bottle to Auntie Irene.

“Take this and squeeze a bunch of it into your poop bucket,” she said, as Irene took the bottle and turned it to squeeze over the bucket of dog shit.  “No, not that way, Auntie,” Joanna chided.  “Squeeze it over your face and open mouth and let it drip into the bucket.

“Yes, Honored Sister, thank you,” Irene replied, parting her lips and squeezing her own piss into her mouth and letting it dribble into the bucket.

“You see, training slut, even though she is a full member of our Sisterhood, Auntie Irene’s poor and disrespectful behavior has forced us to make her show her humility, that dog poop is a superior substance right now.  Joanna sat back in her seat and tapped her boot with a crop.  “Stir that piss into the bucket, let’s get it nice and soupy sloppy, shall we?”

Auntie reached for her small shovel as Joanna stopped her.  “NO, dear Auntie,” she corrected, “use your hands to mix it.”

Auntie Irene reached into the bucket to knead the dog crap, mixing it with her own piss into a stinking paste.

“Oh, my,” Mistress Joanna noted, “it looks too runny now,  Slut Meredith, run over and bring us back another red bucket,” she commanded.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, turning and rising to my feet, just as I felt the crop slash across my hips.

“No, you stupid slut, stay on hands and knees and get moving!”  Joanna growled, adding, “And bring the bucket back here with its handle in your teeth.”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I replied as I crawled as fast as I could across the lawn to where the other buckets stood.  I took one and put the handle in my mouth and started my hurried crawl back, trying not to gag from the stench as I returned and placed it in front of Auntie Irene.

“Now, we should mix this up into a nice squishy mound, don’t you think, Auntie dear?”  Joanna asked.

“Yes, Honored Sister, as you wish,” Irene replied.

“But we should have a table to mix it up just right, shouldn’t we?” Joanna asked, and without waiting for a reply, she snapped her fingers and me and pointed right in front of Irene.   “You, slut, on all fours right there.  Irene, you may use this slut’s back for your mixing table, and get on with it.  I gather you received your second six-hour treatment?”

“Yes, Honored Sister, the Kennel Mistress gave me a treatment with a birch switch.”

“Yes, I see, and she did a nice job, too.  I should commend her on that.  Tell the slut here what you receive every six hours,” Joanna said, swishing the crop back and forth.

“As part of my 36 hour punishment, I must receive 36 strokes from a different implement every six hours I am here,” Irene said, placing both the buckets on my back as she spoke.  “I received my first 36 from Sister Joanna’s hairbrush when I arrived at 6 am today, and I got the second from Sister Fatt y the Kennel Mistress after my first two buckets.”

“Good, now get mixing, make a big mound for me,” Joanna said, giggling.

I felt the bucket being turned over on my back, followed by the sloshing of the other bucket with piss in it, then Irene’s hands mixing and kneading it all together with my bare back as her work table.

“That’s it,” Mistress Joanna encouraged, “make a nice big pyramid pile of it on her back.  Good, now Auntie, you know that part of your punishment is to show respect to the dog pile, right?”

“Yes, Honored Sister, I must show my humility before the dog piles and show proper respect.”

“THEN SHOW IT!” Joanna yelled out.  Auntie Irene whimpered bit and I felt her moving her head.  “That’s it,” Joanna continued, “rub the nose and lips in it, now the whole face.”

I felt her head moving across my back as the stink overpowered me and I fought back the urge to puke, knowing that if I did it wouldn’t go well for me.

“”Now up, and scoop it all back together again” Joanna went on,  smiling down at me.  “All right Auntie, now rub your saggy baggy old tits in it. And don’t let anything run off onto the ground or you will wish it hadn’t.”

I felt the woman’s tits rubbing over me, her hands scraping the runny mixture back and piling it up again.

“Now you may scoop up a double handful  and present it,” Joanna commanded as the older woman complied.  “Good, now rub it into your hair.”

Irene gasped, catching her breath, obviously hoping she wouldn't be required to do such a thing.  Joanna smashed the crop against the fender fthe cart. 

“Do it, NOW!” she screamed, and Irene clapped her hands onto her head and ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair.  “Not so good, but I will accept that,” Joanna said, leaning back again.  “Now gather up some more and rub into Meredith’s hair and over her face.”

I didn’t know what to think as I felt her hands in my hair, then her fingers closing over my eyes and she began to smear me with pasty, gooey, runny dog shit.

       

       

       

CHAPTER 7

       The dog shit was even worse than I thought, but I remained as still as I could as it was smeared all over my face and all through my hair.

       “Good, now on your knees, the two of you, facing each other,” Mistress Joanna ordered.  “Come close, rub those shitty tits together and let’s see a big kiss for each other.”

       Auntie Irene pulled me to her in a huge embrace, rubbing her shit-covered chest against mine.   She kissed me deeply, her tongue reaching into my mouth, then she pulled back and rubbed her shit-packed hair across my face.  It was the most disgusting thing I could never have imagined.  But it got worse.

       “Now, both of you, wipe and scrape each others tits clean, then squash the crap you gather into your own filthy cunt crack,”  Mistress Joanna ordered, flicking her crop against my back.  I ran my fingers over Irene’s tits, scraping with my nails as she did the same to me, then slapping and rubbing the residue into my own pussy hair as I saw Irene do as she was ordered.

       “Now, Auntie cunt, on your back with legs spread wide,” Joanna said, “and you training slut, wipe her cunt and crack clean with your hair.”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said as I dropped to Irene’s crotch, using the hair at the back of my neck which seemed to be less caked with shit than the top and sides.  I figured that this was Mistress Joanna’s way of ensuring that my hair would be completely covered by the time we were done.  I rubbed and scrubbed, turning my head and neck as I pressed against her.

       “Stop, slut.  Now, you had better hope she’s good and clean, because now you will lick that slit with your sinful slut tongue,” Mistress Joanna purred as she grinned a truly cruel smile down at me.  “Irene, I want you slap and pinch your own baggy tits and nipples as this ignorant untrained slut licks you clean.”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, as I started down on Irene’s gray-streaked pussy hair.

       “Yes Honored Sister, I will do as you command, thank you,” Irene added.

I slurped my tongue along her slit as I heard Irene loudly slapping at her own tits, and groaning slightly as she stopped to pinch and twist her own nipples.

       “That’s it, old bitch girl, you know how I want those nipples treated,” Joanna observed, “unless you want some clamps to go on them, too.  That’s quite good.  Now, get back to slapping those sag bags, about ten on each,” she ordered.  “And you slut,” she said, poking me with the butt of the crop, “get that tongue out there and lick deeper and harder.”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, trying to follow her orders as I fought back the vomit that was coming up my throat.  Oh, God, I thought, please don't let me puke or she will kill me.  The gorge rising up slowly subsided as I choked it back and stroked Irene’s slit by tossing my head as much as licking at her with my tongue.  Joanna sat back in the cart.

       “That will do for now, cunts, except for both of you stand before me, hands at attention.”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said.

       “Yes, Honored Sister, thank you,” Irene chimed in.  We stood there with hands  locked behind our heads, covered in crap.

       “Turn, bend and grab your ankles, both of you,” she said, rising from her seat.

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, as Irene followed in with her “Yes, Honored Sister, thank you.”  Mistress Joanna swished the air a couple of times with her crop, then laid five stinging swats across each of our asses so quickly that we couldn’t answer of react.  As she stepped away to resume her seat, we both launched into our simultaneous “thank you.”

       “Now, dear Auntie, for the rest of the afternoon, you are to be chained at the entrance to the kennel run so that when we let the dogs out they can each stop and mark you as their own territory.  We will have you plugged tightly so that none of my ‘tough-guy’ dogs can mount you, as much fun as that may be.  Miss Josie will be here at 6 pm to deliver your next 36 strokes and she will release you and take you to the wash rack for a thorough cleaning and cleansing.  You will then report to me at the Main House for the evening’s entertainment and I will deliver your midnight treatment myself before collaring you to my private toilet bowl where you will sleep tonight. Do you understand?”

       “Yes, Honored Sister, thank you,” Auntie Irene answered, the agony of what she was about to endure plain on her expression.

       “Good.  Then you will be out here bright and early tomorrow, on puppy poop patrol all morning once again.”  Mistress Joanna shifted on her seat cushion.  “And I have a special treat for tomorrow, too,” Joanna added.  “Sister Rose will be here in the morning to deliver your noon and 6 pm farewell treatments.”

I could see the dismay and near-horror on Irene’s face.  Joanna grinned and looked toward me.

       “Sister Rose is a sister indeed,” Joanna smiled, “She is Irene’s real-life older sister and my dear Mother, not to mention one of the senior sisters of our Committee, second only to Sister Beatrice herself,” she added proudly.  “I am sure you will show proper gratitude for her attentions tomorrow.”

“Yes Honored Sister, I will do as you expect, thank you,” Irene said, her voice quavering with the idea of her older sister putting her through this kind of pain and humiliation.

“Oh, I know you will, because Rose won’t have it any other way,” Mistress Joanna added.  “It’s really too bad that you won't get to see it tomorrow, slut girl,” she said to me, then she picked up a small radio device from the dashboard.

“Fatty, come out to the kennel gate and pick up your poop slut,” she said.  Joanna reached behind her and came up with two rough ropes with large loops in them, almost like nooses.  “Put these on, I don’t want my leashes getting dirty,” she said, tossing them to us and taking the trailing ends as she started the cart moving.  We hurried to comply and then jogged behind the cart, trying to stay on pace.  As we went down the slope toward the kennel gate Joanna made another call on her radio.

“Piggy bitch, meet me at the wash rack to clean this dog turd girl,” she said.  Oh boy, I thought, this ought to be some fun.  But then, anything would be better than being covered in dog shit and old lady piss.

We stopped near the kennel gate and Sister Fatty came out to collect Auntie Irene.  Sister Fatty was quite aptly named.  She must have weighed in around 250 pounds or better.  She wore what looked like a long grey tank top that came to her knees, with no bra under it.  She carried a heavy leash and collar and what looked like two large cucumbers.

“Tits out Fatty, tits out!”  Joanna yelled as the woman approached. 

“Yes, Madame,” Fatty answered, pulling down on the neckline of her top and drooping her huge hanging tits over it.

“And roll up the bottom, belly it up!” Joanna added.

Fatty set the cucumbers and the leash and collar on the ground. “Yes, Madame,” Fatty replied, rolling the hem of her shirt up to her belly button.

“How many of these outfits do we have for you?” Joanna asked. 

“Four, Madame,” Sister Fatty replied, “I wear one for a week at a time and they are washed once a month with the horse blankets.”

       “Cut this one off at belly level and wear it that way for the next week, with tits always out,” Joanna ordered.

       “As you wish, Madame,” Fatty replied.

       Joanna tossed the rope to Fatty and turned the cart toward the stables further down the slope.  “Stuff those cukes in tight to both holes, now.  Have fun, Auntie, and I will see you at supper time,” she called out as she accelerated and I broke into a full run to keep up.  We came to a stop outside the horse barn at a concrete platform with open steel troughs and a series of large hoses hanging on racks.  Mistress Joanna beeped the horn and Sister Piggy came running out from a lean-to at the side of the barn.  She was another fat one, though not as fat as the one they called Sister Fatty, but she was still big enough, with a drooping double roll belly and a pair of saggy tits that hung below her belly button.  She wore a pair of Daisy Duke style cutoffs and work boots with nothing else except a rubber pig’s snout on an elastic string around her head.  Sister Piggy came to the driver’s side of the cart and stood at attention with hands clasped behind her head.

       “Here I am to serve your pleasure, Ma’am,” said, panting heavily.

       “Good, then on your knees and show me those tits” Joanna ordered.

       Piggy knelt and lifted up her sagging tits, her hands trembling.  Mistress Joanna tapped at them with her crop before swatting down hard across each nipple, then across the sides of Piggy’s big tit bags.

       “Lift them up, pinch those nips,” Joanna said with a couple of uppercut strokes of the crop.”

       “Yes, Madame,” Piggy answered, lifting her tits by the nipples, stretching them up with her hands at shoulder level as Joanna repeatedly snapped the crop on the white undersides of Piggy’s fat boobs.

       “All right, now scrub this thing squeaky clean, don’t spare the brushes.   Then I want you to lather up and give her one of those titty scrubs you like so much.  I will be in the stable office.”  Joanna turned the cart and left us there at the wash rack.  Piggy grinned at me.

       “Okay dog shit girl,” she smiled, “over there against that rack, legs and arms spread wide, head back, eyes shut.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, not sure how to respond.  She balled her fist and hit me hard in the gut.  I doubled over, the wind knocked right out of me.

“You call me Lady Piggy, understand?” she said, pulling my head up and spitting in my face.

“Yes, Lady Piggy, thank you,” I responded, catching my breath.

“Get backup there, and spread ‘em wide,” she ordered.  As I struggled back to my feet and assumed the position again on the rack rail she turned on a hose and set the nozzle to a hard spray.  It felt like a fire hose when it hit me.  But it felt good to have the dog shit washed off me.  Piggy hosed me up and down, all over, ordering me to turn to the back then to the front again and again until I thought my skin would be rubbed off.  Then she stirred up a huge bucket of soapsuds and started scrubbing me with two stiff brushes.  If I had thought the spray was bad, I really was sure the bristles would rip my skin.  She paid extra attention to scrubbing my crotch and ass crack, of course, then grabbed my hair and pulled me down to kneel at the bucket.

There was some really strong astringent smell as Piggy squeezed some shampoo into my shit-caked hair and dunked me in the bucket, scrubbing away and lathering it, then dunking me again.  She stood me to my feet, pushing me back to the wash rack.

“Attention, cunt!” she yelled, tipping the bucket into a floor drain and reaching for the hose to rinse it down.

“Yes, Lady Piggy, thank you,” I answered, my teeth chattering from the cold water.  Piggy poured some new soap into the bucket and began refilling it with hot water this time.  She stepped over to a cabinet and brought out two large sponges and plunged them into the soapy water then squeezed more of the liquid soap onto her tits, working up the lather.  She stepped up to me and began to rub and scrub me with her huge soapy tits, slapping them across my face several times and then sliding down to rub her tits against mine.  She continued her scrubbing, stopping to lather up again and dropping to her knees to scrub my pussy with her nipples.  She had me turn, bend and spread my cheeks as she drew first one nipple then the other up and down my butt crack then slapping them across my cheeks.

She worked her way down my legs, then up my back until her monster boobs hung over my shoulders, then turning me back into her where she placed her yawning mouth over mine and I felt her tongue going deep into my mouth as she sucked at my lips like a Hoover.  Her hands were rubbing and pinching my tits then I felt her fingers working into my pussy, twisting in and up to hit my G-spot and digging in even harder.  When she finally released me I was staggering and panting to catch my breath.  She laughed and rubbed my nose with her pig snout.

“Oh, you are a tasty little bitch,” she said, pushing me down onto my back on the wet concrete.  “And I'm gonna eat you up alive.”  She lunged down onto me with her lips already on my twat, her teeth biting at my labia as she pinched my clit and pulled and tugged at it.   She chewed and bit, and I squirmed under her weight, trying to relieve a bit of the pain but she pulled even harder on my clit.

Then I heard Mistress Joanna’s voice.

       “Get up from there, you disgusting pigs!” she yelled at both of us, as though I was a willing partner.  “Attention, both of you!”  We got to our feet and assumed the position as Joanna walked up to Piggy, her face glaring right at Piggy’s nose.  “So does she taste good enough for you, Pig?”

       “Yes, Madame, quite tasty,” she replied with a grin.

       Mistress Joanna sunk a fist into Piggy’s fat belly, doubling her over.  AS she bent, Joanna grabbed Piggy’s hair with both hands and tossed her down, face first as she booted her in the belly then a swift roundhouse kick to the fat ass.

       “Stay right there, you filthy sow,” Joanna growled as she stomped over to a series of narrow hoses on a side rack.  She turned a valve and came back with the hose and it’s narrow nozzle.  “Let’s give you a taste of this, shall we? No lube needed.”  Mistress Joanna shoved the nozzle into Piggy’s ass and released the hose clip.  “About a half gallon of cold water enema will straighten you up, don’t you think, Pig face?”

       “Yes, Madame, whatever you wish,” Piggy answered, still trying to get her breath after being dropped so hard.  I could see Piggy cramping up with the enema flow, and her belly began to droop even more as the water filled her guts.

Joanna clipped the hose and ordered me to turn off the valve as she gave a mighty shove to the nozzle, driving it deeper into Piggy’s ass.

       “You will hold it there for another five minutes while I decide how you are to expel, understood, sow?

       “Yes, Madame, whatever you say,” was the answer.

       Joanna walked back toward the stable building, leaving me there to observe Piggy’s torment.  She was shaking and her teeth chattered with the chilly water and the pressure on her gut.  After a few minutes Joanna reappeared with a young girl, probably in her early twenties, wearing only sneakers.  She had small pointy breasts and a pinched-looking face with straggly brown hair and she carried a five-gallon bucket.  Joanna pointed and she set the bucket down beside Piggy.

       “OK, Pig, up with you,” Joanna commanded.  “Chelsea, pull the plug.”

The girl helped Piggy to her feet, straddling her over the bucket, then she reached down and yanked the nozzle out of Piggy’s ass.  A torrent of stink and foul liquid gushed out of Piggy and into the bucket.

       “Make sure she stands squatting over it, and she is not allowed to sit on or even to touch the bucket with any part of her disgusting hog’s body,” Joanna told the girl she had called Chelsea.  Mistress Joanna picked up my leash from the fence and wrapped it around my throat in a temporary collar as she pulled me toward her golf cart.  As we reached the cart Joanna turned and called back to the girl.  “And when she’s finally finished, have her wear the bucket as a hat and sit in her own dripping mess for an hour before you make her clean it all up.”

       “Yes, Madame, I will,” Chelsea called back.  I ran to keep up with the cart as we headed back to the Main House. Joanna pulled up at the rear of the big house, parked the cart and tugged on my leash to follow her back inside the side garage door.  As we entered back toward the kitchen, Mistress Joanna removed the leash collar, hung it on a peg and yanked my head down as she strode back through the kitchen dragging me along by my hair, bent double and trying to keep up.  We went down the hall and approached the study when I saw Miss Josie’s shoes from the corner of my eye.  She rushed over to open the study door as we entered and Joanna flung me to the floor as she released my hair.  The door slammed and I found myself staring straight at Mistress Joanna’s maroon boots.

       “Show proper respect,” Joanna said as she tipped the toe of her left boot up to my lips.  I kissed it and started licking along the length of her boot when she pulled the sole up.  “Lick the bottom clean, too,” she said. 

       I could see bits of horse crap from the stables clinging to the welting of the boot where the upper met the sole.  This is going to be awful, I told myself as my tongue stretched out, almost with a mind of its own, for I didn’t dare not obey even the smallest command.  I already felt the training routine sinking in.

       

       

       

       

CHAPTER 8

       I couldn’t decide which was worse, cleaning Mistress Joanna’s boots with my tongue or the dog shit bath from Auntie Irene.  My tongue was dry and fuzzy fleeing, like it had be pulled through an old washing machine wringer, and the nasty stink of horse piss hung through my nose. Mistress Joanna had been lounging back on a settee while I finished polishing her boots with my mouth.  She shoved my forehead with a toe of her boot, pushing me away so that she could rise.

       “Enough for now, you didn’t do too badly for an untrained bitch slut,” Joanna said.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I replied, not knowing how else to react.

“ With our two hours left in this session, I am turning you over to Miss Josie, giving her some time to train you and be entertained as well. You will learn that while she and I enjoy both men and women, I prefer men’s company, but Josie really prefers women, don't you girl?”

“Yes, Madame, I truly do,” Josie answered, eyeing me with lust.

“ But before I hand you over to Josie’s teachings, let’s take a look at something.”  She turned to Josie in the corner.  “Josie, pull up your skirt.”

“Yes, Madame,” Josie said as she complied, squirming to pull her skirt up over her broad hips.  I expected her to be wearing big old white cotton granny panties, but she wore black bikini briefs with her belly fat pushing over the waistband.

“Slut, crawl over there and pull those panties down to Josie’s knees,” Mistress Joanna ordered.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I replied, hurrying to Josie in the corner.  When I got to her I knelt and raised my hands for the elastic of her waistband.

“No, you ignorant cunt,” Josie snarled,  “Use your mouth to pull them down.”

“Yes, Miss Josie,” I answered as I put my teeth first on one side then the other and tugged at the panties as I worked them down her fat thighs.  I had expected her to be very hairy, and I was right about that, except for one thing.

While one side of her flabby cunt was covered with coarse black hair that spread across the top crease of her thigh and up toward her belly, the other side was shaved completely bare.  I could see the reddish tinge of her labia displayed on the shaved side, and the other peeking out from the mass of hair on the other.

       “Interesting, no?”  Joanna called.  “Josie, please turn and show us the rear view.”

       ‘Yes, Madame,” she replied, turning and bending slightly as she spread her cheeks in front of my face.  While the right side of her cunt was wildly hairy and the left was shaved, on her backside the left side was hairy and the right was shaved clean.  Mistress Joanna saw my surprise at this “hair style,” and laughed.

       “We call this style the ‘half-ass,’ and don't’ you think it’s so appropriate?” she laughed.

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna,” I said, still staring up at Josie’s ass and wondering if that’s what she had in mind for me.

       “Tell us how long you’ve had your hair in a half-ass cut,” Joanna asked.

       “For nearly twenty years, Madame, as long as I’ve been working for you.”

       “And, you’ve come to like it haven’t you?”

       “Yes, Madame, I like it very much.”

       “Not that you have a choice, right my dear?”  Joanna cooed.

       “Yes, Madame, you are right as always,” Josie replied.

       “And maybe I will chose this style for you, cunt. What about that?”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, whatever you wish,” I answered quietly.

       “Of course it’s whatever I wish, but I think I will have a different grooming solution for you at our next session a week from today. You will arrive at 10:00 sharp on Thursday.  I will be monitoring your Scripture studies online between know and then.  Your reading assignments will be in a folder in your car after Miss Josie dismisses you to leave, and until then you are to obey her as you will me.  I will see you next week.”  She dismissed us with a wave of her hand.

       Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, looking up at Josie’s crotch.  Josie yanked up her own panties and dropped her skirt, then grabbed me by the hair.

       “Thank you, Madame, I will make good use of our training time,” Josie answered.  And she pulled me from the room, closing the door behind us.  Miss Josie pulled me along by my hair as we went back toward the kitchen then up the back stairs.  The plush carpet and polished floors of the front hallways gave way to vinyl tile and worn wood as we climbed two flights of stairs with Josie still yanking me along with her fist in my hair.  Occasionally she would give another jerk with her fist just to intensify my discomfort.

       One the third floor Josie took out a ring of keys and unlocked a room at the end of a short hallway then pulled me inside.  As she slammed the door she flung out her arm and sent me flying across the room.  I landed on hands and knees in front of a wooden contraption on wheels.  I glanced around and noticed a rack of implements much like the ones in Mistress Joanna’s study and then saw a bunch of ropes and trapeze-like devices hanging from ceiling beams.  Josie stepped over, grabbed my hair once again, and pulled me to my feet, then bent me over the wheeled contraption.

       “This is my own little invention,” she said, pulling a strap around my waist to hold me bent over a padded saddle, then buckling straps around my thighs.  My knees were off the floor and I could barely touch the floor with my toes.  Josie came around the front and pulled at two handles raised up the front of the device and I could look down and see two round openings just as she reached through them, pulling my tits through and then setting a clamp-like thing to hold them in place.  The pressure was tight, but not too painful. 

       My arms were folded behind me, wrists to elbows secured with duct tape.  Then she pulled up a hinged piece and locked it under my chin with a leather headstall like a horse bridle holding me down to it.  I felt her hands in my hair as she quickly braided a rope of some kind into it then felt my head yanked back at the same time she displayed a shiny chrome hook with a steel ball on the hook end and a big loop on the other end.  She slapped my face then ran the hook across my cheek.

       “Open your mouth and lick this good,” she demanded, pushing the ball up to my lips.  I obeyed of course, as she continued.  “You better lick it good because that’s the only lube it will get before it goes in your ass.”  I licked and sucked at the ball but my mouth was dry as dirt.  Next thing I knew, she was behind me and working the hook into my ass which made me squirm and grunt as she shoved it in.  Then my head was jerked back by the rope braided into my hair as she tied it off to the loop in the hook.

       “Let’s see you move around on my toy trolley,” Josie said as she started removing her clothes.  I found I could push the thing around on its swiveling wheels as I dug in with my toes to move across the floor.  I moved across the room to inspect the rack of paddles, crops and floggers she walked over and took a paddle off the wall.  She clipped a rope lead onto the wood plate that held my breasts clamped down and walked across the room, pulling me as I scrambled with my toes, following her big naked butt.  There was bay window with a padded seat and back cushion built along on side and she settled herself in as she pulled me right up to her crotch.

       “I love to sit here and look out over the grounds while a slut serves me with her mouth, so get to it.”  She pulled me up against her half-hairy pussy as I began to lick up and down her slit.  “Come on you lazy bitch, get your tongue in there nice and deep,” she snarled, shoving herself against my face.  While I continued to run my tongue up and down her flabby labia she grabbed my nipples and pinched and twisted, really hard. 

       “Tongue and teeth on my clit you stupid whore,” she growled.  “Nibble, but don’t you dare bite hard.”  My tongue searched up the folds of her smelly cunt and I realized that her engorged clit was about half the size of my thumb.  I took it into my mouth and began sucking on it, then running my teeth along it before sucking it as deep into my mouth as I could.

       “That’s getting better, you lazy turd,” she said.  “Now, take it hard and deep and make me cum!”  I went after the clit and those fat pussy lips as hard and fast as I could and in less than a minute she was bucking hard against my face and then she started squirting.  I thought I was going to drown in the squirt after squirt all over my face.  Just as she was calming down, Miss Josie started to rub and scrub her half-hairy cunt against my lips and tongue.

       “Suck it all clean, you filthy bitch,” she growled, “Get that tongue working and slurp is all up nice and sweet.”  It was anything but sweet, but suck and slurp I did.  Just then I heard a familiar whoosh in the air, followed by a wracking pain across my ass as the wooden paddle smacked across my hips.  She hit me another five times, each time tapping my ass with the paddle as though lining up her shot, then the whoosh of air as it came sailing in on my butt.  I gasped and groaned each time, but still remembered to rasp out a “Thank you Miss Josie,” after each one.

       Next, she shoved the trolley with her foot and I went careening across the large room, slamming me into the base of a wooden post with a cross arm and rope bindings on it. 

       “Use those feet and get back over here,” she shouted. 

       “Yes, Miss Josie,” I replied, trying to turn the trolley toward her as I scrabbled with my toes.  I finally got it maneuvered around and worked my way toward where she stood, this time with a wicked looking strap she tapped against her palm.  As I came hear to her, Josie grabbed my by the thigh and whirled the trolley around, spinning it in a circle as she came down with the strap in a furious series of swats, one right after the other as she kept spinning me round and round.  I was getting dizzy and my ass was on fire.  I thought I might puke, but knew that that would definitely not be a good thing.  Suddenly she stopped, with me facing away from her.  I felt her untie the rope and remove the metal hook and ball from my ass.  There were some more sounds behind me that I couldn’t identify.  Then I heard the clink of buckles and a couple of sharp snapping sounds.

       Next thing I knew, I could feel a rigid plastic something rubbing across my ass crack.  Oh no, I thought, she’s got a strap-on dildo for me.  I had heard about these things, even seen a couple of porn movies with them back when I was still married to my jerk former hubby, but I never dreamed I would have one near me, let alone in me.  Then it got worse.  I felt not one, but two of the things, now rubbing up and down my labia AND my ass.

       “This is one of my very favorite toys,” Josie chuckled.  “I call it my double-header, one for each slutty hole.” I felt the cold of some lube dripping off them and onto my skin, dripping down my crack, and she drove hard and deep into me with both devices as I screamed from the invasion of those two huge appliances.  Just as I caught my breath, I felt these strange vibrations starting from them.  Oh God, please help me out of this, my mind raced as the twin invaders worked in, out, up and around, jerking me back and forth by their sheer force.

       Josie grabbed my hair and used it like bridle reins as she humped and bucked into me with her twin tools, laughing and drooling over my back.  This went on for what seemed like hours, but was probably about ten minutes or less.  At last she was getting tired, and she turned off the switch and pulled out of me, then spun me around to face the two dildos hanging in front of me.

       “Clean them up,” she ordered, pushing them to my lips.  I caught my breath and opened wide.

       I licked and sucked as best I could, cleaning my own juices and the horrible tasting lube off the two tools that she dangled in front of me.  At least the hoses and enemas had cleaned me out so I’m not licking off my own crap, I told myself as I took the ass dildo deep into my mouth.  Not that I had a lot of choice, as Josie continued to thrust and shove it into my mouth as I gagged and vowed not to puke on her.   She finally stepped away from me and unbuckled the harness holding the strap-ons, letting it fall to the floor. 

       “I’ll let you polish that up later,” she said, pointing to the harness, “Just as soon as we have a bit more fun.”  She gave the trolley a huge shove and sent me across to the other side of the room where I banged into a box of some kind that seemed attached to the floor.  Josie followed over and turned by trolley with wheels up and my burning ass down to the floor.   Except that it wasn’t the floor.  The low box I had knocked into was a wooden tray type thing lined with bristles from rough push broom heads, so she shoved me down onto the bristles, making sure to squeeze and shake my shoulders and tits to grind my butt down onto them.  Then she spun around, spread her broad butt cheeks, and settled onto my upturned face.

       “Get in there and rim me deep,” she ordered.  “I want to feel those lips all over me and that tongue going halfway up to my stomach.”  She squirmed down onto my face until I could hardly breathe and then she reached down between her knees, to where my breasts were clamped so she could pinch and twist them.

       Josie alternated pinching, twisting and pulling with slaps across my tits and nipples as she rode my face and my tongue French kissed her sweaty ass hole.  She would rise up occasionally to allow me to breathe, then drop back down on me, snorting and snarling with her exertions.

       “Worship your betters, you sinful slut,” she repeated each time she slammed her ass back down onto my mouth.  Finally, she stood up, turned to face me and began to slap my face back and forth, forehand and backhand while she gripped my hair in her other fist.  She dropped the trolley back onto its wheels, gave it a vicious shove and sent me flying back across the room to the rack of paddles.  She stepped up and ran her hands along the array of implements. 

       “Just one more set of strokes for you today, bitch, so you can thank me for my mercy,” she said as she waved a drilled wooden paddle in front of me.

       “Thank you, Miss Josie for your mercy and for your training,” I replied, still panting to catch my breath.  This time she swung the paddle low, onto the tops of my thighs that not only burned like hell, but it set the trolley in motion so that she followed it around the room, swatting as she went.  After about twenty more swats, she stopped.

       “Oh my, we are almost out of time for today,” she said, almost sadly.  “Let’s get you out of this and ready to leave, shall we?”  She started unbuckling the straps that held me and helped me climb up from the contraption before tossing me down one more time beside her dildo harness.

       “Use that slutty tongue to polish up my harness, then buff it with that straggly hair,” she said as she began to put on her clothes.  After she dressed she inspected the harness I was buffing with my snarled hair, took it from me and hung it on the rack by the paddles.

       “Training is over for today, aren’t you the lucky one?” she said, grabbing my hair and hauling me toward the door, keeping my head down and my ass up as I struggled to keep up with her.  Down the stairs we went, me trying not to fall and take her with me, her jerking me along as we went through the house and back to the garage entrance. 

       ”Stand there, attention,” she ordered, leaving me by the twin circles in front of the doorway.  I stepped into the circle and assumed the attention position.  Josie slid the basket with my clothes in it to my feet.  

       “Get dressed and get out,” she said.  “Follow the path down to the stables, staying only on the path, and your car will be around to the right.  The gate will open in four minutes and will remain open for forty-five seconds.  If you aren’t out the gate before it closes, you will be punished for disobedience.  Now, dress and go.”

       I certainly didn’t intend to be caught inside the gate as I grabbed my clothes, pulling on panties and bra quickly, making sure my nipples stuck through the holes in the bra cups, pulling my top on and squeezing into my tight jeans.  I opened the door and ran to the pathway.  The path was rough gravel and it was really nasty on my bare feet, but I hurried as fast as I could.  I imagined Josie and Mistress Joanna both watching from the house, laughing at me hopping and trying to minimize the pain on my bare feet as I hurried down the path.  I got down the path and my feet were on fire.  It felt like my right big toe might be bleeding but I didn’t dare stop to check. As I neared the stables, I looked up to see Piggy, still sitting on the concrete pad by the wash rack with her enema bucket still over her head.  As I came around the right side of the stables, Auntie Irene was com ing the other way with two empty buckets, being herded by the thin stable girl that Mistress Joanna had called Chelsea.  Chelsea tapped Irene with  a thin horse whip to keep her moving, and she grinned at me as they headed back to the building.

       I saw the source of Chelsea’s delighted grin when I go to my car.  It was parked close to the building, with barely enough room for me to sidle between, and the ground had been covered with stinking dog shit, presumably from the buckets that Irene was carrying.  I ran to the passenger side of my car, but it was locked.  I ran back around and tried to slip to the door, not able to avoid slopping right through dog shit.  I slid though the door and into the driver’s seat and saw the key was indeed in the ignition.  The stench of dog shit was overpowering, and then I realized it wasn’t just on my feet from where I had stepped in it, but the brake and accelerator pedals had been loaded up with it.

       I knew I was running short on time, so I started up and backed out.  I didn’t know how I was going to get home and get cleaned up, but first I had to get of there.  I drove up the service drive and saw that the gate was already open.  I panicked, not knowing how long it would remain open, so I hit the gas, feeling my foot slide in the huge pile of dog turds that had been smeared on it.  I got to the gate as it started to swing shut and barely made it through in time.  I drove down the street, pulled over and let the windows down to breathe.  I realized I didn’t see my purse or shoes. 

       I got out, pulled the trunk release and to my relief saw my flip-flops and my purse in the trunk.  I snatched them up and headed back into the car when I saw a police cruiser come around the corner.  Oh, please don’t bother me with dog shit all over feet and my car, I thought.  I jumped into the driver’s seat and was signaling to pull out as he drove by, almost stopping right beside me.  I gave him my flirtiest smile and a wave and he drove on.  I let out a huge sigh of relief as I pulled onto the street and tried to figure out what was next.  For the second time today, the stink of dog crap was overwhelming me and this time the urge to puke was just too much.  I pulled over again and before I could open the door and wretch into the street, I vomited all over myself.

       

CHAPTER 9

       I started to cry, and my heaving stomach made my almost hyperventilate as I emptied whatever was still in my stomach.  I needed to get somewhere to clean up, I knew that, and I looked up to see police car coming back my way.  I put the car in gear and smiled and waved to him again as I drove off.  He turned around and was following me.  I expected him to pull me over any second, but he stayed behind me as I headed to the expressway.  I was racking my brain, trying to remember where the nearest car wash might be.

       Then I remembered where there was a self-service car wash, and maybe I could get somewhat cleaned up there.  After several wrong turns I found the car wash with six stalls.  Three of them at the far end were empty and I pulled into the last one, wanting to be as far away from anyone else that I could get.  But when I reached for coins to put into the control device, I saw that it required special tokens, sold at the kiosk in the center of the place.  So I ran to the center where I saw the machine and stuffed several bills into it.  I was reaching down to retrieve my tokens when I heard a cloud child’s voice from behind me.

       “Daddy, something smells like dog poops!”  I turned to see a boy of about four or five with his father, waiting to get tokens.  I smiled at them and rushed away, hoping they didn’t notice my feet still coated with stinking dog crap.

       I hosed off the car, making sure I sprayed the foamy soap and rinse all over my feet and lower legs as I did so.  Then I had no choice but to open the door and spray the interior and the pedals with the hose, trying to get the dog shit cleaned out.  I had pulled the floor mat out and spayed it off but the smell and some residue still stuck to the pedals.  I needed a rag or something to scrub with.

I remembered I had an extra pair of panties in my purse.  When I pulled them out I saw the tiny bikini pair had been snipped into ribbons with scissors, along with a Post-it note that read: “No, no, slut, no spares allowed!  Miss Josie.”  I used the scraps of my already very small panties like a mop, trying to get the last of the turds from the ridged texture of the pedals.

       Finally I headed home, dripping wet from sweat and car wash, but I had to stop at a CVS and get some room freshener to spray in the car.  All the way up and down the aisles and waiting to pay, I was sure that everyone could still smell dog shit on me, but I didn’t get any problems.  And at last I made it home.  My girls were out, thank heaven, and I got a quick shower and got my clothes into the laundry before they could get home.

I was still imagining that I could smell dog poop, when a text message on my phone beeped.  It was from Mistress Joanna reminding me to pay attention to my Bible Study assignment folder coupled with an assignment of “an exercise” I am to perform, with photos to show for it.  Tonight’s exercise is that I am to slap my cunt with a wooden spoon 15 times, sending before and after pictures of it to her phone.

I won’t bore anyone with the Bible assignment, since it’s all about those minor prophets in the back of the Old Testament, and I think that stupid and confusing stuff is assigned to trip you up when they quiz you so that you get extra punishment, but more on that later.  The cunt slapping wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be, but I was already sore from everything else I had been through in the day and I did wait until after the girls were asleep so they wouldn’t hear. My poor cunt was already sore and red so I wasn’t sure how much different the before and after pictures might be, but after I finished it seemed to me that the labia were even more swollen than they had been when I left Mistress Joanna’s house.  At least I hoped she might see it that way.  But I heard nothing from her, so I took that as good news.

Then on Saturday afternoon I was at work behind the counter when I saw Mistress Joanna walk in with an older woman, heading right for me.  Oh God, I thought, what do I do and how do I address her or them?  I didn’t want to raise an extra attention, so I decided I would treat them like any other customers, or ‘clients,’ as retailers like to call them these days.

“May I help you ladies?” I asked, trying to smile and be nonchalant.

Joanna smiled back,  “Yes, Meredith, I am looking for a gift for my daughter, and this is my mother, Mistress Rose.”

“It’s so nice to meet you Mistress Rose,” I replied hoping none of my co-workers would hear me right then.  Rose stared at me at spoke quietly to Joanna as though I wasn't’ there.

“You are right Joanna, she does look like good training material.”  Mistress Rose stared at me as if her gaze could bore a hole in my blouse, looking straight at my tits.  I had worn a loose blouse so that my nipples wouldn’t be so obvious in the cut cup bra.

Joanna glanced over the jewelry in the showcase, drumming her purple nails on the glass.  “Not much that I like right here, but tell me when is your next break?”

“I can take lunch anytime I want about now, Ma’—I mean, Mistress Joanna,” I answered as quietly as I could.

“Good, then you will meet us at the fitting rooms in Evening Wear in five minutes,” she said and they turned and headed for the escalator.

Oh, boy, I thought, what’s up with them now?  I told the other girls in the department that I was taking lunch and slipped out from behind the counter.  I thought I should visit the bathroom before meeting up with the two Mistresses but going downstairs to the staff room might make me late for them.  I opted to go for the smaller room just off the Evening and Formal department upstairs, but as I got to it I saw Mistress Joanna outside the door and joined immediately by her mother emerging from the rest room.

“Oh, nice you are a minute or two early,” Joanna cooed at me.  “Come along, I want you to assist my mother in something.”  She turned and walked down the corridor of dressing rooms to the ‘Salon,’ a lounge area reserved for “special clients.”  One of the dressing room doors was open and I saw two lavish gowns hanging there.  Mistress Rose started into the room as Mistress Joanna took a seat on one of the plush armchairs.

“Follow her in, and help out, girl,”  Mistress Joanna snapped.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I replied, almost automatically.  I went into the room as the door slammed behind me and I felt Mistress Rose’s hand in my hair, shoving me against a side wall of the small room.

“All right slut, strip down to panties and show me what you are,” she said sharply.  She stepped back and began to unbutton her own blouse.

“Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I said as I got out of my blouse and skirt as quickly as I could.  I was wearing smoke grey thigh high stockings and as I started to pull them down she looked down at me and added

“Leave those pathetic rags on, but lose that obscene bra, then show yourself to me,” she barked, removing her skirt to reveal shiny silk hose with a lacey garter belt.

I unclipped and slipped out of the bra with the cut cups and stood before her wearing only my tiny panties and hose, hands clasped on my head.  She looked me over as though I might be a vase of flowers she was thinking of buying, then reached out and twisted both my nipples. I tried not to flinch or draw away, but I did suck in my breath with the sudden pain.

“Learn to enjoy the pleasure of you betters,” she said with a cruel smile.  I couldn’t help but envision her beating and whipping her Sister Irene just two days before at Joanna’s house. 

She twisted hard again, and I found myself whimpering through my grated teeth, “Thank you Mistress Rose, thank you.”

She released, then slapped me across the face, the across each tit with huge force, then across the face again.  “Help me put this on,” she snapped while holding up one of the gowns on the hanger.  I took it from the hanger and was gathering the full skirt of the gown to raise it and help her into it when she slapped me again, even harder than before.  “Not over my head, you stupid cow, that might muss my hair.  On your knees slut and allow me to step into it

“Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I said, dropping to my knees and holding the gathered gown out in front of me.

She had kicked off her shoes stepped into the dress, holding my hair to balance herself as she flicked at my arms and I stood up to pull the gown up and over her body.  She had full breasts pushing out of a sleek silk bra and wore a bustier-like shaper over what I assumed was a typical aging belly.  She turned away to allow me to straighten the shoulder straps and zip up the back.  When I had zipped her, I stepped back and instinctively went back down on my knees.

She turned and gazed down at me and leaned back against the single chair in the room, snapping her fingers and pointing to her shoes.  The Manolo Blahnik label on the insole told me those pumps cost more than I made in a week.  As I started to put the right one on her extended foot, she snapped her fingers and said merely, “Show some proper respect,” snapping her fingers again.

“Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I said dropping lower to kiss her toes, licking quickly between them and not knowing what else to do.

“Now the other one you ignorant bitch,” she added, shoving her left foot in my face. 

“Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I added.  After I had worshiped the other foot she looked at me with glaring, half-closed eyes. 

“you may now dry your disgusting drool from my toes with your hair, then show proper respect to my shoes, too.”

“Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I heard myself saying as I tossed my hair over her spread toes and wiped them with it, then sat back and took up each of her expensive shoes.

“Don’t dirty the leather with your spit, scum,” she snarled.  Put that slut tongue to work on the heel, you know what I mean.”

“Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I said yet again, taking the heel into my mouth and sucking it like it was a dick, then following with the other one.

“Not so bad, I suppose,”  she said casually, motioning for me to put them on her feet.  After they were on her feet, I sat back on my heels, still kneeling.  She lifted one out to me and flexed her ankle.  “Make sure the sole is good and clean, too,” she added as I dropped to all fours to crawl to her and lick the bottoms of her shoes.

As I was licking the second shoe I heard the dressing room door open and Mistress Joanna stepped into my side vision.

“I was wondering how you two would be getting along by now,” displaying her wolf-like grin.  “I might need my shoes done, too,” she laughed, “but Mother, wouldn’t you like her to give you a more thorough service?”   They shared a giggle.

“Well, my bottom does have a strange itch,” Rose said, “ and maybe a sluttish tongue could remedy that.”  The two of them laughed again.

“Whatever the Mistresses’ pleasure is my pleasure,” I said.

“Oh never mind for now, I will be there for next week’s training and you can show me then how obedient that tongue can be,” Mistress Rose said, pushing my face away with her foot.  She stood up and twirled to show the gown to her daughter. “What do you think?  Shall I try the other one?”

I wondered what they might have in store for me next as Mistress Joanna stepped over to her and unzipped the gown. 

“I think this one is fine, why not take it?”  she said, then looked down at me.  “Slut, help her out if it and get her dressed, now.”  She turned to leave, speaking over her shoulder,  “I will wait for you outside, but please don't be too long with her, Mother.” 

I had jumped to my feet to help her out of the gown, holding it again as she stepped out of it, gripping my hair for balance as she stepped out, this time leaving her shoes on.   I stood with the gown and straightened it and placed it back on the hanger to hang it on a hook.  I turned back to Mistress Rose in time for her reach out and pinch my right nipple with her left hand, yanking down with it.  I went back to my knees as she pulled her black bikini panties aside right in front of my face.

“Doing my bottom can wait, but I want that slut tongue up in here,” she said, pointing to her pussy with a tiny patch of dark hair above it.  Joanna says you have a good tongue, and I would like to see for myself,” she added.  She settled back into the chair and reached to the table beside it, holding out a bottle to me. 

“Rinse your filthy mouth and swallow it,” she said, smiling that predatory smile once again.  “I want a clean mouth on me, and finish the bottle,”

“Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I said, drinking it down.  I realized how dry my mouth and throat had become.  It had a funny chemical taste by I finished off the small bottle an set it on the table, my head held low.

“Now you can crawl up here and get busy” she motioned, spreading her legs wide.  As I approached her pussy I could see it was already moist and I could smell her musky odor.  Please don’t puke on her, I told myself as my tongue settled into her crack, licking up and down to start and working my tongue deeper.  She seemed to be enjoying herself as she humped up into my face, and it wasn’t long until she was bucking with orgasm and holding my face tight into her with both fists in my hair.  She shoved me back, picking up my cut bra with her toe and dangling it in my face.

“You may now get dressed, training cunt,” she said, flipping my bra over my nose and chin.

“Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I said for what seemed the hundredth time that day.  As I dressed she grinned again.

“And that water contained some special ingredients, too, my dear.  Along with a powerful diuretic that will keep you heading to the toilet all afternoon, is a special dye that will keep you peeing a bright, bright green for days, just as a reminder for what’s in store next Thursday at Joanna’s.  I am looking forward to it, aren’t you, dear?”

“Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I said distantly, pulling on the rest of my clothes and buttoning up as quickly as I could.  What’s next, I thought, knowing I still had to get past Mistress Joanna out front, then get back to a long afternoon of frequent pit stops. 

“Here, you can help me with this, too,” she said holding out her silk blouse to put it over her shoulders and turning to have me button it for her.  She fingered my nipple between thumb and forefinger, smirking as I fumbled with her buttons.

“Now back to work with you, girl, and I shall see you on Thursday.”

       I went out to the outer room of the Salon where Mistress Joanna sat, smiling at me.  “Hope you had fun at our little luncheon, bitch.”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered, keeping my eyes looking down at her feet.  “Oh, and it seems as though you are a bit behind in submitting your Bible study homework.  I will expect to see an up to date submittal before Church tomorrow morning at early Sunday School. Now, you’d best get on with things.”

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered blankly wondering how she knew so much about everything, and how I would need to spend at least four hours studying and turning in homework before the next day. And of course I had to work until closing at 9 p.m.

       I wasn’t quite down the escalator to my department’s floor when the first rushing urge to pee hit me and I barely made it to the toilet in time.  And it seemed like I had to go every few minutes all day after that.  I thought closing time would never come and I ran to the john to pee one more time before going out to my car.  When I got there and unlocked it I was about to slide into the driver’s seat when I caught the gagging whiff of dog shit.  Right there on my seat was a big pile with a note on it:

       “Meredith you crap slut, be sure and bring this to with you on Thursday so that you may return it to the kennels.  Mistress J.” 

       So not only did she know just about everything about me and my job, she had a key and alarm code to my car.  God, it was going to be along few days until Thursday.  But first a few hours of boring Bible Study tonight.  God, how did I get myself into this I asked as I tried to figure out a way of moving and saving the dog pile.

CHAPTER 10

       Oh no, not again, I kept repeating.  I found an old folding umbrella under the front passenger seat and carefully slid the pile of dog shit onto it.  I knew I would have to clean up again on the way home but I hoped I could keep enough of the stink off me to get somewhere to get a plastic bag or two.  Then I remembered the freezer bag I keep in the trunk for keeping frozen food from thawing on the way home from the supermarket.  I popped the trunk latch and slipped around with the dog shit balanced on the folded umbrella.  I opened the freezer bag to find it half full of horse apples with another note reminding me to return these to the stables on Thursday.  Oh shit, I laughed to myself, shit, shit, shit!

       I dropped the umbrella with the dog poop into the bag and folded it over and zipped it shut and slammed the trunk lid.  The car smelled of dog poop but wasn’t overpowering like the previous time and I headed home remembering that I had left a can of Febreze in the glove box.  I sprayed and sprayed as I headed out of the parking lot and heard my phone ring.  The caller ID said “MJ” for Mistress Joanna.  I answered oh the third ring.

       “Enjoying the artifacts I am loaning you?” she laughed.

       I stammered for a minute still shocked at her calling me.  “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I finally said.

       “Don’t ever hesitate in answering your betters,” she purred into the phone.

“Answer before the second ring is complete.  I will put that down for some correction on Thursday.  By the way, my mother really enjoyed herself today and she thinks you are a wonderful trainee.”

       “Please thank Mistress Rose for me, Mistress,” I answered, quickly this time. 

       “She might even drop in on your homework review tomorrow, just to help me keep tabs on you,” Joanna added, relishing the thought, or so it seemed.

       Oh, Sweet Jesus, I said to myself, now I’m gonna have them all over me all the time.  I didn’t know how to react to that, so I just blurted out “I will welcome anything I can do for either of you, Mistress Joanna.”

       “Oh, I know you will,” she cooed, as she was hanging up.  “I absolutely know you will.”

       I tore home as fast as I could, intending to get right to work on that boring Bible study guide and the homework that went with it.   I won’t bore you with the details, but it was all about the obtuse prophecies of the “minor prophets,” the ones in the back of the Old Testament.  I had spent the evening with my daughters, helping them do their toenails, and sent them off to watch whatever it is they love to watch, and I went to my room, opened the laptop and started answering the long convoluted questions about Zechariah and Habakkuk, etc.

       I fell asleep over the keyboard and awoke in a panic about 4 am and finished the homework questions, which I emailed to the Christian Education Committee.  I got back an auto-reply that my submission was late, but would be reviewed in person.  I was supposed to be at Sunday School with my daughters by 9, so I figured I would be hearing about it then.  I crawled under the covers and went right to sleep, but I had the most terrible dream where I was crawling, being pulled along on a long leash but I couldn’t see who was pulling.  There was some sort of fog or most all about me and all I could see were the boot heels of the one who kept yanking at my leash.  I woke up and my armpits, back and knees felt soaked in sweat.

       Then I reached down between my legs to feel my pussy absolutely drenched.  I ran my fingers along the slit of my labia and felt the wetness.  I slid over and pulled back the covers to see I had been lying in what was practically a puddle of sweat and pussy juice.  My fingers flew to my clit like they had a mind of their own, rubbing it furiously as I came in what seemed like two seconds.  But I kept massaging my throbbing clit, running my fingers in and out of my pussy, then jamming my pinky into my ass, which shocked me back to reality.

       I lay there thinking about everything I had been through in the past few days, and what was coming up and drifted off to sleep when the alarm rang at 7:30.  I realized how badly I needed to pee, and I jumped up and raced for the toilet.  Sure enough, as Mistress Rose had said, my pee was a bright green and I wondered what that would have to do with anything coming up, or was it just another demonstration of their power over me?

       I showered and put on a robe, figuring I would make some coffee before getting dressed for Sunday School and Church.  My nipples felt hard against the robe and my pussy still throbbed from my earlier dream and “activities.”  Oh God, I thought, I wonder if they will be able to tell if I have touched myself.  It was like a whirlwind to get ready to go and get the girls going.  We parked in the large lot at the Church and as we were walking the girls saw some other girls they knew and ran to join them.  I went into the Christian Ed building and down the left corridor where the arrows pointed to “Adult Study Rooms.”  About halfway down the hall, who should step out from a doorway by Mistress Rose, who looked at me like I was expected, which I guessed I was.

       “Well, look who’s here and who barely got her study report in,” she said.

       “Good morning Sister,” I almost whispered, not knowing what I should call her.

       “I expect that subsequent studies will be more timely,” she said slyly, looking me up and down as she started down the hallway away from me.  Then she stopped and turned, smiling at me.  “I will stop on Thursday this week, too.  So until then …” she turned again and walked down the hall, turning into the doors that led to the Discipline Committee’s office, lobby and inner sanctum.

       Boy, I thought.  I wonder what they do down there on Sundays. Just then Mistress Joanna emerged form the door where Mistress Rose had just entered. She came straight for me and muttered in a low voice so anyone passing wouldn’t hear. 

       “Your tardy submission reflects badly upon me and my entire family’s standing and we will not have any more of it.  Now get down to Study Room 3 and pay attention.  I will see you in Thursday.”  Off she went without a look back.

I won’t bore you with the rest of the Church day, or most of the first three days of the week. But I was sure that Thursday was going to be a tough one.

Thursday came almost before I knew it.  No, that’s not true.  The week dragged on, and I couldn't get the thought of another training session with Mistress Joanna out of my head.  I tried to focus at work, but it just kept on in my brain.  I knew I could just call the whole thing off anytime, and that I didn’t have to go through with all this abuse, but I was somehow drawn to it, especially knowing how it could help me and my girls.

I was ready to go on Thursday morning as soon as the girls were out the door on their way to school.  I was wearing sweats and headed up to get a quick shower and then to put on my ‘training bra’ and tiny thong panties when my phone rang with the caller ID saying “MJ.”

       “Good morning slut, do not say a word, just listen,” Mistress Joanna’s voice said.  “You are to arrive at my gate at exactly 9:48 this morning and drive down to the stables where you will find a parking spot marked by a photo of a slut’s welted ass.  Park there and remove the two artifacts we left for you last Saturday and place them on the trunk of your car to mellow in the sun.  Leave your purse and sandals in your unlocked car and hurry up the gravel path to your appointed entrance door.  You know the routine to follow upon entry. Josie will be observing that you follow all instructions.  Oh, and don't bother taking a shower this morning.  Instead, go to your computer and log onto the link that is already on your screen.  Follow the instructions and leave that ugly sweat suit on until you are instructed to remove it, then finish the exercise session and get dressed while you are ripe with your own sweat stink. I shall see you later.”  The phone clicked off and I stood there in shock.

       How does she know what I am wearing, what’s on my computer, all this, I kept asking myself as I headed to the laptop to see what waited.  I clicked onto it and saw a group of six naked women on their backs, doing leg lifts with weights on their ankles.  I stepped back a step to look at them when a text flashed across the screen:        MEREDITH, LOOK IN THE BOTTOM DRAWER.  I opened the drawer to find a pair of three pound ankle weights there.  As I pulled them out the screen flashed ON YOUR BACK AND FOLLOW ALONG.

       So I am being watched, obviously, I told myself as I lay down, strapped the weights around my ankles, closed the Velcro fasteners and lifted up my legs.

The strain on my stomach was intense, and I won’t burden you with the whole routine, let’s just say my belly and legs were on fire by the time I was done.  Part way through the screen told me to remove the sweat pants, lie back and grab my ankles with my hands and spread myself wide, still wearing the ankle weights.  Then the screen told me to remove my top, take off the ankle weights and hold them I my hands with arms spread wide and to remain in position.  My arms were shaking and about to cramp when the screen told me I could drop the weights.  Just as I did, another message flashed on the screen, telling me to approach the keyboard, pull up my tits by the nipples and hold them in position. 

       I could feature Mistress Joanna sitting at her computer and watching me, knowing how she had total control over me almost anywhere.  PINCH – PINCH – PINCH HARD! the screen flashed as I complied, almost not believing that I was kneeling in front of a screen in my own bedroom pinching my own tits in agony.  I was finally allowed to release and when I saw the clock on the computer I realized I had best get moving to make it on time.  I threw on my clothes and headed for the car.

       I made it to the gate with about two minutes to spare, but a large truck that seemed to be having difficulty turning into the drive blocked the gate.

I sat there, glancing at the clock on the dash, back to the truck, wondering if this was a deliberate move by Mistress Joanna to make me late.  Just then the truck pulled through the gate and I slipped in right behind it, the followed it down the service path toward the stables.  The truck pulled up behind the garage area and I zoomed down to the parking area.  The photo of a welted ass that was to mark my place was a poster size print of a huge fat butt, I supposed it belonged to Sister Fatty from the kennel or Sister Piggy from the stables.

I pulled up, left my shoes in the car and popped the trunk and grabbed the multiple layer so of plastic I had packed the horse apples and the dog turds in to keep the smell down.  I closed the trunk, left the two packages on the trunk deck and started for the path when I almost collided with a naked woman carrying a wicker tray of horse turds.  I saw that she was Sheila, one of the women who had been with me at the original interview before the Committee.  Two of the horse apples had fallen off the tray and Sheila quickly knelt down and put them back on the tray before rising to hurry off.  She looked at me and quickly whispered, “Don’t ask. Good luck to you,” and she rushed around the corner of the building.

I headed up the gravel path to the garage and my bare feet noticed that a lot of red crushed stone had been added to the white gravel, making walking even more difficult, but I was determined to get up the path and tried to ignore the sharp points of the red rocks from digging in or even cutting my feet as I jogged up the path.  I got to the door, stepped inside and was out my four articles of clothing in seconds, as I knew that cameras must be everywhere.  I dropped my clothes into the waiting basket and crawled to the door where I used my forehead to knock five times as required.  I slid back and knelt with my hands locked behind my neck and waited.  Minutes went by and still I waited.  Finally I heard noise beside me, and Miss Josie came in through the side door from outside.  She came straight to me and slapped me hard across the cheek.

“Hello, training slut, welcome!” she said, slapping me hard across the other cheek.        

“Good day, Miss Josie, thank you Ma’am,” I answered, my cheeks stinging. 

“Madame will see you in a while, but in the meantime, you will help in the kitchen,” she said taking me by the hair and pulling me to my feet to follow her into the kitchen with my head yanked down and my ass in the air.  We stopped in the kitchen, where Rosie the cook was peeling potatoes into a huge bowl.  She handed me a small paring knife and indicated a bowl of onions on the counter.

“There girl, peel and chop those onions, and be quick,” she said.  I looked at the tiny knife and knew I would be in for some real tears by the time I finished with all those onions but I figured I had best get busy or Joanna or Josie would come in before I was finished.  The onions were the large yellow ones that really bring a tear to your eye, especially when you have to chop and dice them with a tiny knife.  I was nearly done when Josie returned and stormed right to me, grabbing me by the hair and shoving my face near the pile of chopped onions that had me already streaming tears and sniffling.

“Mistress awaits,” she sneered, “and I guess that’s enough of those, or is it Miss Rosie?”  The cook looked at the pile I had chopped and said that it looked sufficient and to get my smelly body out of her kitchen.  Josie took me by the hair and pulled me down into the usual position and we headed toward the hallway.  But when we got to the main hall, we didn’t go toward Mistress Joanna’s study, but turned the other way and came to a door with numbered codes on the lock.  Josie punched in a code and opened the door that led to steps going down.  Oh boy, a dungeon, no doubt, I thought as I took the stairs carefully with Miss Josie yanking me along by the hair.

It didn’t look like a dungeon, more like a rec room with pool table and big screen TV and leather sofas and armchairs.  But there were three other doors along the far wall.  Josie pulled me toward the far left door and knocked.  Joanna’s voice said to Enter.  The room looked like a medical exam room with a tilting table with stirrups, white cabinets on a side wall, IV type holders on wheels, and an assortment of stainless steel clamps and other menacing looking devices in another glass front cabinet.

“Welcome slut, get up on the table,” Joanna said in her abrupt manner, pointing to the table.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said for the first of many repetitions that day.

“I told you we would first work on your new pubic hair style, didn’t I?  Well, I have decided” she said as she and Miss Josie buckled two straps across my belly and above my tits.  “Legs up and spread,” she commanded as she adjusted the stirrups and pushed my feet into them, then locked them in with tape. 

She then pulled the stirrups up and out, spreading me even further and dropped the head of the table down with my crotch up.  I looked to the side where Miss Josie was moving a chair-like device on either side of my head.  All I could see of it were two black cushions.  I heard it being adjusted somehow, then saw Josie’s big half-shaved crotch above my face as she pulled up her skirt and settled herself down on the chair thing then slid it up to where my head hung down, moving right over my lips.

“Give her the kind of kisses she likes,” Joanna purred, still fiddling with adjustments that now had me totally restrained.  My tongue was working into Josie’s crotch and up and down the folds and creases of her gaping cunt.  I thought if she knew I was mentally referring to it as a ‘cunt’ she would most probably be beating me senseless.  As I continued with my tongue worship of Miss Josie, Mistress Joanna spoke.

“I thought it might be fun for you and Josie to share the half-ass look like she has between her legs, but I have a better idea,” Mistress Joanna said, with a tone of satisfaction.  At that moment I felt something moving along my crotch, which at this point was opened up wide and high. 

“You know how women get bikini trims or waxes, leaving just the slightest amount of hair will be hidden by even the smallest bikini bottom?  Well, little training slut, we are going to give you what I call a ‘reverse bikini.’  That’s where we shave and pluck the small area that the bikini covers and we leave the rest to grow as naturally as we like.”  Joanna sounded proud of her decision as I was trying to wrap my head around the idea.  Oh, I got it all right.  I was going to have pube hair sticking out of my swimsuit all summer, while I was shaved into a tiny triangle.  But it got better.

“And we will also make sure that any hair along your butt crack is allowed to flourish as well, just shaving a strip about an inch wide along your taint and up your ass,” Miss Josie chimed in, humping down on my mouth as my tongue continued working on her fat cunt lips.

“And you are to keep the area I have drawn on you completely free of all hair and stubble every day, at all times,” Mistress Joanna added.  “And just to make sure that you do, I am having the web cam upgraded on your computer right now as we speak.  We can look at that in a few minutes since you have a fairly small field of view right now,” she laughed.  “And I want you sucking on that fat clit of Josie’s which I am sure is swelling right up by now.”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said, though it sounded much more muffled with Josie’s cunt lips swallowing me up.  I took Josie’s big bud of a clit and sucked it hard and deep as Josie bucked up and down on my face, panting and making sounds like a big cat.

“Now, when I blow this whistle, you are to bite down on that clit, good and hard,” I heard Joanna say.  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and then I heard the shrill whistle.  I bit down, not too hard, but hard enough to get Josie’s attention I thought.  “And you don’t stop until I blow it again,” Joanna followed, tugging on my left nipple, then blowing the whistle.  “And back to licking and sucking that clit!” she commanded as I obeyed.  Josie was bouncing up and down on my face and I thought she might break my neck.

“Next time the whistle blows I am going to let Josie work your tits as you bite her,” Joanna laughed.  “But first, let’s get that hair styled, shall we?”  So Mistress Joanna went to work on my pussy, shaving the hair between the lines she had drawn, stopping occasionally with tweezers to pluck some just for a little extra pain and humiliation.  Josie leaned over me and I could feel her big boobs on mine as she reached in with a pair of tweezers or pliers or something I wasn’t sure, to wrap some hair like pasta on a fork, then jerk it out as I yelped into her dripping twat.

They seemed to be finishing their work on me when Mistress Joanna slapped my cunt and ordered be to “make Josie cum, hard and quick!”  I sucked as hard as I could with my lips and shot my tongue up into her and soon she was heaving and gasping and was so wet on my it felt like I would drown when I heard the whistle blow.  I bit down hard and sucked for all I was worth as I felt Josie pulling, stretching and twisting on my nipples.  I thought she would yank them off my chest.  Then I heard the whistle blow again, and in a bit Josie slid back away from my face.

“Bring the mirror, Josie,” I heard Joanna say, and Josie pulled down a lighted mirror on an arm, and raised up my head so that I could see what they had done to me.  There were two purple lines of marker from the top of my ass crack clear past my twat and finished off as a triangle about two inches above my crease.  There wasn’t a bit of stubble or hair between the lines, but there was hair everywhere outside them.

“And that’s how you will keep it at all times, understood slut?”  Joanna asked.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered, as they unstrapped me and I continued staring at my crotch.  I figured I would be wearing some pretty full-cut swimsuits to the pool and beach this summer with that hair-do.

‘Now, upstairs to look in our monitoring project, shall we?”  Joanna started for the door and Josie pulled me to my feet to follow along. 

Back in Mistress Joanna’s study, she flipped on her large monitor, and asked, “So how is going there Harry?”  I saw a man in my bedroom turn to the camera.”

“Just about done here, Ma’am, how does the image look and sound?”

I saw the camera pan around and zoom into the chair at my dressing table where I had been keeping my laptop. 

“Looks good Harry, good job.” Mistress Joanna smiled as she pulled back the camera view so that we could all see Harry sitting on the end of my bed.  “You can let yourself out and don't’ forget to re-set the alarm.”

       “Thanks, Ma’am, I’m glad you like the upgrades” Harry smiled and winked as he left the room.

       I sat there in total shock, knowing that she had my car keys and alarm, the keys and code to my home system and now had total view of my bedroom.  Of course, I realized that earlier that morning Joanna had had visual contact in my bedroom, so I wasn’t sure what was going on.

“I see that look on your face,” Joanna said with some sympathy in her voice.  “All right, I will tell you.  I had some work done on the web cam on your computer a few days ago, and when I saw how well it was working I thought I would upgrade it.  But this is a better quality camera I have had mounted in a much better location.  And of course, the sound is better, too.  Just look at this much poorer example.”  Mistress Joanna hit a few keys on her computer and up popped a grainy image of me on my bed with covers thrown back, and when she clicked it again, I could see the video of my masturbation from early Sunday morning, complete with me ramming my finger up my ass.

“So you see, the new camera is quite an improvement,” Joanna purred, looking sternly at me.  “And just how shall we punish such a sin of self-abuse, especially without my permission, and on a Sunday to boot?”

I was so shocked I must have gone as white as a snowman.  I couldn’t speak, my tongue started to move, but noting came out.   The study door opened.

“We should give her at least 50 over the knee with a hairbrush,” I heard Mistress Rose say as she came through the door.  Auntie Irene stood behind her in the doorway, wearing nothing but a peekaboo-training bra and lacey pink panties with little-girl flowers on them, there was a rhinestone collar on her neck with a light chain leash held in Mistress Rose’s hand.        

“Good morning to you, Mother,” Mistress Joanna said, leaning back in her chair and still staring at me.  “And good morning to you, Auntie,” she said.

“Good morning, Honored Sister,” Irene said, her eyes to the floor.  “And thank you for including me in your session today.”

“So happy to have you,” Joanna cooed.  “We look forward to your service.

As my shock wore off a bit, I must have looked confused at Auntie Irene’s presence, and Rose took over.

“She has been punished for her gross violation of our rules, but the shame she brought upon us still needs to be addressed.  So she is spending 150 hours of service time to our family over the next six months, aren’t you dear sister?”

“Yes, Honored Sister, and I am happy to serve you,” Irene answered.

Rose glowered at me as she stepped around to open the closet and select a hairbrush from the ones hanging there.  “Shall we have this slut relieve herself before the discipline?” she asked, as though I wasn’t even in the room.

“Perhaps,” Joanna replied.  “Slut, do you need to pee?”

I realized I hadn’t peed since early morning and I was afraid that a hair brushing with Mistress Rose might be tough to endure without an accident.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, may I have permission to pee, thank you Mistress,” I said.

Joanna snapped her fingers and Josie brought over a tall glass and set it on the large center table.

“All right slut up there and get it done, you have two minutes,” Mistress Joanna snapped.

Oh, crap, I thought, how can I do this?  But I climbed onto the table and squatted over the glass, willing my bladder to follow my brain.  And finally when I thought I might be out of time, the flow cut loose, streaming into the glass with a less bright green than earlier in the week, but enough for Rose and Joanna to howl with laughter as I squatted there, blushing from my belly to my eyebrows.

CHAPTER 11

       When I finished pissing in the glass, it was almost half full.  I stayed in place, not knowing what to do next, looking down at my feet, feeling the stares from all sides.  I glanced up at Mistress Joanna standing directly in front of me.  I felt like some helpless child, not knowing how to respond.

       “Well, slut, are you going to squat there all day?”

       “I’m sorry, Mistress Joanna, may I please move from this position?”  I asked meekly.

       “Wipe yourself with your hand and lick it clean, then come here and kneel,” she snapped her fingers and pointed to a spot on the floor to her left. 

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I complied, licking my own piss off my hand, as I still held the glass.  I saw Auntie Irene fidgeting and squeezing her legs together.  A big smile came over Mistress Rose’s face.

“That’s right, Irene.  I guess we have been depriving you of a pee for sometime, haven’t we?”  she said, grinning.

“Yes, Honored Sister,” Irene replied, you have postponed my request for relief two times this morning.

“Well get up on the table, and get on with it,” Rose said, turning her head to look at me.  “Slut, crawl to her and hold the glass for her.”

“Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I said blankly, crawling to the table.  I knelt at the edge of the square table with both hands holding the glass under Irene’s crotch.

“Pull her panties aside for her slut,” Mistress Joanna ordered.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said and I reached for the pink little girl panties to pull them aside while holding the glass close to her.  Irene’s flow started gushing out, splashing in the glass already half full.  As I watched it fill, I wondered what would happen if it overflowed.  Never mind. Rose had that covered.

“Irene, stop your flow, NOW!”  Rose barked.  Irene clenched herself; her eyes squeezed shut and the flow dropped to a dribble, as the glass was almost full.  Joanna stepped to the side to be in my full line of sight.

“Drink it down to less than half, slut,” she said, as though it were nothing.

I glanced down at the warm amber now mixed with the sickly green of my own piss, thought for a fraction of a second about the price of refusal or even hesitation, and brought the glass to my lips.  The taste was terrible, acrid and bitter, and I thought I might gag, then flashed back to the first day I had met Irene, when I was forced to lick her slit clean.  I drank it down, quickly, and swallowing hard.

“Thank you Mistresses,” I said, and showing it to them.

“All right Irene, finish up NOW!” Rose barked again as I slid the glass under her.  “Josie, bring another glass so that we can divide the product and each of these obedient sluts can share,” she added.  Josie brought another glass and as Irene finished, I was told to pour the two glasses back and forth so that the piss was well mixed and Irene was told to wipe herself with the crotch of her panties.  Then we were made to stand and intertwine our arms, each holding a glass and drink from the glasses, all of it in one chug according to the order from Mistress Rose.

After we finished the piss drinking, Josie took the glasses aside and Mistress Rose sat on a side chair, indicating her lap.  “Over here, and across my knee,” she indicated.

“Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I said as I approached her obediently.  But she held out the brush pushing it between my tits and stopping me.  “That bush in obscene,” she said, “and I want it covered.  Josie, what do you have?” 

       Josie smiled broadly.  “Hmm, just the ticket,” she giggled as she opened a drawer in a credenza by the sidewall.  She brought out the tiniest white silk thong, more of a G-string, actually, and brought it over.

       “Put it on that disgusting slut crack,” Joanna commanded.

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said as pulled the G-string up my legs and over my hips.  When I looked down at it, I felt more exposed than if I were completely nude.  It was tight-fitting and conformed to the camel-toe of my labia so that they practically stuck out, and the silk was so light as to be almost transparent with the brown hair spread out all around it.  As I said, I felt more exposed with it on than if I had remained totally naked.

       “Time for punishment now,” Rose indicated her lap once more.  

       “Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I answered as I settled my belly across her thighs.  I could feel her fingering me along the outside line of her leg.

       “Irene, sit here with arms around the slut,” Rose indicated a place near my head as it hung off her legs.

       “Yes, Honored Sister,” Irene answered, sitting cross-legged by my head and draping my arms over her shoulders as she put hers around mine, pulling our faces close together, our lips almost touching.

       “Oh, how sweet they look like that,” Rose answered with acid in her voice.

“But Irene, every time I bop you on the head with the hairbrush, instead of deep kisses, you will spit in the slut’s face.  And when I slap your face, you will lick the spit from her while I continue my delivery of the 50 strokes this sinful slut has coming, understood?”

       “Yes, Honored Sister,” Irene said, her lip quivering in front of mine.

       “Josie will keep count, and whenever I pinch a tit you will thank me and ask for more, slut,” Rose said as she shifted under me.

       “Yes, Mistress Rose please punish me Mistress,” I answered trying to stay relaxed.  I remembered what Joanna had told me the first time about not clenching up or it hurts even more.  The swats started lightly, but not too light.

By the fourth one, they were full blast, each coming at about three or four second intervals and moving from one part of my ass cheeks to another, up to my waist and across and down to the crease of my thighs, and below in that spot that hurt the worst.  I was trying to keep a mental count and grateful I didn’t have to count each one aloud.  She stopped at what I figured as 15.

       “How many, Josie?” Rose asked, grabbing my left nipple with a nasty twist.

       “Thirteen, Ma’am,” Josie answered.  I knew it was 15, but I didn’t dare object or they would most likely start over at one.

“Thank you Mistress, may this slut please have more punishment?” I asked, hoping that my form was acceptable.

“But of course!” Rose answered enthusiastically as she laid into me once more.  She changed her timing, delivering two or three in quick succession then dropping off for ten to twenty seconds as I felt her rubbing and tapping lightly with the brush and not knowing when the next real smack would come and where it might land on my throbbing ass.

The next stop for a count came at what I had in my head for thirty, even after subtracting for two from the first counting, which really made it thirty-two.  Rose reached under me to tug on my right nipple this time.

“Twenty-five, Ma’am,” Josie said.

“Thank you Mistress, may this slut please have more punishment?” I asked, stammering as Rose tapped Irene on the head and she hocked up a big gob of spit onto my face.  Rose tapped her head again and another gob splattered across my eyes and nose.  Then a third tap came and Rose smacked down hard on my ass.  I caught my breath as Irene landed another spit right into my open mouth.  Two more swats came quickly, then Rose stopped abruptly and slapped Irene hard across her face.  I saw but mostly felt Irene’s wet tongue on my face, over my brows, on my closed eyelids as she licked and sucked at my face and the hairbrush descended three more times, hard and fast, followed by the brush rubbing up into my pussy crack, pushing my thighs apart, then crashing against my cunt, one, two, three, four times.  I was biting my tongue trying not to scream as Irene shoved her own tongue into my mouth and sucked on her own spit.  Then I felt the tap on Irene’s head as she pulled out of my mouth, reared back and let go with more spit across my face and into my still open mouth as the brush banged my ass another three times.

“How many are we up to now?” Rose asked.

“Thirty-five Ma’am” Josie replied.  At least those 10 weren’t messed up, I thought, even though I had now received at least 42, but from where I was at that moment, counting really didn’t matter much.  The next five came sharp and fast, with two more spits and then a lot of spit sucking as Irene was all over my face and again sucking into my mouth.  She was still at it when the last 10 came in, two waves of five strokes, each of the five aimed precisely at the crease on the top of my thigh five to the right, five to the left.

“Is that 50, Miss Josie?”  Rose asked, tapping Irene’s head one more time.

“Yes, Ma’am, that’s at least 50,” Josie chuckled as Irene held her hand under my chin and spit right across my eyes one more time.

“Thank you Mistress Rose, for punishing this slut,” I heard myself saying, as though from a distance.  My ass was on fire, throbbing with spasms, and I was sure that I had deep bruises on my thighs.  Irene stood up and helped pull me to my feet.  I was reaching back to feel my ass when Joanna grabbed my wrist, pulling me across the room and over her lap as she sat on the sofa.

“Now it’s time for my 25, with this,” she said, pulling a long handled wooden spoon from between the sofa cushions.  “And you will count each one, thank me for it and ask for the next.  Understood?”

“Thank you, Mistress Joanna, will you please punish this slut, Mistress?” I asked, fighting back sobs as the first stroke shuddered clear through me.

“One, thank you Mistress, may I have the next one please?” I asked.

And so it went, as I finally broke completely into tears at about 13 or14, rasping out my thank you and begging for the next.  Mistress Joanna decided to give me a short break, telling me to catch my breath by licking Irene’s ass.  She called Irene over, tugged her panties down to her ankles and spun her around in front of my face, ordering Irene to bend and spread her cheeks.

So there I was, choking back tears and sniffling with Joanna shoving my face right up into Irene’s ass crack.

“Get that filthy tongue in there and lick deep,” Joanna sneered, yanking me by the hair.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I said as my voice was once again muffled into the flesh in front of me.  My tongue went in deep, moving up and down Irene’s crack, along the taint and to her cunt, back up and in deep once more.  Irene was bucking and shoving against me as Rose stepped up to her and grabbed her nipples with a savage twist.

“Don’t enjoy it too much, you bitch,” Rose sneered through her teeth as she twisted hard.  Irene groaned as Rose released her then slapped her hard across the face.

“Keep that tongue working,” Joanna added.  And I did, until Joanna pulled me back by the hair and said, “Time to finish up this part, yes?”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, please continue with this slut’s punishment, Mistress,” I said, my voice still quivering.

“Where were we before I gave you a break, slut?”  Joanna asked.

“Mistress, I believe it was at 13.”

“I thought we had given you 14, but we will start again at 13,” Joanna smiled as she pulled me across her lap.  I knew we had finished at least 14, but I was afraid she would sandbag me back in the count, so I played it safe, and that’s where we started in again.  Joanna took her time between strokes, twirling the spoon around and letting the handle drag across my slit and poking my asshole before flipping it in her hand and lashing out hard with it, the bowl of the spoon making a popping sound as it landed on the fattest part of my ass cheek.  Finally, it was done, and my ass felt numb at that point.

“On your knees, and show me some proper gratitude,” Joanna snapped as she slid me off her lap and onto the floor.  I scrambled to a kneeling position as I saw her present the spoon to my face so that I could kiss it while I thanked her for my punishment. I held position there, waiting for the next order when Mistress Joanna grabbed me by the nipples, twisting them hard as she pulled me up to my feet.

She picked up a metal collar from a side table and closed it around my neck, using a small tool to screw a pin into the latch so that the collar couldn’t be removed without removing the setscrew.  A ring hung from the collar with a metal tag that said “slutsinner” on it. 

“Time for some exercise slut,” Joanna smiled as she reached for a leather collar that she tossed to Josie to place on Irene’s neck, “and you too, old bitch.  Let’s go.”  Josie produced two chain leashes and snapped them onto our collars and yanked us along to follow Mistress Joanna out the side door.  As I passed through the doorway, I felt Miss Josie grab the waistband of my G-String and rip it off me then put it in her pocket.

Joanna and Rose climbed into the front seats of the golf cart and Josie sat on the back, facing us and holding the loops on our leashes, pulling them tight then slacking them back, grinning all the while.  We took off down the sloping hill, away from where I had been to the stables and kennels, past beds of beautiful flowers and shrubs.  The slope flattened out near a grove of trees and I saw a huge swimming pool with a waterfall cascading into one end and not one but two large Jacuzzi tubs to the side.  We skirted the pool and followed down another slope to a fenced garden, by now exhausted from trying to keep up with Joanna’s pace with the cart.

“All right sluts, let’s get some real work done, shall we?” Joanna asked.

Without waiting for a reply she continued.  “You will spend a few hours weeding my vegetable patch,” she said, taking the leashes from Josie and pulling us through a wire gate.   Irene, you cow, let us see those udders hang and let us hear you moo.”

       Irene glanced at Rose and at me, then bent over with her tits hanging straight down and staring at the ground as she let out a loud “MOOOO!”

       “Good old cow,” Rose said, taking her leash and pulling her to a row of tomato plants, still bent over with her tits hanging and swinging.  “All fours, cow,” she added as Irene dropped down. 

       “Now, get to grazing all those tiny weeds,” Joanna commanded, “and let me hear another moo.”

       Irene’s loud and mournful MOO echoed across the garden as Rose and Joanna turned to me.  Joanna pulled on my leash and I followed her to the next row where lettuce and cabbage was growing.  She gave the leash a sharp jerk and I dropped to all fours, but I felt her foot on my back and I lay down flat on my stomach.

       “Hands out at your sides, worm,” Joanna said.  “You won’t need to moo like cow Irene here because worms don’t make any noise, they just slither along. And that’s what you will do as you use that wormy mouth to remove the weeds from this entire row of lettuce, then back along the cabbages.”  She shoved my head with the toe of her boot as I started pulling at the small weeds and stray blades of grass that seemed to carpet the spaces between the lettuces.

       I started pulling the small plants with my teeth, worming my way along and feeling my belly and thighs being scratched from the dirt.  I wasn’t sure what to do with what I pulled out, they didn’t expect me to eat it all, or did they?  I pulled  and pulled, clearing the space between the first two plants, then glancing down the long row of at least fifty more.  I was still slithering between the first two when I felt a boot on my head, then I heard Mistress Rose.

       “ Chew it all up and spit it out, worm,” she said.  “You don’t have to swallow it, but you do have to grind it up.” 

       I went back over the ground where the stems and roots of the weeds and grass were strewn and sucked them into my mouth to chew the green shoots along with the dirt stuck to the roots.

       “Oh, look at the worm suck that up,” Rose exclaimed, “just like a vacuum cleaner!”  I kept on chewing up the disgusting mass in my mouth, then spit it out between the plants.

       “Oh, no, that will never do,” Joanna added.  “Use that wormy hair and spread that mess out before you go to the next plants.”  She grabbed my ear and moved my head across the spit soaked mess, spreading it on the ground.  I could feel the mud grinding into my hair.

       “That’s how you do it, worm,” Joanna said, pulling her arm back and watching me spread the icky mess around the dirt with my hair.

       I had progressed to the sixth or seventh plant when they obviously had grown bored with watching us while Irene grazed like a cow then was directed to chew it up like a cow’s cud before spitting it out in between the rows. 

       “I think we will spend some time at the pool while you two get your work done,” Mistress Joanna said as she headed for her golf cart.  “Josie will make sure you stay busy.”  And they left.  I could see Josie’s rough shoes in the row ahead of me as I moved to the next plant. 

       Then she appeared in my peripheral vision as she squatted with her skirt pulled up, right in front of me.  She pulled her panties aside and let out with a huge stream of piss, the force of it splashing onto my face as she made a puddle not a foot from my nose.  When she finished, she reached into her pocket and pulled the tiny white silk G-string out to wipe herself.  When she had done that, she took it and reached behind me, wadding it up and stuffing it into my butt crack.

       “Keep that there for me, worm, and don’t you dare lose it,” she said.  “And be sure you crawl through my special puddle I’ve just made for you, too.”  So I started to belly-crawl through the mud created by Josie’s massive pissing as I moved to the next plants when her big foot pressed my face into the puddle,  then she had me by the hair and making sure that it was all messed up with the muck of her piss and the garden soil.

       I worked my way along the row squirming and spitting and rubbing the weeds with my hair, almost constantly being harassed by Miss Josie.  She might kick my butt cheeks as I slithered to the next plant, or she would smack the bottoms of my feet with her crop, or she would stand with one foot on either side of my head and demand that I crawl forward.  When I hit my shoulders against her ankles, she would lash my ass with the crop and demand that I keep moving, but of course I couldn’t get past her stout legs holding me back and I would just have to suffer through the lashing.

       I moved to near the end of the row and she came along beside me.  A glance up showed me that she was wearing a belt with several holster slots that held the dreaded yellow squeeze bottles.  She pulled out two bottles and pointed them at my face and hair, squeezing out two streams of aged piss that immediately got in my eyes, almost blinding me while she laughed, then she turned to Irene who was crawling along the next row.

       “Moo for me cow cunt, nice and loud,” Josie ordered.  As Irene lifted her head to Moo, Josie let go with both the bottles all over Irene’s face and into her wide-open mouth.  Irene choked and spit as she kept up her mooing and Josie laughed and squirted her again, this time landing both streams into Irene’s mouth.

       I heard the soft purr of Mistress Joanna’s golf cart returning to the garden. 

       “Came to check up on progress here,”  Joanna said, stepping down from the cart and slapping the side of her skirt with a riding crop.  I saw her shadow pass above me as she went to examine Irene still sputtering under the wash of piss that Josie was still squirting all over her.  I squirmed along the row, trying to show some real progress in this pointless, thankless task and I felt the tread of Mistress Joanna’s boot against my leg, then the toe of it up into my butt crack.

       “Moving slowly, worm?” she asked.  “Ah well, you can always come back to this, come along now.”  She grabbed me by the hair and nearly pulled me to my feet by the force of her arms.  She held me back at arm’s length to see the green stems stuck all over my teeth and the mud caked in my hair and down my face from Josie’s piss treatment.

       She looped a rope around my neck and merely snapped her fingers for Irene to follow as she climbed aboard the cart and Josie settled beside her.

       “We have an appointment at the stables for some new fun and games,”  Joanna said as she set off with me running to keep up. 

       

CHAPTER 12

       When we got to the stable yard I saw five nude women standing at attention with legs apart and hands behind the head.   There were the two fat women, Piggy and Fatty, I thought I remembered them being called.  And there were two younger slender women, one I recalled as being called Chelsea from my previous visit.  The other girl near Chelsea was also slender but with larger tits.  They looked as though they could be sisters.  And the fifth woman was Sheila, whom I had bumped into when I arrived, and I knew from my kids.

       Joanna slapped her crop beside her boot.  “Down, sluts, on knees and forehead, asses up and heads down.”  The women all dropped to their knees with foreheads on the ground and arms extended in front of them with palms flat.

       “Join them, slut,” Rose barked at me.

       “Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress” I replied, jumping to join them in the line.  My head was on the pavement and my ass was thrust up as high as I could when I felt the crop slash across my thighs and then come smacking straight down on my cunt crack.  I even found myself referring to it as a ‘cunt’ in my own head.  I heard Joanna’s steps as she moved along the line, adding two or three slaps of her crop to each of us.

       “Josie, take a basket and go fetch us some stable apples while I entertain us on these slut cracks,” Joanna said as she moved back along the line, striking and stroking each of us as she walked.

       “Yes, Ma’am” Josie answered and I heard her shuffle around the back of the stable.   Rose stepped forward, tapping a cane on the concrete floor.

       “My turn now, darling,” she told Joanna as she cut the air with whooshing sounds of the cane.  And in and instant she was on each of us, swinging hard and fast.  I wasn’t keeping a count of the strokes since I knew with Mistress Rose that it wouldn’t matter anyway.  I heard Josie’s heavy footsteps.

       “Oh, here we are,” Joanna cooed.  “Give one to each of them.”

       Josie walked in front of each of us, and I glanced in front of me to see a horse turd on the concrete by my forehead.

       “All right sluts, up on all fours and take that spicy apple into your mouth,”

Joanna ordered.  “Then up on your knees with hands in position.”

       We each sucked a horse turd into our mouths and took the required position.  I glanced at Sheila on my right and saw the struggle on her face, trying not to bite or swallow on the shit in her mouth   I was fighting back the drool of saliva that was welling up around the turd with its acrid taste and that disgusting smell wafting into my nose.  Rose walked in front of us and randomly took a swat with her short crop.  The first one landed on my left nipple and I tried not to clench my teeth and smash the horse crap in my mouth.

       “I will expect to see those goodies to kept intact while you savor them,” Rose grinned, talking two quick swipes at Sheila’s tits, then pivoting and coming down hard on the huge globes of Piggy’s boobs, one, two, three in succession followed by two more on Piggy’s sagging belly fat.

       Joanna took her longer crop and delivered a series of uppercut blows to Fatty’s big jugs, making them swing and bounce.  Joanna stepped back and grinned broadly.

       “Piggy and you too, Fatty.  Pick up your tits by the nipples and pinch them good.”  The two fat women obeyed, pulling their tits up high while Joanna cut back and forth with her crop on the already bruised undersides of their massive breasts.  “Lift them higher and pinch them harder” she growled and started in again with crisscross strokes of her crop.  “Good,” Joanna smiled. “Now hold them there until I tell you to drop them.”  She stepped over in front of the two thin stable girls.

       “I’ll bet your goodie snacks are still intact, eh girls?  Let’s see.” The two girls bent forward and spit out their horse apples.  Each one was slick with saliva but reasonably intact.  Joanna rolled them in the dust and grime of the pavement with the toe of her boot, sending them rolling toward the two fat women.

       “You two hogs, bend over and each take another one,” Joanna could hardly contain her glee as the fatties complied.  I didn’t know how they could hold another one in their mouths, but I was just glad it wasn’t me.

       “Now back up and take up those tits again, and I want to see those nipples pinched purple,” Rose added.  Then she walked back to me and gave me a vicious slap across my right cheek then my left.  It was all I could do not to gulp that turd down as I struggled to hold position.  I could feel it in my mouth and it seemed as though I had bitten down into it.  Oh God, what next, I thought.

       Then Rose remembered that Irene was standing behind her, and she motioned with her cane for Irene to come and join the row with us.  As Irene moved toward our line Rose stuck out her cane and tripped Irene so that she fell to her hands and knees right beside the basket with horse turds in it.

       “Take one for yourself,” Rose snapped as she pushed Irene’s face into the basket.  “And get over there in line.”  Irene took a turd into her mouth and crawled toward where I was at the end of the lineup while Rose gave her four vicious whacks with her cane as she moved to us.

       “Line up there, up on your knees with tits up and pinched!” Rose directed Irene with her cane as Irene took up her position with the rest of us.  Rose took Irene’s chin in her hands, tilting it up before she hauled off with a hard slap to the cheek.  Irene gasped and coughed and the smashed turd came spilling out of her mouth.  She immediately crawled after it as Rose swung her cane and Irene scrambled to get the smashed turd back into her mouth.

       “Add another one,” Joanna said, motioning to Chelsea to pick out another piece of horse shit for Irene’s mouth, and pointing so that Chelsea took it to Irene, who was struggling to catch her breath after Rose’s laying into her with the cane.

Chelsea pinched Irene’s nose and popped her on the chin and Irene opened up to take the second turd.  Joanna turned to Sheila and me.

       “Spit ‘em out and let’s be sure you’ve taken good care of them,” she said, with that acid tone in her voice.  We both leaned forward and spit the horse apples onto the ground in front of us.  Mine was slightly smashed but still intact.  Sheila’s was flattened and deformed.  She let out a groan as she saw it in the dirt in front of her nose, covered in her saliva.  Joanna stepped in front of me and rolled my horse turd around with the toe of her boot, covering with dirt and grime, then she ordered me to pick it up in my mouth.  Once I had it back in my mouth she grinned down at me

       “Put it in that slut’s mouth,” she said, indicating Sheila.  So I mumbled a quick ‘Yes, Mistress, thank you Mistress,’ as I crawled to Sheila and put my mouth on hers and spit out the turd.  I started to pull away from her as I felt Rose’s cane on the back of my neck.

       “Stay there and share that lovely gift,” she sneered.  “Let’s have you pass it back and forth a bit,” she laughed.  So there we were embracing, kissing and passing a horse turd from one mouth to another while Rose, Joanna and Josie all laughed and giggled.

       “Sheilaslut, you will keep it in your mouth for the next 20 minutes,” Joanna finally said.  “And Meredith, take the one she had in her mouth, the one she couldn’t take proper care of, and make it disappear up her sinful slut slit!”  I tried not to register shock as I answered with “Yes Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress” and crawled to the smashed piece of shit and turned back to Sheila to stuff it into her pussy, working my fingers up and in, with Rose and Joanna enjoying every second of our shared misery.  Joanna turned to toward the two fatties with their cheeks bulging with an extra horse turd.

       “I know how you two love to pleasure each other, so I have decided to give you a little chance for some.  Take the horse apples from your mouths and stuff them up your own filthy cunt.”  The two women said their appropriate ‘Thank yous’ and proceeded to stuff their own twats with horseshit. 

       “Now, you will be allowed to go over there under the large oak tree and pleasure each other for the next half hour,” Joanna grinned.  The two women looked at one another and over at the shade tree, then back at Mistress Joanna.

       “Oh, it won’t be so bad,” Joanna laughed, “I have already turned the power down a bit.” She turned toward Sheila and me. “You see the collars they each wear?  They will deliver a variable shock when the bitch goes past the edge of the stable barn, but it will be worth it won’t it Piggy?”  Piggy nodded, glancing over at Fattie.

       “Then get moving pig sluts,” Rose added swinging her cane at each of them as the two women jogged toward the tree.  As they passed the end of the barn each one jumped and howled as the shock hit, then they ran fast to the shade of the tree.  Joanna turned to the two thin girls still kneeling in the dirt.

       “You two go make sure they eat other’s pussy real good, then get the hose from the lower shed and give them a special cleaning,” Joanna cooed, smiling at the idea that the two obese lesbians would be sucking horse shit from each other’s cunts as part of their “pleasuring.”  The younger women ran toward the tree, apparently not subjected to wearing shock collars.

       When they reached the shade tree, they each grabbed a handful of hair from the two fatties on the ground and slammed a fat face into the other’s cunt, almost scrubbing the face back and forth as they yanked and pulled at the hair.

Then the two younger girls flipped the two fatties over in their sixty-none position so that Piggy was now on top.  Muffled groans were heard from the two fatties as their faces were jerked into each other’s crotch again and again.  

       Mistress Joanna looked at Irene who was standing at attention behind where she and Mistress Rose lounged on the cart.

       “Irene, go to the rack and fetch a bucket of cold water,” Joanna snapped.

       “Yes, Mistress, thank you Mistress,” Irene answered as she ran to the wash rack at the far end of the stable.  Joanna looked at Josie standing nearby.

       “Josie, give Meredith another wash up, will you?”

       “Yes, Ma’am, with pleasure,” Josie replied as she pulled out one of her squeeze bottles and squirted more stale piss all over my hair, my face and chest as I knelt there.   Then Josie stepped to the side of the concrete pad and picked up a handful of dirt and came back to where I knelt to sprinkle the dirt all over me, laughing along with Joanna and Rose.  About that time I saw Irene returning with a bucket.

       “Good,” Joanna said, her voice almost a catlike purr.  “Now Josie, rinse her off with the water.”

Josie took the bucket and I shuddered when the cold water hit my face and tits, then she slowly poured the rest of it over me.  I wasn’t sure what was worse, the piss and dirt or the ice cold water to rinse it off.

“Now crawl over here and get the dust off my boots,” Joanna pointed.  “At least with a rinse you won’t stink quite so much when you are close to me,” she smiled.

“Yes Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered as I crawled to her boots and began licking the light film of dust that has settled on them.

As I licked and polished the boots in front of me, I stole a couple of glances at the shade tree where the two thin girls were laughing and romping around the two fatties rolling on the grass as they sprayed them down with the hose and then swatted at them with it as well.  Mistress Joanna turned her ankles for me to catch the other side of her boots and she reached out to grab a handful of my hair just to shake my head a bit.

“Pay better attention, slut,” Joanna snarled, “then you will do Mistress Rose’s boots, too.”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I responded between licks, and just then I felt a vicious boot kick against my butt.  Rose was right behind me following that first kick with another one.  Then I heard her scuffing her boots in the dirt and I knew there would be some major cleaning coming along for me.

I didn’t thank Rose for the ass kicking, since I was trying to concentrate on Joanna’s boots, but the two harsh mistresses seemed to be all right with that.

       The Mistresses continued to be entertained by the two fat women alternately going down on one another and trying to dodge the cold spray of the hose from the two slender sisters who seemed to really enjoy tormenting the big women.

       Rose pushed my mouth away from her boots after I had licked and cleaned them until my tongue felt ready to fall out of my head.   Joanna indicated Sheila where she still knelt with a horse turd in her mouth and another up her cunt.

       “Meredith, go clean out Slut Sheila’s mouth and place the turd in her ass, then take the one from her cunt and place it in her mouth.”  Joanna ordered.

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered as I crawled to Sheila and held out my hand.  Sheila opened her mouth and spit the turd into my open palm then quickly turned and spread her ass cheeks open with her hands.  The turd was slick with spittle but I still had to twist and screw it into her ass, finally smacking and ramming it in as Sheila gasped and flexed her sphincter and the turd disappeared.

       I reached under Sheila and gently fingered her labia, trying to work the horse turd free when I felt Mistress Joanna’s crop across my ass.

       “Stupid slut, you are to take that from her cunt with your mouth!” Joanna yelled.

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered as I crawled behind Sheila’s crotch and licked at her lips.  Sheila had been shaved in Josie and Joanna’s “half-ass” pattern with her left labia being shaved and the right side was very hairy.  I worked my tongue as I felt Sheila flexing to get it out to me.  I nicked her with my teeth as I pulled and sucked and finally the wet sloppy turd popped out, sort of crushed and very slimy.

       I took the horse turd and slid along Sheila’s back, turning to her and drawing her up to me as I kissed her deeply and slid the turd from my mouth to hers.  I felt Mistress Joanna’s crop on my ass, then heard it strike Sheila’s too.

       “Let’s see you two pass that thing back and forth a few times,” she sneered as she kept up a few more strokes on each our backsides.

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered just as Sheila popped it back into my mouth, and I heard Sheila answer the same as soon as her mouth was clear, then I took her to me again and we swapped the turd about six times when I heard Rose.

       “Enough! Leave it with the slutsheila.”  She demanded.

       “Yes, Mistress Rose, thank you Mistress,” I answered as soon as I tongued it back into Sheila’s mouth, then dropped to forearms and forehead on the ground with ass in the air.

       Mistress Joanna indicated that she was growing bored with the two fatties under the tree and she was issuing instructions to Josie that I couldn’t quite hear.

Next thing I knew was the stroke of the crop across my butt hole and Joanna ordering Sheila and me to get up and follow her.  As we got to the cart, Joanna draped a loop of rope around each neck and took off, with us running to keep pace.  We headed up the dreaded rock path with the stones biting into my feet that felt like they would be bleeding by the time we got to the top.  AS we stopped outside the garage, I noticed that Sheila still had the turds in her mouth and ass as she struggled to breathe around the one in her mouth.

       “Slut, take your shitty self down to the kennel and squat by the gate until

Fattie returns to remove your turds.  You will then spend the evening in her care and I’m sure you will enjoy being her toilet seat tonight.

       “Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,”  Sheila mumbled as she headed back down the hill to the kennels.  Joanna turned back to me.

       “Get dressed and get out of my sight,” Joanna ordered.  “And don’t forget your weekend assignment that is due on Sunday, and your appearance before the Committee on Monday afternoon.  You will NOT disappoint me.”

       “Mistress Joanna, you will not be disappointed in me,” I answered meekly as I headed into the garage to get my clothes fro the basket.

       

CHAPTER 13

The next few days were a whirl of things and activities, from soccer games to working evenings to cover for taking Monday afternoon off for my Committee interview, to cramming my Sunday Scripture assignment that I knew Joanna and Rose would be perusing and grading prior to my appearance on Monday.

Actually, I got through Sunday pretty easily.  Mistress Joanna and her mother Rose seemed to be preoccupied with something or someone else and virtually ignored me.  Usually, one of them would have some snide remarks or stern warnings about my Sunday assignments.

I got the girls off to school on Monday and went back home to prepare myself for the interview.  I also needed to be sure that there were no stray hairs or stubble in my reverse bikini shave and I ended up spreading myself in front of a mirror propped on pillows to pluck the last strays from around my labia.  Yes, it hurt, dammit, but that’s the only way I could get to some of them.  Then I heard my phone ring with Joanna’s custom ring tone.

“Nice view of that sinful slit,” Joanna purred into the phone.  I knew she could watch me anywhere in my house anytime she wanted.

“Thank you Mistress Joanna,” I replied.  “I want to be properly prepared for this afternoon.” 

“Good.  See that you are.” She hung up.

I presented myself at 12:45 at the front door of the Committee’s area in the Church complex.  After giving my name, the door opened for me, closing as soon as I had walked through.  A woman I thought I recognized from before sat at a small desk with a basket on it.

“Strip and leave your clothes in the basket” she said curtly as she reached around and produced a blue chambray work shirt.  I stripped down quickly, put my clothes in the basket as the woman pointed to the yellow line beside the desk.

“On the line, at attention,” she snapped and I complied.

She walked around me and I heard her unclip something form her belt.

“Bend over and grab you knees,” she ordered

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied and I did as I was told.  Two swift swats of a leather paddle took me by surprise and I tried not gasp as I quickly choked out a breathy “Th-thank you Ma’am!”  She gave me two more quick ones and before I could thank her she ordered me back to attention.

I stood there as she eyed me up and down, stopping to run her fingers over my nipples and pinch them a bit before holding out the blue shirt.

“This is your discipline shirt, and you will learn to wear it with pride,” she said.  I noticed that she also wore one of the blue shirts but hers was elaborately embroidered and appliqued with patterns, butterflies, birds and flowers.  Mine was completely plain and had one button near the shirttail.  She turned the shirt to show me where “CHRISTIAN DISCIPLINE” had been stenciled across the back.

“You will begin by embroidering your shirt in red, and this lettering will be completed before your next appearance here,” she said.  I remembered seeing the racks of shirts in one of the adjoining rooms and wondered how or when I was supposed to be doing this work.  By the way, I am a total klutz at sewing, much less embroidery.  She seemed to be reading my mind.

“You will be given a schedule of available times for you to learn and do the required work here,” she said.  “It will be done in the Assembly Room and the shirt will be the only article of clothing you are allowed.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, picturing myself sitting naked in that big room, bending over this shirt with needle and thread while others come and go, and staring at me, or criticizing or whatever.

She held out the shirt for me to slip into then she pulled it back at the bottom and fastened the only button behind my back, tying the tails tight behind my back.  The effect was that the shirt pulled back tight around my shoulders, leaving me totally exposed.  With it pulling my shoulders back and pushing my boobs out, I felt more naked than if I’d had nothing on.

She opened the door to the hallway and pointed.  “Hands remain at attention at all times until told otherwise.  Go into the Assembly Room, follow the yellow line to the second door on the left and knock with your forehead three times.”

“Yes, Ma’am, thank you,” I said, clasping my hands behind my head and starting into the Assembly Room and following the yellow line near the center.   There were several small groups in the room but I tried to ignore them and continued walking along the line.  As I passed a group of naked women working on embroidering on their shirts they all stopped to watch me pass.  I remembered being made to squat on that yellow line and pee for the Sisters’ entertainment the first time I was there.  The line jogged to the side and continued down a side hallway, passing the door with the doggy door entrance in it.  The next door was where I guessed I should knock.  I bent forward and beat my forehead against the door three times, then stood waiting.  Nothing happened. I thought about doing it again and was just bending over to bang my forehead again when the door opened.  It was Mistress Rose.

“Well, slut at least you are on time,” Rose sneered, as she stepped back and I entered the room.  The Committee was seated as before, or least as well as I could remember.  I jogged my memory, recalling that part of today’s ritual would be to remember each of the Committee’s Supreme Council’s names.  There was Beatrice, the leader and Martha, the tall one in charge of training.  Elaine and Barbara were both shorter with Elaine having longer hair and bigger tits.  Elaine was in charge of protocols of discipline and Barbara seemed to be the stickler for obedience.  And I recalled how they all loved to whack butts with their various implements.

The women sat in curving row of comfortable chairs and I saw that Mistress Joanna was seated on the right hand of Beatrice with Martha on the left and Elaine on her left.  Barbara sat to the right of Mistress Joanna and Rose took a seat by the door, glaring at me.  I walked over to Beatrice and Joanna and dropped to my knees in front of them.  Joanna pulled a crop from beside her on the chair and tapped her boots twice.  I immediately dropped down to kiss the toe of her boot and started licking it.

“Yes, she has responded well in her first two weeks of training with us,” Joanna said, tapping my head with the crop and indicating that I should put my tongue to work on her other boot.  “Wouldn’t you agree Mother Rose?”

“I would basically agree,” Rose answered grudgingly.  I wondered what she really had against me.  I never could figure that out, except that she was generally miserable with everyone.

“How about some discipline?” Elaine asked, flexing a light cane in front of my face.

“Yes, Honored Sister, may I please have a taste of your cane?”  I found myself almost begging.

Elaine beamed a sinister smile at me and quietly said, “But of course, slut.

Bend over an grab the backs of your knees.”

       “Thank you Sister,” I said as Elaine started with the first of six brutal cuts of her cane.  I thanked her for each and begged for the next one.  After 6, I thought she might be ready to pass me on, but she decided that another six would be good.

As I bent, I could see Mistress Joanna upside down between my parted thighs.  She flicked her crop and answered Elaine as though I wasn’t there.  “Why not?  Ask the Honored sister very nicely for another six.”

“Yes Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered, turning and falling to my knees and Elaine’s feet.

“Honored Sister Elaine, may I please have another six with the cane?”

“Coming right up,” Elaine answered.  Stay down, face and forearms on the floor, ass higher up.  Spread those legs.”

So there I was with my face down and ass in the air spread wide open and waiting for the cane to whistle down on me.  The first one caught me right on the curve of my rump. 

“One, thank you Honored Sister, May I please have the next one!” I called out, and the next one came just under the crease of my upper thighs and my butt.

“Two, thank you Honored Sister, may I please have the next one!” I said, trying to stay calm with regular breathing.  The next four strokes worked their way back up my ass, each one laid on with expert placement by Sister Elaine.

Elaine yanked me by the hair, bringing me to my feet, then swinging me toward Sister Martha with a doubled-over leather strap.  I landed on Martha’s lap as she locked her leg around my waist and started strapping me without so much as a word.  After about 20 or so strokes, I really lost count, Martha stopped and shoved me off her lap and I dropped to the floor I heard her order, “Service Sister, Bring the seed tray.”

Glancing up, I caught some movement toward the back of the room and saw that it was Auntie Irene who had been standing in the corner with her face in tight and her two elbows spread to touch each adjoining wall.  As she turned I saw purple welts and bruises on her ass.  She quickly ran to a shelf and picked up one of the trays and brought it to Martha.  Irene dropped to her knees and placed it, leaning over to kiss Martha’s shoe as she did.

“NO, no,” Martha said, “Take it over to Sister Barbara,” giving Irene a kick.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Irene answered as she moved around me and knelt at Sister Barbara’s feet.

“On the tray, slut,” Barbara commanded me.

“Yes, Honored Sister, thank you,” I answered as I crawled over to her.  I had to go around Mistress Joanna and as I did she reached out with her foot and gave me a swift hard kick to the belly

“Thank you Mistress Joanna for your attention,” I said, scuttling on around her and settling myself to kneel on the tray scattered with dried cherry and olive pits.  The seeds dug into my knees as I remembered they would as I bent over to kiss Sister Barbara’s shoe.   Barbara put her toe up under my chin, raising me up.

“Hands on your nipples, pinch them and present them,” she snapped.

“Yes Honored Sister, thank you,” I answered as I complied.  I pinched my nipples between thumb and forefinger, pulling them up as I had been trained, twisting them as I did so.

“Joanna, you have done a good job with her,” Barbara commented.

“ Yes, she had done well, with some lapses in her home life, though,” Joanna answered.  Oh boy, I thought, here comes trouble.  But instead of answering Joanna, Sister Barbara produced a wooden spoon from behind her chair and gave me five hard smacks to the underside of each tit as I continued to hold them up for her.

“Thank you Honored Sister, for your attention,” I said with my mouth trembling.  “I am ready for more if you wish.”

“Oh, I do wish!” she grinned bringing the spoon up against my boobs another dozen or so times.  Then she sat back and snapped her fingers at Irene who was standing behind me.  “Remove her shirt,” she told Irene.

“Yes, Ma’am, “ Irene answered and I felt her untying the shirttails behind me.  I continued holding and pinching my nipples.

“Arms out,” Barbara ordered, pushing my wrists with the handle of the spoon.

“Yes Honored Sister, thank you,” I said with genuine gratitude for being allowed to release my grip.  I held my arms out and Irene slipped the shirt from me.  My knees were on fire.  The Sister Beatrice looked down at me over her half-glasses.

“I think the time has come for some confession, don’t you Sister Joanna?”

“Yes, although the slut has been well-behaved and taken quite well to her discipline and training, she has had some, shall we say, personal issues?  But first, let’s hear how she and Irene have gotten to know one another in the past two weeks.  Meredith, tell us about it.” Oh crap, I thought where do I start?

“I –uh, I uhhh, well Auntie Irene and I have shared dog poop with each other, “ I stammered out, “then we drank each other’s pee another time, and we weeded Mistress Joanna’s garden with our mouths.”

“And now tell us about your sinful nature,” Beatrice said with a stern tone.

“Mistress Joanna has been very generous in her monitoring of my sinful behaviors through this training period.  And when she caught me – uh, touching myself, well uh,” I hesitated.  Mistress Joanna did not.

“Touching yourself?  Not exactly touching yourself, you harlot!” she growled.  “You were gratifying your slutty nature by grabbing yourself like a whore.”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, I am a sinful slut who begs forgiveness.”

“Service slut, bring the low table” Joanna snapped at Irene.  She looked at me still on my knees on the dried seeds that were killing my knees by now.  “On your feet for the moment.”

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” with genuine gratitude.  I knew better than to look anyone in the eye so I kept my eyes down and could see the deep marks the seeds had left on my kneecaps.  Auntie Irene brought a small wooden bench that sloped down at one end.  She placed it beside me with the higher end toward Joanna’s chair.

“All right slut, onto the table on your back with butt here,” she said, tapping the high end of the table with her crop.

“Yes, Mistress Joanna, thank you Mistress,” I answered as I climbed onto the table with my ass over the end of it.  My head hung over the other end of the short table.

“Legs up, and then take them, Irene,” Joanna said as I lifted my legs up and felt Irene grab me by the ankles, lifting them up high and spread wide, exposing me more completely than I could ever have imagined.  I heard the laughter all around at my position and of course the Sisters’ amusement at my shaving style.  There were giggles and more than one of the Sisters ran a nail along the line of my shaved crotch then pulled and tugged the bushy hairs splayed out alongside.  As I was held there, Joanna spoke again.

“Head up, slut, and Irene hold her with your thighs,” Joanna ordered, the she went right on.  “Shall we look at the video, Sisters?”

“By all means, Sister Joanna,” Beatrice answered.

I couldn’t see the video on the wall screen behind me, especially with my face wedged between Irene’s flabby thighs.  But I heard the sounds of my own moans from the video of my furious masturbation as the Sisters watched and I’m sure they were glaring down at me in their smug superiority, hearing the shameful squeal as my orgasm took hold of me.  The video ended and I heard Beatrice clucking her tongue on her teeth.

“ Well, such a sinful display merits some genuine repentance, wouldn’t you say, girl?”

“Yes, Reverend Sister, please punish me for my sinful transgressions,” I almost whimpered, my voice partially muffled between Irene’s thighs.

“ I think we will give her the Unlucky Six treatment, Sisters, shall we?”

Beatrice asked.  There was murmured assent from the group.  “Good,” Beatrice answered.  “So each of the six of us will draw a number from the basket and that number will correspond with the number of punishment strokes this sinning slut will receive on her womanhood which is so shamelessly being displayed right now.”

Oh yeah, I thought, as if I decided to spread myself like this for you.  But I tried to concentrate on what was next.

“Each may choose her implement after we draw,” Beatrice said.  “Sister Rose, would you please bring us the basket?  Your Sister in service is rather occupied right now,” she giggled as the others laughed along at Irene standing there naked, holding me in that vulnerable and humiliating position.

They each drew a number from the basket.  Beatrice drew first and held up a 3.  Elaine was next and got a 4.  Martha drew the 1, and she seemed genuinely disappointed.  Barbara pulled the 5.  Joanna went next and pulled the 6, which left only the 2 for Rose.  Martha was to begin and she rose to stand near my crotch but Joanna spoke.

“Let’s warm this up a bit, shall we?”  Joanna purred as I felt her fingers stroking up and down my slit, her nails scraping across my clit and then her hands pulling my labia apart, pinching, massaging and rubbing them hard, then slapping them before going back to kneading and twisting them.  She sat back in her chair.

“Sister Martha, I think she’s ready for you now.”

“Thank you Joanna,” Martha said with acid in her voice.  I wondered what might be up between those two. 

“I will begin with the belt,” Martha said and I could barely catch a breath before I felt a huge “whack” come down right on my bare pussy.  Then I felt her hot breath as she looked closely at what I was sure was a vicious red stripe on my twat.

“Do I spot some stray stubbles in this shameless shaving pattern?”  Martha asked.  Joanna responded and I could feel her nail running along my crack.

“I don’t believe so, she has been quite obedient in her shaving treatment,” Joanna said.  “But, hmm, there is one I believe, right here,” she said with her nail grazing the puckered rosebud of my ass.  “Oh dear, look at that,” she clucked.

“Sister Martha, what do you recommend?”

       “Luckily I have this,” Martha replied, and I glanced toward her as much as I could see as Martha brandished a small pair of needle nose pliers.  I felt her running them along my labia and nipping them back and forth as she did.  “I think I will have to do a very close inspection here,” she grinned she continued to pinch and tease me, even sliding the nose of the pliers into my slit and bumping it against my throbbing clit.  Then I felt them twisting hard against the tight flesh of my anus before grabbing onto the single traitorous hair and yanking it out.

       “I think you should give her another stroke, Sister Martha,” Joanna said.

       “Oh, I agree, thank you Sister,” Martha took up the belt and came down on me once again.

       “Thank you Honored Sister,” I said as clearly as I could. 

       Sister Rose was next and for her two strokes she chose the Black Cat.  That was her favorite cat-o-nine tails made with knotted nylon strings that were then braided into a handle with a leather loop for her wrist.  I tried not to tense too much but I had felt the cat before.  Luckily, Rose snapped them off quickly.

       I wondered what Beatrice might use when Sister Martha spoke up.

       “I think that in deference to Sister Beatrice’s position that she should have the honor of the six strokes and trade the three with Sister Joanna.”

       Joanna didn’t answer right away, figuring that Martha was upset that she had only gotten one stroke, which she managed to turn into two plus her little trick with the pliers.

       “Of course, I will gladly trade with our Reverend Sister,” Joanna finally answered.  It’s the least I can do since this sinning slut is my trainee.”

       “I’m glad you mentioned that, dear Sister,” Martha replied, “Since I think that you should receive a bit of discipline in this, too.  It’s your trainee in this sinful shame.”

       “Sister Martha, what do you have in mind?”  Beatrice asked.

       “Three strokes after we finish with this set,” Martha answered.  Elaine agreed immediately.

       Joanna seemed to hesitate before she spoke.  “I must admit that this horrible behavior came from my trainee, so I will accept whatever discipline my fellow sisters decide.”

       “Very well, then,” Beatrice said.  “Go ahead with your three strokes then, dear Sister.”

       Joanna’s crop came whistling down on my pussy without a moment’s hesitation, followed by two more that really, really stung. I didn’t know what implement Elaine would use and I couldn’t see, either.  But when I felt the impact I knew it was a large kitchen spoon and the next three were spaced out so that I couldn’t tell then the stroke was coming.  The spoon doesn’t whiff the air like a cane so it’s hard to anticipate.

       Sister Barbara’s five strokes were next.  She decided to tell me what was up.  “I think the tawse is a good choice for these five, don’t you dear Sisters?”

       They all agreed, a little too quickly, I felt.  And so it was five from the tawse and by now my whole crotch was on fire.  What could Beatrice have in her bag of tricks?  I was about to find out.

       “Service Sister, open your legs and let the supplicant see what we have for her kind of sinful harlots,” Beatrice said.  She reached behind her chair and produced a rod with a miniature-gloved hand on the end of it.  The glove was leather and when Beatrice waved it the tips of the fingers moved, as though the glove was alive. 

       “There are tiny lead weights in the tips of the fingers,” Beatrice said proudly, and they deliver the most exquisite touch, don’t you think, Sisters?”

       There was a warm round of agreement before Joanna said, “Now get that head back down, between her thighs.”  They obviously didn’t want me to see these strokes coming.

       But I felt each one in all its pain and glory.  Those little fingers sure did a job and it felt like they were leaving welts on my labia.  Later, as I knelt in the corner on the tray of seeds I finally got to touch them, and I discovered that I did have tiny welts.  I quickly put my hands back behind my head with elbows touching the two walls.  I was told to remain in that position while Sister Joanna received her discipline.  Even though I couldn’t see it I could feel tension from Mistress Joanna that she hated that I would even hear the strokes she was about to receive.

       “Sister Joanna, are you prepared to receive discipline for your failure in the supervision of this harlot in your care?”  Beatrice asked.

       “Yes, Reverend Sister, I am,” Joanna answered.  “May I please have three with the crop as I bend before you?”

       “I think that three with a cane over the tilt table is more appropriate,” Martha interjected.  “And as Director of Training, I feel I must insist.”  I could hear the gloat in Martha’s voice.  But there was more to come.

       “Agreed, with some reluctance,” Beatrice replied.  “Because you know our rules about the tilt table, of course.”

       “Yes, I do know,” Joanna answered with venom in her voice.  “And I don't agree that this discipline calls for a bare bottom, even though that’s a requirement of the table.”

“That’s’ precisely why the table should be used,” Elaine suddenly agreed.  “Sister Joanna, over here at the table, NOW!”  I heard Elaine slap the leg of the table with a cane or a crop.  Though I couldn’t see, what I heard seemed to be Joanna’s skirt being flipped up onto her back and her underwear being pulled down.  I heard Martha’s heels pacing back and forth, swishing the cane in the air.

“Sister Joanna, you will now ask for your discipline.”

“Please, may I have three strokes of the cane, dear Sister?”  Joanna replied with certain resolve in her voice.  It relieved some of my pussy pain to hear those three cuts in the air before they made contact with Joanna’s ass flesh.

So none of us are exempt, I realized.  Imagine my surprise when I was ordered to get up and help Sister Joanna get her clothing back in order.  I was shocked, or was it delighted, to see Joanna still bent over the table with Sister Martha rubbing the cane over the three red weals across Joanna’s hips. I couldn’t help but lightly run my own hand over those welts as I pulled her bikini panties back up and then draped her skirt back down and helped her to stand, then dropping to the floor to kiss Mistress Joanna’s feet.  But before I could get back up I saw Sister Martha presenting her shoes for some worship as well and I felt the cane pressing my neck down to the floor.

CHAPTER 14

Sister Martha didn’t say a word but her cane guided my lips to her shoes, too.  It seemed as though Martha wanted anything Joanna had a part in.  As I licked and kissed at Martha’s shoes I heard Sister Elaine announce the next item of the afternoon.

       “I believe it’s time to send Sister Amy in for her session,” Elaine said.

       “Yes, but let’s dispense with Irene and we will use this new slut here for the session service,” Sister Beatrice added, pointing to me.  So Irene was called to kneel in front of the chair grouping as Rose fitted a collar and leash to her neck.

       “Irene, you have served your punishment for tardiness and lack of respect, and as soon as you have satisfactorily completed your personal time with Sisters Rose and Joanna, you may re-apply for full status,” Beatrice said.  “Sister Rose will now take you for a confession round in the Assembly Room, where you will stand nude at attention and tell each and every occupant of the room about your transgressions and your punishment.”

       “Thank you honored Sisters, and once again please accept my most humble and deep apologies for my behavior,” Irene said with her ass high up and her forehead and palms on the floor in front of them.  Rose pulled Irene to her feet and yanked the leash, picking up Irene’s Discipline Shirt as she went to the exit door.  Rose wadded it up and ordered Irene to attention with hands on top of the head, placed the wadded shirt in Irene’s fingers and out they went.  I could only imagine Irene’s humiliation at having to stand in front of each probationary member and recite while standing naked and holding the shirt on her head.

       “Send in Sister Amy Blaine,” Beatrice announced into an intercom device.

While they were waiting, Sister Martha had me bring two trays and set them in front of the group.  Each was filled with gravel and rocks.  I took my place on my knees on one of them and waited for Sister Amy’s entrance.

       Sister Amy Blaine was allowed to walk through the entrance door after Martha answered the knocks that sounded like Amy’s head pounding on the door as I had been ordered to do.  Sister Amy came in wearing only her blue Discipline shirt and a tiny pale pink G-string that showed dark pube hair all around it.  She was big, not fat, just big, or a lot bigger than me.  She had dark, almost black hair down to her shoulders with bright blue eyes.  She had broad hips, really broad with a sort of cinched in waist.  Her shirttail was tied across her midriff and one button above showed big cleavage.  She stepped in the door and stood at attention with her hands clasped on her head.

       Sister Martha stepped up to Amy, took a pair of scissors from the pocket of her skirt and cut away the single button on Sister Amy’s shirt, then she pulled the top of the shirt wide to pop Amy’s boobs out of the shirt.  And what boobs they were, with pink raspberry-sized nipples and huge areolae, that each seemed wider than the width of my hand.  They were big, and hung down of course, but didn’t seem to sag too much.  I wondered for a moment if Amy had had some “work” done on them, but Martha pulled on them and tossed them side to side, pinching as she went and I could see they were not the hardness that comes with fake tits of that size.

       “Sister Amy Blaine, you are here to answer for your offense of carelessness in the gift that Supreme Sister Beatrice received from you,” Martha said as she continued pinching and pulling at Amy’s nipples, pulling them up high and wide.  Amy grimaced in the pain and looked down.

       “Yes, Honored Sisters, I am here to answer for the unfortunate accident that resulted in the Supreme Sister receiving a bleeding cut, and I beg my fellow Full Member Sisters to forgive me and punish me as they see fit,” Amy answered, her voice choking a bit.

       “Go to the tray and kneel before your betters,” Martha said.

       “Betters?” Amy said, glaring at Martha and dropping her hands. “I have been a Sister in Full Standing for over 6 years, I have been nominated by Sister Joanna to join her Training Council, and despite the accident with the jar of crystals, I still consider my self a Full Sister here!”

       Sister Martha didn’t miss a beat as she bitch-slapped Amy on one cheek and then the other, using both hands several times.  Amy stepped back in shock as Sister Martha brought a knee up into Amy’s crotch followed by a fist to the gut.

Amy bent double as Elaine and Barbara both came to the rescue.  Elaine had a leather collar with handcuffs attached to the back and as Barbara yanked Amy up by the hair Elaine buckled it tight and snapped Amy’s wrists into the cuffs.

       “That should teach you to drop your hands from Attention,” Elaine sneered along with giving Amy’s left boob a vicious uppercut with her fist.

“And then to become argumentative to your Betters,” Barbara echoed, landing another fist on Amy’s right tit.

With Amy’s hands cuffed to the back of her neck collar, Martha took out her scissors and cut away the Discipline shirt, shredding the knot on the stomach, then slicing up behind each arm and down along the rolled up sleeves.  Within seconds the shirt was shredded and Amy was topless with those massive boobs heaving as she tried to catch her breath, staring at the floor in shame.  I saw the shirt was loaded with embroidered details and colorful patches appliqued on.  Martha kicked it aside, took Amy by the hair, pulled her over to the tray and shoved her down on it, right in front of Sister Beatrice.

“Amy, that was absolutely uncalled for, and completely beneath the standards for a Full Member of our Sisterhood,” Beatrice began.  “We had already determined that a certain demotion and punishment would be in order for your carelessness, but after your unbecoming outburst, obviously we must intensify your penalties.”   Beatrice turned to each of her Council, then reached down and took Amy by the chin, raising her face to look at them. 

“Sister Amy Blaine, you were expected to receive a demotion to Associate sister status with six months of regular Discomfort Discipline.  However, in light of your deplorable attitude and behavior, that will NOT do.”  Sister Beatrice looked around again.  I glanced up at sister Martha who was grinning like a cat with a mouse.

       Therefore, I pronounce that you are to receive one of our most severe plans of Discipline, known among us as the Triple D.  Do you recall what that might be?”  Beatrice asked, chucking Amy’s chin followed by a playful slap to the cheek.

       “Yes, Reverend Sister, I know what that means,” Amy said as she choked back tears.

       “Good, then tell us,” Sister Joanna chimed in.

       “Triple D Discipline means a regimen of Demotion, Degradation and Discomfort,” Amy said with a trembling voice. She obviously knew this could be bad.

       “Continue, with what you think you deserve in this,” Beatrice asked. “And then I will tell if it meets our standard of Discipline”

       “Demotion will probably mean total Demotion back to probationary status,” Amy said with a certain air of acceptance.  “Degradation will mean total obedience to whatever humiliation I may be assigned and I would expect much of that to be in front of others to reinforce the importance of total obedience and humility.”

       “Go on,” Beatrice urged.

       “Discomfort will not only mean pain and extreme physical activity, I would imagine that there will be many other surprises in store.”

       “Pretty well done,” Joanna nodded.  “Sister Beatrice, would you care to order the specifics?”

       “Yes, Dear Sisters, I shall.  Amy you are not allowed the use of the title “Sister” and are assigned to be a ‘probationary’ member for the next 60 weeks, with weekly sessions before us for the next 10 weeks and every other week for the duration.  In addition, you are to serve no less than 100 hours of personal service to sister Joanna through the first 10 weeks.  Through the following 50 weeks, you will serve Sisters Martha, Elaine and Barbara each a minimum of 100 hours of personal service and you will provide a minimum of 200 hours to me.

Any more Demotion items, Sisters?”  Beatrice asked.

       “Yes, I think so,” Martha said, rising and walking over to Amy with her scissors out again.  “Stand up, feet spread.”  As Amy complied Sister Martha snipped the tiny strings holding Amy’s G-string and pulled it away, revealing a lush bush of black pubic hair that draped down several inches below her crotch.

       “You won’t be needing these while in here before us, will you?”

       “No Sister, I must remain naked I am sure,” Amy answered.

       Martha answered that with another hard slap across the face, then grabbed both nipples and pinched them while she sneered, “you are not allowed the use of ‘Sister’ until further notice.  You will refer to each of us as Ma’am, understood?”

       “Yes, Ma’am, please forgive me, Ma’am,” Amy answered, trying not to sob as Martha kept up the twisting on her nipples.

       Martha released her and shoved her down onto the gravel tray.  “Of course we had already determined that the shirt would have to be replaced, didn’t we Sisters?”

       “Yes,” Joanna answered, “As lovely as Amy’s Discipline Shirt is, it has become point of pride to her, even sinful pride I should think.  So it must go.”

Joanna looked at me and snapped her fingers.  “Slut, go pick up the rags of Amy’s shirt.”        

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I said as I jumped up off the gravel to go collect the pieces of Amy’s shirt where Martha had tossed them after cutting them away.  I brought them back and dropped them in front of Amy.  Among the elaborate embroidery and appliques were colorful angels, crosses, flames and other images.

       “You will cut these into rags which you will then use to scrub the enema  buckets at the end of every session here until further notice,” Beatrice said.  “Further, you will be given a new shirt and will embroider and decorate it in public sessions in the Assembly Room, where you will also instruct other probationary members in embroidery and decorative stitching.  You will of course do this in the nude.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” Amy answered, staring down at the remnants of her once-amazing shirt.

       “Excuse me, Sisters,” Joanna offered, but I suggest that total nudity is too much in light of Amy’s previous standing, and I think she should be allowed some panties, don't you?”

       “What might you have in mind, dear Sister?”  Beatrice asked.

       Joanna reached in to a bag that sat by her chair.  “Something like this,” she said holding up the tiny white G-string that I had been made to wear at Joanna’s last training session.  “And as a constant reminder of her sinful and loathsome behavior here today, she will only be allowed this one pair, which she will wear in all waking hours every day and will only remove them to wash them out by hand every night.

       “If I might add,” Martha chimed in, “it would be an even better reminder it she were to be required to wear the item backward at all times.”

       There were gasps among the Sisters, with Elaine and Barbara looking at one another with their mouths open in shock.

       “A lovely idea, Sister Martha,” Beatrice said.  “Slut, stand her up and put the item on her.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I said, reaching over to Joanna to take the tiny G-string.  I held Amy’s feet up one at a time for her to step into the strings, then slid it up her legs and pulled it up tight into her crotch, pulling around the mass of black hair between her legs with the triangle of white silk in her butt crack.

       “Turn around and show us,” Joanna ordered.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” Amy answered, turning and bending slightly to show the scrap of fabric over her butt hole, which was also quite hairy.

       “Turn back around, bitch” Martha commanded.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” Amy answered, her voice quivering in shame.

       The strings disappeared in the mass of Amy’s pube hair and the waist string was pulled tight up under a small roll of fat at the base of her belly.  She seemed in pretty good shape for her age, which I guessed to be about mid 40’s.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off that huge bush of black hair that was inches from my face and then I noticed a couple of stray gray ones in there.

       “ I think we need some remedy for the proper display of this item,” Joanna said.  “Slut, bring the incline table over here.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I said jumping up again to get the table that I had lain on to receive the cunt whipping and I brought it to the front.

       “Barbara, do you have a clipper with you?”  Joanna asked.

       “Yes, I do, and I think I know just what you have in mind,” Sister Barbara answered, producing a small battery clipper from her pocket.  “How about a center stubble stripe?”

       “Exactly,” Joanna said.  “About an inch either side of the crease.  All right, bitch, on your slutty back onto the bench, head down and slut you are to squat and hold her head between your thighs.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I answered, putting myself where Irene had been holding me earlier in the day.  Amy laid back and Martha quickly reached over and pulled the G-string off her hips.

       “Take her knees and spread them wide and hold them there,” Martha snapped.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I said, pulling her knees up and out.

       Sister Barbara clicked on the clippers and quickly shaved a reverse landing strip up the middle of Amy’s cunt, leaving stubble about an eighth of an inch.  “How’s that?” she asked.

       “Lovely, just lovely,” Beatrice answered.  “And I think it’s only proper that Amy keep that stripe in exactly that stubble condition throughout her retraining, agreed?”

       All nodded in agreement and Joanna spoke up.  “In fact she should not only maintain the stubble stripe, but I think that as part of her Degradation, she should not be allowed to shave any other part of her body above mid-thigh until further notice.”

       “Oh, yes, Sister Joanna,” echoed Elaine.  “And since she is no longer allowed to be Sister Amy, I think we should give her a training name, along with a reminder of it.”  Elaine stood up and walked over to Amy spread out on the bench.  She raised her skirt and straddled Amy’s belly as she opened the cap on a purple Sharpie marker.  “Since Amy has always been almost sinfully proud of her chest, why don’t give her another constant reminder of proper behavior?” Elaine asked casually as she wrote “nipple” on Amy’s right breast above the nipple and “bitch” on the left one.  Elaine sat back and bounced on Amy’s belly a couple of times and she laughed.  “What do you think, Sisters?”

       “I think that’s wonderful, and so appropriate,” Joanna giggled.  “And she should keep that title legible at all times and be subject to inspection by any Full Member of our Sisterhood at any time as well.”

       “Oh yes,” Beatrice agreed.  “Nipple bitch, you have heard the order have you not?”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” Amy said though her voice was somewhat muffled by my thighs, which were beginning to burn from the squat position I was forced to hold.

       “While she’s in position, how about some discomfort as prescribed?”  Martha asked as she stood up and without waiting for agreement she picked up a strap and began to swat Amy right down the center of her newly shaved stripe.

“There’s my six, who’s next?”  she asked, then bent over Amy’s face.  “What do you have to say for yourself, bitch?

       “Thank you Ma’am, for your attention to my discomfort,” Amy answered through sobs of pain.  Boy, those had to hurt bad, I thought.

       Joanna stood up next with her riding crop.

       “Waltz time for me,” Joanna said, stroking each upper thigh then one down the middle as she sang “One two three, one two three, one two three,” in time to the crop’s strokes.  She even hummed a few strains of The Blue Danube as she continued the strokes until she had landed at least a dozen on each spot.

       “Thank you Ma’am, for your attention to my discomfort,” Amy repeated as Joanna sat back down and nodded to Elaine. 

       Elaine stepped over to the bench without any implement, but instead reached down and grabbed a handful of hair from each side of Amy’s crotch.  She lifted Amy’s ass several inches off the bench then let go so that Amy crashed down

       “That fat ass could use some exercise, I think,” Elaine said as she picked up Amy’s hips again and let them go.  When she was about to lift again Barbara jumped up and interjected.

       “Wait, I have an addition to this, Sisters.”  She rushed to the side of the room, opened a drawer and came back with a pinkish rubber pad.  “Lift and drop her again, dear Sister,” Barbara said.  Elaine grinned and lifted Amy again by her pubes and Barbara placed the pad which I now realized was an old style ‘whoopee cushion.’  As Amy’s butt dropped back to the bench a loud farting splat noise came from the cushion and all the Sisters laughed like crazy.

       “Would you care to help me here, Sister?”  Elaine snorted through her nearly uncontrollable laughter.  Elaine stood to one side and Barbara stood on the other and they each pulled Amy up even higher than before to let her fall back on the farting noises of the cushion.  After another five or six lifts, the fun was wearing off but Amy was gasping and whining from the pain of being lifted by her twat hair.  They took their seats and Sister Beatrice stood between Amy’s spread legs with her little gloved hand on the rod that she had used on me.  She took a practice swing that landed squarely on Amy’s twat and Amy shrieked.

       “Slut, muffle the bitch,” Joanna said to me, motioning for me to sit down onto Amy’s face to muffle her scream.  I complied, settling my crotch over Amy’s mouth and rocking my ass against her nose, as Miss Josie loved to do to me during my training with Mistress Joanna.

       Sister Beatrice followed through with ten full strokes on Amy’s cunt, those little lead weights marking her good and I could see her labia swelling as they reddened.

       “Get her up, slut,” Beatrice said to me as she finished and turned back to her seat.  “Remove the bench and bring the pink tray from the side table.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I answered moving the bench back and looking for the tray.  It was long and narrow with two slight depressions near the center.  As I brought if over Amy was ordered back down to her knees on the gravel tray.

       “Stand behind her and lift her tits with the tray,” Joanna ordered.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I said as I followed her instructions.  Amy’s large boobs were presented on the tray, cupped into the two depressions on it.  Joanna leaned forward toward Amy and flicked her crop over Amy’s nipples, tapping and slapping in quick time with expert strokes.  Amy groaned and gritted her teeth as the pain in her nipples increased with the incessant slapping of the crop.  Sister Joanna sat back in her chair as Martha stood up and approached Amy.  She carried a slapper.

       “Drop the tray and pull the tits up by the nipples,” Martha ordered.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I replied, picking up those big tits and pulling them up to expose the creamy white undersides.

       “Those will redden up nicely, don't’ you think?” Martha asked the Sisters, proceeding with her slapper before an answer could be heard.  All I could really hear were the slaps from Martha’s implement and Amy’s grunts and groans from each stroke landing under her massive boobs.  Martha was obviously enjoying her task as she worked back and forth up the sides and down onto Amy’s belly then up to her armpits then back down to the exposed undersides.  Sweat stains were appearing on Martha’s blouse as she finally stepped back and resumed her seat.

       Sister Beatrice looked at her colleagues.  “Any more discomfort for the moment, Sisters?”

       “Degradation demands a public urination,” Joanna said.  “For both these bitches,” she added.

       “Of course,” Beatrice nodded.  She punched an intercom button.  “Bring in a large pitcher of treated water and two bowls.”

       “Oh Sister Beatrice, don’t you agree that slut sucking from a low pan would be a better treatment?”  Joanna insisted.

       “Why not?”  Martha chimed in.

       “Wait a moment.  Bring two sheet pans instead of bowls,” Beatrice said into the intercom.  She looked at me still holding Amy’s tits by the nipples.  “Release the bitch and you may remove the kneeling trays.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I replied with genuine gratitude as I picked up the two heavy trays and put them aside.  As I was returning to my place in front of the Sisters I saw a woman coming from a separate room in the back.  She was really fat and wearing only a clear plastic apron with “Toilet Trash” in red letters across the front.  She also had her nipples colored a bright red and they were sticking through holes in the front of the apron’s bib.  She carried a large pitcher and two baking pans. 

       She set the pitcher aside and placed a pan in front of Amy and me and began pouring the cloudy liquid into one pan then the other.  When she had emptied the pitcher she stood and curtsied to the Sisters.  As she curtsied I saw that her wide ass was nearly covered with large welts over the discolorations of bruises that had gone from purple to the yellowish hue as they heal and eventually disappear.  It looked to me that those marks wouldn’t be gone before a new set would take their place.

       Joanna noticed my attention to the fat woman as she returned to the room at the rear.  “We might train you to be Toilet Trash one day soon, slut,” she grinned at me.  “But now, it’s time for you two to drink up, so get down to the trays and slurp up all that water.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” we said in unison as we both bent to the trays in front of us.  I started lapping at the water when I felt a fist in my hair, swishing my head back and forth.

       “Don’t drink like some dog bitch” Elaine growled at me. “Slurp and suck with an open mouth, like a vacuum cleaner and get it all sucked up.”  She released her grip and I opened my mouth to do as she ordered.

       “You have one minute to drain your dish,” Martha said. 

       Amy and I were both slurping and sucking as fast as we could when my peripheral vision caught a flash of yellow, then saw Joanna’s hand with one of her mustard squeeze bottles coming toward my face.  I felt then smelled the awful acrid stench of stale piss as she squirted some on my forehead and into the tray.  I glanced and saw that she was giving Amy some too.  Amy jumped up a bit, shaking her head.  It seemed as though Joanna had squirted some in her eye.

       “Get back down to your business, bitch, and suck it all up” Joanna said as I caught a sideways glimpse her unscrewing the top of the bottle.  I heard it pouring into Amy’s tray.  I felt her pouring a bit of it over my head and then dumping the rest of the contents into my tray right in front of me.  The water had a strange metallic taste and now it was mixed with the putrid mix of stale piss and as I sucked up the last of the liquid in my pan I heard Sister Martha announce that the allowed minute was up.

       “Attention!”  Sister Martha barked.  We both rose up to our knees with backs straight, my hands clasped behind my head and the vile liquid dripping down my face.  Amy still wore the collar with her wrists in the cuffs attached.  I saw that my pan was pretty empty.  Amy’s still had a bit of water in one corner along with a trace of dark yellow piss.  “Oh, bitch, that’s going to cost you,” Martha said.

       

       

CHAPTER 15

       Sister Martha used her cane under Amy’s chin, pulling her up a bit.

She then grabbed a handful of Amy’s hair and shoved her face into the pan.  “Get that filthy mouth down there and suck up the rest,” Martha sneered as she mopped the pan with Amy’s head. 

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you for your attention,” Amy sobbed, her face dripping with liquid and snot coming out of her nose.

       Sister Beatrice sat back, tapping her knee with a light cane.  “After you’ve entertained us with your kidney capers, we are sending you to the Machine Room for a 20 minute session while we enjoy Afternoon Tea,” Beatrice smiled.   “When you return, we will have some intensified toilet training prepared for you.  Right now, I want both of you on all fours in front of me.  Sister Martha, would you place the pans for me?”

       As Amy and I took our positions Martha placed a pan on each back. With her wrists cuffed to the back of her neck Amy had no choice but to stare at the floor and get her face down low while resting on her elbows.  Meanwhile, Beatrice had clicked a remote and I heard the sound of water from two corners of the room.  Glancing around quickly, I noticed waterfall fountains with gurgling and trickling noises.  I was already fighting off the urge to pee and that noise was having even greater effect.  Beatrice grinned at me.

       “The water we gave you was treated with our own special diuretic that will make you want to urinate, make you really want to,” Beatrice smiled again.  “Of course, we know how difficult it is to do this in front of others, especially your betters, but we know you will not only perform this task willingly, you will beg for the opportunity to shame yourself and amuse us as well.”

       “But, you must first obtain permission to speak,” Joanna added.

       I could feel Amy squirming next to me, as agitated as I was.

       “Please Ma’am, may this bitch speak?”  Amy squeaked out.

       “What do the sisters think?”  Beatrice asked. 

The sisters began a casual discussion of whether or not the bitch should be given permission to speak as Amy was flexing her thighs and feet, trying not to lose control of her bladder, knowing that that would be the worst she could imagine.

Finally Beatrice looked down at both of us and pointed to me.

       “You wish to say something slut?”

       “Please Honored Sisters, may I speak?”

       “Go ahead,” Beatrice replied.

       “Honored Sisters, may this bitch and I both have permission to empty our bladders for our shame and your amusement?” I stammered out.

       “Slut you may, but the nipple bitch must hold position for another five minutes,” Martha interjected.  “Don’t you agree, Sisters?”

       The Sisters nodded their agreement and Joanna tapped me on the head with her crop.

       “Reach around for your pan and place it under you as you squat, but you must wait for my permission to release,” she said.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I answered.  Not only did I have to beg to pee in front of them, now I had to squat in obvious discomfort as I waited for permission.  Amy was struggling like crazy to control herself.  Finally Elaine spoke.

       “Nipple bitch, would like to squat for us?” Elaine asked, giggling.

       “Yes, Ma’am, please Ma’am, may this bitch squat and pee for your amusement?”  Amy begged.

       Beatrice sat back, her chin resting on her hand, taking her time.  “Oh, very well, I suppose.  Slut, place the pan and help the bitch into position.” 

       “Oh, thank you Ma’am, thank you so much,” Amy said, struggling to rise up and then squat over the pan just in time for her to release her flow, while I was about to die and trying not to let go.  Amy was squatting down very close to the pan and her stream was splashing up onto her hairy pussy.

       “Get any droplets on the floor and you will lick them up,” Joanna warned.  So that was why Amy was down so low.  She had obviously seen this ritual performed in front of her when she was still a Full Member of the Sisterhood.

       “Slut, you may release,” Beatrice said.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I answered, relaxing my crotch and letting go.  I immediately realized I should have been lower as my urine stream hit the pan hard and some of it splashed out.  That would have been bad enough, but Joanna had extended her feet toward me, and a few drops splashed onto her boot.  Oh boy, that will do it, I thought.

       “Your tongue will get to work shortly,” Joanna cooed, obviously enjoying this immensely.

       I thought the pissing would never end and the Sisters were pointing at us and laughing hysterically at our discomfort and humiliation as the two of us squatted there.  Finally both of us were down to droplets dripping into each pan.  I didn’t dare break position but I really wanted to wipe myself.  Joanna apparently sensed that and she smiled her evil grin at me.

       “Slut, turn and place that filthy crotch crack in the nipple bitch’s face so that she can lick you clean while you clean my boots and the floor.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I answered, shifting myself around to get my crotch near Amy’s face.  Joanna helped by grabbing my hair and jerking my body around until I felt my butt against Amy’s head.  I tried to flatten myself to get my pussy up into her face as I got my own face down to the floor and started licking the floor around the base of the pan.  I felt Amy’s tongue on me as I slurped at the floor just as Joanna clicked her boot against my piss pan and sent more liquid splashing onto the floor and across my face.

       “That’s enough for now,” Beatrice said.  She punched the intercom button.

“Toilet, get out here and remove these pans for disposal.  She looked at me.

“On your feet, slut and help this one up. 

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I said, struggling to my knees and then onto my feet as I reached to help Amy stand.         

       “Slut, wipe her with your hand then let her lick it clean,” Sister Martha said to me.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I said as I complied with her order.

       Amy licked my hand that was wet from her own urine as she tried not to sob any more.  Her nose still ran and snot dripped on my hand as she licked and sucked.

       “Clean everything up, bitch,” Joanna snapped.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” Amy answered weakly.  Sister Martha rose and came over to Amy with a key to her cuffs.  She unlocked them and unclipped the cuffs from Amy’s collar before shoving her down to floor to lick up the remaining piss on the floor.

       Beatrice was writing on a card and then she folded it can beckoned me to come to her.  She stuck the folded card in my mouth.  Take this card and have the bitch follow you out that door and down the hall to the last door on the right.  The Sister in charge will know what to do.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I answered, my voice muffled by the card stuck between my lips.  I turned to see Amy had finished her licking up and was standing there, bent over with her head lower than her ass.

       “Keep her that way as she walks,” Joanna said, “and have her knock on the door to the Room with her head.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I replied as I led Amy toward the door by the back of her collar.  We exited and went down the hall and I used the collar to bang Amy’s head on the door, which said “MACHINE ROOM” in large red letters on it.

       A tall woman with braids wrapped around her head, opened the door.

She wore a long dark skirt and a tight black leotard top that showed off very small boobs.  She held a red cane in one hand as she saw the note in my mouth.  She reached for the card and as I opened my mouth to release it, she placed the cane in my mouth to hold for her.  She read it and looked at me then down at Amy.

       “Twenty minutes for this one,” she said, “All right, follow me.”  She turned and walked into the room and I followed with the cane in my teeth and pulling Amy along by her collar.  The Machine Room had six machines in three rows of two.  Only one was being used and it only took a second for me to realize what these machines were about.  The one machine had a naked woman bent over a metal bar, secured by a wide leather strap across the small of her back.  A clear plastic paddle was mounted on an arm with a wheel device that was slowly turning.  Suddenly the wheel hit a certain point and the paddle swung onto the woman’s ass with a fierce smack.  The victim made some sort of noise but I figured she was gagged. The paddle sprang back on some sort of mechanism and the wheel thing started to turn again at a different speed this time.

       “Welcome to my Machine Room, Amy,” the woman smiled, pulling Amy’s head up so that she could look at the Sister.   “Remember me, dear?”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” Amy said, about to sob again.

       “I am Sister Elizabeth,” the woman said, taking the cane from my mouth as she spoke.  “And Amy here once wanted to gain control of the Machine Room for herself, didn’t you, darling?”        

       Amy didn’t say anything as tears welled up in her eyes.

       “Answer me you filthy bitch!” Elizabeth yelled as she slapped Amy.

       “Ye—yes, Ma’am, and I will always be ashamed of myself,”  Amy answered.

       “You will be more than that in about 20 minutes,” Elizabeth replied.  “Take her to the left one in the center row,” she said to me.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I answered, leading Amy to the assigned machine.  Amy was obviously familiar with the device and she bent herself over the bar.  I stood aside as Elizabeth fastened the belt over her back, then took a wad of cottony material and slapped Amy again.

       “Sister Beatrice’s card says 20 minutes with a #3 cane, random time setting and intensity setting at 8,” she said.  “And you are to hold her elbows down and tight to the lower bar and I will attach her ankles in back.  But first open up and take the gag.”  Amy opened her mouth and gag was stuffed in.  There was a roll of tape on what looked a control box for the machine and Elizabeth tore off a strip and put it over Amy’s mouth.

       I noticed the bar with cuffs on it below Amy’s head.  I took Amy by the elbows and bent her arms down to it.  I could see that doing this, combined with having her ankles spread and strapped down would put maximum tension across Amy’s ass, thus increasing the pain.

       Sister Elizabeth finished securing Amy then went to a rack on the wall and selected a fiberglass rod.  It tapered slightly, about as thick as my finger and when Elizabeth swished it through the air it made a fiercely wicked sound.  She mounted it onto the arm of the machine and went to the front of the room.  I was facing away from her but I glanced around and saw her at a keyboard, probably programming the machine.  After a few minutes, she sat back and pushed a key on the console.

       “Ready to go,” she said, obviously satisfied.  Amy grunted something that I couldn’t understand through the gag and I tugged hard on her arms to hold her down.  The first stroke came fast as the cane whistled down hard.  Amy jerked and I almost lost my grip when she did.  The next one was at least another minute in coming, but it was followed by three more just a few seconds apart.  The wheel device I had seen turning actually made the windup for the cane stroke, which was then released with a huge swish noise as it came down on the victim’s ass then a spring kind of thing pulled it back into position for the next stroke.

       Meanwhile the other woman in the room was thrashing around under the belt as the paddle started a new sequence of strokes, this time in rapid succession.  The machine must have released at least 20 paddle strokes in less than a minute when it suddenly slowed down with longer intervals between strokes.  The machine stopped and I thought the woman’s session was over when the paddle swung back further than I had seen it, and let go with a hard loud smack.  Her ass was bright red with white patches as the woman grunted through her gag.  The paddle stopped for at least another minute before the next swing.  During the next pause the woman’s hip and thigh muscles started to spasm, shaking her ass and thigh fat like Jell-O.

       For Amy, the next five strokes came at about 10 second intervals, just enough for Amy to squirm and make noise through her gag between each one.  Then there was a pause, making her anticipate when the next one might come.  After about thirty or forty seconds it whistled down on her ass, followed by another right behind it, followed by a full minute before the next one.  I saw the wheel winding up more on that one and realized that it was building up more force for the next stroke.  It came smashing down and Amy jerked hard against her ankle cuffs, which wasn’t such a good move since the cane followed up with another stroke that caught her across the thigh crease at the base of her butt.

       On it went, varying in time and intensity as Sister Elizabeth sat at the console with a broad grin on her face.  It was all l could do to hang onto Amy’s arms and keep them bent under the elbow bar during the last of them.  A bell went off and the other machine stopped.  The woman’s ass was still shaking in spasms and it was covered in deep red welts with some running almost to purple.

       Elizabeth got up from her console and walked to the woman’s machine.  She unbuckled the strap but held the woman down by the small of her back as she raked her purple nails back and forth across the reddened ass cheeks as the woman squirmed and squealed .

       “You will remain in this position for thirty more minutes.  I will release your wrists but you are to keep them on the lower bar.  Any attempt to rub your worthless ass will be answered with severe punishment, am I clear?”  The woman responded with a vigorous nod of the head and a sort of ‘yes, Ma’am’ from her gag.

       A few minutes later the bell went off again and Amy’s time seemed to be up.  Elizabeth walked around Amy and the machine, trailing a cane across Amy’s welted ass and stroking it up and down through her crack.  She unbuckled the restraining belt and signaled for me to release Amy’s arms as she undid the ankle straps.

       “Now before I return you to the Sisters, you will spend ten minutes in corner time over there,” she pointed to a strange chair in the far corner.  The “chair” seat had two panels sloping into a shallow V pattern with a center ridge covered in what looked like coarse burlap.  Elizabeth took Amy by the hair and pulled her to the corner, motioning for me to follow.  When we got closer to the chair I saw that the two seat panels were studded with bottle caps.  The ridge in the center was indeed covered with burlap and I saw that it could move back and forth.  There was no back to the chair, but it had a sturdy T shaped arm on it with clamps on the top bar.

       “I call this the Pain Perch,” Elizabeth said proudly. “But before this bitch takes a seat let’s season it.”  She walked to a shelf on a sidewall and uncapped a bottle of hot pepper sauce that she drizzled back and forth on the burlap pad.

“Climb aboard, bitch,” she ordered.  Amy answered with a muffled something as she stepped around and settled herself.  Elizabeth slid the T up a bit and then moved the two clamps to align with Amy’s nipples as she tightened them down.

       Amy moaned through her gag and she tried to rise off the ridged pad as her cunt felt the sting of the hot sauce, not to mention how the points of the bottle caps must have felt on her raw butt.  Elizabeth had tightened the nipple clamps to almost flatten Amy’s juicy nipples.  Elizabeth finished up by placing a 25 pound black iron weight across Amy’s lap to press down as she sat on the Pain Perch with her cunt lips spread over the ridge of the pepper soaked pad and her freshly caned ass cheeks shoved onto the bottle caps.  Amy writhed and groaned through her gag as Elizabeth took her by the hair and shoved her nose into the corner of the two walls, then she grabbed Amy’s wrists and placed her arms high up on each wall, pulling more tension into the nipple clamps.

       “Ten minutes, bitch,” Elizabeth said as she set a kitchen timer, one of the old types that ticked down the time, just as an additional agony for Amy to endure the constant ticking.  Then she turned to me, snapped her fingers and motioned for me to drop to my knees.  She took me by the hair and pulled my face to Amy’s hip.  “When I blow this whistle, you are to bite down on the bitch’s fat ass flesh, suck hard and come up with a big hickey, and you stay on it until I blow the whistle again,” Elizabeth said with ice in her voice.  “And if that hickey isn’t bright and bruised enough I’ll put you up on the Pain Perch for 30 minutes.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I answered.  The whistle blew and I sunk my teeth onto Amy’s fleshy hip, right beside one of the welts left by the Machine.

I bit down hard and kept at it until the whistle blew again.  I pulled back to see my teeth marks and a purplish bruise coming up on Amy’s ass.

       “Other side now, get over there and get ready,” Elizabeth commanded.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I replied sidling around Amy as I heard her sobbing through the gag.  I got up next to her and the whistle blew and this time it seemed like more than two minutes of chewing and sucking on her hip until the whistle blew again.  The result this time was even a deeper red and purple.

       “Left armpit is next,” Elizabeth said, tapping the whistle on her teeth.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I answered meekly as I rose up on my knees to get my lips onto the fleshy pad at the base of Amy’s armpit.   That was followed by the other armpit, then four more big bites and hickeys on the sides of her belly roll as Amy continued to squirm and mewl through her gag.  Finally the timer rang and Elizabeth approached us.  She turned to face Amy, spread her legs and climbed up onto Amy’s lap, adding her weight to Amy’s discomfort on the Pain Perch.  She pulled Amy’s head back and slapped her a few times, then pushed hard on her shoulders, causing the nipple clamps to pull and elongate as Amy’s scream was heard through the gag.  Elizabeth giggled and stood up.

       “Take the weight from her lap and release her clamps,” she said to me.  I By the time I had loosened the clamps Elizabeth reached in and pulled Amy up by the hair.  “Turn and bend over to show me that fat ass,” she ordered.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” Amy mouthed through her gag.  Elizabeth removed the gag, and Amy repeated her gratitude as she bent over and grabbed her knees.  The cane marks were darkening and the points of the bottle caps had broken the skin in a few places.  But the most amazing sight was Amy’s bright red cunt, the lips swollen and red.  Elizabeth held a spray bottle and a sponge and I smelled vinegar as she spritzed the bottle.  Amy tensed and groaned.

       “It’s a special mix of salted cider vinegar, lemon and lime juice and a shot of crushed jalapeno pepper seeds,” she said as she sponged across Amy’s ass and rubbed deep into her crack and down her bruised thighs.  It made my eyes water just to smell it.   I could only imagine what it felt like in Amy’s twat.  My imagination was soon to be surprised.  “Turn and bend over, slut,” I heard.

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” I answered, taking position beside Amy.

The spray was truly awful, but then I heard Elizabeth snap on a pair of latex gloves and felt her finger poking inside my ass.  She pulled out, spritzed the glove and stuck it deeper into my butt hole, which seemed to be on fire.  I could feel Amy bucking beside me as Elizabeth obviously stuck a finger up her ass, too, then started jabbing and flexing with each one.  I tried not to make a sound but the whines and groans that came out of me sounded like they were from a stranger.  Just then Elizabeth withdrew her fingers, took up the spray bottle and spritzed both of us up and down the cunt lips, followed by a vigorous twisting of labia and a hard pinch to the clit.  She followed up on Amy with a vicious fist into her crack, then ordered us both to stand and get out.

       “Back to the Council room,” Elizabeth said.  As she opened the door to let us out I saw three women, their blue shirts buttoned open behind their backs with hands locked in attention posture waiting to enter the Machine Room.  “Oh, look, some fresh flesh for the machines,” she grinned, shoving us out the door.  I took Amy’s head and pulled it down as she followed me back along the hall where I banged Amy’s head on door once again.

       Sister Martha answered the door, taking Amy’s hair from my grip and yanking her into the room.  I followed with my eyes down at the floor.

       

The Toilet Trash attendant woman was rolling out a rack with hot water type enemas bottles hanging from it, two black and two red.  Each hose ended in a wicked looking penis-shaped nozzle.  Beside the rack was an old fashioned metal washtub, oval in shape with two planks sitting on the rim of the tub.  Each plank was a rough slab of lumber with rough bark still on it.

       “On your knees, bitches, each end of the tub,” Martha ordered.  “Heads down in the tub, asses up and ready.”

       “Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,” we replied in unison, taking our positions as ordered with heads and arms between the planks and down in the tub. 

       “First we will have a warm soapy cleansing,” Joanna said as the rack was rolled up beside us.  “Well, it’s pretty warm, anyway.” 

       I felt something slippery being smeared on my ass and then the dildo end of the enema tube being stuffed in hard and quick as the flow started into me.  Warm it wasn’t.  It felt really hot and I could feel the surging and frothing of the soapy substance they were using to “cleanse” me.  It just kept coming and rushing into my colon when I felt two of the sisters, I wasn’t sure which ones, lift my torso to allow for more flow from the bag.  I felt like I was bloating as it gushed into me and one of the women shoved and twisted the nozzle as the flow finally relaxed and they put me down.  I was trying to hold everything in, but I felt the nozzle being pulled out and then shoved back in, toying with my outrageous discomfort.  Amy was panting and groaning.  I was trying to stay quiet, but it was impossible with that thing shoving in and out of me as the Sisters giggled and hissed at our discomfort.

       “How long should we leave them plugged, dear Sisters?” I heard Martha ask.  Sister Beatrice chuckled as I realized it was she who was toying with my ass.

       “Oh, let’s give them a few more moments to luxuriate in our attentions, don’t you agree?”  Beatrice cooed, as though we were in some sort of spa treatments.  The Sisters agreed and after what felt like an hour, but was really about another three or four minutes, I felt the nozzle being pulled out as Joanna yelled at both of us.

       “Keep those butts held shut while you stand, turn back to back and straddle the tub,” she barked and we complied with the usual ‘Yes, Ma’am, thank you Ma’am,’ response.  “Now sit on the seats we gave you,” Joanna laughed as we settled onto the rough log surface of the crude planks, “and of course you will be unable to hold any longer so just release yourselves.” 

       All the Sisters joined in the laughter and pointing as we both expelled the contents into the tub.  I was hoping it was mostly the liquid but I was sure that of all the indignities I had suffered in the past few weeks that this had to be the worst and I could only imagine poor Amy’s embarrassment and intense humiliation at being forced to crap in front of all her former colleagues.  But that was only the first part.  As the laughing comments of the Sisters subsided along with the flow from our butts, I heard Beatrice announce.

       “I guess it’s time for the red bottle, with its hot rinse,” she beamed at me then walked around to Amy and I heard tits being slapped.  “Oh yes, that was warm, the next one is hot!  Now, back down where you started, nice and low” she ordered.

       As I took up my position again I realized that my face was going to be in the outflow at the bottom of the tub.  And as I put my head down into the tub could see and smell that it wasn’t all liquid down there just as I felt Joanna’s strong grip in my hair and shoving my face down onto a piece of my own shit and swabbing my head around before stepping back and snapping her fingers for the Toilet Tramp to shove the next nozzles in us.

       The hot water felt like it was scalding me all the way to my small intestine and I think I must have nearly screamed but it just came out like a an agonized gasp as the mass of the flow and its heat gushed into me.  Oh my God, I thought, what have I gotten myself into?